'Line up!' The guard shouts, and we hastily stand in a rigid line. For the last four days, nothing eventful has happened. The guard has not whispered a word about the emergency, treating it as if it never happened. The only thing that has changed in the new fury that lights his eyes, more manic than before.
He paces up and down in front of us, looking us up and down. His eyes linger on me too long, but I do not cower in his presence. I stare at him without flinching when his gaze meets mine, and he smiles slyly before moving back to stand in front of all of us.
I try so hard not to let his wandering eyes bother me.
'For tomorrow's planned operation, you will require more... equipment than what you currently posses.' He throws a glance to our metal crates. 'It's been arranged that today you will be fitted for your uniforms, as well as receiving some other basic equipment.' His face is eager as he beckons us with his finger, before turning around to leave.
We follow him as he heads to a room deep below the ground, where the corridors are narrow and reinforced by steel. The door that now stands in front of us is heavily fortified, and two heavily built guards stand on either side of the door, glaring straight ahead. The guard holds up his hands in a sign of surrender as the guns of the two men fix on his chest.
'Do you have authorisation?' One of the two guards says gruffly to our Guard. Silently, he hands over piece of paper, and the two men briefly check it over. Nodding, they hand it back.
They check the guard's ID before waving us all forward, unlocking the room from two separate control panels.
When the door opens, I understand the security.
This room is my exact definition of a bunker. Low ceiling with thick concrete walls defines the room, with and cords and pipes running over the floor. Industrial strip lighting sends a wash of cool light through the room, bright enough to make my eyes water slightly.
But when they clear, all I can see is weapons.
Walls are covered with them, long sniper rifles to cut off pistols; knifes longer than my arm glinting dangerously from the walls where they hang. In an instant I can see more than a thousand ways to rid someone of their existence. On another wall, explosives and ammunition are held in metal barrels bolted to the wall, and just past them I can see more open doorways, maybe leading to even more weapons.
I turn to see the expressions of the others. Harlan and Jae look almost... hungry, but even Vito looks slightly in awe. I know what he is thinking. This is incredible. And despite the bloody, mangled image that this room projects, and there is a strange beauty to some of these weapons.
It is not the object that is violent, only the man holding it. Or woman.
The guard leads us forward through the room. All the weapons are the same, identical handgrips and the same polished metal. Despite the range of weapon's shapes and styles, they are all brand new, designed by the same place. They must have made all these weapons from scratch.
We walk to the end of the room and through a doorway. Down a short corridor, the room opens out again.
It is set out strangely before me. Behind a glass panel that runs down the left side of the room, metal racks of uniforms and shelves of boots are set, all out of reach. At the end of the room, 6 individual cubicles have their steel doors hanging open.
'One to each dressing cubical. Now.' The guard shouts.
I walk over to the end cubical and push shut the door behind me. In there, there is a single, unlabelled button, with a small screen above it.
YOU ARE READING
The Insane Boy
FantascienzaThere is nothing left. Cities have collapsed, forests have burnt, minds have been warped into insanity. And humanity is to blame. The few struggling survivors are taken in by the facility, an organisation that promises prosperity in this dead world...
