They settled into a quiet truce on opposite sides of the bunker. Sebastian stretched out on a cot while Kayla worked in the kitchen, making bread. Working with her hands was relaxing, and gave her freedom to think. The repetition soothed her, plus, there was the added benefit of coming up with something delicious.
From a shelf, she took out a plastic bowl and wooden spoon and added some seven-grain flour, a pinch of brown sugar, baking soda, salt, oil, and buttermilk powder mixed with water. As a secret ingredient, she tossed in dried bacon. She mixed it together then stretched to flick on the fan.
A loud whirling sound erupted in the enclosed space.
“What the bloody hell is that?” Sebastian said, bolting into a sitting position.
Stifling a laugh, she pointed upward. “Exhaust fan. Takes out all the smoke while I cook.”
He humphed in response, but got up and watched what she was doing.
She turned on a small portable burner and placed the dough in a pan, covering it and checking her watch. Within a few minutes, the sultry scent of bread seeped out, and she resisted the urge to take a peek.
“What are you making?” He poked around in the food-storage area. “You sure do have a variety down here.”
Passing over the first question, she answered, “I tend to get bored eating the same thing over and over.” She shrugged. “Sure, basic shelter food may be some nonperishables, but I figure why be boring? If it’s the end of the world and we’re isolated, then why not bring some delicacies, too.”
“No beans ’n franks? I thought canned food would be a staple.”
“Don’t worry; I’ve got plenty of that, but I’m also all about whole grains that can be milled. Some complex flours. Might even have a secret stash of chocolate. You know, all those necessities.”
“Mmmm, chocolate. Maybe we can melt some on your hot body later.” He gripped her hips, and let his presence be known. His actions earned him a swat away.
“Don’t make me burn this. Even with a fan, I don’t think burned bread is going to smell good down here.”
She grabbed the spatula and slid her hand into a pot holder, lifted the lid, and flipped over the bread, satisfied with the nice browning on one side. Now, to slice salami and a little bit of cheese. As a final thought, she opened a can of olives with a pull-tab and poured them in a bowl. She hated those pull-tabs on a daily basis, but they sure came in handy in an emergency.
After unfolding a small table, she spread out her favorite tablecloth, a cornflower-blue-and-yellow Provence pattern. The cheerfulness infused her with a springtime happiness like a picnic on a sunny, secluded beach, and about now she needed it. Okay, it was really an oversize napkin not a real tablecloth—there wasn’t that much room down here—but it still had the same effect.
Sebastian had made his way back on the cot and was strumming his guitar again. It seemed like his go-to position. In the few hours they’d been trapped together, she’d learned so much about him, his quirks and idiosyncrasies. So far, she found them both infuriating and cute.
“Are you ready to eat?” she asked, setting out two glasses.
“You can count on it.” He approached her with a smile and when his gaze landed on the feast, they grew wider. “Damn. You weren’t kidding.”
He tucked into the meal and his enthusiasm made the half-hour of cooking worth her time. Nothing like a satisfied customer. The bread had come out crunchy and dense, not as perfect as if she’d baked it in an oven or even a bread machine, but she couldn’t beat the quick time and results. Without preservatives, they’d have to eat it within a day or so. By tomorrow morning, it would be hard but still edible.
The perfect bite was composed of a thin slice of bread, topped with salami, cheese, and then an olive on top. She tossed the combination in her mouth and moaned in delight. Maybe next meal, she’d unpack some of the sundried tomatoes, too.
“I like that,” Sebastian said, disturbing her culinary fantasy.
When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her. “Like what? The food?”
“The noises you make. I imagine that’s what you’ll sound like when I make you come. For someone so quiet, you enjoy a lot of the pleasures, don’t you?”
She was glad he couldn’t see the full blush on her cheeks in the dim lighting. She looked down, coming back to center. He’d delved deep into her psyche, too. Since she spent so much time alone, she made sure not to scrimp on the finer items. Who knew when the Big One, the big earthquake would come along? She could prepare as much as possible, carry an emergency kit in her car, keep a stockpile at home. Still, the future was uncertain. Having someone to share it with, right now, changed her perspective a bit.
Instead of it being her against the world, they were in the disaster situation together.
A flush of emotion made her self-aware. When Kayla had put together this hideaway, she’d thought of just about everything. Too bad she hadn’t packed any condoms.
When she didn’t answer his question, Sebastian dropped it. “If your family is all prepared for a natural disaster, where are your parents?” he asked. “Will they be worried?”
Glad he had left it alone, she said, “A few years ago, they moved to Missouri. The earthquake in Japan, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown, made my dad want to be in a more centralized part of the US. On the Pacific Coast, we’re too close to potential fallout. Have you seen some of the tracking of waste that’s made the journey across to our shores?”
He nodded. “Sure. I’ve heard blokes say some have taken years.”
“That we know of. Those are the larger pieces. Probably more we don’t know about.”
“We shouldn’t fear what we can’t see,” he said, tapping the table with the bottom of his glass.
“Or maybe we should fear it even more.”
Stalemate. They grew quiet and continued to eat.
Sebastian took a long drink of water. She watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed.
“Only you and your parents, then? No siblings,” he said.
“I’ve got a sister, too,” she said. “She’s a few years younger than me and lives in San Diego.”
Mackenzie was in grad school, and Kayla hoped she was all right. For living so close, they didn’t talk much, but she didn’t hold any hard feelings against her.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish.
“She’s not a believer,” she said.
“Doesn’t have a bunker in her home?” he asked, looking around.
“Nope. You know how some people come from a strict religious family, and they grow up with opposing views, kind of like a backlash? That’s Mackenzie. Drives her car down to fumes, keeps enough food in the house to last a week at most. The last time I opened her fridge, I found a few yogurts and Diet Coke. Oh, and a box of leftover pizza, and her cupboards are even worse.”
“She thinks you’re nutters?” he said.
His accent combined with the word “nutters” made his comment even funnier. She hadn’t heard the term before, but it perfectly described how her sister saw her—to the extreme. She laughed, feeling the mood brighten. “Probably as much as I think she’s irresponsible. What about you?”
“I’ve got one older brother and two younger sisters,” he said. “We don’t all get together often. The youngest, Lizzie, still lives at home.”
“Do you miss them?” she asked.
“Only Lizzie.”
She got up and brought the plates over to the sink.
“Can I help you at all?” he asked, moving close enough so she could once again feel his presence.
“Not now; we’ll see how long this goes on for.”
He rinsed off his hands before returning to his music. His fingers slipped into the starting position, and he strummed.