I heard him flick the light switch and a dim gray-white light sputtered on. The bunker was long and narrow, made of concrete blocks. The ceiling was low, only about six and a half feet, and also constructed out of concrete blocks. Shelves of provisions stretched along one side, with seven five-gallon plastic water jugs, each dated in black marker, on the bottom shelves. On the other side of the room was a twin-size bed with two pillows. A radio and CB sat on a low shelf at the bottom of the bed, with a first-aid kit on the shelf beneath the radio equipment.
“Home sweet home until this blows over,” he said.
“I rather like it,” I said, and studied the shelves filled with food: crackers, instant rice, canned soup, granola bars, a case of juice, jars of instant coffee, and other supplies we
