He gave me a long look.
“None that I saw. Don’t take risks like that again, June. It’s not worth it.”
I gave him a sad smile, understanding what he was implying. He couldn’t live without me.
“I love you too, Adam.”
Since Adam was covered in the woman’s blood, I went to the control room to check the monitors.
“Everything’s still clear. Go shower. We can feed the cattle when you’re done then reset the wind chimes.”
He shook his head, his expression troubled. “It doesn’t make sense. That arm was a trap. Where are they?”
“The turbine’s been out since the storm. Maybe they got bored waiting and moved away.”
“Maybe. Turn on the radio when the bank’s at five percent.”
I never got a chance. Adam returned from his shower just before it reached the mark.
“Everything still clear?”
“Yep. Nothing’s moving.”
“I think we should wait to feed,” he said, watching the empty screens.
We didn’t feed on a set schedule since we weren’t sure if the infected were smart enough to notice that kind of pattern. And the whole excursion to clear the solar panels and turbine hadn’t taken more than twenty minutes, so it was still early. Yet, I hesitated to wait any longer with the wind chimes still down. They didn’t make more sound than the cattle, but it was a human-type noise that seemed to draw in any nearby infected. We used them whenever we had to do anything topside to help cover our noise.
“Let’s get the feeding done. It’s earlier than usual, which is a good thing. Afterward, we can have a relaxing day with nothing else to worry about.”
He gave me a considering look.
“I’d feel better if we waited. That arm…” He shook his head.
I walked to him and hugged him close.
“Adam, you know we don’t have the luxury of hiding down here. This is our world. Risks and all.”
He pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head.
“Run if I say run.”
“Always.”
It took longer to make sure the yard was clear than it did to feed the livestock and barn cats. We worked in silence then reset the wind chimes and hurried back to the bunker. While Adam went to the control room, I cleaned up and started breakfast.
A crackle of static filled the bunker. I sighed at the familiar sound and started the kettle. The water came to a boil just before a pause in the static. Adam always gave each channel a few minutes before moving to the next.
While he scanned the frequencies for any sign of life beyond our bunker, I added the water to the dehydrated potatoes and opened a can of spam. We had plenty of both, thanks to his family. Not a lot of variety, though.
The supply room was filled with those little cartons of dehydrated potatoes, bags of rice, cans of spam, cans of peas, and more cans of green beans. We also had several big totes filled with bags of flour and sugar and a smaller one of baking soda and powder. The powdered eggs made it possible to whip up pancakes for something different, too. Rows of jarred maple syrup, something his uncle made every spring, lined a shelf along the ceiling.
According to the portion charts Gary had made, there was enough to feed eight people for six months. With two of us, it would last much longer. But after that, things would get iffy.
Hunting obviously wasn’t an option. Not only would the gunfire draw infected, but according to the other preppers who’d gone silent weeks ago, there also wasn’t any game to be found out there. What hadn’t gotten killed by the hellhounds had run off.
That was why Adam and I took care of the livestock even though there was a risk every time we left the bunker. If we wanted meat when the canned goods ran out, we needed every animal on the farm.
I plated our portions and went to the control room. Adam stood as soon as I entered.