Which turned out to be a gaunt, raggedly dressed man he vaguely recognized creeping for the door, pistol in one hand and eyes squinting into the relative darkness of a large underground space lit only by a single stove in back and light coming through the door. Behind him other figures crowded the ramp, clearly visible in the afternoon sun streaming in around them.
Time seemed to slow down, and the world froze as the fog around Matt’s mind vanished into mounting horror. Sam sat beside him, between him and the door. The boys were sprawled on the floor gnawing on their cakes not two feet away from Matt’s feet, directly in the gunman’s line of sight. In fact, sitting there eating their lunch with an open door and no one manning the observation post they were all in his line of sight like fish in a barrel.
Matt drew the .40 he always kept on his hip and pointed it towards the door, inches from Sam’s face. In spite of her own haze of hunger and exhaustion his wife had the presence of mind to duck back, hands darting to her ears, as he opened fire.
The shots echoed deafeningly in the enclosed metal space, and the placid sounds of eating and murmured conversation were replaced by his family’s screams.
The gunman fell, his pistol thumping onto the carpet inside the shelter as its owner slumped across the threshold. Another man behind the first also fell, and with the sort of agility that comes from seeing a gun being fired your way the other attackers all dove back up the ramp and out of sight.
Matt bolted for the door, kicking at the groaning gunman to get him clear so he could close it. In the painfully bright sunlight outside he saw a dozen or more men and even a few women standing or sprawled around the ramp, some with guns but most bearing machetes or wood axes or other improvised weapons. The few guns he saw lifted his way, and Matt threw his weight behind the door and slammed it shut just as the first shots rang out.
Some of those weapons had been large caliber rifles, and he could only hope that Lewis’s solid wood and sheet metal door could keep out bullets meant to bring down big game. It seemed like it could, or at least he didn’t see sunlight shining through any new holes. It probably helped that they were firing down the ramp at an angle instead of straight on, giving the bullets a better chance to ricochet rather than penetrate.
He locked the doorknob and then the two sturdy deadbolts, just in time as the entire door shuddered under the weight of multiple people slamming against it. Which didn’t worry him too much, since a door that could stop bullets would be hard to break down, and they’d have a fun time trying to chop through a quarter inch of sheet metal to get to the wood behind.
Behind him the screaming had stopped, at least among the adults. His dad hurried up, stooping to pick up the pistol the fallen man had dropped. “What in the world is going on?” he shouted.
Since Matt’s ears were ringing from the shots he’d fired he appreciated the volume, although the question itself seemed a bit unnecessary. “We’re under attack!” he shouted back. “More than a dozen people, four or five guns. I saw them sneaking in while we were eating.”
His dad scowled at the door. “Five guns? If we’d had someone in the observation post we could’ve sent them packing before they got within a hundred yards of this place.”
Matt felt a stab of anger, which wasn’t enough to overwhelm the even more powerful surge of shame he felt. He’d left their home unguarded even when he should’ve known better. “You think I don’t know that? I get it, I messed up.”
“That’s not what I meant,” his dad protested. “We’ve just gotten careless. This isn’t the first time we’ve brought everyone in to eat instead of bringing food out to whoever’s on watch, and that’s on all of us.”
That didn’t make him feel any better, since he of all people should’ve been on top of making sure someone was in the observation post at all times. But before he could respond the thumps at the door abruptly stopped and a voice cut in harshly from outside.
“Larson!” The door shuddered under a pair of blows. “We know you’ve got food in there, Larson! An entire bunker full of it. And your doctor’s probably got medicine too! Bring it all out and it’s the last you’ll see of us.”
Matt glanced back at his family. His mom had gathered up Aaron and Paul and retreated back behind the stove where they’d be safer from any stray shots. Sam had snatched up Matt’s AR-15 from where he’d set it on the bed and was staring at him with wide eyes, while Terry held the shotgun Matt had given him and April held their dad’s hunting rifle.
They were as well armed as the bandits outside, the problem was they were in here and the bandits were out there. At least this place was built like a bunker and the entrance could hold for a while. Matt pulled his radio from his belt. “Chauncey?” No response. “Mayor Tillman?”
Blast. Of course the radio wouldn’t work this far from town and inside a metal shed buried under a few feet of dirt. Which left just one option, talking. “Who’s out there?” he called through the door.
“As if we’d tell you!” came the immediate reply. The door rattled again. “Listen, Larson, we don’t have anything against you. Most of us even respect you. But we’re getting that food from you one way or another.”
Matt didn’t need them to identify themselves. He vaguely recognized the man he’d shot as one of the refugees, nobody who’d worked with Ben or helped defend the town, though. He thought he might’ve seen him go out with the hunting parties a few times. The others were probably his friends and family, willing to risk exile or even execution in the hope of food. Although they’d probably planned to leave town after this attack.
“Not through this door you’re not,” Matt answered. “And you’ve got about fifteen minutes to realize that before the help I just radioed Mayor Tillman for gets here.”
There was a doubtful pause, and he thought he heard the faintest sounds of conversation drifting through the thick door from the people outside. “No way your radio works in there!” the attackers’ spokesman finally said.
Matt laughed, although he felt more like throwing up. “Haven’t you heard anything about this place? My friend thought of everything. He’s got an antenna going out. Not only can I radio the town but I’ve got double the range I usually would.”
“I didn’t see any antenna. Besides, we’ve got a nice tall hill right here. If we see anyone coming from town we can be long gone before they get here. Assuming you aren’t lying. And if you are lying then you should probably just give up now. We don’t have to bust down this door to kill you guys, you know.”
Before Matt could respond a slightly muffled crack shivered through the door, and a hole appeared in its center at about chest height. Matt was so surprised by the sudden circle of daylight that he barely noticed the sting on his arm where the bullet had grazed him.
Instinct kicked in and he shoved his dad to one side of the door, putting his back against the wall on the other as he followed the path of the bullet towards Sam, April, and Terry, still standing farther back. He could see the whites of all their eyes. “Anyone hit?” he hissed.
“No,” came a chorus of replies.
Matt beckoned frantically to them, and after an uncomprehending moment they all rushed to the front of the shelter to crouch beside him and his dad on either side of the door. The safest places to be aside from behind the stove, which was already occupied. Matt took his dad’s hunting rifle from April, doing his best to control his breathing as anger replaced his shock and panic.