Free THE KILLER ANGEL : Book Three "Journey" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 3) by Myles Stafford

wondered,
does he really know who I am?
The chap was babbling and clearly sorrowful, even though almost incoherent in his fear. My feelings were mixed about this guy, as I felt both distrust and sympathy, but regardless, I wished Brick could see this reaction.
Good grief, he would never let me hear the end of it!
I smiled to myself, slightly shaking my head.
    “Calm down, sir! I’m not planning to hurt you,” I said without emotion as I shouldered my rifle, all the while still mentally feeling the close proximity of my pistols. I never let my guard down, and always prepared myself for surprises. I’ve had far too much experience to do otherwise.
    I evaluated the man, but the yellow hazmat suit provided very little information. “Toss your bag to me, sir...carefully now.”
    As expected, the satchel contained a pistol; semiautomatic, but not cocked and no round in the chamber. Unsurprising. There was also a sandwich and an identification security pass-card.
Machine sliced bread?
I hadn’t seen that in awhile. The ID card was typical government issue; the man’s name: Tim Gardner.
    “What’s your story and why the trap, Mr. Gardner?” I asked with genuine curiosity as the man slowly relaxed and caught his breath, although I already suspected the answer.
    “Federal employee...I’m a FEMA administrator, actually.” He hesitated, looking around.
    “You’re from a government survival shelter, aren’t you?” I said, rather flatly, but sadness was already slipping into my heart, “Are your friends watching us now?” The thought did not concern me terribly much, as the picture was becoming clear. Even if they were indeed watching, there was probably nothing else that they could do but watch.
    These would be mostly high ranking people, probably administrators and politicians; maybe some of their families. Perhaps some technicians, also, all sealed away in an environment of filtered air and clean supplies, waiting for the time when they could safely exit.
    But that time never came.
    It would never come.
    The tragic flaw in their program was the occupants’ lack of immunity. Who knew there would be no one leftto work on a vaccine? So many government secure facilities; so many survivalists and “preppers”; all meeting the same fate. Either perishing in the same horrible ways as those without shelter when their comrades succumbed to the disease, or forced to remain entombed forever in sterile bunkers, their technology slowly flickering to dark, just as each underground survivor’s life force faded in loneliness.
    I’ve seen other bunkers, some of them loaded with generators and expensive all-terrain vehicles – most were completely abandoned. I imagined that the owners must have believed that petroleum products would be forever plentiful. It seemed a foolish lack of foresight to me.
    “No, they cannot watch, although there will be a mechanical viewer when we get close to the entrance, sort of like a periscope. We are having trouble with power - solar cells and batteries - you know? At one time we had a feed from the grid, then generators, but fuel ran out after the first month.” Of course; no one predicted such a long stay. He continued, “Our radio transmitting capability was lost long ago when a storm knocked out our tower, but we can still receive radio signals. We had only a few suits capable of going outside, so repairs were not realistically possible for us, even if we had the expertise and tools.”
    “How many down below?” I asked. The answer was surprising.
    “One hundred ninety-three,” he replied. “Theshelter was designed for over two thousand, but things happened so fast at the end that the doors were sealed before more could make it inside. Horrible to see the disaster...horrible. You just don’t know.”
    “Uh huh...,” I replied without feeling. I had lived every second of it – above ground. I couldn’t help feeling somewhat bitter about these modern troglodytes, but Armageddon