by John O'Brien
“That’s kind of creepy,” Watkins says, standing just behind her shoulder.
“You’re not fucking kidding,” Lynn replies.
They both look on as one night runner begins running at the wall. The screen almost whites out completely and there is a muted roar from outside. The ground beneath her boots trembles ever so slightly. The screen clears and Lynn sees a hole that shows up warmer than the surrounding area. Small wisps of warmer smoke drift slowly upward. The image reveals the small pack of night runners lying on the ground. She sees a softer image of one night runner near the hole. Continuing to watch, Lynn sees the other night runners shakily pick themselves up. They soon turn and run off into the night.
“That’ll teach ‘em,” Watkins says as they vanish beyond sight.
“I hope so. I really hope so,” Lynn agrees. “Keep watch and wake me if you see anything else.”
“Will do,” Watkins responds.
Lynn glances at Watkins quickly before leaving to head back to her room. She ponders how Watkins will sometimes use titles and sometimes not. She’s noticed that he will use them when they are gearing up for action or in it but not when they are standing down. In the past, she would be correcting him, but, well, that’s in the past she thinks shrugging. She enters her cubicle and quietly removes her boots. The chill of the night runner’s actions still remain with her as she lies down. The images on the screen stay with her until she drifts off to sleep.
* * * * * *
Sandra returns to her pack and they feed on the small, furry ones that are in mass throughout the rubble of the structures. Seeing the sky above her lighten a degree, she gathers her pack and runs south to their new lair. They have eaten well and have found a significant source of food even if it is hard to catch. For a short time, she had her pack stand off a distance waiting for the prey to come out. Once the food became abundant and in the open once again, she and her pack pounced. She is one of the last packs to return and they enter the lair.
She sees Michael standing just inside the entry to the interior and senses his anger. She sees the image he sends her to join him. Directing her pack to find a place on the floor, she walks over to Michael. He glares at her as she makes her way to him.
In the vocal language, he asks, “Why did you take your pack close to the two-legged lair when I specifically told you not to?”
“There was food in that direction. I followed the scent there,” she answers.
Her voice still sounds harsh and comes out in a croak. Some words break like a child coming into puberty. Communicating in this manner makes her throat sore and feel raw.
“You are not to go there again unless I say so. Especially if there is the noise in the sky. We need to preserve the pack,” Michael says in a hushed but firm tone.
“Then why not destroy them before they do the same to us?” Sandra asks, knowing if that happens then her intent will be to locate and capture the two-legged one that haunts her thoughts. After killing the female, she adds to herself.
“We will, but for now, we will pull back and establish our hunting grounds. We will keep the pack safe and whole. You know that the two-legged ones are dangerous,” Michael growls.
“That’s exactly why we need to destroy them,” Sandra snarls.
Sandra feels the tension between them build. She knows what she wants but also knows her pack is much smaller than the gathering Michael has brought together. And knows that Michael can and will call her pack away from her if he needs to. That will leave her helpless with her young one and will ruin her plans of the two-legged one. Sandra also knows that Michael would have no problem killing her if she wasn’t carrying her young one.
“That will happen when we figure out how. And when I say. Now is the time to pull back, preserve the pack, hunt, and plan. We have a safe place and we will keep it that way,” Michael says with another growl.
Grunting her displeasure, Sandra agrees but knows she will plan on her own. For now, she will watch and wait.
* * * * * *
I wake early feeling Lynn sleeping close behind me. The usual morning stupor I usually find myself in when waking vanishes in a moment as my mind registers what the day will bring. I ease up leaving the warmth of the covers for the chill of the interior. My head aches and feels foggy as if it is filled with cotton. I’ve felt this before in confined places with people sleeping. I’ll have to check with Bannerman to see that we are airing this place out during the day and that the ventilation works. Of course, he has a million things on his plate as well. I make a note to see if he needs more help.
Rising so I don’t wake Lynn, I slide on my boots, part the doorway curtain, and step into the building proper. Walking to and leaning on the metal pipe railing that circles the second story, I look over the quiet interior. I nod at Watkins standing across from me. The others of Alpha Team on watch are stationed on both the first and second floor. There aren’t many others up and about this early.
I turn to see Robert and Michelle, engaged in a conversation, near the railing outside of the cubicle they’ve been sharing. It’s apparent from their body language that, while not a heated discussion, they are at least having a serious one. I turn back to the interior giving them a semblance of privacy. They talk for a moment longer and then I hear Robert’s footsteps on the linoleum floor as he walks in my direction. I glance over and notice something close to a glare from Michelle as she looks at me for a second before going back in their room. Robert, with his black fatigues, vest, and M-4 slung across his back, leans on his elbows on the rail next to me.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Trouble?” I ask.
“Nah. She’s just a little pissed that I keep going out with you. She wants me to stay here with her,” he answers.
“So that must be the twin laser beams she shot at me. She has a point you know. You should consider staying here with her,” I say.
