As the other companions moved into positions, J.B. ran his hands along the jamb and checked the hinges, then the big bolt holding the door closed. Next, he ran a small pocket compass along the surface of the metal. The magnetic needle didn’t quiver once to indicate a hidden magnetic switch or mass proximity fuse.
“Looks clean,” he said hesitantly, and spit on the locking bolt, wiggling it a few tunes to work the spittle inside the mechanism. His face clouded at the thought of the lost oil can, lock picks and probes, then he resumed working.
When satisfied, J.B. slid the bolt free and tugged on the handle. Nothing happened. “Heavy bastard. Give me a hand, will you?”
Grabbing the wheel, Ryan and Krysty helped the man force open the massive portal a few inches. Almost instantly, something large scuttled in view, three triangular eyes and long fangs reflected in the dim sliver of light.
“Close!” Jak ordered, as the thing shoved a clawed limb through the slim opening. The albino teen leveled his blaster and fired once, the discharge thunderously loud in the confines of the reactor room. A foot-long lance of flame reached through the door crack, the hollowpoint Magnum round smacking into the unseen creature and blowing off an eye stalk. The mutie gave out a high-pitched squeal, as greenish blood squirted onto the jamb. Stepping back, Krysty fired and missed, the slug ricocheting into the darkness. Ryan shot from the hip, and the claw blocking the door shattered, spraying green blood and gobbets of white flesh everywhere. Shrieking in pain, the creature scuttled into the darkness and the companions shoved the door shut with an echoing boom.
Dropping the Uzi, J.B. forcibly drove home the locking bolt, making sure it was solidly engaged. A split second later, something slammed into the door on the other side, then scratched the metal as if trying to dig through. Quickly, the companions retreated a few yards.
“Fucking crab,” Ryan muttered.
“No way we’re going in there again without light and lots more blasters,” Krysty said, catching her breath. “Mebbe we better recce the top levels to see if Silas left anything useful behind.”
“Doubtful,” J.B. said, retrieving the Uzi. “But it’s our best bet. At least the microwaves have stopped.”
“Have they?” Jak asked pointedly.
Pensively, Dean looked up the stairs. “Could the Kite thing still be whatever, you know, beaming micros at us?”
“Perhaps they have simply lowered the intensity,” Doc suggested. “But if we open a door in the upper levels, we start to fry again.”
“Any way we can check?” Krysty asked.
“Maybe there is,” Mildred said, rummaging in the pockets of her fatigues. “Ah, found it.”
Carefully, she unrolled a tiny silver ball, the crumpled wrapper from the stick of gum from a MRE pack. Flattening the wad of metallic paper until it was relatively smooth, she then neatly folded it once. Doc already had his sword out, and she slid the folded piece of foil over the tip of the steel shaft.
Blaster in hand, Ryan understood what the two were doing. “Stay sharp,” he said. “If the redoubt is no longer under attack, then we might get some company.”
“Blue shirts,” Dean said hatefully. The boy had his Browning in one hand, the Bowie knife in the other.
“Couldn’t be anybody else,” J.B. said, flipping a switch on the side of the Uzi with his thumb. The weapon felt uncommonly light.
“I want a three-on-three formation, with Doc in the lead,” Ryan continued. “We go soft and silent, retreat if possible. If not, Jak, you got your throwing knives ready?”
The albino teenager bolstered his Colt Python and flexed both hands. Black knives with leaf-shaped blades slid from inside his sleeves. “Throat,” the teenager advised coldly, announcing his targets. “Can’t breath, can’t shout.”
“Ready,” Ryan said.
Extending the sword far out in front, Doc proceeded up the stairs at a slow pace. The steps were solid slabs of concrete, smoothed to a mirror sheen. The companions made no sounds as they slowly went higher and higher into the redoubt. There were no signs whatsoever of the base having taken any damage from the microwaves. The doors leading to the other levels weren’t discolored or warped, no indications of scrap paper having caught on fire, the wall extinguishers hadn’t burst. The leakage getting past the nuke armor of the base had to have just been enough to almost chill them, but that was all.