12. Wilder
Chapter twelve
Wilder
“ A camping stove!” I whispered, excitedly. “And a couple little cans of propane.”
I knew it. We’d been in the basement for two hours now, and while we hadn’t found any weird antiquity collections, we’d mostly found a lot of unusable junk. Travelling by foot would be hard. We could only take the necessities. Shelter, water, food. Anything else had to be extremely important.
“Yeah, but did you look for more Viagra?”
I shook my head, smiling broadly into the locker as I tug down a couple of sleeping bags.
“Rosie, baby. That’s one thing around here that’s working just fine.”
I bit my lip, waiting to hear what smart-assed reply.
“And how would I know that? You’re the one that turned me down.”
There it was. I loved Rosie’s wit.
“Wow, that stuff looks barely used,” she said as she looked through my pile. “That’s not what I envisioned when you said a camp stove, though.”
It wasn’t a multi-burner unit you’d use to cook a full breakfast on during a family camping trip. This little guy weighed less than one hundred grams and could boil a pot of water fast. It was perfect for two people trying to ration their fuel.
“What about you? Find anything good?”
She’d co-opted the bolt cutters and proclaimed victory each time she destroyed a lock. I had a little burglar on my hands.
“I found a fishing rod. I don’t know how useful that will be to us.”
“Are you kidding? That’s a great find.”
Sometimes she lacked confidence, and I had a growing conviction that it had to do with her blond buddy, Barrett. I almost laughed at the loser. One of the last men on earth, and his girlfriend literally ran away from him.
“Okay, I only have one more thing I want to look at tonight. Then we’ll go.”
“Sure,” I said as her flashlight bobbed away.
I might come down here again tomorrow after a night of sleep so we could make sure we didn’t miss anything useful.
“Hey, I think these jerry cans are full, Wilder!”
I looked up even though she was a couple rows away, and a stream of light so bright my eyes ached shone across my face. Jesus. Did she find a one hundred thousand lumen flashlight too? I shielded my face, then a man’s voice resonated through the space.
“What sort of idiot leaves the key in the lock?”
“Fuck,” I mouthed, snatching up my rifle.
I stepped out of the aisle and into the locker I found the camp supplies in. Rosie was silent, and I hoped she stayed that way. If she could hide quietly enough that I didn’t notice her that first night, maybe she’d luck out.
Another voice, a younger male, answered back. “It’s creepy as hell down here.”
“Hey, all these flash lights are on. Think someone is down here?”
Their footsteps shuffled in my direction.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
“Is-is that a good idea?” the younger man stammered.
“Holy shit, I should have left you back at camp.”
Turning my head slowly in their direction, I got a read on the two men. The younger one was scarcely a teen, skinny with a mop of brown hair tucked beneath and toque. He held a shaking flashlight by his shoulder, looking quickly side to side like something might jump out at him at any moment. The other man led the way. An average height, his belly preceded him as he walked. A gun poked from the waistband of his dirty jeans. He stepped over Rosie’s array of flashlights, not even looking where he was going. No military or paramilitary training, then.
“All we have to do is have a quick look around and tell the guys if it’s worth coming back here for, okay?”
“Like reconnaissance?” the kid asked.
“Re-conn-a-what?” he sighed.
They stopped talking and got to work. Crashes and bangs fill the space as they tore through things we’d already looked through with no care. Even if they found something of use, they were going to break it. The idea of something Rosie and I could use being destroyed by these two goofs made me grind my teeth. I wasn’t going to hide in here with my thumb up my ass while they cased the joint. If they found Rosie and laid a hand on her? I kill them.