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rather be trapped here, in our house, than below ground. At least we can fight from here . . . possibly even escape. The shelter was a good idea at the time, but wenever imagined we would need it in a world turned completely upside down.”
John saw that Jenna was beginning to digest his logic, and he was glad for it. Of all the people sitting at the table, he desired most that she come to terms with their need to leave. Leaving was a hard thing to consider, let alone do, but it would be much better for her to accept the need to leave on her own terms rather than his, or worse yet, on the terms of an angry mob. John actually considered his plan to leave as a “tactical withdrawal,” for he figured that’s what it would end up being.
He didn’t know what threat would present itself first, be it a biker gang, or neighborhood mob, but he had a very strong desire to not kill a bunch of unarmed people, or being routed by a numerically superior force. Even with a squad of trained and combat ready Soldiers, there was still the issue of protecting those who couldn’t fight. And, as Pete pointed out, it would only take one well-placed fire-bomb to force them out.
John’s house was safe, but it wasn’t a bunker, and it would cease being safe once it was a widely recognized target. Then, at that very moment, he realized even without the movement order from Eli that they would either have to share everything, or leave. He concluded that Eli was probably saving him the pain of realizing their situation too late.
Pete was confident they could defend against the first couple of attacks, because the mob would most likely come at them in uncoordinated waves, but beyond that, there was no guarantee any of them would be allowed to leave the house alive. Once they started taking lives, in the defense of the home, all bets would be off. Besides, the thought of taking lives bothered John. He knew it wasn’t in his path to facilitate a confrontation that resulted in blood shed. It was better to leave than fight and kill his desperate neighbors. “Nope. The bunker is not an option,” said John, more to himself than anyone sitting at the table.
“What bunker?” asked Paul, for a second time, but he managed to ask with patience, which was rare for him.
“It’s our underground shelter . . . in the back, under the shop. It’s big enough to hold my family, maybe a few more in a pinch, but right now it’s holding all of our long-term food storage and other supplies,” said John.
“Why didn’t you tell me about it before?” said Paul, quickly rising to his classic level of offense and agitation.
“Paul, please explain to me why you think I should have shared something with you that has absolutely no consequence to you or anyone in the group right now,” said John, patiently. “Do you honestly think I kept something from you that you deserved to know about because you . . . helped pay for it, build it, or stock it full of food? I don’t understand why you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset,” said Paul, now visibly agitated. John was surprised he wasn’t already standing, which was something Paul liked to do when he got himself really worked up. “I just think you should have told me about your bunker . . . I mean your shelter, that’s all,” said Paul.
John turned to Pete and asked, “Pete, are you upset that I only just told you about the shelter?” John had told him about it, in passing, the previous evening while they were talking in John’s shop about his drive up. Paul wasn’t with them during that conversation, and John didn’t see the urgency in telling Paul about it just because he told Pete. But he was beginning to think Paul had an inferiority complex, and that it was most likely centered on his friendship with Pete.
John immediately regretted bringing Pete into the conversation when Pete said, “Shelter . . . what shelter?” in a very poor attempt to sound innocently naïve.
“You knew about the