Chapter 14 #2
It wasn’t visible from the road, which was probably the reason it was in such great shape. Even the windows were intact.
While Gabriel, Phin, Victoria, and Judd began clearing the surrounding area with their weapons drawn, Blake buried his nose in his jacket.
It was cold. A sudden storm had whipped up the day before, the last vestiges of winter’s cold fingers raking across their faces before she lay dormant.
Behind him, Tommy seemed to have lost the fight, and Blake could hear his teeth chattering.
He couldn’t even fool himself into thinking the building would be warmer. All concrete, corrugated steel, and partially set into the side of a small hill, the museum screamed Cold War chic. Hardly comforting. But it would get them out of the wind.
The parking lot was little more than a flattened area with sets of uniform parking blocks indicating parking spaces. At one point, they’d been painted bright yellow, but the paint had begun to chip, exposing the worn-down concrete beneath.
All in, it wasn’t quite the grandiose experience the brochure promised. But—as Irving pointed out—that might be a good thing. Because the museum was privately owned, it wasn’t on the aliens’ radar when they took out military installations. Which meant that almost everything inside should be intact.
Whether they would work or not was a different question.
“Clear,” Gabriel said, his breath fogging up in front of him. “Doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a hot minute.”
“Good.” Victoria joined him. She was wearing a full-face mask and so many layers that the only thing that identified her was her long blonde ponytail trailing down her back. “Means nothing will be tampered with.”
“All the concrete is good, too.” Gabriel jerked his chin at the museum. “Might have blocked some of the EMP.”
When Judd and Phin joined them from their side of the building, they made their way toward the front door.
“Most modern military equipment is shielded against EMP bursts, but even with the concrete, I’m not sure it would hold up against whatever the Off Formers hit us with.
That’s leagues outside of what humans could prevent against.”
“That’s fine,” Blake assured them, grinning. “We’re not here for anything high tech.”
They passed by a small circular garden with stanchions and chains blocking it off from the walkways. Once, it looked like it had been overflowing with color. Now it was brown and crispy. Something skittered into the growth as they walked by.
The double-wide path led to large glass commercial doors. Predictably, when Gabriel tugged on the handle, the lock caught.
“Are you going to shoot it?” Tommy asked, eyes wide. He looked excited at the prospect. Blake supposed seeing a gun shooting an object could be thrilling when it doesn’t shoot back at you.
“No, the noise might draw too much attention.” Gabriel slung his gun over his shoulder and began looking for something to break the window.
Judd retreated to the garden and found a rock. It was the size of two fists, and it made his arm sag as he carried it. He gestured for everyone to step back and threw it at the left-hand door.
The rock bounced off the glass, landing on the cement with a solid thunk.
“Wow.” Phin toed it with his boot. “I’m embarrassed for you.”
Judd scowled and picked up the rock again, lobbing it with more force.
This time, it shattered the glass, tumbling into the dark interior.
He cleared the rest of the glass with his gun, mumbling under his breath as he stepped into the museum.
Victoria and Phin followed with Gabriel bringing up the rear.
Before he stepped in, he turned to the two medics.
“Yeah, yeah.” Blake waved his hand at Gabriel. “We’ll stay here not touching anything while you go do your pew pew badass thing.”
Gabriel winked at Blake before disappearing. Tommy made a gagging noise.
“Did you need my attention, or are you just missing Phin?”
Tommy’s scandalized look might be worth freezing his balls off.
The soldiers weren’t gone for long before Gabriel came back for them.
Even after all these months without electricity, it was still strange to step into a building and not be immediately relieved.
The cold had saturated into the gloomy interior, pressing in like the walls themselves had frozen solid.
Blake’s breath plumed a stark white, and he blew out his open mouth, watching the vapor linger in the windless interior.
Broken glass littered the front foyer. It had shattered all the way to the front desk against the wall. Leaflets and an email sign-in sheet were still laid out, looking as crisp and clean as they had the last time someone locked up for the last time.
To the right was a narrow hallway. Signage proclaimed restrooms and possibly some storage closets.
They turned left, passed a turnoff for a small gift shop.
The shop was lined with glass walls, and Blake could see clothing, mugs, magnets, keychains, and what looked like an ammo can full of brass bullets. No doubt Phin would be all over that.
The main museum was built into an airplane hangar.
