After twenty-one years he is really just getting sick of the rain. Sometimes it is pleasant. Most of the time it's a fucking nuisance.

  One thing that is nice is two functional legs. They'd parked on the side of the road on a slight incline; a brief rendezvous as they sat mere minutes away from the warehouse they sought. John leaves the car running, and gets out to meet with Gary who has already hopped out. The wind isn't so bad out here, and the rain falls tolerably.

  “Do you need any gas?” Gary asked him, shielding his eyes from the headlights of the Versa.

  “Nope, we're good.” John replies, placing his hand on his back and moving them both to the side of the SUV for some cover. John asks Gary as he looks into the windows. “How's everyone holding up in there?”

  John leans his ear towards Gary as he answers.

  “They're all good. Gilbert can't wait to move his legs and Jimbo is still asleep.”

  “Oh shit, so is Crosby.” John replies, speaking into Gary's ear.

  “We should wake them up soon, right?”

  “Yep.” Gary says, opening the passenger side door and giving Jimbo a few pokes. Jimbo slaps his hand away and speaks with closed eyes.

  “I'm not asleep genius, I'm just resting my eyes.” Gary playfully backhands his stomach. “Cheer up bud, we'll be there any minute.”

  John watches the interaction with some lifted spirits. He finds joy in the anticipation of what is to come. Actual progress. Actual change. It is a beautiful idea.

  “Alright, I'll go wake up Crosby.” John tells him, heading back towards the sparkles of headlight-lit rainfall.

  “Ah-ah-ah, before you do John—” Gary tells him, turning him around by the shoulder. “—we don't know what the fawk is gonna be there. I need a FAWKIN weapon.”

  “Make it two weapons.” Jimbo adds.

  “Make that a third!” Gilbert adds, muffled through the window. John nods as he heads now to the boot of the Versa all while Gary heads back to his driver seat.

  John tries to grab the weapons out of the boot quickly. The rain does not deserve to enjoy such a fine vehicle.

  He picked three rifles of the five present. One, a long wooden rifle with some sort of bolt. The second, similar to the wood one but made of plastic. The third, like the second one but lacking the bolt and having a weird grab-handle thing on top. He loads them under his arm and slams the boot shut. As he walks to the over car, Crosby knocks on the glass and winds the window down. “How far are we until that Warehouse?”

  “About five minutes.” John replies, moving to the driver's door of the other car.

  Gary winds down his window and takes the weapons one-by-one.

  “Are they loaded son?” He asks, inspecting each as he grabs them.

  “I don't know.” John replies. “But the safety is on I think.”

  Gary opens the bolts on the rifles he's given, seeing nothing in the chambers but lots loaded in the magazines.

  “Yep, they're loaded. Just make sure to chamber it once we get them. Just pull on the slide looking thing.”

  “Alright, see you there.” John tells him as the window winds up.

  He heads back to his seat, of course drenched. They begin moving just as the SUV does, trailing close and turning the lights off.

  Crosby moves John jacket onto the center armrest, it having been placed on him as a make-shift blanket. “Fuck I should've woken up earlier. Stupid fucking seat is too comfortable.”

  Crosby gives himself a couple slaps to wake up fully, looking to his friend John after. “Ahh! Woo! Alright then. Wait, John, did you not play any music on the way here?”

  John trails the SUV close up the winding ascent. He uses his driving as a way to get his thoughts distracted. “No. Was considering it, but by the time the rain died down I didn't feel like it. Driving is good though.”

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  “You've gotta get out of your head man.” Crosby insists. “I can tell you're mad or sad or something. Thinking about shit doesn't do that any favors.”

  John gives him a quick glance, though remains glued to the road. As the incline increases heaps, he kicks it down a gear, taking the opportunity to get better at rev-matching smoothly.

  “Yep. That's why I chose this thing, Crosby. We could have taken one of the bigger cars available but, this thing is efficient. And I enjoy driving it.”

  “Rodger Rodger.” Crosby replies, looking out of his window into the hillside. The incline shallows, before merging into an abrupt flat.