“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. It’s not that I don’t want to but maybe when this all settles down. Right now, I need to learn and get the experience but she doesn’t want to hear that. After all, old man, someone has to be there when you slow down,” Robert says.
“Settle down? That may not happen in any of our lifetimes. I hope it does though. I’m getting tired,” I reply.
“Do you really think this pace will keep up?” He asks.
“I’m not sure. In some ways, I don’t think we’ve even started. There’s a shitload of night runners out there and we haven’t the slightest notion of what they are capable of,” I answer.
“Michelle isn’t going to like that, just like she doesn’t like the fact that we’re flying off again soon,” he says.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m having the same issue,” I say, hearing the curtain part behind me. Lynn parks herself against the railing on the other side of me.
“What are you two boys talking about?” She asks.
“Nothing much. You know, the weather, the best deodorant to use, that sort of stuff,” I answer.
“Uh, huh…. And I suppose that the fact that Michelle and I aren’t looking forward to you two flying out again soon never came up,” she says.
“How do you do that? Do we really have a teleprompter on our foreheads?” I ask, startled at how she always knows what I’m thinking.
“We have our magical ways,” she replies with a grin. “And to answer, yes you do. And yours, Jack, is bigger than most.”
“You know I love you, right?” I say.
“Yes, I do, and love you too,” she replies. “Jack, there was something on the cameras last night I think you should see.”
“What was it?”
“Just come look at the tape yourself before we head out,” she says.
Robert, Lynn, and I walk downstairs into the control room. She pulls the recording out and starts playing it. She fast forwards until night runners appear on the screen. I watch for a few moments as the replay of what she saw plays.
“Shit! Are they actually ca
sing the walls and looking the place over?” I ask, stunned by what I am seeing.
“That’s what it looks like to me,” Robert answers.
“I was thinking the same thing when I saw it last night,” Lynn responds.
I continue to watch as the small band of night runners look at the walls. Lynn puts in another recording as the ones on screen move off to the side. They appear again and stop. I shiver and a sense of dread comes over me. I know not to underestimate the night runners or anyone else for that matter and didn’t think I had been. The actions I am watching certainly indicate that I may have been. I hope this isn’t a prelude to something and think about taking the AC-130 up tonight.
“We have to clear out the area,” I say, watching a night runner take a run toward the camera and wall.
I continue watching as the explosion from the mine fills the screen and the subsequent night runner reaction. They vanish into the distance after moments of apparently being stunned. Lynn reaches over and hits the stop button but we continue to watch the blank screen for a few more moments. The fact that night runners will, no can, openly observe and surveil doesn’t leave me with a warm feeling. Cold dread creeps up my spine. As with the other packs I’ve observed, this one had an apparent leader. Perhaps it’s the leaders that have the ability? Whatever the case, it seems they have a higher level of intelligence that I wasn’t aware of. Yes, they can open doors and the thought of them being able to escape from the hospital comes to mind. Not that it ever really left.
“I’ll go wake the others,” Lynn says, jarring me from my thoughts.
“Okay, thanks, I’ll meet you outside,” I say.
Robert and I check that the outside is clear and step out to an overcast day. The moisture in the air after so many clear days brings a chill. It’s barely light out and the parking lots are cast in a dim gray. The sun must just be peaking above the mountains but it doesn’t look like we’ll see much of it today. The air is still with not a breeze stirring. The morning fits my mood after watching the video. I was only partially kidding when I told Robert that we may not see a secure peace in our lifetimes. Once again, it feels like we are barely treading water, but we are still alive. Looking at Robert sitting on the curb next to me, resolve sets in. I’ll protect him, Bri, and Lynn to my dying breath. An image of Nic smiling fills my mind and fills me with sadness and longing to see her. Just to see my sweet girl once again. See her smile, hear her voice, and hug her just one more time. God, I miss her. My heart opens up and tears well in my eyes.
“So, what are we going to do?” Robert asks, breaking the silence of the morning.
“Kill every last one of the motherfuckers,” I answer, looking over at him.
“I’m with you on that. But how?” He asks.
“We’ll take the Spooky out and clear out the area. Scorched earth policy. Clear out every last place they can hide in. Strike fear in them. Make it so they won’t want to come within miles of this place,” I say.
What I don’t mention is the fear they’ve struck in me. I’ve dealt with a lot of bad guys in my time but nothing like the night runners. Sure it’s been a while since we’ve had to endure nightly attacks and the barrage of their shrieks but their ability to adapt so quickly and the level of intelligence they seem to have worries me. The sheer number of them that the CDC statistics compiled is mind-boggling, particularly compared to the lack of our numbers. I feel deep down that it’s only a matter of time before they come at us again. Especially if Frank is right about them running low on food. Maybe we could leave food drops for them far away so they wouldn’t think of coming here. I release that thought as it would sorely deplete our own resources. No, we have to clear them out of the area somehow.
Robert just looks at me. Team members begin to trickle out and toss their gear in Humvees. “Well, shall we go see what the sub captain has to say?” I say, patting him on the shoulder.
“Let’s go do it,” he replies. We head over to the Humvees for our journey north.
