Randy found himself in the familiar chamber, only looking at it from the opposite angle. He and Jenny had passed through the motor pool before meeting Colonel Jergensen. She’d presented them with extra ration tickets, which Odom had taken away.
The lot held five Humvees with mounted guns, a dozen Jeeps, several armored vehicles, and a massive tank squatting near the bay doors like a harbinger of death. Part racks lined the walls, and the sounds of generators hummed deep inside the structure.
John looked around. When he didn’t see any guards, he lifted a finger and made a whirling motion. “Let’s get to work. Grab a partner.”
Randy didn’t argue when a rugged-looking man tugged his shirt and pulled him toward one of the Humvees. He flipped up the hood and had a quick glance inside. Then he removed a bundle of tools out of his pack and placed them across the engine.
The rest of team spread out in all directions. Pairs of them slid beneath the vehicles or flipped up the hoods. Randy watched as his man dug deeper into the engine and pulled out two boxes that would fit into the palm of his hand.
“How do you know what to take?” Randy asked in a whisper.
“I was an Army Specialist,” he said. “Repaired just about every vehicle they had. I know which parts are hard to come by.” He pointed to the two small blocks. “That’s the engine control module and the transmission control module. Together, they’re worth about five thousand dollars. Without them, this puppy won’t move. Now, put them in my backpack.”
“Won’t they have spares?”
The man winked. “Yeah, in their parts department. We’ll get those in a minute.”
Grinning, Randy dropped the two pieces into the man’s backpack. Then he watched as the man replaced all the covers and wires and moved to the next vehicle.
“How come we’re not cutting the tires, hoses, and gas lines?” Randy asked. Their work seemed more surgical than destructive.
“We can use the parts as bargaining chips,” the man explained as he liberated another Humvee of its modules. “We want the vehicles to work so we can use them after Odom’s little kingdom collapses.”
Randy nodded, impressed at the forethought.
The minutes wore on. The raiders passed one another, whispering beneath the low generator hum. Three fighters watched the stairs, office hallway, and tarmac door.
John spun by past Randy with a tap on his shoulder. “Find us some electric carts.”
He knew exactly what John meant, because he’d seen Jergensen’s soldiers using them all the time. He broke away from the Humvee and trotted around the outer walls until he came across a charging terminal where five carts powered up. Two were flat while the others had a top and bottom shelf.
He detached the cable from a flat one and used the throttle to back it up before guiding it to the tarmac door.
“Over here.” Someone raised their hand and waved him over. They’d opened a Humvee and were stealing .50 caliber ammunition crates. They stacked them side-by-side on the cart.
Randy flew back for another one. Soon, he had four carts spread out between the vehicles, marveling at how fast they filled them up with crates, rifles and pistols, and boxes of parts.
“Five more minutes,” John announced just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Randy, help guard.”
He stepped away from the bustle and joined a woman by the office doors. A quick glance revealed it was the medic, the one who’d operated on him in the van.
Randy swung his rifle off his shoulder and mimicked her position, feet wide and staring toward the main office door.
“How’s the pain?” she asked.
“I can deal with it.”
“John was right about you.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re not well-trained,” she said, “but you’re tough as hell.”
Randy’s chest swelled, causing a sharp pain to spike up through his chest muscles to his collarbone.
“Thanks.” He winced, trying to sound cool, like he received praise on an hourly basis. “I was just--”
A side door opened on his left with a loud click. Randy and the medic spun, rifles up and ready to fire. An old man stepped through the entrance carrying a box, humming a tune behind his air filtration visor.
He stopped and stared, eyes wide. Then he noticed the guns aimed in his direction.
Randy’s eyes narrowed. “Old Man Jones?”
Jones’s terrified expression quickly changed to one of recognition. “Randy!” the man exclaimed. “Is that really you, son? When did you return?”
“Shh.” Randy threw his finger over his lips to shush the old man. “We’re busy in here, Jones. Turn around and get out before you get hurt.”
The former inmate scanned the motor pool, eyes growing wide as the operation’s scope dawned on him. “Oh, I see,” he nodded. “You’re not coming back. You’re up to something, aren’t you, kid?”
“Yeah, man. That’s why--”
John pushed past Randy and glared at the old man. He shot a look at the medic. “Truss him.”
Randy put his hand on the camp leader’s chest as if to supersede his judgement. “This guy saved me back in Kentland at the jail. He shot some asshole named Krumer who was about to end me. Jones is a good guy, you can’t kill him like those guards.”
Jones’s eyes went wide at the suggestion.
“Who said we killed them?” John glared at Randy before his eyes slid to Jones. “Like I said, just truss him.”
John gave the old man a last look before he turned back to the motor pool. “Three minutes!” he announced.
The old man grinned with relief. “It’s good to see you, son. Looks like you’re doing well for yourself.” He placed his box on the floor and held out his hands. “Like he said, Truss me up. With the way things are going, I don’t want to give Odom any excuse as to why I didn’t shout or scream or try to fight you folks off.”
The medic slapped a roll of black duct tape into Randy’s hand. “Do it tight. If it’s too gentle, they’ll think he was an accomplice.”
