The Anvil by Christopher Coates

Author:Christopher Coates [Coates, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Next Chapter

Chapter Thirty-Two

Gary examined Tyler’s head. “Chief, I have the bleeding controlled, but he needs a few stitches, or I can staple it now.”

Tyler was quick to respond. “It can wait until this evening. We don’t need to go back early, and I don’t want it stapled out here.”

“Sorry, Tyler,” his dad frowned. “Staples, or we go back. You know we shouldn’t leave it open all day.”

Tyler appeared irritated. “Fine, staple it.” As Gary got his equipment together, Tyler asked, “Are you sure you know how to do this?”

“I was in the same training class as you.”

Tyler wasn’t comforted but didn’t complain any further. When the wound was cleaned, closed, and bandaged, Chief eyed Tyler critically. “Are you sure you’re up for continuing? I don’t want you out here if you aren’t at your best.”

“Dad, I’m fine. Not dizzy or anything. It’s just a little cut.”

Chief debated for a few seconds and agreed. “Okay, let's get moving. We’ve got several tasks to get done today.”

The two ORVs departed and soon split up, with Chief heading south and the other team to the east.

When emerging from the shelters, the survivors would need large amounts of propane to run their vehicles; as such, Anvil had been prepared with a list of all propane dealers in the country. There had been six in the Grand Rapids area, and the teams would each visit two. They needed to get an idea of what still existed and what they would need to do to access it.

Chief drove south through the city on an elevated highway. The road condition was poor but passable. There were only a few skeletons of vehicles that they needed to work their way around.

They took an exit ramp and traveled for several miles before arriving at their destination. Most of the main building had collapsed, but the warehouse area was largely intact and contained hundreds of tanks in various conditions.

Outside, dozens of larger horizontal propane tanks sat inside a fenced area. Some looked intact, others had ruptured. In the center was a single mammoth tank; it was horizontal, perched on concrete supports, and more than double the size of a semi-trailer. The decades-old company name, while faded, was still legible on the tank.

“87 from 4-1,” Tyler said.

“Go ahead 4-1.”

“Arriving first objective.”

“Understood. Drone view shows all is clear. And, also, your mom wants to know how your head is.”

Tyler felt his face flush as he realized that his mother had seen his fall on the drone camera. “It’s fine. Nothing to be concerned about.” He glanced at his father, who wasn’t trying to hide his smirk.

Stopping near the building, Chief gave instructions to the team. “Tyler, investigate the smaller stuff in the building. Gary, check the outside tanks, then take photos of everything. Tasha, position yourself so you have a good view of the road. Everyone be careful. No more falls.”

Departing with her assault rifle, Tasha headed for a small collapsed structure. She positioned herself behind it, where she could see both her team and the road.

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