H λ L F - L I F E: Bishop's War✔️

CHλPTER 12: Military Intelligence

"You have got to be kidding me," Eric whispered.

"Well," Vanessa said from behind him, glancing over his shoulder, "it is called fuel storage."

Eric sighed softly and continued staring down the alcove of space that was ahead of him, created between twin rows of stacked, bright silver-and-red barrels of fuel. They said so themselves, each of them stamped with big, bold lettering that proclaimed: FUEL.

"We have to go through here?" Steven asked softly.

"Yes, we do. This is the most direct route to the airfield. In fact, that door down there, all the way at the end, basically lets out onto the airfield itself," Eric replied.

"This is incredibly risky," Vanessa murmured.

"We don't know if anything's in there," Eric replied.

"Exactly," Vanessa said.

From somewhere ahead, a zombie groaned. Eric sighed again, more loudly. "Great. Well, now we know, at least."

"Maybe we should consider the alternate route," Vanessa said.

"After what happened back at the freight yards, I think this might actually be less dangerous." He kept staring at the dozens upon dozens of fuel barrels. "Probably..."

Neither responded to him. The implication was clear: it was his decision to make. This was one of those situations where he really wished he didn't have to be in charge. After a few seconds, he realized that he was just delaying the inevitable by pretending to waffle about it.

"Okay," he said, and he flipped the safety on his machine gun and let it hang, then did the same for his shotgun, "we're going through. Under no circumstances is a trigger to be pulled. No guns fired. Only melee. Do you understand me?" he asked, turning to look at them.

They both nodded slowly, then began to flip the safeties on. He finished by putting the safety on his pistol, reholstering it, and then pulling out the combat knife that he'd grabbed from one of the dead Marines. "Steven, you still got that wrench?"

"Yeah," Steven replied.

"Be prepared to use it, but honestly, we're going to try and hurry through and avoid conflict at all costs. Do not touch the barrels, stay away from them as much as possible. I'm going to go first, wait for me to make some distance, then you go Vanessa, then Steven. Try not to get too close to each other. If we are going to have to fight, it's going to be brutal, and I don't want to accidentally stab either one of you. Okay...questions?"

There were none. Eric nodded. "Let's do this."

He moved up to the threshold between the corridor he was standing in and the fuel storage facility. For a few seconds he stood there, staring down the length of the room, trying to judge its distance. It had to be a good hundred and fifty feet.

Damn, this was going to suck.

Gripping the knife tightly, he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then stepped into the room beyond. Already, he could smell the powerful, pungent reek of fuel and it got worse as he started striding down the room, trying to get to that door as fast as he could. There were gaps in the barrels to the left and the right, likely mini-alcoves or access points to other areas in the room. The direct way ahead was clear, but that didn't mean much right now. His whole body tensing in anticipation, Eric kept walking, making for that far door.

Towards freedom.

He heard Vanessa start walking. Seconds seemed to be taking whole minutes to go by, stretching out painfully.