“I figure me, Jak and Doc could do it,” the Armorer stated. “And I’m pretty sure that the Gate can.” He cast a quizzical glance at Tammy and Gloria.
“Honey, you don’t even have to ask,” the Gate queen said with a smile. “To get a crack at those scum fuckers, my girls would crawl over broken glass and walk on fire. A few hundred yards of flat land sure ain’t gonna stop them.”
“That’s what I was hoping to hear.” J.B. grinned. “I figure that as soon as the sec door starts to rise, we just go hell for leather. The light will give us an early warning for when it’s starting to go up, leaking out of the redoubt. And they’ll be too busy with you guys to try and stop us,” he added.
“That’s the idea, sweets,” Gloria agreed. “So are we ready to move out?”
“Soon as we get these damn suits on, and your people are up to speed,” Ryan answered.
With the briefest of nods, Gloria and Tammy went off to give the Gate and the Crossroads dwellers their final briefing, including handing over the chain of command to J.B., Jak and Doc.
While Ryan, Mildred, Krysty and Dean struggled into the uniforms of the chilled Illuminated Ones, J.B. and Jak went in search of Doc. They found him seated on the porch of a house, only a few hundred yards from the main drag.
“Good evening to you, gentlemen,” Doc said as they approached. “I fear I must apologize for being a cretin.”
“I reckon I’d take that apology if I knew what the fuck you meant,” J.B. replied, “but right now I’m just glad we’ve found you.” The Armorer briefly relayed the final plan of action to Doc, ending, “I know you feel like shit from this pox, but me and Jak need you if we’re gonna pull all these people together.”
Doc rose to his feet, much more composed than when last they had seen him. “Gentlemen,” he said slowly, “I allowed my rage and frustration to overtake me. I am in no fit state to be in the vanguard of an attack, but if you think for one moment that I shall be found wanting in my moment of trial, then you are very sorely mistaken. Lead on, my dear John Barrymore. If I do not help attain a cure, I shall at least buy the farm with my own coin.”
“That mean yes?” Jak asked J.B.
“Resoundingly,” Doc replied.
The three companions returned to the center of the ville to find Tammy and Gloria squeezing themselves into the clinging material of the Illuminated uniforms. It was hard to get the suits to fit, as they were made of a stretchy material, and so had to be molded to the body in a way that clothes usually weren’t, particularly for the Gate women and Jon, who hardly wore any clothes at all. In fact, the only one to slide into the uniform with ease was Mildred, who had worn such types of uniform in her predark sporting days.
“Are we ready?” J.B. asked.
Cursing the uniform, Gloria half turned to him.
“Sure thing, sweets. Everyone knows the plan, knows who’s in charge. The only thing stopping us now is these motherfucking clothes,” she added, trying to get her arm into the material without it twisting and becoming constricting.
J.B., Jak and Doc moved to join the convoy that would follow the Illuminated wag, mounting the horse drawn wags that would carry the armory and some of the Crossroads dwellers. The Gate warriors would either ride the back of the wags, go on foot or, in the case of the outriders, were mounted on swifter steeds.
The fake Illuminated Ones donned their helmets, securing them so that they lost all identity. Seeing them standing there, about to embark in the wag, it seemed to J.B. that his friends no longer existed. The only giveaways were the scorch and burn marks, and subsequent holes, that scored the uniforms. Hopefully, when they entered the redoubt and disembarked from the wag, these could be put down to superficial injury just long enough for the vanguard to take the initiative.