Time/Date Error (Damned of the 2/19th-Book Six) - Done

Dead Air

CIA Listening Post #487
Secure Area, Alfenwehr
West Germany
28 October, 1987
0925

First thing first, I closed the door and set my chemlight on the counter in front of where a bunch of communications equipment was missing.

I'd hoped the CIA had left at least the standard RF band equipment in place, but from the looks of it, they had taken all of it.

Still, I needed to take stock.

Four rooms in the small square. The communications room, eight by ten. Four chairs. One safe against the wall. One set in the floor. Kerosene/gasoline stove (worthless). Dead commo gear. Computer equipment, missing large sections. Next room, a bedroom. Two set of bunks. Eight lockers. Two other exits. Small as hell. Right hand room. Small kitchen. Sink (useless), fridge (empty), stove (natural gas, I tapped it in my head to find the propane tanks), empty cabinets. One cabinet marked "Emergency Supplies" that was locked. I'd break that open later. Room opposite. Bathroom. Toilet, frozen. Sink, frozen. Shower, the wall cracked from where the pipes had burst from the cold.

They'd only had the listening post up since spring.

Moving back into the survelliance room I sat down and took control of my breathing again, taking a deep hit off of my O2 bottle. I'd need to dig another tunnel, at an angle, to the surface to make sure that brought in good air.

The generators were useless no matter what, but if I worked it right, I might be able to bring the stoves online.

When I had been in 7th grade I had read accounts of the crew of the USS Wahoo, including a Navy diver. I had never forgotten the way the crew had handled being below the surface past the recommended time. While I didn't have any lime to absorb the CO2, there were other methods I could use.

Carbon, from denatured charcoal, from the MOPP suits, might work, but that was risky. I didn't have any other options, so I was pretty much out of luck.

I'd have to risk it.

My body had warmed up, and I knew what I had to do next.

I climbed back out and managed to get back onto the roof. I cleared the stove's pipe, rested for a moment, then started digging again. My weight compacted the snow beneath me as I kept going at a high angle, watching my compass to make sure I was always moving south-west, away from the edge of the cliff. It was about two-hundred yards away, but why take the risk of suddenly having the snow give out from under me and dropping me a thousand feet to my death.

By the time I came back I was shivering, my sweat having turned to ice, which melted again, and penetrated the outer layers until I was losing body heat fast. My face was numb, as was my ears. I moved into the generator room and checked the drums. There was one that was hooked to a pipe, as well as two propane tanks, one empty, the other at a quarter. I closed my eyes, willed my knee to hold, and began rolling one of the 50 gallon drums so I could struggle and get it into the room.

Twice my knee gave out, once almost dropping me backwards so that the drum would have fell on me. It slammed into my damaged knee and I screamed out loud, uncaring who heard me. My leg would barely hold me up as I finished side-rolling the drum into the room.

I closed the door, then opened the lid at the top of the stove. It was a standard stove, fuel ring down by the bottom. More than likely it was hooked up to fuel, but it had gelled. I checked behind it and found the valve. Someone had shut it off, and I opened it and checked again.

Nope, no fuel.

I tossed one of my small firebricks into the stove and lit it with the Bic lighter. It would burn for about a half hour and provide a small amount of heat. The building was cinderblock, with thick windows designed to handle Alfenwehr winds and storms, with snow on top, so I knew that it was somewhat insulated, but would still take a long while to completely warm up.