In which Arthur doesn't die and Dutch doesn't go off the deep end eventually
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Summary
“You found anythin’ useful yet?” Called Dutch from further into the facility, having shushed whatever argument had been going on.
“Not really!” Arthur shouted back, only barely managing to avoid stepping into the entrails of another dead O’Driscoll. Jesus, they were everywhere. “Anythin’ specific you want me to find?”
“Explosives, detonators, whatever’ll help us to rob that train. Hurry up now! Try that shed to the left!”
Arthur mumbled a gruff ‘yeah, yeah’ while Dutch barked orders to the rest of the boys. Dutch was probably just as cold and tired as Arthur. He made his way over to the shed with leaden legs ploughing through the snow. It felt like it had been forever since he last felt his toes. He pushed open the creaky door to the shed, stepped inside, and immediately found himself at the end of a rifle barrel with a rather young looking man at the start of it.