“Rough me up, if you don’t mind.” Jones smiled his toothless grin. “Just a couple bruises to the head. I can take it.”
Chapter 25
Randy, Indiana
Randy didn’t know how long they drove in the van, though it seemed like hours, sprawled atop a parts crate with the other raiders squatting against the sides.
The excitement of their victory was short-lived as an after-mission silence settled on them. The medic, who he’d come to know as Sherry, sat next to him.
He leaned closer to her once he realized they weren’t heading back to the camp. “Where are we going?”
She glanced up. “A place in Ft. Wayne.”
“Why aren’t we going home?”
“The old camp is still hot,” she explained. “We may go back later, but it’s too dangerous right now. We might have crippled them, but Odom still has some heavy machinery out there.”
“That makes sense,” he nodded. “I hope my sister and girlfriend are okay.”
“Everyone should have been evacuated.” The medic seemed hopeful. “They’re probably fine.”
The van slipped silently through the darkness. By the trip’s end, the sun peeked over the horizon and cast morning light through the windows.
Randy finally got a good look at the medic. Sherry was pretty, with dark eyes and a smooth voice. She currently rested with her knees drawn to her chest, arms locked around them.
“Are we there yet?” Randy joked.
She raised her head and glanced out the front window at the growing sunlight. “Probably,” she said. “It’s been at least two hours since we left the airport, and we’re making great time.”
“We’re getting close,” John agreed. The man uncurled his legs from where he’d been sitting on the next crate over. He looked up, pale face painted with a weary but bright smile. “The new place is by the airport, southwest of town.”
Randy nodded. “Are
Jenny and Tricia there?”
“They should be,” John said. “Everything went as planned. People got out. Early reports are that we lost twenty-seven people total.”
Randy stared ahead, wondering how he could know if his loved ones were part of those lost. “Did we lose them back at camp?”
“Half our losses were taken engaging the Colony forces. The other half...” he shot a glance at Sherry, “...were from a single escape van that got caught. They ran right into Odom’s heavy guns.” He clenched and unclenched his fist on his knee. “We need to do better than that.”
It was good to know John cared about his people, though it did nothing to waylay Randy’s fears that Tricia and Jenny could have been in that escape van. They could have been two of the twenty-seven.
He rose and turned to the front windshield, peering ahead, noting the passing trees and expressway signs as they raced by. Randy caught one that warned the airport exit was coming up, and the van cruised smoothly to a stop at the end of the ramp.
It turned right, picking up speed in that strange way electric vehicles move, though he’d gotten used to it. John’s people stirred, waking up from their restless naps. Some of them murmured excitedly at the prospect of reaching their new home and settling in.
He put his hand on his chest where his bandage puffed out. Then he turned to John with a question on his lips. “How many did they lose?”
“Who?”
“The Colony. I know we killed two or three guards back at the terminal. Any word on how many of them died attacking us?”
“I didn’t count,” John shrugged. “We don’t kill anyone unless we have to.”
“But the guards...” he let his words trail off, remembering back at the hangar when they’d broken into the guard room. There’d been a brief struggle, though Randy hadn't seen anyone die.
“We took them down and trussed them up.”
“Why?” He gave John a quizzical look. “They’d kill us if they got the chance.”
“Sure, we could have killed more of them,” the leader said, “but we showed them mercy. It’s important the soldiers, and Odom, know that. We could have killed them but took parts from their vehicles instead. Who knows, maybe they’ll learn to show mercy themselves.”
“Doubt it,” Randy said. “But that’s awful big of you. Us.”
“Almost everyone in this van is former military,” John continued. “Some of them escaped the Colony after Jergensen died, like you.”
Randy scanned across the men and women in the van, and they all stared back with hard looks. He gleaned a potential for violence in their eyes, though he also saw peace. It was humbling to know some had escaped the same day as him.
He nodded and cast his eyes out the front windshield.
“And, here we are.”
The van turned smoothly into a parking lot, and Randy caught sight of white buildings marred with fungus but taller than their Indianapolis warehouse. And there wasn’t just one warehouse, but five or six. The van wove between them and finally cruised to a stop.
The van doors popped open, and the team hopped out. Randy gestured for Sherry to go ahead. As he shifted to the back of the van, he heard the unmistakable sounds of cheering. Eager, he climbed out and stepped down, moving away from the van and stretching his sore legs. He raised his arms high, wincing when a sharp pain angled from his chest despite the topical pain medication Sherry had given him.
John and the team stood in a semi-circle with their weapons slung and arms folded. Some milled around, grinning at the fifty people cheering at them in the gray light of morning.
The line of vans that had been part of the distraction for the Colony raid were lined up in a neat row with their doors flung open. The fighters sat in them or stood outside. Others dressed in standard patrol clothing and hung out with the raiding teams.
All eyes were trained on John and his crew, and people clapped and chanted and waved as their leader turned in a circle and took it all in.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re welcoming us home.” John gestured.
Randy stepped to the edge of the circle and had a good look around. Six massive warehouses surrounded them, each larger than the one in Indianapolis. Tunnels of clear plastic sheeting connected them, taller and wider than their old ones. He squinted and spied people walking through them. Some had stopped to wave.
