Chapter 40- Uncle Sam

Uncle Sam's Ammo Dump smelled like army surplus. It's that mix of canvas and oil that seems to linger on everything in the room. It was an older shop, primarily serving up WW2 items, as well as military issue from foreign countries. The walls were covered with uniforms and helmets and a few mannequins stood fiercely guarding random stacks of MREs and baskets full of duffel bags. "What do we need in here?" Tracy asked. I made some comment about how useful these items could be, but my real intent was to get what wouldn't be on the shelves. In my experience, people who ran such establishments almost always had some fanatical obsession with defense and combat, and almost always had a few illegal items stashed in the back, items we could find useful in the days ahead.

A middle age man with wisps of grey peppered through his dark hair stood behind the counter, oiling a leather holster. He was solidly built, and wore an olive drab tee shirt with the words "ARMY" in black across the chest. It was faded from years of wear and looked as though it may have been something he received as a young recruit. His hair was short and tightly cut on the sides, and he had day old grey stubble on his chin and cheeks. He reached his thick fingers into a small silver tin, pulling out a glob of grease and rubbing it generously into the tough leather. As he worked the paste into the grain he watched the news playing on a small TV behind him. A reporter playfully stood in front of a very familiar scene, and I elbowed Tracy when I saw it. "Local movie fans gathered around what appeared to be an animatronic zombie." The reporter stood next to a couple of teenagers. "Tell us what's going on here today." One of the teenagers stood silently, frozen in fear. He stared blankly at the camera and didn't move. The other was practically leaping around in excitement. "This movie exec showed up with this sweet puppet. Don't know how he got it to work, but he's controlling it with a remote control or something." He looked up at the roofs as though searching for someone with a radio control. The reporter looked up too, still smiling but a little confused. The kid looked back at the camera, eager to keep the reporter's attention.

"Its got cameras in the eyes so he can see what is going on. Watch this!" The boy stepped toward the half corpse and it immediately moved toward him, reaching, trying to grab him again. "We knew it was a robot when it grabbed my friend." He pulled up the other boy's sleeve and showed a puss-filled, bruised forearm. The reporter jumped back, clearly startled by the nastiness of the wound. "Son, are you okay? You need to have a doctor look at that." The noisy boy laughed nervously and lied "Oh, its just makeup, the same stuff the dude used to make this little crawler!" The reporter was visibly relieved. "And this is all to promote a movie based on a popular video game coming out soon?" The boy got very excited at this point. "Sure is, and its gonna be sick! We've already pre-ordered it!" He slapped his friend on the back and put his arm around him jovially, but the boy still didn't move or react. The reporter turned back to the camera with a smile and made some comment about the lengths people go to in marketing.

At this point I looked over at the shopkeeper, gauging his reaction. "You ever see anything like that?" I asked. He looked at the floor for a moment and then back at me. "Son," he said with a serious tone. "That's no movie prop." I looked at him in disbelief. "You know what's going on?" I asked eagerly in a low whisper. The shopkeeper gestured toward a doorway covered by a large canvas curtain. I pulled it aside and stepped behind it, meeting him around the corner in a small, confined office. There were piles of boxes and stacks of thick duffel bags everywhere, and it was hard to move with all the clutter. He motioned for me to follow him and we rounded another corner and came to a dead end. "You didn't look surprised to see that thing on TV," he said to me. I nodded seriously in reply, waiting to see what he knew. He reached down and lifted a tarp off the floor, revealing a thick metal door embedded in the cement slab. Pulling upward, it made the smallest creak as he strained to open it all the way. It was dark and musty, and a cool breeze blew into my eyes, causing me to squint. He stepped down the ladder and disappeared into the darkness.

"You coming?" The gravelly voice called up from the hole. I stepped cautiously into the void and wiggled my leg around, searching for the step. My toe touched a hard metal rod protruding from the cement. I put my weight on it and lowered myself down. Step after step, I moved slowly down into the darkness. It was deeper than I expected and I found myself wondering when I would reach the bottom. I looked up at the only source of light coming from the opening above, a square that seeming to be shrinking with each step downward.

I must have been hundreds of feet below ground before I felt the hard surface of the floor beneath my feet. I looked around, my eyes searching for any hint of light. I heard an intake of breath a few feet to my left and my heart jumped. I backed against the ladder, looking in that direction, searching for some recognition that the man I'd followed down here was still in control of the situation. I heard a scratching sound and saw sparks as a single match burned bright, and I could see his worn face staring into my eyes. He looked older in the dim light, careworn and tired. There was also a hint of... Was it sadness? I couldn't quite tell. "You okay?" He asked, in a rough voice. I nodded and looked around. We were standing in a hallway about 5 feet wide. I tried to look past him to see our destination, but the cement walls seemed to stretch endlessly into the darkness. "This way" he said pointlessly, as the only other option would have been to return the way we came.

His match burned bright, but still only lit enough of the darkness to progress forward. When it burned out he lit another, repeating the process until we reached a tall metal door. He stopped and turned to face me. "What are you here for?" He held the match so close to my face I thought he would singe my eyebrows. I leaned backward to avoid the flame and replied with some skeptical nervousness. "You told me to follow you." I said, searching his face for his meaning. "Before I open this door, why are you in my store? What is it you are looking for?" I began to wonder why he hadn't asked this question upstairs when I first walked in. Unsure as to whether I could trust him, I tried to respond as vaguely as possible. "I'm preparing for a certain scenario and I thought a place like this might have a few survival items." He eyed me closely, his tongue darting across his lips to dry them. I felt exposed, like he could somehow see inside me, see my thoughts. I looked back at him blankly, not wanting to win nor lose this staring contest. We stood in the dark hallway, eyes focused on each other, until I finally broke the silence. "What is it that you are going to show me?" He smiled, as though I had passed some sort of test. "That's the right question." He reached for the large metal lever and pulled upward. A thunk echoed into the darkness, and as he pulled the door open the sliver of light grew until it filled the doorway and the darkened hall. Gradually my eyes got used to the brightness, and when they did my jaw dropped. He stepped inside and smiled as he gestured towards the contents of the room. "Not bad, eh?"