Owen was further elated to see that Preston’s smile seemed genuine—that he wasn’t telling Owen cookie-cutter railroad anecdotes or urging Owen to temper his excitement.
Gradually, Preston’s smile seemed to fade, however, and his face became flushed. He sheepishly looked down, no longer able to stare at Owen. “Yeah, it’s pretty amazing,” he said.
“Enough,” Thorpe said, snapping Owen out of his reverie. Rourke and Jeroun were looking at them from the back of the room, frowns on their faces, while Thorpe was watching their exchange with a more acerbic expression. “Let’s get this over with, Preston,” Thorpe said wispily, performing a revolving motion with his left hand.
Preston fumbled with his backpack and withdrew the folder again, pulling out more crisp white pages. He handed out a page to each of them. “This is what we need most. If we can get more, we should. Whatever you do, do not press any buttons or turn any switches. There’s a chance they have working power sources, particularly some of the battery-powered devices. If you have questions, ask me. If I’m not nearby, Owen might know the answer.”
Owen looked at the page. There were precisely labeled drawings of a variety of computers, electronic devices, generators, and other equipment. Even in the weak light of Preston’s lantern the page seemed extremely clear. What’s more, the drawings were perfect, like you would see in an Old World book rather than a hand sketch. It was hard to believe that a railroad draftsman could draw something with such precision.
“Okay, hop to it,” Rourke said, clapping his hands twice for effect.
It would take several runs. Owen and Preston were best able to select the right equipment, so they arranged a pile by the door while the three others started making runs up the ramp. Everything was wrapped up in light blankets that Jeroun had brought down, presumably to avoid damage. The blankets also served to hide the precious merchandise from the bandits and mules.
Once Preston and Owen felt like they had piled up enough equipment, they took their turn scaling up the ramp together. Preston lit the way with his lantern.
“The paper list… it’s so perfect,” Owen said, “where did you get it?”
“I’m sorry Owen, I can’t tell you. Maybe when we get back you can find out more. There’ll be lots of work to do.”
“I don’t get it. I’ve seen this place now. What could possibly require more secrecy than the biggest cache of electronics anyone has seen in a generation?”
Preston was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke in a low voice, his words laced with a hint of annoyance, “Fine. Listen, do you remember…?” A light flashed ahead of them and Preston went mute as Thorpe, Rourke, and Jeroen came from the other direction, descending the ramp to collect another load.
Preston and Owen reached the upper room and placed their equipment gently at the entryway. The two other railroad men took over, hoisting the equipment down the outside of the entrance with a rope. For some of the more delicate equipment they carried it directly down the rope ladder.
Owen glanced outside and could see the Spokes by the platform remained in a similar formation, most of them looking up the hill. Owen counted twelve bandits now up on the bluff, staring back.
“We should hurry up,” Preston said, heading back toward the ramp.
When they were again alone on the ramp, Owen asked quietly, “Sorry, what were you saying?”
Preston seemed to clam up again. “Let’s just hurry up and get out of here, alright? We can talk about it later.”
They collected another batch of equipment and returned to the top again. Now there were twenty bandits on the ridge. Chester’s face was lobster red, simmering with tension. He called over to them. “That’s enough. Let’s get out of here.”
“Just a couple more loads,” Preston responded.
This time they jogged, their heavy breaths misting the ancient Old World walls as they went.
Jeroen, Thorpe, and Rourke arrived at the bunker a few minutes after them. They were breathing heavily.
Jeroen said, “They’re attacking. It’s time to go.”
“What?” Owen asked.
Jeroen spoke quickly. “They surprised us by coming up the hill from below, onto the rock outcropping. They took out two of our men. We’re holding them off for now.”
“This is the last run,” Thorpe rasped.
Jeroen grabbed a smaller pile of hard drives and cables. “Let’s just take this stuff and be done with it.”
Preston’s eyes were darting back and forth at the remaining piles of equipment. “No, we need the generators. She said without them we would be severely constrained.”
“Those look heavy. We don’t have time,” Jeroun said, looking to Rourke for support. But Rourke just shrugged and smiled an oblivious smile.
“Fine, who am to I defy Gail’s little servant,” Jeroun said sulkily, standing down.
Owen was confused by the back and forth, but he had little time for contemplation. Between the five of them they were able to carry two midsize generators and one smaller one. Despite the awkward loads, the five of them moved quickly and efficiently up the ramp.
As they came closer to the external door, the gunfire and yelling became more evident.
When Owen arrived in the entryway room, he could see the railroad man named Frank was shooting out the access door with his pistol. Milken had a crossbow and was releasing the occasional bolt.
“How many are there?” Thorpe asked.
“Only a few are advancing on us,” Milken answered, “but it looks like there could be dozens behind them. Then there are more up on the hill.”
Owen tried to position himself close enough to the door so he could see out. The bandits up on the hill had taken cover behind some trees. The occasional arrow arced down from that direction. Meanwhile, periodic gunshots rang out from the men stationed around the bike platform. They were under more precarious cover. One of the railroad men lay slain just below the ladder, and a mule was slumped over the platform.
“We’ll lower the equipment down,” Thorpe said to Frank and Milken. “You two will have to take it to the platform.”
They quickly worked to make a rope harness for the generators and then lowered them down to the ground.
One of them dropped the last foot. “Gently,” Preston said.
Frank and Milken climbed down the ladder while Rourke gave them cover with his rifle. They managed to get one generator to the platform and then exchanged some heated words with Chester. They returned with two other mules to collect the remaining generators.
A rush of bandits streamed out of the drop-off in the rock outcropping nearby. They launched arrows at the entryway, and Rourke backed up. An arrow flickered through the aperture, and Owen felt a flash of pain in his leg.
“I’ve been hit,” Owen said.
He sat down and inspected the wound while Rourke and Jeroen fell to their stomachs and returned fire at the surge of bandits.
Although his pants were saturating with blood, Owen’s leg was much better than it looked. The arrow didn’t puncture anything important, it had only cut across the surface of his thigh.
The fighting continued, but Owen was unable to witness it from his recessed location in the room. He cursed himself for letting his curiosity get the better of him. He’d almost been seriously injured.
The fighting let up for a moment.
During the lull, something nagged at Owen. What was said in the bunker had confused him. They mentioned some kind of boss at the Barnyard, some woman, but he knew of no one with that name at the railroad.
“Let me look at it,” Preston said, sliding over to him from another corner of the room.
“Thanks,” Owen said. “I think it’s just a flesh wound.”