“We own all of them,” John continued. “And this middle one here is our home. We call this place the Major.”
“I didn’t think we had a name.”
“We didn’t. Not for Indiana.”
“Okay, but what kind of name is the Major?”
“It’s short for Major Oak, a place in--”
“Robin Hood lore, yes. I read those stories as a kid.”
A sleek black Tesla rolled up, slowed to a halt, and sprung its doors. Kirk climbed from the passenger side, and Dodger leaped from behind the wheel wearing a wide grin. He jogged up to the group and shook hands with the team, tossing in high-fives and hugs. His quick eyes caught sight of Randy and widened in surprise.
“Hey, man!” he called. “I thought we lost you. What are you doing with...” He let his words trail off as he looked back and forth between John and Randy. Finally, he shrugged and held up his hand for him to slap. “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you somehow landed on John’s assault team.”
“Should have put in a word for me,” Randy replied. “You would have benefited from my skills.”
“Believe me, I tried,” the scout laughed, throwing his arms around Randy for a big hug. “You were just on John’s shit list for a while. You’ll have to tell me how you got off it.”
“I will,” he said. “But have you seen Jenny or Tricia? I don’t know if they made it out of Indy.”
“Sorry, I don’t know.” Dodger’s expression fell. “We just got in ourselves.”
“Come on,” John patted Randy’s arm. “I’ll take you inside, and we’ll see about your sister.”
They strolled away from the vans toward a long row of docks. The team followed along, giving some final waves as more cars pulled into the lot, stragglers from Indianapolis.
Randy looked around as they walked. Semi-trailer trucks sat backed up to bay doors, tethered by clear plastic or canvas tunnels. He imagined them bringing in truckloads of supplies from neighboring towns and cities, and it was no wonder they ate so well.
“We’ve been working on this for a good two weeks. My chief designer put the plan together. We scouted around for a place far away from Odom and any other dangerous factions.”
“Smart.”
“Then we recruited any survivors, cleared the dead, and began preparing.”
“You planned on moving our site up here the whole time?”
“Your facility was the last to go,” John explained, gesturing toward a single door coming up. “We’d already transferred the other four sites as fast as we could. We figured Odom was planning an attack, but we didn’t know when.”
John stopped and put a hand on Randy’s shoulder, turning him so that they stood face-to-face. “I know you caught David and warned us to give us time to get away. Instead of almost twenty-seven people dead, we could have had a hundred and fifty. And you took a bullet for us.”
Randy nodded, and a slight grin worked its way onto his face. “I took a bullet because David shot me.”
“I guess that’s true, too,” John laughed.
“And I was totally wrong about Kirk.”
“Yeah, but you suspected something, and that’s the important thing.” John gave his shoulder a firm thump, and Randy had to work to stifle a grimace of pain in his ribs. “You’ve got good instincts. I’ll try to listen better next time.”
Randy nodded and lifted his arm. John met it with a firm warrior’s grip. “We’ll sit down after you get settled. I want to hear everything that happened.”
They strode up to the door, opened it, and entered a pristine lobby. They’d replaced the
carpet with plain white tile. More plastic sheeting covered the walls in four-foot square frames, easy to clean, sterilize, and repair.
A woman wearing a respirator and plain clothes approached, holding a computer tablet. She recorded their names while two staff members relieved them of their weapons.
“It’s a standard check-in now,” John explained. “It’s all very fancy. We monitor our people and test for spore counts every fifteen minutes. We pass all gear through a comprehensive sterilization procedure to make it easy for teams to come and go. You pick your clothing, and it follows you everywhere.”
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s removed in decontamination, cleaned by our teams, and shows up in your cube locker or check-out locker. You won’t have to wear wrong-sized boots when you go on patrol.”
“That’s a relief,” Randy shook his head. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d had to wear ill-fitted clothing in his days on shift. It had become a running joke among the workers back in Indianapolis. If the clothes don’t fit, you must sit. A lot of people missed work shifts because of it. “And you did all this in less than five weeks?”
“It’s been trial and error,” John shrugged. “And we’re still learning.”
The woman ushered them through a door and into a long hallway covered in more plastic walls.
“You know where to go, John,” she chimed.
“I do,” he replied.
Randy stopped and turned to catch the woman. “Hi, uh, ma’am? Would it be possible for you to tell me if you checked someone in? They would have come in last night from Indianapolis.”
She nodded, smiled, and lifted her tablet. “If they showed up, we’ll have them listed.”
“Can you check for Jenny Tucker and Tricia Ames?”
“One sec,” the woman said, punching in the names. “Okay, good. And... good. Yes, we have them both. They’re inside.”
“There it is,” John spread his hands wide, and his green eyes danced above his grin. The man was deeply serious, yet somehow able to shrug off the weight of the world at the same time.
“Great,” Randy said with an overwhelming sense of relief. He practically skipped ahead, outdistancing John to the end of the hall. His hand rested on the door handle but hesitated. Then he let it fall, lowering his head in disappointment.
Spore Series | Book 4 | Exist Page 25
