Bomb Shelter Novels & Stories

THE BARRICADE We ran to the Blast Door of Sector 7 the main access point between the civilian bunkers and the military Keep. The door was a massive slab of star-metal reinforced steel. It was designed to hold back a nuclear blast. BANG. A fist hit the other side. BANG. Another fist. BANG-BANG-BANG. Thousands of fists hitting the metal in a perfect, synchronized rhythm. It sounded like a drumbeat. It sounded like a heartbeat. "They're going to batter it down," Damian said, drawing his weapon. But his hand

The moment Darren stepped inside the bunker, he could not stop the shock that flashed across his face. His eyes slowly wandered around the massive underground shelter in disbelief. The place was far beyond anything he had imagined. The bunker was brightly lit, clean, and heavily fortified. A cool breeze from the air conditioner filled the space, instantly washing away the exhausting heat from outside. There was even a television mounted against one side of the wall, something Darren had not seen functioning properly in a very long time since the apocalypse began.

Eliza's POV The safe house was a concrete box buried in the middle of nowhere. Farmland stretched in every direction, flat and empty, nothing but cornfields and silence. The building itself had been a bunker once, Reyes explained—Cold War era, repurposed by the task force for situations exactly like this. Situations where people needed to disappear. I sat on a cot in the corner, a blanket around my shoulders, watching Adam pace. He'd been moving since we arrived, unable to sit still, the adrenaline still burning through his system. Reyes was on the phone in the next room, voice low and urgent.

We won't starve. It was an asylum. A bunker for the soul. For the first twenty-four hours, silence was oppressive. They moved around each other, two bomb squad men afraid to make a mistake. They cooked plain meals. They read from the book-lined shelf. They walked the rock beach, the wind carrying their words away before they could be spoken.

Tonight, it had become a refuge for those who had survived the brutal assault on the palace and manor. The safe house called Bergwire was a grand structure, its stone walls blending seamlessly with the rocky landscape. It was a place built for defense, not comfort, fortified against attacks and hidden from prying eyes. As the car pulled up to the entrance, Maxton and his group were greeted by the grim sight of their people — those who had managed to escape the attack.

I asked. "Diana!" Dominic shouted. The bathroom door clicked open. Mom peeked out. When she saw the dead wolf, she gagged, but she stepped out. "We have to move," Dominic said. "The perimeter is breached. We held them off, but they'll be back with reinforcements. This place isn't safe anymore." "Where do we go?" Mom asked, her voice shrill. " The bunker," Jax retorted. "Under the clubhouse. It's the only place with iron-reinforced walls."

His men moved and began to relax. “Go check my wife and Piper. Ask them if they need anything,” I told Quinton. “I’ll be there in a minute. I need to see Gio first.” Wave followed me with Terzo inside the house, crossing a long hallway before we entered a stock room. Behind it was a huge, thick metal door, similar to a vault. “The bunker was built in the sixties, but safe enough that it could withstand a nuclear blast.” He and Wave opened the door that looked heavy. It squealed wide open, making my heart race.

The sign out front read: “The Story House: Sanctuary.” Skye blinked. “What is this?” River handed her a key. “It’s yours. Well—ours. This will be the first shelter specifically for survivors of trauma and youth homelessness using the Story House model. Books, therapy, art, food, safety. A place to land and begin again.” She stared at the building, heart aching in the best way. “You bought this?” she whispered. “Don’t ask how,” he smirked. “Just say yes.”

When I’d heard the word armory, I’d pictured something out of a movie: black metal shelves, ammo belts, and walls covered in guns like a war room. Instead, it looked like a private lounge. The walls were lined with cherrywood cabinets, polished until they gleamed. A large carved table sat in the middle of the room, topped with marble. The floor was covered with an expensive rug that looked more suited for a dining room than a weapons vault. “This is the armory?” I asked. “Not what you were expecting?” Williams shut the heavy door behind us. It clicked into place, then he locked three additional deadbolts. “This room doubles as a safe room and a tornado shelter. There are others scattered thr

That was something that I was sure of. “This is one of two gymnasiums - the newest one. It has been designed and modelled in such a way that we would be able to use this as a safe house in the event of an attack on our pack. We have built a safe room in the basement with a door that is coated in solid silver. We have two guard in a safety suit, permanently sitting at the door, just to be prepared for what might come. In due time, I believe that we will demolish the other gymnasium, or repurpose it for a different building.”