Krysty considered the idea. “Silas did mention the predark government had been digging them,” she said. “There could be tools in the storage lockers, explosives for the mining, medical supplies, lots of useful things down there.”
“Also a big ass mutie,” Dean added. “Sounds like the same problem to me. We need weapons to go into the tunnel to see if there are any weapons there to be found.”
“Muties aren’t sec men,” his father explained, starting to clean the SIG-Sauer. The one loaded clip he placed aside reverently. “Okay, we’ve been through this place from top to bottom. What can we use to make some weapons?”
“Any brooms or mops in the closets?” Krysty asked.
“Sure, lots. Army always liked things clean.”
“Good. We can use those as the handles. What can we burn?”
“I found some congealed oil in the grease traps of the garage,” J.B. said, polishing his glasses with a cloth napkin. He placed them on his face and blinked his eyes into focus. “The goo is useless for a wag, but we can soak rags in it and make torches. Remember, that mutie at the door didn’t like the light.”
“Or getting shot,” Dean added.
“Any chemicals we can cook into bombs?” Mildred asked.
J.B. shook his head. “Nothing explosive. Some minor poisons, and I can make a ton of smoke bombs, but nothing deadly.”
Tugging on an ear, Doc asked, “Was there any propane or oxygen remaining in the welding tanks I saw in the garage?”
“Only a few pounds of pressure, about ten seconds’ worth.”
“Not enough for a flamethrower.” He sighed. “Ah, well.”
“We have plenty of bottles,” Ryan commented, nudging the case. “Just have to find something to put in them. Could we use the grease to make Molotov cocktails?”
The Armorer shook his head, then stopped and nodded. “Yeah, we can.” He smiled. “I found some aftershave cologne in the barracks. That’s mostly alcohol. I can cut the grease and make mebbe a dozen cocktails.”
“Thicken them a bit with laundry soap,” Mildred said, turning off the heat under the simmering pot. “That’ll make it good and sticky.”
“How about crossbows? Those are easy to make,” Krysty said, starting to draw on the tablecloth with a pencil. “We can form the bow from steel bedsprings. This base has plenty of electricity. We can use the power tools to machine the shafts and carve the stocks from table legs.”
“Fletching from feather pillows,” Jak stated. “But still need arrowheads.”
Rising from the table, Doc crossed the cafeteria and opened a drawer. “Plenty of knives here, although they are rather large. Could we perhaps cut them down to a more serviceable size?”
“Absolutely. There’s a grinding wheel in the garage that’ll do a fine job. This may just work.”
“Hey! Remember the last time we were here and Doc almost got chilled?” Dean asked excitedly. “Where did we put the battle-ax and bayonets from the booby trap?”
“In the Art Room,” Mildred answered. “I already checked. They’re long gone.”
“Shit.” The boy’s face slumped, then he beamed a smile and dashed away at a full run. “The Art Room? Yeah, be right back!”
“Homemade crossbows and bedsheet torches,” Ryan growled, glancing at the doorway. “Mebbe we should risk a jump.”
“Where?” Doc asked.
“Anywhere,” Ryan answered, over his rumbling stomach. “Go to another redoubt, hopefully one Silas hasn’t looted, grab some food or blasters, anything useful I find and jump back here using the LD button.”
Hooking a boot under the table, J.B. leaned dangerously backward in his chair. “Last Destination button only works for thirty minutes. That’s fifteen in, and the same out. Not much time.”
“Traps,” Jak added, brushing back his snowy hair. “Sec hunter droids, muties.”
Ryan shrugged noncommittally. They could encounter any or all of those, it was a standard danger with any jump. Aside from not arriving at all. But they could also find a well-stocked armory with crates of MRE packs, LAW rockets, grens, even Stingers and IR antihelicopter rockets. They had hit the jackpot before, and he was sure they would do so again someday.
“Still got a few in the SIG-Sauer. That’ll handle any problems,” Ryan said confidently, patting the weapon.