His only wish was that his son had opened the book and looked inside first. The pages must have gotten wet at some point, and mold covered half of the recipe, making it impossible to decipher fully.
Massimo had been smart enough to figure most of it out, or at least he hoped that was the case. Getting the measurements right could be a little tricky. He shuddered at the memory of the first batch of beer he had made, a flat and insipid brew which had tasted like old socks.
He flicked on the light switch in his vault. The bulb flared brightly and then blew out with a pop.
“Damn bulb was supposed to last for ten years. Piece of junk.”
Massimo closed the vault and headed back up the stairs to get a new one. He brushed the dust off the last box of bulbs on the shelf, and it did say they would last over fifty thousand hours. Surely, he hadn’t used it that long?
Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked Leandro to stock up on light bulbs. He added the item to the list on their fridge. Then, he found a half-burned candle in a kitchen drawer and lit it. The vault would be too dark to change the bulb without a light source.
Massimo headed back down the stairs. When he opened the vault’s door, he was blown halfway back up the stairs from the force of the explosion.
Terrier walked slowly through the forest, much to the annoyance of his captors. Well, they hadn’t captured him, really. He was heading back to the bunker of his own free will.
Sergei was getting pissed off at Terrier’s slow pace. Ivan’s head was getting heavy, but Sergei couldn’t give it to anyone else to carry. They’d keep it for themselves and present it to Afana as their own prize.
“Hurry up.” Sergei pushed Terrier forward. “I’m looking forward to my reward.” He winked at Nestor, who laughed in return.
Terrier looked at the men in disgust and stopped walking.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sergei asked, annoyed.
Terrier pulled on his matted beard. “I was just thinking that Afana’s reward will be wasted on you.”
Sergei snorted. “And why’s that?”
Terrier shrugged. “Because of your tiny dick, of course. It’s more likely to get stuck between a woman’s teeth than to bring her pleasure.”
The other hunters burst into laughter, and Terrier’s whole body shook with mirth.
Sergei’s face turned an ugly shade of crimson. “I don’t know why you shit-stains are laughing. You’ve all got little dicks, too. I’ve seen them.”
Terrier’s eyes widened, and he laughed even harder. “Have you been looking at our cocks?”
“No,” Sergei spat, but the other hunters weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily.
Nestor pranced over to Sergei and waggled his hips suggestively. “Is this what you’re into, Sergei?”
Sergei swung his machete at him, and Nestor leapt back, laughing.
“Too slow,” Nestor said, holding up his bandaged arm. “Ivan was faster, but I suppose he didn’t have dicks on the brain.”
Terrier saw his chance to add fuel to the fire. “Dickbrain! Now, there’s a good nickname for Sergei.”
The other hunters howled with laughter. Yegor hunched forward, holding his hands to his stomach, Nestor wiped tears from his eyes, and Pavel looked like he was about to piss himself.
Sergei shook his head and glared at the others. “Why the hell are we talking about nicknames? We should be focusing on the job at hand.”
Terrier wasn’t about to let him restore order so quickly. “Guys, he’s right. Let’s not get distracted by stupid nicknames. We were talking about how small Sergei’s dick is.”
“I don’t have a little dick!” Sergei protested. Terrier thought he was trying to sound tough, but the words came out more like a pout.
Nestor had a mischievous look on his face, much to Terrier’s delight.
“Compared to Terrier, you do.”
Sergei rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah. Compared to Terrier, everyone does. He’s a fucking freak of nature.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before his brain caught up to what he was saying.
Terrier’s mouth fell open in a huge grin. He turned to face Sergei, and Sergei raised his machete to Terrier’s face. “Not a fucking word!”
Sergei shoved Terrier in the direction of the bunker to get him moving again. He knew not to press Sergei any further. Push him too far, and it would be off with his head. Terrier intended to keep all of his parts intact for the time being, although he had no idea what would happen once he got back to the bunker.
His only consolation was that he’d bought Ryder some more time to escape. His stalling had given her a decent head start. His juvenile dick jokes might have been the difference between life and death. He just hoped she had gotten somewhere safe by now.
Massimo’s hair was on fire. He could smell the acrid smoke and feel the heat on his scalp. He frantically patted his hair, trying to stop the burning.
Massimo’s calculations had clearly been wrong. He guessed that too much methanol had developed in the mixture, and it had created a fireball when the candle flame touched the flammable air in the vault.
“Damn it all to hell!”
His hands stung from the flames, but, at least, he’d extinguished his hair. Massimo’s bones hurt a little from hitting the stairs. He got to his feet, trying to ignore the pain as his nanocytes healed the damage from the impact.
The candle was still lit, and he snatched it off the step before that too caught on fire. He headed down to assess the damage. All his most precious belongings were in the vault.
His useless cookbook was on fire, and so were some of his favorite books. Massimo needed a fire extinguisher,
