Page 50 of Into the Storm

The portable battery kit and flares could come in handy. He dropped both items in his pack.

Done searching, he closed the rear hatch and returned to the front to lock the vehicle and reclaim the wedge tool.

There were dozens of structures on the lodge property, and he and Huang intended to check out the ones closest to the abandoned SUV if it appeared safe to do so. This was a good opportunity to obtain supplies.

A weatherproof waist-high interpretive sign by the building on the end informed him that he was looking at the oldest building in the lodge complex, the blacksmith shop. An adjacent sign indicated that the next building over was a replica of the carpenter’s shop that had burned down in the 1980s. From late spring to early fall, the shop was open for wood-carving demonstrations by master carvers. A small, less official sign indicated carvings were available for purchase in the lodge gift shop.

He and Huang circled the blacksmith shop first, but there was nothing to see. There were no windows on the back, and the side windows were small and shuttered tight. The front was two barn-style doors that would be opened wide when the shop was open for tourists.

“There could be tools in there that we could use,” Huang said.

Chris gave a sharp nod. “Let’s check out the woodshop. It could have tools too, and there are windows.”

He shined a light through the double-pane fake mullioned window and spotted a wealth of tools for woodworking—chisels, clamps, saws, and dozens of items he couldn’t begin to name.

He also spotted a generator and several red jerry cans. If they contained gasoline, they were in business.

Every man on the team knew advanced-level improvised weapon making. With gas and some of the tools he spotted, they could level the playing field with their unknown enemy.

Which raised the question, why hadn’t the tangos secured this supply yet?

Maybe they were dealing with only a handful of men who were so busy chasing down the rogue trainer who’d snapped one tango’s neck that they hadn’t had time to search the outbuildings.

“If those cans are full, we’ll take what we can carry and move the rest out of view of the windows.”

Huang nodded.

The doorknob lock was basic and only took a minute for Huang to pick while Chris watched his six. In moments, they were inside, gazing at the wealth of tools through NVGs that lit everything in shades of green.

Chris’s father would love this shop. Hell, he was half in love himself and he wasn’t even a woodworker. One whole section was devoted to clamps of all shapes and sizes, meticulously organized and waiting for the next project. He’d salivate another time. They needed weapons.

He made a beeline for the row of jerry cans and picked up a metal jug. Heavy.

A good sign.

He unscrewed the top and took a whiff as Huang did the same with another can. “Yep. Gasoline.”

“Diesel would be better, but I’m not gonna be picky,” Huang said.

Yeah. Diesel would be too much to hope for. There was probably some in the lodge maintenance room, but that was near the heart of the complex and likely under surveillance.

Chris studied the row of fuel cans, noting the two smaller containers labeled “Two-Stroke” in black marker. It was probably fuel for the different-sized chainsaws that hung on the wall. Looked like someone did chainsaw art.

“I wish we could fill up a wheelbarrow and haul everything back to the team.”

Chris wished the same thing. Instead, he pointed to a door in the back corner and said, “Let’s see if we can hide the gas cans in there.”

Behind the door was a large storage room full of cleaning supplies, broken tools, and other junk. Not nearly so organized as the main woodshop, which was more like a showroom. After moving the containers, Chris switched his focus to the cabinets and shelves. What gifts did they have to offer?

He popped the lock on a tall metal cabinet, and the door swung wide to reveal an assortment of power tools…and an old rifle with bayonet attached.

He studied the gun. Vietnam era.

Mock had said the body they found by the yurt had a tattoo on his forearm that indicated the dead guy had served in Nam.

Was this the victim’s shop? His rifle?

And, even more important, would he find ammunition in one of these cupboards or drawers?