Chapter 26
We move out in small groups, starting in the middle of the afternoon. A large force traveling together would draw attention, and that would be catastrophic for our plans.
So group by group, our entire company vacates the outpost.
We won’t need this place after tonight. We leave our captives locked in the cell. They’ll be found and freed soon enough, but we can’t set them free until we’ve made our move.
Ben and I are the last to leave.
We’re driving one of the combat trucks, and in the back of it are most of our remaining explosives.
The Arsenal is a large sprawling building set in a valley surrounded by hills.
While higher ground would be more easily guarded, the building and grounds needed too large a stretch of flat land to be constructed on.
And the isolated location in the middle of abandoned, hilly grassland makes it a challenging target.
Attackers can’t get close without being spotted by the posted guards.
Reports from our people have been radioed throughout the afternoon as they’ve taken their positions. Ben and I stop just before the crest of the tallest hill so we can double check that everyone is ready.
It’s about an hour before sunset. The guards rotate into the night shift in five minutes. The plans given to us by Gabriel, the palace administrator who stole the information before he defected, are almost a year old, but all our checks have proved they’re still accurate.
Evening shift change is the best time to make our move because that’s when day workers have left, guard staff is fewest, and everyone is distracted. Four more minutes, and it will begin.
Ben and I sit in silence, him twirling his ring and me watching the clock, until we’re one minute out.
He nods at me as I climb out of the truck with my automatic rifle. There are a few trees beside the road right at the top of the hill, so I walk over to take cover in them.
Ben slowly drives the combat truck to the top of the hill. Then he gets out to lock the steering and the accelerator before he shifts the vehicle into drive again.
The truck starts rolling down the hill, pointed toward the front gate of the electrified fence around the Arsenal.
It’s an official Central Cities vehicle so none of the perimeter guards will see anything suspicious about it until it closes in on the gate.
And doesn’t slow down.
It’s moving fast and straight as an arrow as it approaches. Guards start to shout out warnings as it gets close.
Ben has joined me in the trees, holding the remote trigger for the explosives in his right hand. He hits it right as the truck is crashing through the front gate.
The explosion is impressive, loud and dramatic and destructive. It takes out the gate and even some fencing surrounding it, plus all the guards within range of the blast.
One by one, our groups positioned around the perimeter radio that they’re moving. I lift my rifle to my shoulder and peer through the scope, aiming carefully at one of the guards running toward the crash and then pulling the trigger.
Between us, Ben and I shoot seven of the guards who have left their posts to respond to the unexpected attack. In a series of small, consecutive strikes, our people take advantage of the massive distraction to advance, cutting the now harmless fence to move in from all sides.
The Arsenal is probably the most heavily defended structure outside the Capitol.
There are three or four times as many guards stationed there at any given time as there are my own people.
But we’ve taken them entirely by surprise, and it’s working.
I watch the progress through my scope, occasionally shooting when a guard presents as a clear target.
Ben has been doing the same thing. When the shooting and motion inside the fence dies down, we lower our weapons and move out from the shelter of the trees.
“They’re inside,” I say, looking up at Ben’s damp, focused face. “Let’s move.”
We’ve planned and practiced these maneuvers so often they’re second nature now. We start running down the hill, rifles aimed in case we encounter any stray guards, until we’ve made it to the wreckage of the gate.
There are bodies everywhere and the smell of burned flesh in the air. When a shot sounds nearby, Ben steps in front of me, shooting the injured guard who was firing his weapon from a prone position on the ground.
He was weak, and his aim was bad. The bullet he fired hits neither Ben nor me.
Putting a hand on my back, Ben says, “Let’s go.” Together, we run for the open doors of the building.
So far, everything has gone exactly according to plan.
Our people have cleared the area between the fence and the building and have moved inside by blowing out various doors.
The main entry we walk into is strewn with the bodies of dead guards.
It’s almost eerie how quickly we’ve advanced.
But I know better than to rely on that to continue.
One thing about battle I’ve learned over the years.
Something always goes wrong.
The next twenty minutes pass in a tense blur as Ben and I move through the main hallway, checking rooms as we do to make sure no remaining guards are hiding there.
The Arsenal serves two primary functions. Half the building is one large factory where military weapons and ammunition are manufactured. The other half is the largest stockpile of stored weapons in the known world.
The rooms off this main hallway are mostly administrative. Because the day shift was over, most of the offices are empty, but we encounter a handful of desk workers who immediately surrender, holding their hands above their heads, visibly terrified.
Ben and I quickly bind their hands and feet and leave them in the offices as we continue our advance.
“I know we timed this to have the fewest folks on duty, but I expected a little more of a fight,” Ben mutters as we reach the double doors at the end of the hall.
“I know.” I meet his eyes. I’m so focused on completing one task after another that there’s no time for larger-scale thinking, but the ease with which we’re progressing makes my belly roil with nerves. “But these are only desk workers. There’ll be more guards at the factory.”
“Yeah.”
The factory is in the back of the building. We push through the double doors and find another wide hallway, this one crisscrossed with numerous corridors leading to huge rooms where arms are stored.
Vella appears from the first corridor, her hair tied back with a bandanna and a grin on her face. “What a bunch of losers,” she says, as she, Chelle, and three others fall behind me and Ben. Jim and Carlos are only a minute later, running down the opposite corridor with two others to join us too.
As we move down the main hallway, other smaller groups fall in behind after clearing their assigned corridors. By the time we reach the barricaded doors into the factory, there are more than sixty of us.
