How High The Moon

“There! That should do it!” Exclaimed Jude, marveling at his own work.

He didn’t usually toot his own horn, but the radiation suits had come out quite well considering they only consisted of a few rolls of lead sheeting, two painters jumpsuits and a couple of motorcycle helmets.

“You actually did it” Mac said from behind in a surprised tone.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in the boy, protection from a nuclear warhead just wasn’t something folks would usually associate with the term DIY. He wasn’t complaining though. They had to reach those Titans and Patrick AFB seemed like their only option. The two carried their suits, which weighed a ton, out to Jude’s jeep. They’d take the interstate north since all the local streets were swarming with hoodlums. Though they had waited until nightfall, when even the damned had to find time for beauty sleep, they still took the chance of running into trouble if they stayed in the city for longer than absolutely necessary. As Mac topped off the gas tank with what little fuel they could scrape together, Jude explained the situation to Stella, who was clearly upset by her master’s departure.

“Stay. Alright? Stay here and I’ll be back soon” He stated firmly, signaling for her to lay down.

She would comply at first, but as soon as his back was turned, Stella was following again. He couldn’t be upset with her, she rarely left his side. Finally, Jude placed Stella inside The Generator Shed and locked the large metal door. Her cries of concern for her boy’s wellbeing were ear shattering, but he had to help The Compound if he wanted to reach Avalon. She’d thank him in the long run in her own way, which to a canine probably entailed some kind of slobbery kiss.

The duo loaded up into their ride, and made one last equipment check. Since the suits weighed so much, their arsenal was severely limited. Jude would carry a Geiger counter and a large bag of tools he’d need for removing the components of The Titan, and Mac would provide protection, armed only with a Modified Baikal-442. It wasn’t his initial selection, but the Makarov’s clip housed 12 rounds and was simple to operate. It was exactly what he needed while dressed in the uncomfortable shielding. Jude had argued that a weapon wasn’t crucial since the levels in the area were far too high. Ignorant Raiders, who would probably mistake uranium for rock candy, would be too busy dying of rad poisoning to even notice the beings wrapped in foil stagger about nearby. Mac had dealt with the gangs in Palm Bay though, and assured him that a little radiation wouldn’t prevent them from trying to get their hands on Jude’s sack of goodies.

The majority of Interstate 95 had remained intact in this region, unlike further down south where sizeable fragments of rubble blanketed miles of roadway, making travel to The Keys virtually impossible. The expressway was relatively safe, much safer than city streets, and only offered one real threat - Poorly planned scavenger traps. Usually involving homemade spike strips, the stingers could be spotted miles away, and wouldn’t be a problem on this short journey. As they barreled towards their exit, Mac slid a tape into the old consol. Loud hair metal broke the silence of the chilly Haust night, letting Patrick AFB know it had visitors on the way. Jude, who had never been a fan of classical music, gave Mac an unimpressed grin.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like Quiet Riot, kid?” He chuckled, turning the volume up.

Not long after Mental Health’s second chorus had kicked in, the music abruptly stopped. They had reached the base and parked about 100 yards short of the giant hole breaching the outside wall, that had been left by the raiding group. When Jude looked down at the Geiger counter, the small needle already twitching. It was time to change into the suits, which only took them about five minutes. After the bulky outfits were on securely, they began their approach. As they neared the opening, Jude almost tripped over some remains.

“Must have been running when the bomb went off” Mac explained, motioning in the direction the outstretched skeletal arms were pointing.

They continued through the entrance, stepping carefully over piles of debris. Across the yard, they could see what was left of The Space Coast, a crumbling husk of cement and metal. Jude stopped at The Visitors Center and returned with a small pamphlet that contained a overhead layout. He scanned it for a moment, then looked up and pointed off in the distance.

“There it is” Judah called to Mac, who was waiting a few feet away.

He nodded at the boy and followed him towards the large clinic. The outside walls were grimy, but the building itself had no visible damage. Jude slammed himself against the main double doors a couple of times before Mac grew impatient and told him to step back. He fired off three rounds, shattering the glass and giving them an opening. The lobby was dark, so they stuck close to the walls.

“Watch the floor… Could be holes” Mac warned, holding onto Jude’s shoulder.

The Wastes were not a place to wander about. More travelers lost their lives to carelessness than Raider attacks. At the end of the long hall, Jude could see a large map of the clinic and quickly found The Generator Room. It wasn’t too far from their current location, and they reached the entrance quicker than expected. A leisurely march down collapsing stairs brought them to The Titans, that had stayed hidden and untouched, just as they had hoped. Jude got to work immediately, removing key components and stuffing them into his bag. The whole process took only twenty minutes, but this was still too close for comfort.

“I’m done! Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Jude called, rushing to Mac before climbing the stairs.

Once they had reached the yard again, the fear of a slow radioactive death seemed like a distant memory. They were in the clear now, and laughed as they raced back to the jeep. After a speedy sweep with the counter, they were sure all was clear and started the trip back to The Compound. The two stayed in high spirits the entire ride home, but as camp came into focus, reality slapped them in the face again. All this celebrating was premature, and they remembered the severity of their current situation. The generator had to be fixed by tomorrow evening, and preparations for The Crazies assault needed to happen as soon as possible. The last few miles were spent in silence, partly because the two were planning quietly, but a small portion of concern was definitely present, stalking menacingly in the shadows of their minds. The Compound had a long day ahead.