Sill led the line of vehicles through the gate and onto what I assumed to be the grounds of Fort Knox. The road twisted through a forest and opened up to be an expanse of exercise yards and shooting ranges. Soldiers were strewn everywhere, lying on the ground, draped over monkey bars, slumped over Hummer hoods, and one unfortunate soul who had been engaged in hand-grenade drills lay in pieces.

“I know what you you’re thinking,” Sill said. “You’re thinking, Are we there yet? And the answer is no. Another two miles across the base. How are we doing back there?”

There was no answer.

To me he said, “Pretty exciting, right? To think that soon we’ll be opening that giant vault and there it will be. Nothing. I’m absolutely beside myself with excitement. No, wait, that’s you.” He yuk-yukked. He had never actually seemed insane before, but he did at that moment. “It’s not much of a fight when the enemy is asleep, but don’t look a gift nothing in the mouth.”

The depository came into view ahead of us. It was larger than I had imagined. Sill waved for an armored vehicle to come up from the rear. It was an APC with a small cannon on the top. It stopped beside our jeep and Sill pointed forward. “Just ram it,” he shouted. He looked at me. “I enjoy the cannon, but it’s even louder than the pistol. And it’s messy.”

The APC rolled forward toward the guardhouse. It had a rear bumper sticker that read Legalize Recreational Plutonium. The vehicle simply ran over the guard station and the fencing around it. The driver did so without regard for the helpless and harmless soldiers lying about asleep. I found I couldn’t watch and so I looked back at Eigen. Her eyes were tightly shut and she was shaking.

“Keep them shut,” I whispered, knowing there was no way she could hear me.

“Forward!” Sill shouted inside his headgear and pointed, just like a cowboy leading a wagon train.

The armored vehicle stopped at the giant front doors of the installation. Sill turned to me. “You might want to cover your ears. The cannon is necessary now.” He covered his own ears. I gestured to Eigen to do the same.

My hands over my ears did little to block the percussive force of the gun. I wondered what it would have been like had I not covered up. The door to the building was obliterated; only a cartoonish gap was left in the face of the structure.

Sill got out of the jeep and waved for his men to surround the building, this while the crop-dusting Cessna made another pass.

I followed Sill inside. It was just the two of us. The edges of the blown-away door and walls were still smoking. The sounds of engines, land and air, ceased and an eerie silence sat with us in the rubble. The building was surprisingly old fashioned inside, lots of oak paneling, marble surfaces. We walked through the smallish foyer, through double doors into a large room with no counters or surfaces, but with two machine gun nests, complete with machine guns, on either side of impressively large metal doors that stood closed under the word Vault etched into the marble wall.