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F8 sniffed audibly. “I don’t smell any spoilage.”
“That because no one’s opened that freezer until now,” the fire chief replied. “But all that meat and cold stuff won’t last much longer. Not with the electricity out.”
Ingrid turned to Sheriff Biggs. “What’s going to happen all this stuff?”
“Right now? Until someone claims it, it’ll stay here.”
G8 caught her train of thought. “What about the perishable stuff?”
“What about…” Biggs also caught on. He thought for a second, then referred to Sheriff Korris. “Tad, all the perishable stuff, including what’s in the freezer. What do you think the chances are this stuff’s going to be claimed before it goes bad?”
Korris gave a snort. “Little to none. Why?”
“Who’d have the right to claim it?” F8 pressed.
“Well, I guess the people who own or run this place,” Korris began.
“Or the people who worked here?” Ingrid queried. “Or the people who lived here?”
G8 went one step further. “I still have belongings and other personal items down on the third level. Some of that stuff, like the food, would have been served to me. Does that technically make some of it mine?”
The two sheriffs turned to each other. “They make a valid point,” Biggs commented.
“Sheriff Korris.” Ingrid got their attention. “Let’s say no one claims the stuff stored here. What would happen to the food that’s canned? And the boxed food? The packaged stuff? The stuff that can be saved? Would it be possible to donate it to a worthy cause?”
G8 grinned, seeing where her line of questioning was heading. Before the sheriff could reply, he pressed the issue. “Don’t you think these scientists owe us for all the suffering and shit they put us through?”
P8 grumbled, “Hell, if there’s ever a worthy cause, we’d fit the bill to a T.”
Korris slapped a hand on the side of the freezer. “What about what’s in here? You have anywhere to keep it?”
G8 caught Biggs’ wide smile. “The campground has a walk-in freezer, right, G8?”
“I don’t know if it’ll hold everything that’s in there, but we’re willing to try to see how much we can stuff into it.”
“There’s enough food here to last you all the coming winter, and then some,” Ingrid commented.
F8 turned to her. “Winter? What winter?”
G8 nudged the woman. “We’ll explain later. Right now we have to figure out a way to get it all back to the campground.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Sheriff Korris admitted. “I’ll order up a refrigerator truck from the Super G to take what’s in there and have them also loan us a regular freight truck to haul all the boxed goods.”
“And maybe some of the other stuff that’s here?” F8 asked.
“Don’t see why not,” Chief Adams interjected. “Hell, those people meant to destroy all this anyway. Don’t see why you guys can’t benefit from it.”
P8 drew even with G8. “You don’t know how much we appreciate this,” he confessed to them.
“Well, you’re still gonna hafta pay the piper, son,” Sheriff Biggs informed him and pointed downward. “We still have four more levels to go and maybe not a whole lot of time to do it in. So the sooner we check it all out, the sooner we can get back topside and place these labs under quarantine until the powers that be up at the state capitol decide what to do with this location. That, or the owners show up to take possession of it.”
“Fat chance of that happening,” P8 declared.
Sheriff Korris turned to head for the stairwell. “I’ll go notify my men and order them to call for those trucks. I’ll be right back.”
“Before you go…” Ingrid hurried over to him and held out a hand. “Let me have that marker again so we can mark the boxes that’ll need to be packed.”
“Good idea,” the man agreed, giving it to her.
