1975 Steyr Pinzgauer 710M

“They’ve blocked the tunnel entrance,” Harold said.  “We are now officially under siege.”

“Well, that’s awfully predictable of them,” Lexi said.  “How long can we stay in here?”  She was sitting on the floor with her injured leg stretched out in front of her.  After she’d banged it the cut began to hurt all over again.

“The generator is inside, but we vented it to the tunnel, so we shouldn’t have a problem with CO if we leave it on.  Unless they plug up the exhaust pipe or something.”

“I brought a carbon monoxide detector,” Dick said.  Everyone looked at him.  “What?  My mother toilet-trained me too early, what can I say?  I brought a video camera, too.  Didn’t expect to be using it, but it’s there.”

“Great,” Rocky said.  “We can film a manifesto with our demands and release it to the news media.”

“That’s not a half bad idea,” Molly said, raising her head from Glen’s shoulder.

“They did attack Dick without warning or provocation.”

“And believe me, I intend to let them know about it.”

“Assuming they don’t starve us to death.”

Glen suddenly remembered the box of food.  “You know, I have a big box of sandwiches and drinks.  They’re in the cooler.  A guy in a van came and delivered them.  I figured someone had ordered it.”

“When did that happen?”

“While we were getting gas.” 

“Who ordered it?”  No one admitted to it. 

“So we’ve got food, courtesy of some unknown sugar daddy, then.”

“There’s an incredibly foul joke to be made there,” Lexi said, “but I’m too tired to make it.  I’m going to take a nap and think.  Harold, since you’re going to talk about what we should do while I’m asleep–don’t act like you won’t,” she added with a smile, “I would like to suggest that I still want to get the last six cars out of this cave, and that maybe we ought to just drive them out.  Shut up, Lars,” she said as he opened his mouth.  “Just shut up, I know what you’re going to say, and I think you’re wrong, and I’m so worn out that if I argue with you I’m going to use a tire iron instead of language.  So stuff it, until I’m capable of being nicer.”

“Technically, a beating is a form of language,” Rocky muttered.

Harold bent down and gave Lexi’s shoulder a squeeze.  “We’ll talk it over.  You get some rest.”

“Sorry I got you all into this,” she said.

He smiled.  “I’ll let you know when it stops being fun.”