“A bunker? I have no idea. Probably not. And I don’t know what kind of supplies he has either, I haven’t actually talked to him. Lisa was the one who called him.”
“Well, I’m converting the old bomb shelter.”
Claire thought back to the old cobwebby bomb shelter than her grandfather had built during the war, despite the chances of rural Victoria being bombed being slim to almost non-existent. They’d converted it to a bushfire shelter of sorts, but had only had to use it once over the years, during a particularly dry and hot summer when the fires had gotten a bit too close for comfort. For the most part, it was just an abandoned, dusty refuge for countless generations of spiders and had been a great hiding spot when the cousins came to visit.
“Isn’t it a bit small? You could be down there for months or years.”
“I’ve extended it. There are two small bedrooms, a big storage room and the original part will be the living room.”
Claire felt her eyebrows raise involuntarily. He really had thought this out.
“Wow. And Mum and Lucy haven’t noticed any of this?” Claire said, incredulously. You couldn’t normally get much past Liz Black.
“Well, Lucy hasn’t been coming home much lately, and your mum doesn’t go out that side of the house very often.”
Claire pictured the farm in her mind and supposed that was probably true enough. Her mother spent most of her free time in the vegetable garden, which was on the other side of the house.
“So… what if he doesn’t have a bunker? They’re not exactly the most common household feature.”
“Well, you’ll need somewhere that’s protected. There could be massive fires when it hits. You need somewhere to sit those out.”
“It’s the middle of winter here, Dad. Uncle Jim’s place will be covered in snow.”
“Snow can melt,” was all her father replied.
Claire sighed, but she couldn’t help the small fire of determination that had started to burn in her. Perhaps this wasn’t a death sentence after all. Perhaps her sons would reach their next birthdays, maybe they would see another summer.
“What else?”
“Supplies to rebuild. You’ll need a lot of seeds to regrow crops after the long winter clears. Jim reckons we’ll have a nuclear-type winter for at least a few years. That means not much sunlight will get through, and nothing much will grow and—”
“Yeah, Dad. I know what a nuclear winter is.”
“Okay, that’s good. That’s good. Just think about what you’d need if you were trapped underground for years. Lots of non-perishables. Facilities. Fuel. I’ll email you through a list if you’d like,” he said.
“Okay, yeah, thanks. That’d be good. I’ll see what I can do, Dad,” Claire said. “You really should tell Mum about the bunker,” she added.
Bill sighed. “I know. And I will. I’m just waiting for the right time.”
“What are you afraid of, Dad?”
“I don’t know. She’s convinced we’re all going to die. She’s not going to believe anything that came from Jim Schmidt. She’ll tell me to stop wasting time.”
“Well then, don’t tell her the information came from Jim Schmidt. Tell her you found out some other way.”
“But I don’t have concrete proof. You know your mother…” Bill stopped and sighed again. “I will tell her.”
“Don’t leave it too late, Papa Bear.”
“I won’t,” he promised.
“I should get back down to the boys. Can we video chat with you both later? I want to see you.”
“Yes, of course. That’s a good idea. I’ll get your mother to set up the computer.”
“Good. Okay. I’ll talk to you later, hopefully I’ll have some news about Tom.”
“All right then. Be careful. I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Claire hung up and sat on the bed, trying to process everything her father had said. Could they really survive?
Mind reeling, Claire went back downstairs to Lisa and the boys. Noah was setting up the tea set that his Nanna had given him for Christmas. She picked Tristan up again and cuddled him. He squirmed. Lisa shot her an inquiring glance.
“I talked to Mum and Dad,” she said. “Mum’s worried about Lucy. She hasn’t heard from her yet.”
“Did you tell Lucy to get out of the city?” Lisa took the proffered plastic tea cup from Noah and pretended to take a sip.
“Yeah. I sent her an email yesterday when we were talking about it, but I haven’t heard back from her, and neither has Mum.”
Lisa frowned but said, “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She probably just hasn’t thought to check her email yet.”
Claire snorted. “No, I don’t suppose checking your email is all that high on most people’s list of things to do when you find out the world is ending.”
“Might end,” Lisa corrected.
“Right, might end. Have you been talking to my father or something?”
“Huh?” Lisa looked puzzled.
“Nothing. Dad just…” Claire let out a sigh and accepted Noah’s plate and explanation that there was cake on it. Yummy, invisible cake. Claire’s favourite. “Do you know much about asteroids?”
“Not really,” Lisa said. “Just that there’s one heading our way that’s a bit bigger and deadlier than usual.”
“I need to find out some specifics about this one. Dad’s got this crack-pot old neighbour who’s convinced him that with proper preparation we might survive.”
“Really?” A flash of something that might have been relief crossed Lisa’s face. “How?”
“I’m not entirely sure. He thinks it will be bad and a lot of people will die, but he seems to think if we take proper precautions and survive the actual blast, then we might have a chance of surviving the aftermath.” Claire held out her small tea cup for Noah to pour his ‘tea’ into. She tried to keep her voice even so as not to alarm the kids.
“And how are we meant to do that?” Lisa asked evenly while Noah poured his imaginary tea into her cup.
Claire shrugged. “Dad’s been renovating the old bomb shelter in the backyard.”
“Really? But we only found out yesterday,” Lisa said with a frown.
“Apparently there have been rumours about this asteroid for a while. Lost in the sea of the other crackpot end of the world theories floating around. One of Dad’s mates told him about it and showed him enough proof for him to believe it.”
“What! Wow. Um. I don’t know what to say. Why didn’t he tell you?” Lisa blinked rapidly.
“Good question. I’m a little bit mad at him actually. He said he didn’t think we’d believe him.”
“That’s fu—” Claire shot Lisa a look and inclined her head towards Noah. “Sorry, stuffed up.”
“I know,” Claire sighed and cuddled Tristan closer. “He asked me if your Uncle Jim has a bunker.”
Lisa snorted. “If he does, I’ve never found it.”
Claire rubbed her forehead with her spare hand. That was a problem for another day.
“What should we pack?” Claire asked, looking around the home she’d been building for the past few years. If they left, would they ever get a chance to return? And what would they be returning to?
Lisa made a face. “They never teach you how to pack for the apocalypse, do they? Just clothes I guess, and whatever you can’t live without. Photos of your family, toys for the kids. We should probably bring some pillows and duvets, but Uncle Jim’s got plenty of spare bedrooms. Oh, and all the food we bought, of course.”
“Dad’s sending me a bunch of info to read, but he mentioned we’d need stuff to rebuild if we make it through the next six months or year or however long. Seeds and supplies and stuff.”
Lisa nodded, and then shook her head. “This is so unbelievable. I think I need more time to process everything. Yesterday morning I was helping Molly pick out her subjects for next year. She wants to be a writer like you, you know.”