Roderick moves forward to set an explosive on the main factory doors. He’s been carrying one of ours, but he must have found a better one stored here. The explosive he sets is top of the line, and we all give it a wide berth before he blows it.
The explosion seems to shake the entire building. The doors and some of the surrounding walls are completely blown out. We charge forward before the smoke has cleared, and I wasn’t wrong about facing more opposition here.
A lot of the surviving guards must have run here to set up fortified positions. Bullets whiz at us as our large group quickly disperses, hunkering down behind any available protection.
I have no idea how long the altercation takes.
Ben and I end up shooting from behind a metal table he flips onto its side.
It’s impossible to gauge numbers. There might be twice as many of them as us.
There’s nothing to do but shoot. And keep shooting.
And hope we’re hitting more of them than they are us.
“Shit, this is turning into a stalemate,” Ben says after what feels like a long time. Both of us are reloading, so we’re crouched all the way down behind the metal tabletop. “I need to take out the guy up on the scaffolding. He’s doing the most damage. But I can’t get a bead on him.”
Ben’s right. We’ve had some luck taking out the guards on our level, but one of the cleverer ones must have climbed up some scaffolding so he could shoot from a more advantageous position. None of our people has the right angle to take him out without making themselves an open target.
I raise myself just enough to get a better view of the whole room. It’s looking behind us that gives me an idea.
“Come on,” I tell Ben, staying in a half crouch as I sprint toward the doors we blew out earlier. I don’t wait for Ben or look back because I know he’ll be following right at my heels.
Back in the empty hallway, I nod up toward the partly crumbled wall near the doors.
I see Ben’s face change as he realizes what I’m thinking.
“Can you lift me up on your shoulders?” I ask with a twitch of a smile.
I get an answering smile back. “What kinda question is that? Can I lift you on my shoulders?” He kneels down onto the ground and motions. “Climb on up, baby.”
I notice the baby, but it doesn’t bother me.
I’m still half smiling as I make sure my rifle is strapped securely, swing one leg over his right shoulder, and then lift my left over the other.
I’m small, but it takes some real strength for Ben to stand up from that position carrying my weight.
But he’s tall enough that, on his shoulders, I can see through a large hole in the broken wall.
From this height, I have a perfect angle to shoot the guard on the scaffolding. I aim carefully and fire.
The man jerks and then falls down, his body banging against the metal railings as it tumbles to the floor.
“Still good?” I ask Ben, shifting slightly so I can find another target from this vantage point.
“Always.” He’s holding on to my legs securely. “Get as many of them as you can.”
I do.
I have height on them now, so I shoot one and then another and then another.
I’m aiming at another when I hear someone down the hallway. I haven’t even pulled my rifle out of the wall opening when Ben lets go of one of my legs, pulls his pistol out of its hip holster, and shoots the guard before he can reach us.
My shooting breaks the stalemate. Soon our people are able to advance, and the rest of the guards in the factory are either killed or injured.
Ben and I lead the way out of the back of the building.
When I swing open the back door, I come face-to-face with Robin, who was about to push his way inside.
We blink at each other in surprise for a minute before he chuckles.
“Shit. Don’t tell me you’ve already taken the building.
We got here as soon as we could, but you’re way too fast. We picked off a bunch of stragglers and a couple of units who must have heard the explosions and come to help, so maybe we offered some minor assistance.
But we didn’t even get the chance to dirty our hands. ”
“That sounds like a lot of assistance to me. And you can be more help now. We need to empty this building of everything worth having as quickly as possible.”
I haven’t told him any of my plans, but this man is as clever as any I’ve ever known. It takes him exactly three seconds to figure out what’s going to happen now.
“Shit,” he breathes out. “You’re going to blow the whole building, aren’t you?”
“Yes. After this, they won’t be able to keep our rebel activity secret from the cities and villages.
They’ll send out an army after us. There’s no way we can hold this building against the force they’ll send.
We need to clear it and disappear. But I’m not leaving all this machinery for them to start making more weapons again.
They’re going to have to start from scratch. ”
“I’m on board. Tell me what needs doing.” He’s still smiling, and what’s left of the setting sun glints against the gold in his hair. “This whole strike was damn impressive. I should have hooked up with you a long time ago.”
After that, I start calling out orders, although all my people already know what to do. We need to take as many of these weapons as we can carry, splitting them between multiple vehicles and groups so we can retreat in all directions.
We can’t stay together right now. A larger group would be found quickly, no matter how we try to hide. But if we disperse into small groups, all of us taking some of the weaponry, they won’t be able to find and track us so easily.
Eventually we will join back up as a group. We already have the time and place decided. But for now we’ll have to separate.
It’s the only way to avoid the sledgehammer the Capitol will try to bring down on us after such a massive loss.
Some of my folks have scattered to retrieve all the vehicles we’ve got hidden, driving them closer to the building so they can be loaded up.
We’re not keeping all these weapons. Any stockpile of our own we make will become a potential target. Instead, we’ll be traveling through the Central Cities for the next few months and distributing them to a variety of groups and communities that need them.
If we can arm more rebels, we can make much deeper, faster inroads against the government.
Ben and I will be taking a truck and heading into the wilderness to where his family lives.
They can use top-of-the-line weapons out that way too.
The activity inside and outside the Arsenal is chaotic, full of high spirits. We’ve won. We’ve done it. All our work and plans are now reaping their reward.
But that tension is still roiling in my gut, and when I meet Ben’s eyes, I can see he feels it too.
Maybe it’s remnant of a too-bleak view of the universe, but that was too easy.
It still feels like we’re not done yet.