Week 5, Day 2 – Mr. Johnson Returns

The last few days had run smoothly as well. We had a leak in one of the rooms, but with my offline database of resources like Wikipedia and other online information that I downloaded before all of the internet went down in the apocalypse, I fixed it with some equipment I brought out in storage, and the Johnson girls and I cleaned it up. We finally had real chicken meat. I had to help Tracy slaughter and pluck and clean some of the older egg-laying birds. We breaded it in flour and fried it and ate it with instant mashed potatoes and canned gravy and some fresh vegetables from our garden.

I had concocted a birth control serum and had them all regularly take it, Jill included. I would decide later if I wanted to repopulate this place some other time.

It was around noon. We had just finished lunch, and I was in the control room monitoring all the channels and the surrounding base when it happened. I looked at my 360 camera that showed the surrounding neighborhood scanning. The neighborhood had grown wildly. What was once beautiful mansion homes and a suburban complex became withered and vines and the plants overgrown. The lawns no longer kept in place by low-paid workers, sparkling pools now grimy and teaming with mysterious fauna and abandoned cars parked nonsensically and dead bodies and garbage littered the streets and a few stragglers of undead roaming.

I had seen a group of people move up towards my house and my bunker. There were four. Two men, two women. One of them looked pregnant. They approached and entered Mr. Johnson’s house, the one next to mine, and then entered my house. One of them came out. It was Mr. Johnson himself. Though he had looked different. He was unkempt, unshaven, his pot belly disappeared, and his arms and neck looked stringy. He had a cold look in his eyes. I gulped.

Mr. Johnson walked towards the back of the house towards the endless grass fields to the bunker doors. He rang the bell twice, paused and rung it more. I took a moment to breathe and answered.

“Hello,” I said, a croak in a voice.

“Adam, it’s me. Todd Johnson. I’m back. Open the door, please.” Mr. Johnson said in a fake friendly tone but zoomed in on the monitor, his eyes gave a completely different look, and his hands were firmly clenched to the shotgun he was holding. He had a pistol tucked and a knife hanging in a sheath on him.

“Certainly, Mr. Johnson. Mr. Johnson, I must ask you to take off your weapons. All of it. Your bag as well before you come in.”

“Adam. Aren’t we friends?” Mr. Johnson emphasized the word friend distinctly. “You can trust me.”

“Mr. Johnson, I don’t know what you’ve been through out there, but you may have PTSD or maybe symptoms of aggression you contracted from ‘them’. I just want to keep myself and your family safe.” I said calmly.

“Keep my family safe, huh,” Mr. Johnson spat the words out. “Is that what you’ve been doing for the past couple of weeks? Keeping them safe.”

“They’re alive, aren’t they?” I said back.

“Open the door, Adam,” Mr. Johnson said in a tone that tossed away his previous fake congeniality.

“Again, I can’t do that unless you put away your weapons. I want you to go back into my house and leave your weapons there and then come back unarmed without any bags. Then you can come back in Mr. Johnson.” I said, though at this point I probably had no intentions of letting him back in.

“Adam, when I get in there I will peel your fucking skin inch by inch do you understand me, kid?” Mr. Johnson said.

“Mr. Johnson, Todd, if you use that tone with me, I’m going to have to ask you to leave and come back another time. When you are more agreeable. I can’t let you in in this state.” I thought I sounded like HAL from 2001.

Mr. Johnson walked away a couple of yards from the house. He turned around and pointed the shotgun at the bunker doors and unloaded it. It did very little, and he fired a few more shots, realizing it was useless. He came back to the door.

“Mr. Johnson, even with a nuclear bomb, you aren’t getting through here without my say so. I hired the best engineers and designers for this place. It’s not some run-down shack. Please don’t waste your bullets. I think you attracted a couple of ‘them’ towards you too.”

Mr. Johnson huffed and said “I’ll be back Adam, and when I finally get in there, I’m going to fuck you like you fucked my wife. Like you fucked my daughters. I’m going to fuck you raw, you won’t be able to shit straight. You hear me?”

He walked away furiously towards my house where the rest of his party probably were hiding out.

I could see another man walk out, who I assume was Jimmy, and he and Mr. Johnson effortless took down a couple of zombies coming to their ways, attracted by the sound of the shotgun, with their machetes and spiked bat.

I grimaced and sighed. In any other story, Mr. Johnson was the hero in all this. The wronged party out for ****. I’m the villain, and my chickens have come home to roost. I massaged my temples. I relaxed when I thought about how safe I was inside of here.

The vault was protected by layers of concrete and reinforced steel, deep underground. He would need to haul heavy industrial sized equipment to this place to even get anywhere close to me. There was only one entrance he could exploit, but it would be impossible unless he knew the location of the air vents. Even then he would have to crawl through a mazework and plenty of traps and alarms on the way. It was impenetrable. Still, I didn’t feel any easier about this. I thought back to my weapon hold and refused the idea. I’m no Clint Eastwood.

Tracy made a loud gagging sound when I **** the length of my cock all the way down to the base down her throat and shot a load into her. She made sucking noises, and her throat worked the semen into her stomach and cleaned my dick off. She got up between my legs where I was sitting and said, “My dad’s back?”

I nodded.

“Great, I’ll tell Mom he’s safe.”

“Oh, and tell Jill to come in here,” I said and slapped Tracy on the butt on her way out, a vibrator sticking out of her cunt. Tracy and Mrs. Cadence had taken to wearing crotch-less lingerie I got out of storage for them all the time.

I collapse back into my chair. Waiting for the next storm.