The End: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller Read Free

constant.
    Kent was probably right, but they sure as hell hoped to God that he was wrong. How did the undead even know we were down here to begin with? The only logical answer was the generator. It had to be the generator that was attracting the attention.
    The medium-sized gas generator set next to the pantry of food and supplies. Two ten-gallon gas barrels sat beside it, filled to the brim. An extension cord ran from the generator into the wall, powering the few wall outlets that existed along one side, as well as wall switches to the lights in the main room and in the bathroom. A makeshift ventilation system ran from the generator’s exhaust. A small fan motor kicked on powered by the generator pulling carbon monoxide up a piping system into the wall. Pretty crafty for an old man like Mr. Wellington . Tyler’s dad wasn’t known for his handyman skills. Eric guessed the old man must have done a lot of research on the internet to get plans on how to build the shelter.
    The exhaust released above ground somewhere in the back yard. The vent’s pipe stuck out of the ground about a foot, and it lightly vibrated when the generator was running. There was no doubt the generator noise traveled through the ventilation system and echoed out into the street.
    Come to think of it, those things out there could probably even hear us talking too when the generator is off , Eric thought. They turned the generator off while they slept. The things up there seemed to thin out and quite down after about an hour with it shut down.
    Mr. Wellington definitely didn’t have much money and it showed in the structural foundation of the shelter. At least it was cozy. The shelter was only built for two, seeing as to how it only had two twin size beds set to the side in one very tight corner. The shelter was basically just one big room. A small table between the beds had an alarm clock on it. The clock wasn’t worth a damn because it didn’t work when the generator was off. They had put a new battery in it, but that didn’t help. So, they didn’t bother to set the time. The clock continually blinked 12:00 . The flashing clock added to the dreariness of the situation; reminding them that the world no longer operated according to a schedule. They could have turned it off, but for some reason, didn’t.
    Some of the structure must have leaked. The walls on one side of the room were covered in rust from the roof to the floor. A large trail of water descended from the ceiling line to the floor, causing that corner of the room to have a faint odor of mold and mildew. If it wasn’t for the toilet being backed up, the place wouldn’t have smelled of piss. The first day into their hideaway, the toilet started overflowing and urine ended up all over the floor. The toilet pump stopped working. Kent got a good laugh out of it. Something about seeing Cynthia get all worked up seemed kind of funny to him. At least he still had a good sense of humor in the middle of all this. It was surprising, to say the least, that he still had one, but Eric was thankful for it.
    There was a sink by one of the beds, but it didn’t work. It was on the same side as the rust-stained wall. Probably where the rust had come from. There were some dry goods and canned food in the room, but not a lot. Eric didn’t know what Mr. Wellington was thinking. Maybe he planned to buy some more and never got around to it. There was no way to warm any of the food, and of course, just like a bad movie, they had been unsuccessful at finding a can opener—another small detail that seemed to slip past Mr. Wellington.
    The overhead latch leading to the outside was at the end of the room opposite the beds. A small ladder leaned against the wall to get to the door handle. The ladder looked as if it was supposed to be mounted to the wall, but Mr. Wellington had failed to do that too.
    The shelter door had a small glass window about the size of a dollar bill, but it wasn’t worth the trouble of