Loudly blowing his nose into a handkerchief, Jak inspected the bloody residue and barked a laugh. “Don’t breathe.”
Stoically, Ryan looked around the room. “Nothing much here to fight over. Bar’s empty, no weapon cabinet in sight, and they clearly knew nothing about the mat-trans behind the wall. Must have been personal.”
“None of their equipment is from standard military stores,” J.B. added, lifting the BAR and working the bolt a few times. “So they didn’t get it out of storage here. This is old and been patched many times. Seen a lot of work, too. Probably mercies, or coldhearts.”
“My question is how did they get inside the redoubt?” Mildred asked, wiping off her hands on her pant leg. “Could the door be down?”
“Must be. No other way in.”
Resting the butt of his rifle on his hip, Ryan chewed that over. “So they somehow blasted through the nuke-proof door? Not likely. Somehow, the bastards figured a way to open the door.” He paused. “Or worse, they were let in.”
“Sleepers?” Dean asked.
“Always a possibility.”
Nudging the blond corpse with the silvered toe of her cowboy boot, Krysty frowned, her long crimson hair tightly circling and uncurling about her lovely face. “This is getting worse by the minute. Secret panels, suicide norms, now sleepers? I vote we go.”
“Check,” Jak said, pocketing a knife from the floor.
“No,” Ryan stated, grimacing. “After that trouble we had with Kaa, anything odd with the redoubts warrants a recce.”
“I agree,” J.B. said, shoving back his fedora and scratching underneath. “I don’t care for it, either, but we gotta know. These things are our lifeline.”
Jak scowled but didn’t voice a differing opinion, and after a bit, Krysty shrugged her acceptance. Mildred remained neutral.
“Lay on, Macduff,” Doc said, extending a hand toward the door.
Gingerly, J.B. went to work using flexible tools that slid under the jamb. A loud click made everybody jump, except the Armorer. He beamed a smile and the door swung into the room. Attached to the handle was a simple affair of a old-fashioned pineapple grenade and string.
“Kid’s stuff,” J.B. said with a grin, snipping the string and pocketing the grenade. The checkered ball and slim activation lever, or “spoon” as it was called in the predark days, was a predark model from one of the world wars, but still deadly.
The corridor in front of the office was dark, and a quick check showed the overheads were also smashed. In the dim light from the mat-trans unit, they could see the standard redoubt map on the wall. This was level five, office and communications. Below them was storage, power and life support. Above them was the barracks, kitchen and hospital, and the top level-unmarked with a designation.
“Stranger and stranger,” Ryan said, the muzzle of the Steyr SSG-70 sweeping back and forth in perfect rhythm to his own single eye. “We’ll head for the elevator. One on one coverage, single yard spread. Soft penetration.”
“Top floor?” Jak asked, his head tilted forward. “Check. If there’s anybody here, they’ll have supplies or people near the exit.”
“Make sense.”
“Check”
Keeping near the wall, they felt the air move constantly over them in artificial breezes from the ceiling vents. There was no dust or musky smell of mildew.
“This base must have been absolutely airtight until the recent intrusion,” Mildred whispered. “Any supplies in the storerooms should be in perfect shape.”
“Could be what those two were fighting over,” Krysty noted, straining her spirit to sense any danger.
“Triple stupe,” Jak snorted, crouched to offer as poor a target as possible. “Share goods and live.”
“Wisdom indeed, my young friend,” Doc whispered, patting the teenager on the shoulder. “Share and live. The Oracle at Delphi could not have said it better.”
The albino teen ignored the compliment and concentrated on the job at hand.
The end of the hallway was completely dark, and there was no way to see if the elevator was there, or the location of the door to the stairwell. Ryan realized there was no gentle breeze from above.
“The ceiling!” he roared, firing the Steyr upward, working the bolt action. The flashes from the muzzle showed a human figure holding a machine gun as he dropped out of the darkness.