“What do you think? Auction the location off or strip it ourselves?” Pixie said, gesturing behind her.
Sarge looked back at the mill, shading his eyes against the setting sun. Four or five levels, fenced in site, extracting the steel for recycling. He turned back and continued walking towards the already-dying-before-the-Crash town. There wouldn’t be much stock waiting to be turned into steel on-site, not with the mill already heading towards closing. They’d really need at least one eighteen wheeler, preferably more, to make this kind of score worthwhile.
“Forge you think? They’re situated on an old foundry.”
“Bit far. Don’t think they’d want to risk their trucks getting out here. Not really worth it otherwise.” Sarge focused on a house at the end of the lane for a moment — thought he’d saw movement in the windows. Another second and the curtain flapped back across the window. There was a breeze, it probably wasn’t an ambush.
Pixie sighed. “That’s a lot of steel to just abandon to rust and ruin.”
“Get Mort in front of the council. Enclave expedition back here, haul the stock back home, sell it on to Forge. Fund that fence upgrade and new houses we need. Need the Fencemen crew for security anyway, scrapping everything is going to be loud.”
“Ah. Yeah. That could work. I’ll pitch it to Mort at dinner.”
Sarge nodded and focused on the creek two hundred yards ahead. He appreciated Pixie's focus on the strategy level stuff — the kid was going honestly the only reason the two of them had a shot at getting out of this hell someday.
Waterway ahead still looked low and clear. Sarge waved at Mort to hurry it up a bit. The man was a good negotiator, just could not seem to ever improve that cardio of his, no matter how many times they all went over the fence.