Marks opened his map and spread it out across his lap. James pointed out their current location and the route they would travel. “The plant is on the other side of the hill,” he whispered. “I’ll scout ahead then bring you all up.”
Rogers moved off to the side, trying to take advantage of the elevation to contact the ship. He looked frustrated as he tried different techniques to relay a signal. Jacob sat slightly apart from them, off the trail and low in the grass but still in a position that he could see down the hill. He fished a bottle from his pack and sipped at the water, not wanting to drink too fast; he didn’t know when they would have a chance to refill their bottles.
He spotted movement on the trail below. He flinched and focused his eyes, thinking he saw a flash of gold dart across their back trail. Jacob lifted his rifle and focused on the far off spot, using the weapon’s optics.
“Did you see something?” Stephens whispered, observing Jacob’s change in posture and reaching for his own rifle.
Not immediately answering, Jacob strained his eye and tried to steady the rifle so that he could see into the waist-high grass. He saw the flash of movement again, though this time it darted across then stopped and looked right at him. He took his eye from the scope, lifting slightly over it to look again. Less than a hundred feet away, a bright golden Labrador retriever was sitting on the path looking at them, its tongue out while it panted.
“It’s a dog,” Jacob said.
James crawled to Jacob’s position and looked through the binoculars, verifying his report. “Damn, I ain’t seen one of those in a long time. I thought they were all dead.”
“What do we do?” Jacob asked.
“Well, you saw it, so it’s only fair that you get to shoot it.”
Jacob looked back at James sternly, then at the cold faces of the others. “Fuck you; I ain’t killing no dog. What’s wrong with you?”
James laughed and smacked Jacob on the back. “Just playing with you, bro. We’re not shooting any damn dog. But if it gets to barking, you’ll have to do something about it.”
The dog sat watching them, keeping its distance. Slowly, it stalked closer up the trail, stopping within fifty feet of the strangers before moving back into the tall grass and disappearing. James got them back to their feet and led them over the hill and down the far side into the thicker trees. Jacob looked back behind him and caught a glimpse of the golden dog following them. It popped onto the trail, walking along before slipping back into the high grass.
As James had predicted, they could start to make out the white steel buildings and holding tanks of the chemical plant below. The point man moved them to a tall, thick tree line at the edge of a road running parallel to the chemical plant’s tall chain linked fence. Beyond that was a wide, grassy field—or rather, long uncut lawn—then the steel-sided building.
Joining the huddle, Jacob moved in close to the others across from the fence. He pointed at the tall, white cylinders in the distance. “That’s the tank farm… there should be a pump house or some type of control room nearby. That would be the best place to find a list of what’s where. There should be a large layout inside the guardhouse or control room; there has to be a disaster plan someplace for fire fighters and other first responders. It’s usually inside the gate or security office so emergency workers know what they are dealing with.”
Marks looked at him, surprised; the others stopped and stared. “How do you know all of this?” Marks asked.
Jacob kept his eyes on the tank farm, searching the structures. “Because my day job kept me in factories and manufacturing plants—I know a thing or two about them. There are a shitload of storage tanks over there. If we’re lucky, they will have a class-six label.”
“What, you mean like booze?” James said, stating the military’s designation for alcohol.
“No, I mean like HAZMAT. Look for something that says poison or toxic. But it would be better to find a layout that takes us right to it.”
Marks looked at Stephens, who shrugged. “Makes sense to me. I think we should listen to him,” Stephens whispered.
The team leader pushed the map of the compound to Jacob. “Okay then, where do you suggest we look?”
Jacob took the map and compared it to what he was seeing on the ground in front of him. “We can follow this main fence around to here. Looks like there should be a gatehouse and driver check-in area with a security checkpoint for other visitors. We can check that place for a first responders’ notebook, or something like that. Not every plant has one, but I’ve seen plenty that do.”
“Okay,” Marks said. “James, you take point with Jacob; follow the fence and clear the guard shack. See if he can find this layout directory or notebook thing. We’ll hold up outside, backing you up. If we locate the tanks, we’ll go inside and set up a patrol base before going after it.”
Jacob nodded. Still holding the facility map, he looked it over closely; there were only two tank farms, each with over twenty tanks. It would be difficult and time consuming to locate the dioxin
