Chương 24: Chapter 23: Logistics

"You had me completely sold at flushing toilets," Pete said, a slow, appreciative grin breaking across his rugged face.

"Explain," Joe commanded, his tactical mindset instantly demanding a breakdown. I took the next few minutes to lay out the entire blueprint. I gave them the full rundown about my mom, her forty years of precision electronics manufacturing experience, the staggering stockpile of specialized components locked inside her shielded container, and my fifteen-year-old son Jace's unique passive Tinkering ability.

I explained how the System could seamlessly merge their real-world skill sets to manifest a pair of high-tier Artificers out of the deal. Naturally, neither Joe nor Pete had any earthly idea what an Artificer actually was in a role-playing game, forcing me to break down the mechanics of techno-magical engineering. I had silently held out hope that Johnny, being a solid decade younger than the rest of us, would at least recognize the class archetype from modern gaming.

But I suppose Artificers don't make an appearance in Call of Duty.

"You're painting a really pretty picture here, Derrick," Johnny said, leaning his boar spear against a stack of storage bins and crossing his arms.

"It sounds all full of sunshine and rainbows. But objectively speaking, I see two massive, immediate issues we need to address before we start mapping out a utopian stronghold." I felt a muscle twitch in my jaw. I was rapidly growing annoyed with the younger man's persistent reluctance and hesitation.

"And what exact issues would those be, Johnny?"

"One," Johnny started, counting on his fingers.

"We're going to require an immense amount of raw firepower. Not just to clear and take a massive campus if the current occupants choose violence, but to actively hold the perimeter once the rest of the civilian populace catches wind that there's functional electricity and running water on the property. And two—these deep-cycle batteries you're talking about... how many hundreds of them would we even require to construct a storage bank large enough to sustain a high school?

And where would we even find that kind of specialized inventory?"

"Listen up, oh ye of little faith," I began, leaning forward on my stool and matching his gaze.

"First off, let's focus entirely on successfully taking the objective before we waste mental energy worrying about how to hold it. Secondly, as far as the logistical acquisition of the batteries goes, we aren't talking about standard AAA cells. We're talking about heavy-duty marine and deep-cycle RV batteries. Think about our local geography—do you know anywhere within a 20-mile radius where we could find an absolute goldmine of that specific equipment?" Johnny blinked, thinking for a second.

"I don't know... Walmart?"

"Well, they might have a handful sitting on a pallet in the automotive bay," I reasoned.

"But no. Think bigger. How about the massive RV dealership situated right on the southeast edge of town? They have a back lot holding a couple hundred high-end motorhomes and travel trailers for sale. Every single one of those rigs is fitted with fresh, un-compromised deep-cycle batteries." I paused, letting that marinate before addressing his primary concern.

"Now, as far as the localized acquisition of heavy firepower is concerned... I can think of one specific installation in this immediate area that keeps a stockpile of ammunition for AR rifles, 12-gauge tactical shotguns, and. 40 caliber duty pistols. They also house a secure armory loaded with spare firearms. Probably far more than a few. On top of the weaponry, they have ballistic vests, tactical helmets, matching black BDU sets like the ones I'm currently wearing, and rows of unissued duty belts and gear."

Joe's eyes widened slightly beneath his brow as the realization clicked.

"You're talking about the cop shop aren't you?"

"I sure am," I replied smoothly. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"There is absolutely no way we can execute a raid on a police department," Johnny countered instantly, his eyes widening.

"That's a death sentence."

"Of course we can execute it," I shot back, my voice completely steady.

"Think about the logistics, Johnny. I know almost every single officer on that roster. Well over half of the department lives completely out of town or commutes from across the valley; they won't be reporting to a dark station. Half of the active personnel who actually reside within the city limits don't give two shits about the municipal infrastructure right now—they'll be bunkered down at home defending their own immediate families, exactly like we are.

And the rare, miraculous handful who do attempt to report for duty will be entirely occupied trying to maintain some semblance of peace on the city streets. Though how they expect to effectively manage a population crisis entirely on foot without vehicles is anyone's guess."

"It still seems incredibly risky," Johnny murmured, shifting his weight uneasily.

