"A Cold War-era civil defense warehouse?" A sharp glint flashed in Leah's eyes. "If there's still anything inside, it could be worth more than any single resource site we've found so far."
Rickson was more cautious. "But the risks are just as high. Is the structure stable? Is demolition even possible? We need to assess all of that."
Leah studied Hank's rough sketch of the tunnel and the door structure, then said to Calista, "I'll lead this one. It's been a while since I got out in the field."
Calista thought for a moment, then made the call. "Alright. Jonathan is our best demolition expert. The team has eight people, and Carver's group is with him.
Take Jonathan's group, bring enough explosives and the necessary breaching and transport tools, and rendezvous with Bossie and the others."
She looked at Hank. "Once your squad has rested, return with them as guides and support.
Open the warehouse safely, assess the situation inside, and bring back every valuable thing in there. Leave nothing behind."
"Understood!" Hank snapped to attention and accepted the order.
Before long, Leah had the team ready. Carrying equipment far better than the reconnaissance squad's, they braved the still-raging wind and snow and set out for Norris once again. ... The biting wind battered the barren woodland near the Norris Dam again and again.
Fine snow whipped through the air, rasping against everyone's cold-weather masks.
Leah led the team onto the hill near the railway tunnel and waited for Hank to confirm the situation.
Not long after, Hank appeared at the edge of the forest, trudging through the snow with uneven steps.
"Leah," Hank said, stopping in front of her and panting hard, white mist spilling from his mouth with every word. "Bossie and Jenson are inside. Everything's normal. I had my people stay there too."
Leah nodded. "Still can't open the door with tools?"
"It's a heavy old mechanical lock. We tried, but no luck. Forcing it would be rough. We'll have to see what Jonathan can do."
Jonathan grinned at that and patted his toolbag. "Old junk is my specialty. As long as it still obeys the laws of physics, I can make it open the door and welcome us in."
"Move," Leah ordered.
The team quickly entered the tunnel.
The beams from their headlamps cut through the darkness, throwing wavering patches of light across concrete walls mottled with mold and old graffiti.
Their boots crunched over frozen mud and gravel, the sound amplified in the enclosed space until it became harsh and grating.
Deeper in the tunnel, the light grew dimmer.
Bossie emerged from behind a ruined bunker and gave Leah the all-clear signal.
Jenson stood beside a thick ventilation duct with his sniper rifle in his arms and gave Leah a faint nod.
The door loomed in the passage, heavy and oppressive, fitted with a massive rotating wheel and a complicated mechanical lock.
Large sheets of olive-green paint had peeled away, exposing the dull metal underneath.
"Fuck, this thing looks sturdier than the walls of Rock Fortress!" Merle slapped the door, producing several dull thuds that shook loose a layer of dust.
"Step back, Merle. Let Jonathan handle it." Leah frowned slightly, and Merle's muttering stopped at once.
Jonathan was already at the door. He took a small hammer from his toolbag and lightly tapped different spots, pressing his ear close to the metal as he listened carefully to the echoes from its structure.
"Old-timer, you're still holding up pretty well," Jonathan muttered.
"The mechanical structure is complicated. Nearly fifty years old, so the lubricant's probably turned into stone by now. We can't brute-force it. We'll wreck the door, and the tunnel might even collapse. This needs a delicate touch."
He looked at Leah. "Leah, I'll use a tiny amount of explosive to break down the lock cylinder from the inside. It won't be loud, but we still need a safe distance."
Leah gave the order without hesitation. "Everyone, fall back and find cover. Hank, watch the entrance. Jenson, keep overwatch from high ground."
The team scattered quickly, taking cover behind rocks, abandoned railway ties, and structural pillars inside the tunnel.
Daryl moved swiftly to a good position just ahead and to Leah's side. He dropped into a half crouch, his crossbow held steady and aimed back toward the tunnel entrance, his entire body drawn tight like a bowstring.
Leah's gaze passed over his back. Then she said quietly, "Jonathan, prepare."
Jonathan had already begun his "surgery."
He took out a small piece of C4, shaped it deftly with his fingers, inserted a micro-detonator, then used a specially made slender tool to guide the explosive carefully into a key point inside the lock cylinder.
"Blast ready! Three... two... one!"
"Bang!"
A muffled, contained blast came from inside the door. It was not loud, sounding more like a heavy chunk of iron dropping into mud.
The door trembled slightly, and dust sifted down around the lock mechanism.
After a few seconds of silence, Jonathan's satisfied voice rang out. "Done. The lock cylinder should be finished."
The team emerged from cover.
The lock mechanism was visibly warped, with a small gap now torn open.
Carver and Hank stepped forward and gripped the massive rotating wheel.
"One, two, three, heave!"
"Creak. Rumble!"
The heavy door slowly opened a crack.
Air sealed away for half a century rushed out, carrying a thick musty smell mixed with the strange odor of desiccant. It made everyone's throat itch.
Behind the door was a concrete passage sloping downward, deeper and darker than the tunnel outside.
Their headlamp beams reached inside, illuminating only the thick dust coating the steps beneath their feet.
The air was stale, but strangely dry.
"Hank, Bossie, scout ahead. Carver, Merle, cover the flanks. Everyone else, stay alert and enter in staggered order."
With a click, Leah chambered a round in her pistol and stepped into the passage first.
Hank left two members behind. One spread out with Jenson to opposite ends of the railway tunnel entrance, watching for movement outside, while the other stayed outside the door, ready to support them at any moment.
The instant Leah moved, Daryl followed. He kept a silent distance of a few steps, crossbow slightly raised, his sharp gaze sweeping the darkness ahead and above the passage.
The passage stretched downward, their footsteps echoing through the enclosed space.
At last, the space ahead opened up.
When they switched on several high-powered emergency lights and illuminated the scene before them, only four words appeared in everyone's mind.
[We hit the jackpot!]
The underground space of the civil defense warehouse was far larger than they had imagined.
Dark green metal crates were stacked neatly into towering piles.
Row after row, column after column, they looked like an army that had waited in silence for decades, stretching all the way into the darkness beyond the reach of the lights.
"Jesus Christ..." a young team member whispered, his voice carrying a faint echo through the vast emptiness.
Merle was always a man of action.
He strode to the nearest crate and used the axe blade on his right arm to pry open the rusted latch.
"Clang!"
The lid opened, revealing tightly packed square blocks wrapped in moisture-proof oil paper.