The room was huge, row after row of military vehicles lined up. Sitting door to door, they were like troupes waiting for inspection. Roger walked out in front of the group like he knew right where he was going. This was where he belonged, on the front lines of a multi-billion dollar revolution. The world wouldn’t belong to those who were right, it would be the ones that had the most cutting edge weapons.
“All of this is just under the base?” Elliott said, wonder in his voice.
Roger turned to him, taking a long drink of his beer (which was starting to get warm), and the slack jawed Elliott looked upon the slack jawed. He was starting to wonder how he’d become the leader of this outfit. McNabb was by far the most qualified as the leader of this base, or he was before he’d gone rogue. Roger had come to believe that his secret sauce was the girls: they followed him. Even Shavian, who venomously protested, was still here. “It’s a missile base turned into a military surplus storage. What did you think they kept in here? Cotton candy? The cold war was an arms race, my boy.”
“But so many?”
It was true, places like this remind you of just how much the military could spend. Roger just wanted his cut. It was time he got it.
Junie walked up to a larger vehicle.
“Oooo, it’s the same color as my cup!” She held up her tactical mug, with its ridiculous grenade launcher attached like it was like a second handle. “We could move the espresso machine into this and have an armored coffee cart to go.” She’d found a M1117, a 15 ton, four-wheeled vehicle, the lighter brother to the M2 Bradley. With its angled body armor it was able to shrug off small arms fire and could forge though five foot deep water.
Water…
No bridges…
“Yes!” Rodger exclaimed so loudly everyone but Higgins jumped. “This is exactly what we need. With this thing we wouldn’t need a bridge to get back home.” He walked over and slapped the side of the M1117. It was harder than he’d thought, a very solid beast indeed.
“I never thought you’d approve of Junie’s addiction,” Elliot said. “she’s not just addicted to drinking coffee, she’s addicted to making coffee.”
“This has to be the daftest crew I’ve ever been through a zombie apocalypse with!” Roger tossed his hands up. Max turned and even her permanent look of half dead indifference had turned to confusion. “There are parts of Columbia that we could cross with this.” He looked around at the blank faces Well Higgins was nodding. “Because the bridges are out?” He leaned his head forward for emphasis.
“Oh,” they all said at once.
“Lord give me strength.” He finished his beer, crumpling the can he tossed it and pulled open the heavy side door. “How do we get it out of here?”
“Does this thing float?” Jake leaned over to ask Higgins quiently, “Isn’t it like thirty feet deep?”
“forty,” Higgins nodded.
“Well,” McNabb spoke up, “we’ll need to get the gate doors open at the end of the hall and we’ll need to fill it with gas.” Roger looked to one side to see the large gas tanks at the far end next to the heavy armored roll up door. Back on the other side of the hangar where they came in was an office and control room.
Roger slapped his hands together, “Easy, let’s get this started and McNabb can open the doors and we’ll be on our way.” Everyone turned as screaming and gunshots rang through the room. What was left of the last security detail was backing into the hangar. It was quickly being overwhelmed by the ever -growing horde of zombies pushing through after them.
Shavian leaned up on her toes to look at the mayhem. “Sooo, the control room was just blocked off by the zombies.”
“Of course it was,” Fipps said, already checking his rifle.