Silo - Nomad's Revenge (Frozen World #3) - Jay J. Falconer Page 0,1
pour all the concrete.”
“Soon to be red-colored concrete,” Fletcher quipped, listening for screams ahead. So far there hadn’t been any, but he knew the carnage would soon start, once the Scabs found their blood-filled targets.
Even so, Fletcher found the facility equally as impressive as Dice—its stout construction obvious. From what he could tell, the Air Force and its engineers had designed everything for a singular purpose—strength. Oh, and longevity. Okay, that was two things, but it didn’t matter. The silo was remarkable.
If this first visit to a bunker like this had been under different circumstances, he might have stopped and taken photos. Hundreds of them, documenting their remarkable achievement.
Fletcher scoffed after another few moments of reflection, figuring the old military brass had never planned for an invasion like this. Certainly not by a band of genetically engineered meat-eaters, hell-bent on killing everything that moved and doing so in a snarl of drool.
After two more turns and a climb down a wall-mounted ladder, Fletcher stopped on the deck plating below.
Dice was right behind him, finishing his trek down the same eleven rungs. “Where the hell are they?”
“Good question. I thought we’d have our first kill by now.”
“I’m getting one of my weird feelings again, boss.”
“Roger that. Starting to wonder myself.”
“Did they evacuate?”
“Not sure,” Fletcher said.
“If they did, they left the lights on.”
“And the ventilation system.”
“You and I might do that, but not Edison’s crew.”
“No, they’re all about saving energy and everything else,” Fletcher said, taking a moment to think it through.
“God-damned tree huggers.”
Fletcher agreed with Dice and his assessment about the doves Edison had taken in as his own. All of it predictable. All of it expected, given who and what Edison was. “No, they’re here somewhere, Dice. Just need to find them.”
“Must have had some advance warning to pull back,” Dice said, his eyes scanning the walls and ceilings.
“And dig in,” Fletcher added, noticing the overhead recess and how it had been packed with cable runs and piping. “Don’t see any cameras, though.”
“None outside in the stairwell either.”
Fletcher held for a moment, letting his mind ponder the situation. “Maybe our cloaked friend had something to do with it?”
“Nomad?”
Fletcher nodded but didn’t respond.
“You think he tipped them off, boss?”
“It’s possible.”
“We did water down his fuel,” Dice said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Some kind of payback?”
“It would explain a few things,” Fletcher said, holding for a moment. He shook his head. “But how could he have communicated with them so quickly?”
“Maybe he was in cahoots the whole time?”
“With Edison?”
“Why not? Anything’s possible, right?”
“Nah, that’s not Nomad’s style. He’s just as vested in this outcome as we are.”
“But what if we’re wrong?”
“Won’t matter. What’s coming can’t be stopped, no matter how hard they’ve hunkered down.”
“Maybe we should call down our Demo Team from the surface as reinforcements?”
“Negative. Let’s hold them back. They did their job.”
“Now it’s our turn,” Dice said, his tone firm and resolute.
Fletcher gave him a head nod, appreciating the support. “Never ask your men to do something you are not prepared to do yourself.”
“You’re right, boss. As usual. Plus, it’s probably wise for them to keep an eye on Stipple’s men up there, too. Not sure what that’s all about. Why keep one Scab on the surface, then assign three guards?”
“I wondered that myself. Especially that leash.”
“I’m sure Craven has his reasons.”
“It’s almost as if he doesn’t trust this op. Or Stipple.”
“Or us,” Dice said.
“Good point. If I were him, I’d want to hold back a squad in reserve, just in case this mission doesn’t go as planned.”
“Or we don’t.”
“Or the Scabs down in this hole. I’m sure his men are just as wary as we are.”
“True.”
“We may appear to be one happy invasion force right now, but all it takes is a single mistake and lines are drawn. That’s how massacres happen.”
“Agreed. In essence, this entire complex is a fatal funnel, with poor sightlines and a complete lack of egress options.”
“Never a good thing,” Fletcher said. “Even so, this is what we signed up for when we hatched this plan.”
“I’ve got your back, sir.”
Fletcher tapped Dice on the back with an open hand. “Keep moving. Stipple will find them.”
Dice moved ahead, sweeping his rifle from left to right and back again, same as Fletcher. “Seriously then, Fletch, if it wasn’t Nomad, then how did they know? Motion sensors?”
Fletched shrugged. “Must be well hidden because I haven’t seen dick.”
“Me either.”
Before they made it to the next corner, two whistles were heard from somewhere ahead. The sounds were muffled but sharp.