Journal 42

After a few minutes of negotiations, I agreed to hand over my fidget spinner and a window punch in exchange for two cans of canned apples. The fidget spinner was for Bubba. In hindsight, I regret giving up my window punch.

Capt Patel and I walked back out into the main room. The lights were on low. A computer game played on both big screen TVs. It looked fun. I stopped to watch. Capt Patel grabbed me by my shirt and tugged me along. He was a bit impatient. I followed him into the kitchen.

I was expecting Capt. Patel to open one of the cabinets in the kitchen and hand me two cans of canned apples. It didn’t happen. Instead, we passed through another security door, walked down a flight of stairs, walked down a long hallway, and entered a walk- in refrigerator. The refrigerator was huge. From ceiling to floor were stacks and stacks of canned goods. Capt Patel handed me the two cans of apples as we agreed upon and we made our way back to the top.

Capt Patel’s grandfather had been part of a secret society of survivalists. He built the underground structure of the house in the 1980’s. It was supposed to be a safe retreat in case of nuclear attack.