Chapter 103 Finding the Military Camp
The strong wind and relentless snow made it impossible for the snowmobiles to maintain high speeds, as there was a constant danger of overturning. Steven and Henry kept their pace to around 40-50 miles per hour, taking more than two hours to reach the northwestern wilderness. Once they left behind the city's buildings, they lost nearly all their landmarks.
Over fifty feet of snow blanketed the landscape, making everything blend into a vast expanse of white. Henry temporarily halted the snowmobile by what seemed like a roadside, consulting his memory and the lay of the snow-covered land to pick out a direction.
Pointing to a protruding white hill in the distance, he said, "Luckily, we can still see this! It's not far, about 3 miles away."
Steven nodded, filled with anticipation.
Before long, they arrived at the foot of the hill. Scattered, protruding outlines of buildings were barely visible through the snow.
"It's around here," Henry said, "But I need to confirm the exact location of the military camp."
"Alright, let's look carefully," Steven said.
The military camp, with its low-rise buildings constructed for rapid soldier assembly, sprawled over a large area. This fact complicated their hunt. If not for Henry's guidance, Steven would have been wandering aimlessly for hours.
After a prolonged search, Henry's eyes lit up when he spotted a somewhat familiar structure in the distance. "Found it!" He exclaimed.
"The military camp?" Steven quickly inquired.
Henry shook his head, pointing toward a golden sign on a building. "I found the bathhouse!"
Steven cast him a sideways glance, completely nonplussed.
Henry laughed, "Don't worry! Finding this means we're close."
It turned out that this bathhouse was run by one of his comrades, and Henry would come here once or twice a year to catch up and also to treat himself.
Curious, Steven queried, "A bathhouse just beyond the military camp? Is there even a market for it out here?"
Henry laughed, "You don't understand, do you? Business is booming here!"
"Military life is a drag, and most of the soldiers are flying solo. These young bucks are bursting with energy they need to burn off." The veteran carried on explaining. "They've got nowhere to blow their cash within the camp confines. When they pocket their monthly pay, they’re itching for a place to throw it. Plus, they're in prime physical shape, loaded with stamina, and don't stir up trouble. To the bathhouse, these guys are golden."
Henry's argument was persuasive and tinged with nostalgia. Recalling his military escapades, his eyes sparkled with reminiscence.
Steven laughed, "Don't the brass crack down on this kind of thing?"
Henry shrugged. "Technically, it’s against the rules. But the leaders know the troops have needs, so they tend to look the other way."
Gesturing towards the sign, he added, "Whenever I spot something like 'Endless Mysteries Inside,' I can peg the general location of a military camp."
Henry turned towards the north, squinting through the wind as he scanned the horizon. After a moment, he pointed to a distant speck. "There it is! Do you see that watchtower?"
Steven squinted his eyes and looked carefully, finally seeing a small black dot amidst the swirling snow. "Got it," he confirmed.
Henry nodded. "The camp's right there."
Steven turned to Henry, skepticism in his gaze. "But a camp's massive. How do we pinpoint their armory from just that?"
Henry's confidence was unshaken. "I visited a buddy here years ago and got a good look at the layout. I still remember where the armory is, roughly."
"Alright then," Steven said eagerly. "Let’s take a closer look!"
With an approximate location in mind, they could always return with an excavator to unearth whatever treasures lay buried.
Revving up their snowmobiles, they sped off, Henry leading the way. Upon arrival, Henry surveyed the snow-covered landscape and pointed to a spot. "It's around here somewhere. Shame we came too late—everything’s snowed in."
Henry's expression grew contrite. "Sorry, Steven. I might've dragged you out here for nothing."
On the way here, he had held onto the hope that maybe the place wasn't completely buried. But upon seeing it, he realized that idea was too naive.
Steven, studying the snow-covered terrain, took note of the remaining visible landmarks—like the watchtower and the officers’ building partly submerged in snow.
"It's fine," he said, clapping Henry on the shoulder. "You did your best! Maybe when the snow melts, we can come back."
Henry smiled awkwardly and nodded.
Steven patted his shoulder, "Let's go, we should head back!"
The hour was growing late, and the journey home would span another two or three hours—no time to dawdle.
As they prepared to depart, another scene unfolded back at the neighborhood.
"Retreat! Fall back, quick!" Dennis barked, leading a haggard group of neighbors hurrying away from the territory of the Crazy Wolf Gang occupying Building 21. The assault had been brutal, claiming over a dozen lives.
Indeed, battling on enemy ground was a severe disadvantage. Despite their superior numbers, the well-entrenched defenders had booby traps aplenty, putting the attackers at a severe disadvantage. Nevertheless, they had managed to take down five or six foes—some consolation in the grim tally.
With everyone exhausted and the cold gnawing at their bones, Dennis knew it was folly to push any further—they'd retreated while they still could. As they trudged back, Dennis tallied potential rewards in his head, anticipating Steven’s gratitude tinged with a hint of self-satisfaction. But not everyone shared his optimism.
Discontent simmered among his companions, particularly the older men. "What was even the point of that carnage? Losing a dozen guys for nothing!"
"Same old story,” another grumbled. “We lost more men against the Rapids gang too. We keep this up, we'll be wiped out!"
"Is this just to let Steven vent his spleen? I nearly lost my head out there!"
"Steven calls the shots, telling us to attack, but he and Henry are off playing hero somewhere else. They’re the best fighters, yet they bailed."
Grousing came easy to these middle-aged cynics—they exerted the least, yet complained the most.
Dennis, always vigilant, turned and snapped, "Shut your traps! If it weren’t for Steven, plenty of folks in our building would’ve starved by now. Show some respect!"
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