* * * * * *
Sam the Unwise
The clouds remain over us on our journey to Fort Lewis. They don’t have the look of foreshadowing rain but they are more evidence of the fall and coming winter. Time continues to tick away. With the exception of the continued signs of night runner adaptability, we seem to be doing well with our own advances. I just hope we haven’t overlooked something drastic. It’s not like we are playing a video game and can pull up our last save if we make a mistake.
We follow the familiar terrain of I-5 north. The leaves of the few deciduous trees in the area are turning red and yellow, giving color to the otherwise dreary gray day the Northwest is known for. It won’t be long until the rains hit. And the shorter days. The grass in the median between the north and southbound lanes has grown tall, so much that the other lanes are hidden behind it. I look in the rear-view mirror and see five other Humvees climbing the hill behind. We take the first turn into Fort Lewis and make our way through the abandoned fort to the maintenance buildings.
I cast my mind out as we drive slowly through the myriad of buildings and adjacent fields. My second shock of the day follows. I don’t sense a single night runner. I cast farther out and only find one small pack nestled in a building on the north end. This is puzzling as I sensed a few of them gathered on our last journey through. Have they depleted their food here and moved on? Are they banding together somewhere else? These thoughts occupy my mind as we progress through the main base and by the commissary. A deer walks into the road ahead, sees us, turns and leaps back in the direction from which it appeared. An occasional bird flutters across the road. No, there’s still food in the area. As we pull into the maintenance area, I continue to puzzle over the absence of night runners.
We park and I join up with Lynn. The other team members exit and fan out in a perimeter. The sound of the Humvee engines idling mixes with that of the soldiers’ boots running on the pavement. I feel the chill of the day seeping through my fatigues. It won’t be long until we will have to start donning warmer clothing underneath. Lynn rubs her hands trying to keep them warm. I think about telling her about the absence of night runners but decide to bring it up later. Right now we need to focus on meeting with the sub.
“Well, do we take Bradleys, Strykers, or just transports up?” I ask.
“The Bradleys will just tear up the roads and I’d feel more comfortable having some armament available. We haven’t been up in that area as yet and don’t know what to expect,” she answers.
“Maybe we should just fly up. I’m pretty sure they have a small airfield there,” I say.
“You said we could only carry two Humvees in the 130. That would take us forever to transport the five teams unless it’s right next to where the sub will be,” she responds.
“I don’t think it’s that far but it would still require a little hike. So Strykers it is then,” I say.
“We can carry three teams in two Strykers but let’s take three Strykers and two Humvees, one ahead and one behind,” Lynn says.
“Sounds good to me,” I say.
Lynn turns and has three brought out of the maintenance building. The heavy whine of their diesel engines fills the air, overriding the idling Humvee engines. Lynn talks with the team leaders and has the teams form up into vehicles. I’ll be in the lead Humvee with Robert, Gonzalez, and McCafferty. The rest of Red Team will ride in the first Stryker. Lynn will bring up the rear with Frank, Bannerman, and one other Black Team member. After test firing the .50 cal M2 machine guns mounted on top and checking the targeting systems, we start our convoy out of the maintenance area.
We backtrack to the main gate and turn north on the interstate. Cars begin to pile up in the right lanes similar to those in the Olympia area as we near one of the exits to one of the hospitals in the area. We track over to the far left lane and are able to squeeze by the stranded vehicles. Some, like those farther south, have their doors open as people must have tried to get to the hospital on foot. Our Humvee
squirts through with little room to spare but the wrenching sound of metal being ripped apart comes from the Stryker behind. I look in the rear-view and see sparks fly as one car door is torn off its hinges by the mammoth vehicle.
The Tacoma Mall lot is as empty as before. I look over the concrete barriers now separating the two lanes of traffic, searching for the car that was destroyed when I tossed the wrench out of the 130 seemingly so long ago. There are a couple of cars in the lot but I can’t make out that particular one. My thought momentarily drifts to Andrew. My guess is he either found his parents and stayed or didn’t make it. I send him a quick thought of hope.
We take the highway 16 exit and proceed through Tacoma toward the Narrows Bridge. Green exit signs track our progress. The signs indicate various Burger Kings, McDonalds, and Dairy Queens that won’t ever dispense their fast food again. Seeing the signs reminds me of the movies I saw where archaic relics of the past would pass by, indications of a time past that will never be again. So much has changed, the signs seem almost alien to me now.
I look over at the rooftops of the residential houses that line part of the highway. I think about the lives that once lived under those sheltering roofs. Bookshelves filled with books that will never be picked up and read again; once best sellers with rave reviews splashed against the front covers. The hoopla about their release now a forgotten memory of a world that once was. Photographs capturing happy moments with families and loved ones together now gathering dust. I look along the empty highway which once had cars stacked bumper to bumper as everyone tried to get to their nine to five jobs. The hectic rush in the morning and evenings and days filled with the stress of having some project or another to complete. The honking and gestures from impatient drivers. Yes, that world definitely seems the alien one to me now.