Bunk'd Season 2 Novels & Stories

Lillian snapped back to reality with a sheepish smile, "My husband couldn't make it today." "Men, always busy. He should make time for his wife and child." Stepping out of the hospital, a gentle drizzle began to fall. Lillian caressed her belly where a new life was taking root—hers and Oliver Qin's. Her phone vibrated, a message from her husband: "It's raining. Bring an umbrella to this address." The address was for the XX Clubhouse. What was this place? Wasn't he supposed to be in a meeting?

“You think I’ll fall apart.” He didn’t answer right away. Then softly, “No. I think you’ll burn everything down. And I’m not sure I’ll make it through that.” She didn’t smile this time. But her hand reached out across the console. Found his. He squeezed it, once. They didn’t speak again until the GPS said, you have arrived. --- Facility B It looked like a lie. A concrete bunker shoved into a nest of pines, half-swallowed by snow and silence. No guards. No lights. Just the kind of wrong that settles in your gut and refuses to leave.

This… wasn’t that. My eyes darted around my surroundings again, scanning the space. My bunk wasn’t just a bed — it was more like a mini-level stacked on top of others. Two bunks below me, but each had its own little floor platform with a ladder connecting them. There was even a narrow shelf by my knee holding a small metal cup and what looked like a folded towel. It was like… a weird bunker apartment. Still dazed, I rubbed my eyes, trying to piece things together. Had We Been Moved? Was this still part of the game? Why weren’t we all locked in a murder room this time?

Handwriting from twelve years ago — the strokes heavier than they were now, the flourishes drawn wide and loose, like someone who wasn't afraid of wasting paper. I turned to page twelve. A layout diagram of the bunker. Seven bunks, one incubation unit, the storeroom at the end of the hallway, the concrete-sealed door nearly two feet thick. In the bottom right corner of the diagram, a note in my own handwriting: "The apocalypse has to feel real. Push the heat up, make the water filthy — let the audience practically smell it. Rotate the insiders every season, keep one genuinely unwitting participant — protects the ratings." After "genuinely unwitting," there was a note in parentheses. Just one

he scolded, not looking at me. “Yes, it's worth it. This is something I like to do, and I know it will be worth it. Besides, it looks good on college transcripts.” Nathan gave a short laugh. “Alright, it's your funeral.” - I saw the chair across from me disappear as someone took a seat, setting their backpack on their lap and digging through it. I put my book down and placed it in the corner of the table, excited to already have someone coming to me on my second day.

Vicky is my AI assistant I created when I bought this bunker 5 years ago and she keeps me updated with my bunker and also manages back home as well. While we waited for the rooms to be ready we ate some Canes which is where we stopped by before arriving to the bunker after we ate Vicky finally said 'all rooms are cleared Ms. Sokolova' said Vicky 'Okay you guys can rest for a bit while we wait for my cousin to arrive with the boxes' I said. Both Jackie and Fanny nodded their heads and they both walked to their rooms. Jake was watching his Ipad on the couch and I was cleaning up the kitchen a little when my phone rang.