It didn’t take too long for the duo to catch up with Carlson, standing at the foot of another ladder further down. “This is the one.” He whispered. “Up to you Ian.”

  One of the things Ian had managed to get his hands on when they arrived at Birmingham was a suppressor that would fit onto the Sten’s barrel. It wasn’t silent, but it was better than nothing at all. Not only that, but it was giving Ian the chance to potentially call things off if it was too dangerous.

  On the downside, it meant he was pretty much the frontman.

  With the Sten held up in one hand, he began to climb into the darkness. It didn’t take long before he could see nothing at all, save for the up and down movement of his arm reaching for the rungs. He didn’t dare use the flashlight, in case he ended up giving away his pos.

  His head struck something cold and hard, sending a throb pulsing through his skull. Damn manhole cover. He winced as he strained to focus on anything that may be working its way through the metal. Footsteps, voices, anything that could indicate an alerted guard.

  Nothing.

  Awkwardly stuffing the SMG under his arm, Ian swept a hand across the hatch. Searching for some latch or bolt. But only a smooth surface greeted him. Frowning, Ian pressed the hand against the metal and pushed upwards. His heart missed a beat as the manhole squealed in protest, Jesus! Not so loud!

  But just as quickly, it finally cleared the hole.

  Through the gap, a dark room greeted him. Shelving units surrounded him on all sides, with only a handful of LEDs providing a tiny bit of light to them, as well as the ladders and wheeled stairs parked alongside them. But even in the limited light, the place seemed clean. The metal was free of rust, the concrete floor was freshly mopped and he could catch a whiff of cleaning agent.

  But most importantly, not a soul in sight.

  He shoved the manhole aside and clambered into the storeroom, SMG shouldered as he scanned the space. Behind him Jack emerged from the pipe, shortly followed by a smiling Carlson, radio in hand. “Alright, everyone come on in.”

  “Got it boss.” Crackled the radio.

  In silence, the trio began to spread out, scouting the very edges of the room. The scavengers may be incoming, but they still needed to make sure the storeroom was secure.

  There wasn’t that much to find though beyond the cabinets at the outskirts of the room. There were a pair of steel doors that was already locked to Ian’s satisfaction, as well as a second set made of fiberglass which lacked a lock. He growled in dismay. Looks like we need a guard of our here. He started to walk past the doorway, At least we can get some war-

  Something squeaked behind him.

  He immediately swivelled around and stepped back against the wall as the doors swung open, hiding himself behind one in the process. A man dressed in a dark set of military fatigues emerged, carrying a clipboard in one hand. Ian could just catch a glimpse of the handgun on his hip.

  Ian’s eyes flicked left and right, Jack and Carlson were nowhere in sight.

  The guard lazily strolled into the room, pausing to tick something off on the clipboard before continuing towards the centre. Okay. Ian thought as he silently relocated himself to stand behind the shelves, Just stick to the shadows and he won’t notice…

  He nearly slapped himself, The manhole!

  All it could take was just one glance…

  Shoving the thoughts aside, he levelled the SMG and set off after the guard.

  He continued strolling down between the shelving units, ticking away at the board. Ian drifted behind the guard, keeping a shelving unit in between the pair. Ian kept his finger off the trigger, a suppressor was a lot quieter than a normal gunshot, but with a warehouse, a gunshot could still carry a fair way. Even if no one heard the shot, what’s to stop someone from wondering with their fellow guard was?

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  Come on.

  From here, the open manhole was in plain sight.

  Get out of here. Move on…

  The guard paused next to the manhole, still staring at the clipboard and oblivious to its presence. Come on…

  With an audible click, the guard spun on their heel. Ian slipped back into the shadows as they started marching towards the doors.

  That was-

  Something clattered against the concrete.

  “What the…” came an American accent.

  Damnit.

  Ian began to lean out, “Who’s there!”.

  He froze. “I see you in that hole! Get out!”

  “Alright! Alright!” came an Irish-sounding voice.

  He snapped his head round the shelving; the guard’s pistol was now aimed at the manhole where a shotgun was dumped next to it.

  Got no time…

  He manoeuvred round the unit and crept towards the guard from behind.

