Book 1: The Siege at Fort Vagabond

Chapter 3 Part 3: Welcome to Bunker Boogaloo

...At least this bout of dutiful if unexpected tasks could be solved with a text or a call when Bohdan reached the surface. That said, if this did turn out to be paranormal in nature then it was the committee’s specialty despite the youth of its members.

Bohdan sighed as he checked his slick tactical cool wrist watch his mother had bought him for completing his first militia competency test that allowed him to join the unit with full maneuvers. He had just enough time to check this out before being outrageously late to his date. No rest for the responsible as they say. Then the President spied the gear Mr. Holdfast’s crew was rocking.

“What kind of pests are we talking about here, Holdfast Senior?” Boohs and laughter came up from the four or so militia boys in the back at the Senior moniker. Bohdan was more distracted by their modified Kel Tec p50s with extra magazines to boot. They looked more like they were going down to shoot cougars in bodyarmor than lay some mousetraps.

“Noticed the firepower I see. That’s where we hit why I’m glad I ran into you. The workers over at the airship pen construction sites have been seeing things in the tunnels over there. Things too big to be blind rats or cockroaches, and they’re spooked. I know this is more of your crew's forte. I like to stick to varmint smashing myself now that we don’t have a proper football team to train.” Ah, that’s where Bohdan had seen Holdfast’s crew.

They were the football jocks who graduated before Charlie had made Captain, and Mr. Holdfast Sn’s first team to coach. Not a click the young Blood had hung out with much, but that might need to change if they were going to be drafted into tunnel cleansing. Where was Charlie when he needed him?

Bohdan lost himself to dark thoughts which were jostled free when the light turned green, and decision time had snatched his musings away from him. This could be nothing. Tunnels had a way of seeming to be full no matter how empty especially to farmer boys made construction miners. For most of these guys coming down here was both a right of passage, and the first time spending an extensive amount of time underground. Newbies felt it oppressive without the sun overhead. You get used to it.

But on the other hand Bohdan had seen first hand what slithered on the outskirts of these endless tunnels and caverns. What you found if you went too deep. You only let one of those creepy freaks catch you with your pants down once. Either you were dead, or you took precautions afterwards. Bohdan wasn’t dead yet.

“I’ll meet you at the pens Holdfast. Bring me an extra P50,” the President said while lowering his visor on his helmet and revving through the track. He could just make out Holdfast agreeing as Bohdan pulled ahead.

The President of the Adventure, Hunting, and Liquidation committee sent out the gather call to his members connected to the underground wifi relay network. Of those he got Karl and Saint John. Everyone else was topside, and only reachable by landline or email which was going to have to wait till he made it to the future airship pens.

Using his talk to text feature into a headset in his helmet, Bohdan sent out messages guiding his guys to the pens with the gear they were going to need. Or hopefully not need. Heidi was going to be none too pleased when her fiancé showed up for their date dressed in dust and cave mud caked clothes from all the spelunking he was about to do.

Yeah, he was going to owe her a proper snazzy cleaned up date once he finally skirted his town related responsibilities long enough to serve his familial responsibilities. “Grandbabies didn’t make themselves,” as his Grand Nan had always said. And children weren’t happy without a proper happy married mama at home.

Bohdan vaguely read the answering texts as Karl and John scrambled to join the emergency call at the pens. He was now plotting his course with more voice commands which took a little concentration to read the fine print next to each of the nodes. Looked like he was going to have to jump off the track after he entered the next cavern. Construction took time, and the airship pens were a new idea that was still some months away from fruition which also meant what infrastructure that was built was meant for the job, and not the Mayor’s son goons off cleansing Gollum wannabes in tunnels.

With his task finished Bohdan soon felt the change as the bike turned onto, and then followed a track along an elevated roadway and future tram track leading up the walls of the massive chamber. The Pens out of necessity were closer to the surface though still plenty deep as far as undergrounds went. They were in a shaft that had been discovered half a year ago, and more recently had the upper levels cleared. As a precaution the connecting tunnels leading into unexplored caverns and passages had been filled in for the time being except for the long tunnel to Oden City they kept as an emergency bug out for their contacts there.

If something was going to slither into those pens it would have to dig a new tunnel, or find a way to snake its way through the several mile long passage. Sweeps and patrols were made, but they hadn’t had any trouble from that passage other than rats and cockroaches. Could this just be the trick of the shadows on fresh surface dwelling construction crews in the underground for their first tour?

Maybe, but Mr. Holdfast was the salt of the earth type. Steady, and not given to wild fancies. He wouldn’t have brought it to Bohdan unless he had a serious concern. That was good enough for a thorough check, and a few witness interviews. The underground was too important to let any infestation move in on their cleared caverns. Which was an argument that would get Bohdan more than one feminine sigh out of Heidi whenever he did crawl his way out of this miner’s hole.

Lights flared ahead as the track passed briefly through the wall jutting out into the cavern making a curve in the bend that some of the older roads followed, but not the new tracks. Right through the two hundred meter thick column of solid rock that blocked the view of the rest of the cavern from the previous thoroughfare. This was the older, and thus more developed part of their underground bug out city.

Bright lights were the harbingers of the coming vista as Bohdan revved his bike right into the open track, the walls falling behind in a rush. The track curved to the right, and up, letting the commuters have a full view of the mini underground city below. Where in the previous section of the cavern the headquarters was all business and hustle this part of Bunker Boogaloo was designed to keep the wives and kiddos happy as the war was fought above their heads.

Beneath the towering precipice of the natural cavern rose up many consecutive domes that overlapped to form a sprawling complex with metal and glass between the occupants and the harsh underground around them. Within were the pristine pathways of manicured parks with winding bubbling brooks and fountains, and arched wooden bridges over the happy streams.

From there the paths led to wooded tropical trees that covered the many lights and stretched to the roofs of the domes. Bohdan knew under that tropical canopy was a well maintained rainforest with catwalks through the masses of fruit trees and coffee bean plants. Those plantations kept the cuisine of the tropics fresh and free of chemicals and other vaccinated nightmares born from the modern reality of nightmarish government and global elite attempts to poison God’s children.

Farther on were more standard vineyards, and other plants that didn’t agree with the Arkansas fickle climate. Running through the center of these subterranean breadbaskets was a large underground river which flowed from the cavern wall, and right through the sprawl of domes before being trapped in the central massive dome by a large dam.

The sight always always took Bohdan’s breath away as his eyes went to the large underground lake created by the dam. The massive water feature was completely covered by the central dome, and at the center of the lake was an island of rock with a happy bastion of pleasant dwellings, shops, and docks for boats. There was a pleasant wharf which stretched out into the many fingers of the lake where lights, and just the faint hum of music could be heard echoing off the stone walls bringing the President back to his childhood. He was reminded why he fought so hard to defend his home for his future grandchildren to enjoy.

The Story Will Continue Every Saturday.

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