“Wow.”
“Last setting is full-auto, the HK fires so fast—”
“Six thousand rounds a minute,” J.B. chimed in.
Impressed, Dean raised both eyebrows. “This would empty in seconds!”
“So stay on single shot, remember that. Reloads fast, but you have got to keep the ammo blocks sealed in plas until just before you slide them in. The block gets wet, it’s dead.”
He released the catch on the stock and lifted up the top of the magazine. “When you’re done, there’s nothing inside to dump, and no spent brass to collect or get underfoot. You drop in the new block, close the top and go.”
“Mebbe we should find you another one,” the boy suggested.
“I’ll stick with what I have.”
“Nothing,” Mildred reported from the doorway, her expression a mixture of disappointment and anger. “We have enough weapons to stage a war, but there’s not a single scrap of food here.”
Ryan looked over the assemblage of his friends, noticing how thin they were becoming, faces haggard and belts tightened. Short rations for a month had turned them into skeletons.
“Okay, everybody load up on ammo,” Ryan ordered brusquely. “First, we’ll do a recce of the base to make sure we’re alone, then we go shopping. There has to be some supplies here.”
In perfect synchronicity, his stomach loudly rumbled.
“Let’s go find them,” the one-eyed man stated, starting for the exit.
Fully armed, the companions started at the bottom level and worked their way upward. Reactor room, maintenance, offices, barracks, were deserted. Not a sign of life, not even a mouse seemed to have breached the integrity of the underground bunker.
On the level above the bio labs, they found a communications room with a CD player still struggling to play ghostly music over the intercom system. There was no jewel case for the worn disk, and so whatever the distorted tune actually was would remain a mystery. But at least they made the eerie noise stop. Oddly, the music had added a touch of life to the redoubt, and now it seemed even more deserted than before.
Unfortunately, the kitchen was devoid of anything edible, the big freezers deactivated and empty as the pantry. Resting a boot on the seat of a molded plastic chair, Ryan glanced over the rows of long tables lining the cafeteria. The one positive aspect was that life support was starting to react to their presence and the water pumps were coming online. The kitchen taps spewed forth trapped air at first, then brownish gunk unfit to wash a corpse in and finally cool clear water. It wasn’t much, but they took it as a positive omen.
Moving to the top floor, the companions found the garage equally devoid of useful items. Bits and pieces of vehicles lay scattered about, but none in working condition. Heaps of trash were everywhere, string and paper and excelsior packing material, along with numerous crumpled cardboard boxes. The others moved about the huge room, giving it a quick once-over.
J.B. headed directly for a battered Hummer near a workbench. The tires were flat, its headlights busted and the hood was up, exposing the partially disassembled engine. Tools lay on the block, and tiny boxes holding new spark plugs were stacked on the bumper.
“Old plugs have never been removed,” J.B. said thoughtfully. He wiggled a hose and tried yanking an insulated cable free without success. “Engine is still sealed.”
“Think we could get it working again?” Dean asked eagerly. Machines were his passion, and he could never ride long enough in any vehicle. The boy was still irked that he had never gotten a chance to drive the Leviathan before they were forced to abandon the giant war wag.
“No prob fixing,” Jak said, surveying the other wrecks. “Tires from that, headlights there.”
“What about the battery?”
“That’s a nuke battery,” J.B. stated, pointing out the shielded box under the hood. “Those babies last forever and have enough juice to fry a griz bear, so be careful.”
The boy swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
J.B. bent over the radiator and started to fiddle with the distributor. “Find me a three-quarter-inch combination wrench, will you?”
“Sure!”
“Hold on there,” Ryan ordered, joining them. “It would take hours, if not days, to get that junk pile into shape. Let’s recce outside first. Might not be needed. A ville may be only walking distance away.”