Contact by Sean Platt, Johnny B. Truant Read Free Book Online Page A

stairs ducked low and bared his own firearm first. The shooter’s black, muscle-covered arms were as steady as granite. A half-second beat, then the man fired.  
    For a second, Trevor thought he might be dead, but the man had merely shot out the emergency light across the room and plunged them in shadow.
    Light spilled from the other rooms, but the main area had become a confused gray. Trevor wanted to run, but his feet — like his gun — betrayed him. The men came forward, rushing with a sureness Trevor had to envy, spreading in a precision assault, each barely seen shadow seeming to know exactly where to go. They ran from room to room, and more lights went out. At one point, Trevor felt the gun plucked from his hand, his body unceremoniously cuffed to the ground.
    “ Clear! ” one of the men shouted.  
    “ Clear! ” another echoed.  
    “ Clear! ”  
    The room quieted. Trevor didn’t dare move. He was under the distinct impression that although he could see little, the invaders could see everything.
    Night vision goggles, his mind told him.  
    But who wore night vision goggles? Who brought generators and powered drills to an apocalypse bunker, scavenging for scraps?  
    Military maybe? A special-ops team gone rogue?
    It was as if the group had come here specifically to take the bunker. As if they’d known exactly what would be required … and, curiously, how to take over without killing a soul. Not a shot had been fired after the first man, squatting low, had killed the lights.  
    A new set of footsteps paced casually down from above then moved to the middle of the now-quiet room.
    “Get a light.”
    The voice chilled Trevor’s spine. The newcomer who’d said those words spoke like someone giving a lecture, not someone who’d spent less than a minute masterminding a flawless raid. The man had a slight accent, but rather than it making him sound distinguished to Trevor’s ears, it made him sound somehow broken.  
    A lantern lit. Trevor recognized it as the one Piper kept in the middle of the coffee table “just in case.” The glow was weak for the large room, but enough for Trevor to see the raiders.  
    There were six of them. The man who’d spoken last was in the center, wearing a black overcoat, newly arrived only after the dirty shooting work had been completed. Trevor watched all six men remove night vision goggles, his heart pounding. His eyes caught Lila, with their mother, to one side, staring at the lead man in abject horror. As if she recognized him and sensed something horrible seconds away.
    “Well then,” the tall man said. “What a fine little place you have here.”  
    The man was roughly in the room’s center, a few feet from the lantern. His proximity to the only light source threw a huge shadow opposite, across Raj, who’d been knocked to the ground, guarded by a thick-looking man with curly hair and bad skin. Heather and Lila were clasping each other nearby.  
    Piper was still at the control room door, but now her arm was held fast by the big black man who’d shot out the lights. She looked frail and beautiful, out of place amid this violence. She looked at Trevor, seeming suddenly helpless. All the strength she’d gained over the past months had vanished in an instant, stolen by this band of marauders.  
    Trevor gave Piper a blinking nod that he hoped seemed reassuring. He looked around at the others, seeing how completely and easily they’d taken the bunker. The man above Raj was holding Raj’s gun. The others trained handguns around the room — casually, as if they thought their prisoners offered no threat.  
    “What do you want?” Trevor tried to puff himself up despite his position on the floor.  
    The man looked down, surprised. Piper was tossing Trevor glances with a clear meaning: Shut up, and play dead .  
    But Trevor had shut up and played dead enough. He’d let his father save them from the bad men who’d occupied the house when they’d arrived.