Atlas Reloaded - Book Five of the Damned of the 2/19th

Teen Queens

The chain rattled as I pulled steadily on one side of the loop, pulling it down so that the bunker door groaned, shivered, and then began to slowly open. The magic of physics made it so that I could pull open a twenty-ton blast door just by pulling on the chain as it ran through pulleys and gears instead of hanging off the chain like a monkey. Out of habit I glanced down at the rad-detector clipped to my breast pocket when the air gushed out smelling of scorched metal and an odd smell that didn't really have any comparison but my brain insisted was malevolence.

"It's like looking into Hell," one of the infantry officers said. I could hear a little bit of fear in his voice as the bunker door opened wider.

"You'll be fine," I told him, stepping back and letting inertia and friction slow the heavy door down. I moved inside the bunker and hit the light switches, waiting for the lights to clack on and reveal the entirety of the massive bunker.

"They say that these weapons aren't deployed, that they're all in depots and storage areas, and they've never been put into place," I said as the door slowly groaned to a stop. I waved at the infantry guys and the handful of snake eaters to follow me inside, glancing at my rad badge again. "Technically Atlas is an ammunition depot. A storage facility. It says so right in the name, and it isn't an ASP, which is an ammunition supply point, so legally these weapons aren't deployed and are in inactive storage."

My skin prickled and I insisted that it was all in my mine, that stray neutrons and particles weren't slamming holes in my DNA.

"Again, technically, we're abiding by the non-proliferation treaties signed by that peanut farmer," I said. I sighed. "No, let me wind that back. Carter had an impressive set of balls on him and knew the dangers of this shit better than anyone in office."

"What do you mean?" One of the infantry guys asked.

"We learned about it in Special Weapons class, to teach us just how tough the human body is when it comes to radiation," I told them, reaching over and picking up the inventory sheet. "Back in the 50's Carter had only been in the Navy a few years. He was a nuke guy, one of Rickover's men," I continued while one of the Navy Seals whistled low and impressed. "Rickover, if you've never heard of him, served over sixty years in the Navy on Active fucking Duty, and was the father of the Navy's nuke program. Him and Amos Fry completely rebuilt the US military's NBC operations from the ground up, going from tossing smallpox blankets over unsuspecting Indians and gassing Krauts in trenches to what we have today."

"He's why we've never had a nuclear accident on a Naval vessel," the SEAL said.

I flipped the pages, looking at the ammo, nodding.

"In 1952, up at Canada's Chalk River Laboratories an accident caused a partial meltdown in an experimental nuclear reactor when everything went tits up. Hydrogen explosions went off and hundreds of thousands of gallons of radioactive water flooded the core, heavily damaging the reactor. When the Canadian government screamed for our help Carter was chosen to lead a team of guys into the reactor fucking core to shut it down. Carter and his men worked in 90 second shifts and still took enough radiation that they all pissed radiation for over a fucking year," I said, putting the inventory sheet back after I spotted where I needed to go. "Think about that. Him and twenty-three others volunteered to go into a partially melted down reactor and dismantle it in 90 second shifts with 1950's gear."

That got low whistles of appreciation as I led them down the aisle toward the middle of the bunker.

"Can't deny the dude's bravery," I said, shaking my head. "But all he'll be remembered for is fucking up the Middle East Peace Accords and dropping a shit sandwich into everyone's lap."