The Beginning by Mark Lansing Page B

second he wondered whether he was just imagining it. Then the image of the man’s mouth hanging open, his blood stained teeth and chin came back to him. He shuddered and turned his attention back to the empty room. 
    A bunker? Why would his parents have a bunker?
    His parents.
    He had to warn them about the man. He had to find a phone.
    Martin took a step into the room and took in the contents surrounding him. It was essentially one big box with three small compartments on the far end of the room.
    To his left was a kitchen area, complete with a sink, a row of cupboards and a large fridge. Martin realised how thirsty he was, he checked his watch; 10:38am. He’d spent all of yesterday driving to his parent’s ranch in Colora do. By the time he arrived it was past midnight and he barely had the energy to climb the stairs and collapse into his old bed.
    When he had woken up, there had been a note stuck to the inside of his door. Even from his bed Martin had recognised his mom’s trademark love heart scribbled on at the end of the note. He wish he’d read it.
    Instead his attention had been grabbed by the bark and then loud shrill of his parent’s Great Dane; Roxy. Then the sight of a man hunched over it. That was when he had grabbed the bat and sprinted out to help his childhood companion. His parents couldn’t have been home or they would have come out to help him.
    Martin blinked. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight – dehydration can mess with your head. He strode over to the fridge and pulled open the shiny metallic door. Inside were neat rows of army rations in silver foil packages, lined up horizontally. His dad had been a military man, and although he’d encouraged Martin he had never wanted to enlist. In the door of the fridge and packed in the bottom shelf were 1 litre bottles of water. Martin plucked one out, unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. He closed the fridge door, took another big gulp of water and while holding it in his mouth, surveyed the rest of the room.
    He made his way towards the back of the room where there was three doorways to three small rooms. There were no doors so Martin could tell as he approached the first room that it was a bedroom. But the bed seemed out of place. It had a bright pink patchwork quilt which Martin immediately recognised as his mom’s work. In contrast to the dull grey walls it seemed alien. On the bedside table was a picture frame of his parents at the beach, his mom’s blonde hair billowing in the wind while his dad’s ever present baseball cap was fixed tightly over his brow. They looked happy. Martin wondered if they were safe.
    The next room was a simple toilet and bath with a shower extension. Martin smiled. His mom loved baths and he could imagine her arguing with dad to get one inst alled in the bunker, no matter the cost. Martin’s dad, Collin, was one of the hardest, most badass men Martin have ever met. He didn’t back down from anyone or anything. But his mom always got her way – always.
    The final room was locked. Martin entered the same code the bunker door into the keypad.
    ACCESS DENIED. 2 ATTEMPTS REMAINING.     
    Martin thought he’d perhaps entered the code wrong, so he tried again, this time taking extra care when pushing each number.
    ACCESS DENIED. 1 ATTEMPT REMAINING.      
    He didn’t want to find out what happened when he entered the code wrong three times. He looked over at the only corner of the room left unexplored. Fixed to the wall was a large television screen, Martin guessed at least 6 feet wide. Directly below it was a desk littered with button, joysticks and smaller screens.
    And a telephone.  

Chapter 3
    Martin ran over to the desk and grasped the telephone. It was connected to the desk through a coiled wire and felt heavy as he pressed it to his ear. He entered the phone number of his parent’s house and waited as it rang. As he paced he caught the reflection of a man in the blank TV screen. He looked