Chương 32: Chapter 31: The Final Harvest

The second my boots cleared the rear threshold of the precinct, the deep, rhythmic clatter of an older diesel engine filled the secure yard. The level 6 enforcer was backing the white Ford F-250 smoothly up to the loading dock doors. He threw the transmission into park, hopped down from the cab, and handed the heavy ring of brass keys over to me with a respectful nod.

I gave him a brief thumbs-up, carried TJ's confiscated equipment across the asphalt, and dropped it right at Joe's feet where he was maintaining overwatch. I set the heavy duty belt and the pristine plate carrier down on the concrete, stacking them neatly next to the pile of empty magazines I'd stripped from the rookies earlier.

"Keep an eye on the perimeter for two more minutes," I told Joe, gesturing toward the back door.

"I'm going to quickly drain the main vault." With the two young officers trailing closely at my heels, I turned back into the dark corridors of the precinct and unlocked the heavy steel door to the master armory. In a classic stroke of municipal layout irony, the weapons cage sat directly adjacent to TJ's corner office.

I knew for an absolute fact that every rattle of the keys and scrape of the heavy equipment was echoing clearly through his thin drywall, and the mental image of him steaming in his duct tape brought a wide smile to my face. When I threw the lights on inside the vault, the structural disappointment hit me all over again. The tactical supply lines had clearly been picked over.

Out of the five heavy steel long-gun racks bolted to the masonry, only three still held any inventory, and those racks were incredibly sparse. Spaced out across the metal slots were only a handful of standard patrol AR-15s and tactical 12-gauge shotguns. Realizing time was a luxury we didn't possess, I didn't bother trying to find the individual master keys for the locking bars.

"Grab the entire vertical racks," I instructed the two rookies.

"Lifting points at the base. Load the entire frames directly into the bed of the Ford." We could easily tackle the padlocks with a grinding wheel once we were safely behind our own fortified perimeter. While they hauled the iron racks out to the dock, I began throwing open the heavy steel filing cabinets lining the back wall. The inventory here was a bit more encouraging.

I unearthed a solid stash of factory-wrapped AR magazines, several municipal handheld radios complete with multi-bay charging docks, a half-dozen heavy-duty metal Maglites, and five unissued Glock 22 sidearms nestled in their original cases. I yanked a couple of heavy canvas duffel bags from beneath the gunsmith workbench, swept the gear inside, and lugged the haul out to the truck bed. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Before we initiated the final extraction sequence, I wanted to clear out whatever remaining loose firepower was sitting in the idle patrol units parked along the western fence line. On a standard shift, those vehicle weapon mounts are operated by electronic dashboard release buttons. But when a full-scale grid failure cuts the juice to the vehicle's battery, the locking jaws feature a mechanical override that can be tripped with a standard, universal handcuff key.

I jogged down the row of cruisers, popping the racks to harvest two additional patrol rifles and a small handful of fully loaded magazines. I carried the vehicle's haul back to the staging pile by the carport, laying the rifles down next to the equipment I'd taken from the rookies. I unholstered the level 6 enforcer's backup ankle revolver and set it on top of the pile, keeping my word to leave them fully equipped. I turned to the two young officers, giving them their final operational instructions.

"Take the heavy bolt cutters and head straight down to the western boundary line. I want you to cut the drive chain hooked to the gate motor, then manually slide the chain-link frame wide open. The absolute second you hear our engines clear the block, you come right back here, strap your gear on, and get home to your folks. Do we have a deal?"

"Understood," the lead kid said, a look of genuine relief washing over his face. Before I climbed into the cab, I grabbed three boxes each of 5. 56 and. 40 caliber ammunition from the Ford and stacked them neatly next to their rifles so they wouldn't be venturing out into the local neighborhoods empty-handed.

"Dog! Load up," I called out. The beast trotted out of the shadows, bounded into the passenger side of the F-250, and happily settled his massive paws against the vinyl bench seat. I fired up the heavy diesel, the engine catching with a loud, mechanical roar. Out ahead, I watched the heavy iron back gate slide smoothly along its rollers into the recessed wall. I gripped my radio mic.

"Joe, you ready to roll?"

"Hit it," Joe's deep voice crackled back. We dropped both transmissions into gear and broke for the perimeter. Joe's Suburban surged out from the residential driveway on the south side of the property, hooking a hard left onto 5th Street, while I mashed the accelerator on the Ford, roaring through the newly opened rear gate and barreling straight down the unlit commercial alleyway.

Once we had cleared the immediate grid of the city center and hit the darker, fractured suburban streets, I keyed the comms again to coordinate our staging.

"Joe, take the Suburban straight to your house. Pull it directly into your garage and drop the door. I'm going to park this diesel rig in the secured side yard at my father-in-law's place, then I'll radio you when the frame is tucked away. We'll regroup at Chad's house to run the numbers on tonight's haul." As the logistical details bounced across the airwaves, a wave of relief settled over me. I knew Denise was sitting back at home with her ears open, tracking our radio traffic verbatim.

She knew the operation was a clean success, and more importantly, she knew I was completely fine. As the white silhouette of the F-250 coasted down the final dark stretch of our neighborhood block, I tapped the mic three times. Ahead in the gloom, the heavy wooden side gate swung inward on its hinges, clearing a path into the sanctuary.