The Banshee's Bunker

~ April 30th, 2011 ~

Never before had Stella Broadhorn received mail in the form of a sparkly purple envelope. Standing on her front porch with bare feet, she quickly collected the rest of the mail and hurried back inside to escape the gusty April weather.
     The last few Saturdays proved quite uneventful, but today, Stella's mind was beginning to realize, would be quite different. 
     Struck with an overwhelming curiosity, mostly because there was no address written on the envelope, no trace of penmanship whatsoever, Stella tore it open. Inside was a letter, not handwritten, but typed. Addressed at the top was Stella's name. Having moved towards the couch and absentmindedly sat down, Stella began to read:

Stella,
As the last remaining descendant of Sir Marcus Trox, you are hereby granted
the complete ownership of  your grandfather's property of land in Caxus Ridge, Minnesota.
Included on the property is a fallout bunker
Coordinates: 47.4062860°N, 92.3416392°W

     Stella reread the letter at least five times, her eyes narrowing in disbelief with each passing second. Something—an unsettling feeling of sort—coursed through her body. Never before had she been gifted property. And certainly never before had Stella heard of a Sir Marcus Trox.
     Doing what she always did in an unfamiliar situation, Stella picked up her phone and dialled her sister's number. It seemed the safest option. It always did.
     "Hello?" her sister's voice said.
     "Hey, Amanda," Stella said, subconsciously switching her cellphone from her left ear to her right. "I just got this weird letter in the mail."
     "Let me guess," Amanda said, "you just finished reading it and your first thought was to call me."
     "Ten points to Gryffindor," Stella said, bemused. "But yeah, here, I'll read you the gist of it. It says that I'm the last remaining descendant of Sir Marcus Trox, and it says that that's my grandfather, and that I've been granted the ownership of my grandfather's property of land."
     "What the hell," Amanda said. "You never told me you had a different grandfather than your younger sister. Weird."
     "Amanda, shut up. Listen, there's more. It says that this land includes a fallout shelter."
     "A fallout shelter? Like those things people use during wars?"
     "I guess. Ever since I read the letter I've been itching to go and check it out."
     "Who sent the letter?" Amanda said, sounding a little concerned.
     "There was nothing written on the envelope," Stella said, turning the envelope over in her free hand. "I was wondering if you wanted to come check it out with me."
     "Check it out? Where even is this fallout shelter? Does it give an address?"
     "Not exactly an address," Stella said. "It just says Caxus Ridge. Near the bottom it has the exact coordinates."
     "Caxus Ridge?" Amanda said. "Stella, that's like an hour and a half drive."
     "Yeah," Stella said. "You wanna come?"
     
     It wasn't until Stella had reread the curious letter twenty times before she heard an expectant knock at the front door. She had spent ten minutes pacing around her living room, the contents of the letter swirling around in her mind. The attempt to wrap her head around the sudden bequest of a grandfather she had never heard of was not only a strange feat, but also one that felt impossible. Stella opened the front door.
     Standing on the front porch was her sister Amanda, a red scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, strands of her light brown hair blowing gently in the breeze. While Stella's hair was rather short and wavy, Amanda's was long and straight.
     "Well," Amanda said, glancing down at the mysterious letter in Stella's hand and getting straight to the point, "let me have a look for myself."
          Stella shut the front door behind her and joined Amanda on the front porch.
     "What the hell is this?" Amanda said after taking the letter from her sister and scanning through it. "I can't believe this is actually happening."
     "Tell me about it," Stella said, leaning against the porch's wooden railing, staring off at the bleak grey clouds that swamped the neighbourhood in a somber gloom.
     "They probably just sent this letter to the wrong person, Stella. I mean, come on. Look at what it says. You're not the last remaining descendant of—" she consulted the letter again "—Sir Marcus Trox."
     "Maybe it's just a prank," Stella said, though an insatiable curiosity was swelling up inside her. No matter what her sister would end up saying, Stella knew for a fact that she would be heading up to this property today.
     "Or maybe this was sent to the wrong person. Like you said, there's no address written on it. Not even your last name is mentioned in the letter."
     "But it can't be a coincidence that a letter addressed to Stella wound up at a house with a Stella living there? The odds are astronomical."
     "You're really persistent," Amanda said. "I wouldn't have expected a thirty-six-year-old to be so fascinated by something such as this."
     Stella turned to face her sister, and received a searching look from Amanda, as if she was trying to locate an ounce of Stella that wasn't curious about the letter.
     "This feels different," Stella said firmly. "I'd love it if you came with me. I'll drive of course."
     "I thought you have Taekwondo lessons on Saturday?"
     "I can miss one class. I was one of the only ones who could do a decent roundhouse kick last week."
     Amanda sighed. "How long do you expect this to take?"
     "Besides the drive there and back, I'd say no more than half an hour. I just wanna check the place out. Maybe its all super deluxe and ritzy."
     "Yeah," Amanda said mockingly, "fallout shelters were all the rage back in the day." She turned her head slightly to gaze through the window into Stella's living room. "Philip didn't want to go with you?"
     Stella shook her head. "No, he's away."
     "Away?"
     "Working a homicide case," Stella replied. "Down in St Cloud. He'll probably be back tomorrow morning." She wrapped her arms around herself as a particularly crisp gust of wind sailed across the porch. "What's Fraser up to?"
     "Well, you're lucky," Amanda said. "He's got the day off as well so he's at home with Graham."
     "How's Graham doing? Did he like all that chocolate I got him for Easter?"
     Amanda chuckled. "He got the biggest tummy ache after finishing it within a few days."
     Stella smiled as a comforting warmth caressed every inch of her body. "Shall we go, then?"
     "Might as well get this over with," Amanda said, walking down the porch steps into the gradually increasing wind.
     Following in her sister's wake, Stella pulled her car keys out of her pocket, clicked the button to unlock the sporty red SUV, and scrambled inside to escape the coldness clawing at her uncovered skin.