The rest of that morning and afternoon passed in a flurry of activity. Satellite maps were pulled from the ‘net, discussions were had on what to wear and take, thoughts about what exactly might be in the Stash were thought, but went largely unexpressed. They even made time for a few rounds of Omega Chess.
When the time came to leave Peter looked at his comrades in arms. Gregory had changed into a set of all black BDUs and was even wearing a black balaclava, rolled up for now. Donnie called him Snake-Eyes whenever this get up made its appearance and usually that earned a solid punch in the arm. Occasionally that devolved into a wrestling match. Not today though, today was serious business.
Donnie had changed into a pair of heavy-duty black carpenter’s jeans and pulled a dark grey hoodie on over a xDEATHSTARx logo tee. A pair of black twenty eye Docs covered his feet and black greasepaint was smeared all over his face. Not someone Peter would have wanted to meet anywhere.
In contrast Peter looked almost comically underdressed. He hadn’t realized that there was going to be a night mission and really had only what he usually wore. His jeans were dark blue as was his jacket. That would have to be enough. He borrowed a pair of Donnie’s boots since more rugged footgear seemed called for and some paint for his face. His ever present backpack completed the ensemble, now filled with water, “iron rations” aka PB and J on Donnie’s housekeeper’s dark wheat bread, and a few hand tools. They all carried mini flashlights and little cheapo digital cameras to document their adventure.
The plant was about a thirty minute bike ride from Donnie’s house. Starting this time of year they all left their bikes here, since this is where they spent most of their free time. Donnie winked at his friends. “I think we’re about as ready as we’ll ever be. Let’s roll out!” Minutes later the quiet whir of rubber on asphalt filled the air as the three began their trek.
The moon was waning full and there were few clouds. There was already a bite in the air which meant a cold camp, not something any of them looked forward to. Peter spent the time worrying. He was a champ at worrying. What if there were guards? What if they had guns? What if the Seniors were there tonight? What if he fell and broke his collar bone? His stomach kept doing these little flips and rolls. He knew that he could call this off. A quick double flash and the other two would pull over. He’d explain that he’d really rather be playing video games. They’d call him more than a few names. Everyone would be pissy and disappointed, even Peter. Still two hours later they’d be immersed in sensory overload and all would be forgotten, mostly.
“No.” Peter said through gritted teeth. “Not this time.” Gregory was right. He needed this. They all needed this. He’d be damned if he’d call it off. Peter knew he was a coward. Left to his own devices he would have been chewed up and spit out by high school. Thank God he’d had his friends to back him, but that wouldn’t last much longer. They were all headed different ways, had been for the last year. He’d need to learn how to make it on his own. Maybe this would help or maybe it was just a last hurrah. Either way the sodium arc lights brightened the near horizon telling him that they were well past midway and whatever happened tonight, good or bad, he was down. They all were.
