Free The Compound by S.A. Bodeen Page B

there’s something you don’t know.”
    You think?
I remained silent.
    “I’ve always told you the Compound is wired for communication. Of course, I never expected to use it, giventhat all communication would be decimated: phones, Internet, fax. But a while ago, I got a wireless Internet signal.”
    My mouth gaped.
    Dad smiled, nodding. “I know, I know, it felt like a miracle. I didn’t want to say anything.”
    Even though I knew he’d been keeping stuff from us, that revelation threw me. “Why not?” My words were full of disbelief. With a subtle trace of accusation.
    One of Dad’s hands crept up to scratch the back of his neck. “It was sporadic. Limited. Some days it worked, some days it didn’t. I didn’t want to get your hopes up. And of course I didn’t communicate with anyone at first.”
    The accusation went from a trace to full blown. “At first?”
    “About a year ago, I did get in touch with another survivor. A music-label mogul from L.A., has a shelter in a remote area of Canada. He prepared in much the same way I did. His kids were older when they went in and he offered to send some of their music for you. So I downloaded it.”
    I pushed back my hair as I tried to sort the new information. “That’s it? The Internet comes back up and you download music?”
    Dad scrunched up his forehead. “Mmm, noooo. Things are slowly coming back out there. Of course most of the satellites would still have to be intact. I’m thinking a government somewhere, maybe ours, spread wireless Internet like a blanket, so survivors could be in contact with oneanother. Remember that place we went to in Colorado, on our skiing vacation?”
    I nodded. “Yeah. They had free wireless all over town.”
    He laid his hands out toward me, like he was giving me a gift. “There you go, just like that.”
    It seemed so simple. Too simple. “So what else have you found out?”
    Dad crossed his arms. “Not much, as far as conditions and such. I’m hopeful, if it was the government who got the Internet going again, that they’ll start giving us updates.”
    “What about the phone? Does it work, too?”
    Dad frowned. He shrugged slightly. “I try it now and then.”
    I sat up straighter, faced my father. I was nearly breathless. “Why can’t we go outside now, and see? See what it’s like out there?”
    “Eli, you know what it’s like out there.”
    “Dad, it’s been years.” I knew I was on the losing side of the debate due to the grim reality of radiation sickness; vile beyond belief, endless puke and diarrhea until you die. Oppenheimer’s cholera.
    “Eli, think about who you’re talking to. I
do
know what it’s like out there. And we’ve got to follow the plan if we have a chance of survival. The day will come when we open the door.”
    “How?”
    “How what?”
    Fists formed at my sides. I fought the urge to shout the words. “The door. How does it open?”
    “There’s a time lock, set to open fifteen years from the date we entered.”
    I already knew that much. Why was he so damned stingy with the details? I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Can it be opened before then?”
    Dad scratched the stubble on his chin. “Oh, it can. With the code.”
    Even though I could assume the answer, I asked anyway. “Who knows the code?”
    “I do, of course.”
    “Does Mom?”
    His lip curled a bit. “I couldn’t risk that. I didn’t want you to know this, but a few months before we came down here she was having some problems.”
    This was news to me. “What kind of problems?”
    “She was having some panic attacks, extreme anxiety. You were young, and you and your brother and sisters couldn’t have understood that I had access to information about … things.”
    “What kind of things?”
    “Government information. Mainly the probability of a nuclear attack.”
    “But you told Mom?”
    He nodded. “She had to be medicated. And she can’t be on antianxiety meds when she’s pregnant. Her first