When the cars drove inside and the golems covered the gate, it became easier. Rare mutants of all kinds and shapes climbed over the fence, but they were handled by the living and quasi-living fighters of the squad, and handled with ease. The sparse shadows were dispelled by the arrowheads I had worked on before the hike.
The rooms were empty and dusty. On the first floor we found two dozen half-decomposed bodies and that was all.
- The armory is on the second floor," - the namesake waved to the broad staircase. - To the right. There will be a lattice and an iron door. You only have to break it down, then break down the door to the armory itself and that's it - it's all in the bag ...
- In the hat, of course," muttered Oliver, as a burst of machine gun fire struck the two samurai who had come to the grating blocking the corridor. - Is there a robot, or what?
- What robot? - Alex was taken aback.
- The usual one, like in the movies, where a machine gun shoots people from the ceiling.
He looked at the older man, blinked and lifted his finger to his temple.
- You're too old, aren't you? Where did you get this kind of technology? - Then he called out in a loud voice: - Hey, who's in there? We were friendly, we didn't know there were survivors in town!
A nervous man's voice came from the side of the machine gunner:
- We didn't know either! There's only zombies and critters roaming around! Who are you?
Alex introduced himself, said that our team of survivors from the city and the residents of the nearby villages, came here for weapons. Negotiations dragged on for ten minutes and would go on and on, until I was angry and ordered the golems to take out the remains of the bars and go at the unknown, covered by shields.
My soldiers were struck by several machine guns, the clatter of the shots rang in my ears and ricochets flew. The shooting ended literally at once, five or seven seconds and there was a ringing silence, interrupted by the yelling of my comrades and the hysterical screeching from the side where the golems had gone.
- Is the woman shrieking? - said our eldest aloud.
- I think so," - I confirmed.
In the small room, which looked more like a narrow and long pavilion, on one side of which stretched a long table and stood three boxes of plastic with sand, apparently similar to bullet traps, there were three people in police uniforms besides the golems. A man and two women. The man was pressed against the wall by a golem with its shield, and the woman was pressed against the wall in the same way, only with her hand. The second golem pressed the last woman with its shield.
The first woman squealed, apparently not liking the fact that she was being grabbed by her chest. Or the golem squeezed that sensitive part of the woman's body too hard.
- Don't you dare attack us, or touch a weapon," - I warned the strangers, - "and you'll be let go now. Understand?
All three nodded.
- You jerks," - said the woman with the hurt chest through her tears. - Couldn't you take it easy?
- They don't understand you," - I snorted.
They all looked pretty bad. The women's hair was greasy and mussed up, tied back at the nape of their necks somehow. Unwashed, their clothes had not been washed in a long time, and were crumpled and covered in suspicious dark stains.
Blood? Or just dirt, like the aftermath of a sloppy lunch of ketchup?
Both are brunettes, but judging by the severely outgrown roots of their hair, different in color, non-natural. Both are about twenty-five years old, give or take a year or two. Both in light blue shirts and short uniform skirts. Senior lieutenants. Only the lapses on their shoulder straps are different colors.