Page 60 of Unraveling Connections

“Alright, let’s head back in and see if the guys are ready to head back, wherever back is, I don’t know if we’re supposed to go back to headquarters,” I mutter, starting to ramble as we go through the entrance and into the vast space filled with giant shelves of crates.

“We will probably need to take Emmerson back, I know that she drove here, but she’s in no condition to drive back and is most likely exhausted,” Peter says and then adds, “Mr R most likely wants us to ensure that she goes back and doesn’t try to go after Hunt again.”

I shake my head, “I don’t think she would, not with the way that this turned out. I think she is damn lucky that she managed to fight them off for as long as she did, and I think she knows that.”

Pete hums in agreement, “Yeah, I think you’re probably right.”

I glance up at the crates around us, and say, “We should probably have a look in a couple of these crates and see exactly what they were guarding.”

“Good point,” Peter says and then frowns, “we’re going to need crowbars.”

“Oh, I love a good crowbar,” I grin.

“You are so weird sometimes,” he smirks, as we start to search for something to open the crates with.

“That’s why you love me,” I retort with a cheesy grin that makes him chuckle. I spot a piece of scrap metal sticking out from one of the stacks and hold it up, “What about this? We could wedge it under the lid and see if we can leverage it like a crowbar would?”

Peter shrugs, “I mean it could work? We could try, if it doesn’t work, we can see if any of the support teams brought anything that we could use.”

I shrug and stride over to the nearest crate, this one is about waist height so still fairly big, but not big enough that I'm not going to be able to get any leverage to open.

As I start to pry the piece of metal under the edge of the lid of the crate, Peter says, “Why am I really nervous about what could be in there?”

I pause, “I don’t know, but I’m now nervous too. I mean, Hunt is a fucking psycho. It could be anything.”

“I think the more that we sit here and think about it, the worse we’re going to freak ourselves out, especially since it’sbeen a long day already, so we should probably just get on with it,” Peter suggests.

I nod, “Yeah, you make a good point.”

I take a deep breath because I am far more nervous than I should be and resume my task of opening up the crate. It takes longer than I thought since I have to get all around it in order to open it from every angle and get the lid off safely. There could be anything in here, guns, drugs, explosives, and some of those things are really quite volatile, and not things that you want to set off.

The explosives are the main thing that you don’t want to go bang; that would be bad, really bad. I think I'm getting tired; my own thoughts are stating the obvious now.

“What are you guys doing?” Atlas asks.

I pop my head out from behind the box, making him chuckle, “We’re trying to get into this box to see what Hunt is storing here.”

“Ah, okay, that makes sense,” Atlas replies and then says, “Do you want a hand?”

I shake my head, “Nope, I’ve got this. I'm nearly done now, anyway. If I let you take over now, you would get credit for me doing all the hard work, and that doesn’t seem fair.”

Both Atlas and Peter burst out laughing but they both know I am right. While they talk and Atlas updates us on what is going on with everyone else, I carry on working on the crate, determined to make it work just to prove that I can and because I'm stubborn.

“They are starting to load the hostiles into the vans now ready to take them to the Cottage,” Atlas starts to explain, “it was decided that they would have to check them for the poison teeth when they get them there as that requires more equipment than we currently have.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Peter replies, “is Emmerson okay?”

“Come on, you fucker,” I mutter quietly as I try to get the last corner open. Fortunately, they don’t hear me, or they would definitely be laughing their asses off.

“Yeah, she is fine. She wants us to take her back to headquarters, though. The adrenaline has started to wear off, and she is beginning to feel a bit shaky and emotional; I think she feels safest with us.” Atlas explains, “We’ve sent someone to go and get the car she drove here, Trick Cash and Rage found it before they arrived, apparently it was one of headquarters.”

“She stole a car?” I ask loud enough so that they can hear me, “Nice. I am weirdly proud of her.”

“Me too,” Atlas chuckles.

Before anyone can say anything else or Atlas can offer to help me again, the lid finally pops free.

“I fucking did it,” I exclaim happily.

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