"Look," I said, my voice dropping to a sharp, visibly annoyed edge as I stood up from the stool.

"If you aren't buying what I am selling here, Johnny, you are more than welcome to see yourself right out the side door of this garage. There isn't a single action in the world right now that doesn't carry a substantial risk. Sitting right here in this driveway with the garage door wide open to the public street is a massive risk, but here we are anyway.

If it makes you feel any better about the tactical parameters, the primary ammunition stockpile and tactical gear aren't even housed inside the main, fortified department building." I stepped closer to the workbench, gesturing with my hands to map out the structure.

"The bulk ammo is secured inside a heavy steel storage container positioned out in the secured rear vehicle lot, locked behind an easily breakable commercial padlock. The surplus uniforms, plate carriers, and tactical equipment are stored inside an old, repurposed residential house the city bought years ago that sits right on the property line. The front face of that storage house opens directly onto a public side street. The back door exits straight into the secure rear lot.

That structure is our literal insertion point. If we decide we don't want to risk pushing deeper into the main station to crack the primary firearms armory, we simply grab the gear and the ammo from the outer perimeter and vanish. Simple as that." Johnny went quiet for a beat, looking down at the concrete floor.

"Look, Derrick... I'm not backing out. I'm just doing my job as a medic and pointing out our primary vulnerabilities."

"Well, let's clear the air right now—are you officially in, or are you out?" I asked bluntly. For a long, tense moment, Johnny didn't say a word. He weighed the options in his mind, his eyes darting between Joe, Pete, and me. Finally, he let out a slow, resigned breath and nodded.

"I'm in."

"Excellent," I replied, turning my gaze to the right.

"What about you, Pete? You've been awfully quiet over there in the corner." Pete didn't even look up from the custom blade he was wiping down, a wide, serene smile spreading across his face.

"Toilets, bro. Flushing toilets. That is my entire motivation."

"Awesome," I chuckled. I turned back to face Joe, transitioning fully into a command-oriented brief.

"It'll probably take my mom and Jace at least the rest of today and most of tomorrow to do a diagnostic-check on these surveillance drones, assuming the internal circuitry can even be salvaged. I say we slate the high school assault for tomorrow night under total darkness. In the meantime, we execute the police department infiltration tonight. There is zero tactical sense in leaving that level of high-value ammunition and equipment sitting out in the open any longer than necessary.

Someone else will stumble onto it eventually."

"I completely agree," Joe nodded, his expression turning grimly professional.

"How many bodies should we commit to the breach tonight?"

"Strictly the four of us right here," I calculated.

"We keep our footprint small, silent, and fast. For the high school operation tomorrow, we'll obviously have to play the numbers by ear based on what our initial recon yields, but I imagine we'll need to recruit a few more capable hands from our extended families."

"That sounds like a solid, actionable plan," Joe agreed, extending a hand.

"Okay, cool," I replied, gripping his palm.

"You know exactly where my father-in-law's residence is just around the corner, right?" Joe gave a firm nod.

"Be at the house around nightfall. I'll have Denise whip us up a meal before we roll out. Remember—her active Nourishment ability drops a flat ten percent modifier boost to Strength and Constitution that sustains for a full four hours. That physical padding might look like a very small number on paper, but it could easily mean the difference between life and death if things get dynamic tonight. In the meantime, hand over those broken drones and let me get them out to my mom's workshop for an audit."

I gathered my recurve bow from the wall, carefully packed the two high-end surveillance drones into a rugged, small assault-pack Joe provided, and stepped out into the blinding midday heat. With Dog matching my stride at a perfect, low-slung heel, we navigated back down the quiet residential avenues. When I drew within two houses of our property line, I unclipped my radio, keyed the mic, and requested the gate be opened. By the time my boots hit the side yard boundary, the wooden gate swung open.

Dog trotted seamlessly inside the perimeter, completely bypassing everyone else to walk straight up to Denise. She immediately dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around his massive neck and aggressively petting his fur. I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at the display with a mix of disbelief and sheer amusement.

"Oh, wow. What is this?" I exclaimed with a hearty chuckle, tossing my pack onto the patio table.

"You can't even offer a basic greeting to your husband before you pamper the dog? Wow, honey. Just... wow."