  “Hurry up!” the guard cursed.

  “Hold on!” shouted up the Irishman, “I’m stuck!”

  Keep him busy…

  Ian slowly began to raise the SMG further.

  “I don’t give a damn! How many are you dow- “

  Ian shoved the gun into the back of his head. “Don’t move.” He hissed.

  The guard stiffened, pistol shaking in his hand as another figure’s head hovered out of the hole.

  The pistol straightened, only for Ian to push down the barrel harder against his head. “Drop it. Now.”

  Jack emerged from around another shelf; his rifle levelled at the guard. His head spun round, as if debating what to do.

  Slowly, the pistol drifted downward.

  Ian snatched it out of hand, keeping the SMG aimed towards the guard’s back as Jack approached. “Doesn’t have a radio.” Jack confirmed as the Irishman climbed on out and collected the shotgun. “Get him against the wall.”

  “And keep someone on the doors,” Ian called out with a flick of his head in their direction. “Just in case a friend of his comes through.”

  “I left my radio down the corridor.” The guard whispered as he was shoved aside.

  “Quiet.” The new scavenger scrawled, “Get over there Yankee.”

  As more scavengers began to climb out of the pipe, Carlson finally emerged from the darkness. “Get going everyone, grab whatever you can and take it back to the truck.” Either he didn’t notice the guard at all, or frankly just didn’t care.

  As they began to spread across the warehouse floor, Ian eyed the guard standing against the wall. A pair of scavengers – including the Irishman who the American had originally had at gunpoint - kept their weapons levelled at him in the dark. But the slight flare in satisfaction that should have clicked in the back of Ian’s mind didn’t come. Instead, a new cold lump had formed in his gut, sending a shiver up his spine.

  Something doesn’t feel right.

  The guard, the lack of radio… Nyúlfur… even the cleanliness of the place seemed to rock his core.

  And as the minutes started to drift by, his worry was only growing ever more apparent.

  “What the hell?” someone muttered. Ian glanced over his shoulder to find one of the scavengers pulling a tray off a shelf, glistening with small vials in the faint light. “Glassware?”

  “I’ve got some test tubes.”

  “Books! I’ve got flipping books!”

  “Found some first aid kits, some parts for generators too.”

  “Get them down here then!”

  There should be medicine, food… not glass and paper..

  Spotting Jack off to the side, Ian moved to join him, his gut only tightening further. “Does something feel… wrong to you?” he asked.

  Jack’s face was tight and grim. “Aye. Just can’t put a finger on it.”

  Ian scanned their surroundings, seeing the groups lift boxes off the shelving units, ripping them open and digging for the necessary goods. Uncaring of the danger that hung above them and cursing as they did not come across the vaunted food or medicine they had expected. Only more… scientific equipment?

  It’s been a good ten minutes, I know it’s a big warehouse, but we’d had to have found something useful by now.

  “Half of the stuff we need might not even be here.” Ian warned, his voice now barely a whisper. “We need to be ready to get everyone out. Sooner rather than later.”

  Jack slowly nodded, “Agreed. I’ll try and get Carlson to change his mind. Just be ready for a quick ge- “

  Someone cried out.

  Ian snapped round as the Irishman flew into one of the shelving units, whilst another scavenger was on the floor gripping their arm as a black figure lunged across the room towards the door. The guard!

  Ian was already running, Jack’s curse ringing in his ear as the guard charged at the fiberglass doors and a single scavenger, who swivelled round towards the escapee and leveled his pistol. “Don’t shoot!” Ian barked, if a suppressed gunshot could be a problem, an unsuppressed one would have the whole warehouse diving on top of them!

  The guard slammed into the defender, a cry pierced the air as the handgun sailed out of their hand. The latter collapsed to the ground as the former shoved his way through the door.

  “I’ll get him!” Ian snarled, his heart pounding. No time to debate this. “Jack, get everyone out!”

  “To hell with Carlson then!” he shouted, “Catch!”.

  Mid-run he swivelled round to find a black block flying at his face.

  Swiping the radio from the air, Ian nodded and without sparing a second, charged through the door. You’re not getting away mate!