The Will To Live✔️

Chapter 24: Adamant

Up ahead, Greg spied the looming shape of the warehouse, perched at the end of the lengthy road they'd been driving down. So far, Chad hadn't said anything else. Or, if he had, it had been lost to the winds. Either way, Greg was fine with that. The less he had to hear from the man the better. Mainly, he just wanted to confirm whether or not this was a desperate bid for survival and the man was lying, or if the place was ripped open and robbed already. It seemed unlikely, given the amount of supplies that was supposed to be in here, but stranger things had happened. As he pulled up, eyeing the exterior, he saw that it at least looked intact.

Greg parked right next to the front doors, killed the engine, and hopped out. "Larsen, stay here and keep an eye out."

"Got it."

Izzy joined him as he approached the front entrance, which was a large set of metal doors closed and sealed firmly against the elements. He tried them, but they wouldn't give. He looked at a little weather-proof pad built into the wall next to the door, then looked back at the Warthog. "What's the code?" he asked.

"I don't know," Chad replied. Greg turned fully around and stared at him. He sighed, exasperated. "I'm the goddamned CEO! I've never even been out to this warehouse."

Greg stared at him a moment longer, then turned to Izzy. "Can you do it?" he asked.

"Gimme a minute," she replied, and crouched in front of the pad. Greg suppressed the urge to sigh in irritation and instead looked out over the snowy wastelands surrounding the isolated warehouse. It really was out in the middle of nowhere. He wanted to report to Becker, but stepped on that urge, because he knew he just wanted to get an update from the man, and he didn't feel like bothering him until he had definitive answers for him. Honestly, he really wanted to deliver the news that they had indeed found a huge store of food and meds.

Several minutes ticked by in the cold as Izzy dug into the electronic guts of the control panel, and just about the time he was going to suggest just blasting their way in, because he was seriously losing patience, the door slid open.

"Got it," she said, sounding satisfied as she rose smoothly to her feet.

Greg brought his shotgun up and hit the barrel-mounted flashlight. He pointed it into the opening, at the large, open space beyond. He and Izzy stepped in and cleared the immediate area. To the right was a stairwell that led to a second story.

"Check it," he whispered, motioning towards the stairs.

She nodded tightly and hurried off, ascending quickly. There were, at least, a ton of crates around. Greg began to move among the stacks, double-checking that the warehouse was clear. He didn't smell anything, didn't hear anything, but you never knew. Five minutes passed as he checked out the shadows and alcoves between the stacks of silver crates, and he found nothing. No sign or trace of Flood or human or anything else. As he returned to his point of origin, he spied Izzy coming to stand at the edge of a catwalk overhead.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Nothing. We're clear," she replied.

"Perfect. Let's get some of these open."

She hurried back down to join him, and the pair of them spent the next several minutes prying open a random sampling of the crates from several different stacks. As soon as he popped the first open, relief hit him hard. He saw packs and packs of freeze-dried food. He checked another and found an entire crate of antibiotics. Another of antiviral medications. He and Izzy checked a few more, just to be safe, but he soon felt confident they'd hit the jackpot. He quickly activated his radio and made the call to Becker.