January 15th, 2034
I had just about talked myself into heading south to Santa Clarita to begin scrounging for explosive materials, – gas, gunpowder, fertilizer, propane tanks, etc…, when it struck me that everything I need is already waiting for me on the air base. All the ordinance I’d need to accomplish my mission is already conveniently stored a few hundred yards from the flight line, and that includes the pineapple-sized explosives they are so fond of clearing houses with.
A dozen of those ought to do the job nicely.
If I can get in, I’ll have everything I need.