  The distance was not very distant as they seemed to enter another deserted town of melted ruins. John shoved the car back into fourth as they slowed for their entry. Their objective made itself apparent very quickly.

  To the right was a massive warehouse, or at least, the remains of one. In a past life it might've been a hanger of some kind. Now it just looks like an oversized, decrepit shed. Though it must've been a couple stories tall, and over double as wide.

  The SUV trails off the road directly into the ruined tarmac slab of a former runway.

  It was huge, far bigger than any runway he is used to. And yet, it is located within a pretty small looking town all things considered. Was it even a town? He does not know.

  He turns his lights on again to find a safer way to follow. A deflated silo lay in its size, forming a gap in the wire fence which surrounded the runway. A gap which seemed to be solid ground. He'd take it.

  He turns to get a nice straight shot of the gap. He revs the car up and dumped the clutch, flooring it past.

  “Woah!” Crosby yells, his ass firmly planted in his seat. They hear two massive thuds as each axle bangs into the tarmac, causing the suspension to bounce a couple more seconds.

  “The fuck do you call that man?” Crosby asked, taken off guard by the sudden burst of movement.

  “Shush. I drive.” John tells him, taking a right to park next to the stationary SUV just outside the place’s massive doors. He takes a deep breath in and a deep breath out finally giving his full focus on the present. The immediate present. No wish, desires or annoyance.

  “It's go time.” He tells Crosby with a low voice, opening his door and lightly kicking it shut behind him— cyberleg and all.

  Crosby swiftly follows, throwing John's jacket to him, which he catches and puts on.

  They route to the boot to select a weapon. Crosby takes a wooden rifle that has its bolt on the bottom, almost like a pump. John, on the other hand, leaves his rifle there. He opts for the pistols they brought instead.

  As John inspects them just as Gary described, someone who he's been meaning to catch up with taps his shoulder. He looks at the man.

  “Ayeeee, Jimbo. How's it going?”

  “Moist.” Jimbo answers, shooting the boot for them. John sees the other two approaches, Gilbert coming with a kick in his step. Jimbo takes back John's attention as he politely warms.

  “Just to remind you, this thing is my baby, alright? If you're gonna be rough with her, at least bring me to have fun too.”

  “Save the recklessness for when you're in the car?” John asks to clarify. Jimbo taps his shoulder and steps aside for the others. “Yep you've got it. I'd appreciate a cassette for the ride back by the way.”

  John nods, looking at Gary and Gilbert who approach. Gary is soaked while Gilbert is becoming soaked, though he has an infectious air of happiness surrounding him. He's a lot taller than John expected.

  But now isn't the time for socializing. Gary makes sure to tell them there is a mission at hand. And even worse; some bad news.

  “Alright folk, we already have a problem. We parked right on top of a trail of muddy steps.”

  “And?” Crosby asked rather cluelessly with regards to his manners.

  “Ahem…” Gary says while looking at him. “That is bad because there's this thing from the sky called water, and it doesn't take water long to wash away some fawkin footsteps ya hear?”

  “Shit, there's people here then?” John asked.

  “Dingdingdingdingding! Correcto, Johnny boy!” Gary extravagates, chambering his rifle.

  “Stay alert folks. I counted four feet total, so two people. Be friendly if ya seem ‘em, but remember, you all carry a big stick.”

  The crew all changed their weapons and counted ammo. No one has got any spares, so every shot taken, if any, will have to count.

  Gary makes sure to see they're all doing it right, a brief crash course in weapon maintenance. Not even a minute passes, and Gary seems them ready.

  “Now always remember. Stay as a group, but don't get lost. And don't stand too close in case of grenades or explosions. No more than two people together at time, and never leave eyesight without warning. Got it?”

  “Got it.” The group all tell him.

  “Excellent.” He continues. “And what is the word we ask if we're unsure if someone is a threat?”

  “Marco.” They all say.

  “And what do we reply if we hear that?” Gary checks.

  “Polo.” They all reply, Gilbert being a little slow to. Gary forms a fist and rocks it in front of him, miming himself shouting. “YEAH!” As he does.

  He moves himself to a low-ready position and turns to the warehouse.

  “Alright crew. On me.”