The space was massive, the ceiling extended high above, and the back wall farther than Blake could see in the dark.
Reconstruction had been minimal, with only the basics done to make it a commercial space.
The spirit of military utilitarianism was strong as the thin carpet from the foyer turned to cold concrete.
It was hard to see. The only light in the room came from vertical skylights cut into the ceiling. Leaves and other debris had accumulated in the corners, distorting what little wintery light they had into strange patterns.
“Wow,” Tommy said, blowing on his hands. “It smells like gas and tires.”
Judd inhaled loudly. “The smell of freedom.”
Victoria shook her head, punching Judd on the shoulder. Somehow it was done fondly, and Judd trailed after her like a lovesick puppy.
“What we’re looking for is back here.” Gabriel clicked on a flashlight. The beam was weaker than the LEDs they’d grown used to, but the old-school battery-operated flashlight was still kicking. They followed the beam into the center of the museum.
Walkways were designated with tank treads painted onto the concrete. Exhibits were lined up along the walls and sporadically through the center of the room, blocked off with stanchions and rope.
A series of tanks took up most of the eastern wall. They loomed large, even in the dark. Blake leaned forward to read the informational placard.
“Are all of these tanks a Patton?”
Gabriel stepped up beside him. “Yeah. He was kind of a big deal.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “I know who he is. I’m asking why they’re all M46 Patton, M47 Patton, blah, blah. They look exactly the same.”
Wrinkling his nose, Gabriel blew out a breath. “They’re not all the same,” he said, scandalized. “Pattons are a series of tanks manufactured from the fifties all the way to the nineties. They…aren’t the same.”
Blake turned to stare up at him. “Oh, my god. You’re a tank nerd.”
His ears pinkened, and Gabriel ducked his nose into his jacket. Thick hanks of dark hair fell into his eyes. They were dark gray in this light. Like a chameleon changing to match its environment. “I mean—they’re cool! They crush stuff and were a huge advancement in warfare—”
“Nerd.”
Gabriel chuckled. “You’re literally reading a book with a half-naked Scottish Highlander on the cover.”
“Just for that, you don’t get to try page sixty-seven with me.”
Blake turned on his heel. He could feel Gabriel’s stare on his back and knew for a fact—they would be trying out page sixty-seven. And every other page.
Just as soon as he could take his pants off without his dick turning into an icicle.
Right in the middle of the massive hangar was a Bell UH-1 Iroquois.
The very first ‘Huey’. It was a workhorse designed to work hard and be put away wet.
Its dark green body and dual rotors made it one of the most recognized helicopters today.
Even still, coated in a thin layer of dust, Blake could hear the signature thump thump of the blades as they displaced air.
It almost drowned out the first twangs of Fortunate Son.
This particular Huey was in rough condition. Rust pitted the cockpit, and the side doors were missing, leaving the cargo area open. Maybe taken off so visitors could get a better look at the inside. ‘ARMY’ was painted on the tail in big, white block letters.
Judd whistled as he took in the helicopter. “It’s like a flying tin can with a lawnmower engine.”
“Exactly,” Tommy said, eyes bright as he dropped his backpack at his feet. The thump echoed around the hangar. He pulled a thick book from the recesses, the cloth binding falling loose as he flipped through thin pages full of engine diagrams.
“It’s all mechanical,” Blake explained, feeling the need to defend his idea. “Any electrical components aren’t necessary for flight, and Tommy thinks he can bypass them. Like he did for the trucks.”
Gabriel squeezed his hand. “It’s a good idea.”
“I don’t suppose they left us a full tank,” Phin said, looking over Tommy’s shoulder at Airframe and Aviation Mechanics. The book had been at the bottom of one of Irving’s hoards. Probably from some abandoned library or an aviation enthusiast’s home.
“A gasoline, kerosene mix. I’m hoping the museum has some in storage, but if not, I think we can mix it ourselves.”
“And the chances of us blowing ourselves and the whirly bird up if we get it wrong?” Phin asked, his eyebrows raised.
“No comment.”
He rolled his eyes and then grabbed Gabriel so they could go look for the fuel in some of the outbuildings. There’s no real reason the museum should have the fuel. The helicopter had been retired and was clearly not used to fly any longer.
But desperation and audacity got them this far, and they weren’t going to back down now.