“Can blow a lot of locks with this,” he said, patting the bag contentedly. “Good for starting fires in the rain, too.”
“Plas?” Jak asked, shocked.
“Sure. Most explosives will simply burn if they’re not inside a container. You need a primer for TNT, or even a gunshot wouldn’t set it off. An electric charge or a small explosion makes C-4 detonate, but fire only causes it to burn like coal.”
Starting the warm engines, Ryan checked the fuel gauge, noting the low level, and they headed into the deadly green hills once more. So far, they had found mines on every bridge, and on a flat stretch of ground there had been a collection of bloodstained crosses lining the road, rotting corpses—without eyes or genitalia— brutally nailed to the upright timbers. Oddly, the dead were all facing eastward, toward the ville of the blue shirts. It was a clear warning about the dangers of leaving. The mines were a more direct warning about entering the valley.
“And this is the back door,” Krysty said, as if reading his thoughts.
“Silas didn’t believe in half measures,” Ryan agreed, shifting gears. “Remember those homemade muties of his?”
“Nasty,” Jak agreed.
“Maybe we should leave the roads,” Mildred suggested. “Take to the woods.”
“Can’t,” Ryan replied bluntly. “The trees are too close, the slopes too sharp. No way we could drive through these hills. Even walking would be a bitch. We’re stuck with the roads until reaching flatter country.”
“Besides, there could be patrols in the hills,” J.B. added, resting an arm out the window of the Hummer. “Land mines are easier to avoid then sec men.”
“Prefer sec men,” Jak countered, shaking the length of linked ammo to straighten a kink. “Mines always sharp, blues fall sleep sometimes.”
“Only once, my friend,” Doc answered, sliding a length of razor-sharp sword from his ebony stick and slamming it back inside. “And then never again.”
ITS EIGHT WHEELS CHURNING out grass and dirt, the armored bulk of the LAV-25 rolled to a stop near the edge of the quarry. Sec men rushed to open the rear doors, and Silas hobbled from the war wag, stiffly walking to the ragged end of the land.
“What in hell happened here?” the whitecoat roared, standing above the abyss. “Were we attacked?”
“The damn fools must have set off the TNT,” Major Sheffield said, staring at the jumble of broken rock that rose halfway to the surface. “It’ll take weeks of hard work to reach the bottom again. Even longer before we can start carving blocks for the outer wall. Months lost!”
“Any survivors?” Silas demanded in cold fury, his hand clenching the cane hard.
Crossing his arms, Sheffield shook his head. “None.”
“How lucky for the overseers,” Silas snorted. “They would have begged for death before I was through with them!”
“Any orders, sir?” Sheffield asked.
“Yes, of course. Halt the construction of the wall,” Silas stated grimly. “Assign every worker to the dish. Once done, we’ll effect a clear zone around the complex. That will afford us the security we need to finish the wall at our leisure.”
“A clear zone?” the major asked.
Leaning heavily on his cane, Silas grunted. “We’ll burn the whole Tennessee valley to ash around our base for a hundred miles. Nobody would dare to cross that.”
The orbiter could do such a thing? Amazing. It truly was more powerful than predark nukes. “How soon?” the sec chief asked, trying to hide his excitement.
“Noon tomorrow—no, the day after. Tomorrow, I reduce Front Royal to a lava pool.” Silas then frowned. “What are the chances that Ryan had something to do with this?”
“None at all,” Sheffield stated firmly. “Any strangers found in the valley have been shot on sight. Our sentries report in regularly, and every passable road is heavily mined.”
“Ah, that’s not exactly correct, sir,” a corporal hesitantly offered, walking from the crowd of sec men.
Turning slowly, Silas leveled a hostile gaze at the youngster. “Explain that statement,” he growled.
The sec man saluted. “Sir! The sentry on the west road is late reporting in, sir. We sent off his relief this morning, but no word on either of them yet.”