by John O'Brien
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “Anyone else have different ideas?”
The opinions are mixed among us as we ponder different ramifications of each. We eventually arrive at completing the towers and have some people assigned to begin filling the containers with concrete and laying them in place. I also mention Roger, the pilot who was with Sam and his group, and my thoughts of rigging up loudspeakers to a light engine aircraft to help out with the search for additional survivors in the area. Frank comments that he’ll talk with him and incorporate him into the search.
“You know, I have to say that standing at the narrows today gave me an idea about putting a moat around the compound,” Frank adds as the conversation subsides.
“A moat? Really? I’m not sure having stagnant water like that is a good idea. That will breed all sorts of bacteria,” Lynn says.
“True, we don’t have to fill it, but if we dig a ditch, say twenty feet wide and twenty feet deep, it could trap any night runners who try to get close to the walls. We could put a drawbridge at the front entrance and that would seal us away,” Frank replies.
“Wouldn’t that fill up with water during the winter months?” Drescoll asks.
“We could line it with concrete and put sump pumps to drain it,” Robert adds.
“Okay, but I don’t think that’s a very viable option. I mean, building a ditch like that all of the way around the compound isn’t a very plausible solution. That’s four miles of ditch you’re talking about,” Greg comments.
“What about just around the inner walls? We could run the ditch under the existing walls and just encircle the inner compound,” Franks says.
“I suppose that might be viable and we could build a drain field and pump the water into it,” Bannerman states.
“We have the mine field we’ve put up. Do you really think that’s necessary?” Drescoll asks.
“My thinking is that they could push through and once they make a path through the mine field, then they could reach the walls. The night runners have shown themselves to be relentless regardless of the numbers they lose,” Franks says.
“The night runners could come up with a way to build a bridge across it,” I comment.
“Really?! Do you think they could do that?” Drescoll asks, incredulously.
“Who knows? They’ve been pretty innovative in the past. Just look at the hospital. Each of our innovations seems to spur their own. We are, in effect, sponsoring their adaptability by the very nature of trying to keep them out. It’s a cycle. We need to stay at least two steps ahead and think of their possible adaptations,” I answer.
“Are you saying we don’t build something because of what it may spur on the night runner side?” Drescoll asks.
“No. I’m not saying we stop coming up with and adopting solutions, we just need to think ahead to any possible night runner reaction, regardless of how far-fetched it might seem,” I reply. “I think our best solution lies with clearing them out.”
“Well, that’s true and I completely agree with that. So, what do we do about the ditch?” Drescoll says.
“I don’t think we have the resources right now to do that, the towers, and build the quarters,” Bannerman chimes in. “I think we need to concentrate on the towers and quarters.”
“I agree but I don’t want to completely drop Frank’s notion of a moat. I think it’s a great idea and not only because of the night runners. If Leonard is truly going to let others he encounters know about our location, we may experience trouble at some point from a large group of marauders. We need to prepare ourselves for that eventuality. And that’s regardless of who Leonard meets. I think someone, at some point, is going to find us and decide they’d like our little garden for themselves,” I say.
“That’s true. I’ve thought about that myself. We might want to bring more Strykers down,” Frank says.
“We’re close to being finished with the vehicle storage building and can bring them down and store them when it’s complete,” Bannerman replies.
We begin to wind down our meeting when Horace speaks up. “Sir, I’m just curious, how did you know there were night runners inside of the warehouse?”
And, there’s the bomb! It goes off with little sound but she may as well have tossed a grenade in our midst. I feel my heart beat increase more than it would if I was inside of a night runner-infested building. My initial thought is to scream shrilly and run from the building. My second thought is to suddenly go deaf but Lynn knows that one. I’ve tried that one in the past with little success. I was thinking of telling them anyway but the worry of their reaction has kept my lips sealed.
My cheeks puff out as I forcefully blow air through my pursed lips. “I suppose it’s time I tell you a story. Grab some popcorn and make yourselves comfortable as I have a bit of a story to tell,” I answer
I proceed to tell them the changes I seem to have undergone. I can’t tell them too much really as I really don’t understand it myself. Jaws hit the ground and disbelief crowds everyone’s eyes as I spin my tale. The silence within the group is complete as I finish. The sounds of people shuffling and arranging their belongings within the building rise in stark detail but are unheard in our little circle. Telling what happened and the changes that occurred makes it sound like quite the fabrication. I hear myself as the words come reluctantly from my mouth and I don’t believe it. I wait for the first burst of laughter or “that’s a good one, Jack” but am only met with stares as the thoughts churn inside each head. I worry about their reaction.
“So, wait a minute. First of all, you mean to tell us that the night runners communicate amongst themselves in some sort of telepathic manner? And that you can sense and ‘hear’ them?” Drescoll asks, breaking the tense silence.
“It appears so,” I say.
“Then we can use that,” Drescoll states.
“To some degree, however, they can sense and ‘hear’ me when I open up like that. It’s not as great a tool as you might think,” I reply.
“But still. You know if night runners are in a building before we go in,” he comments.
“It’s not as accurate as that. I didn’t sense anything in the building when we picked up our chutes but they were in there. For whatever reason, it seems to be a hit or miss kind of thing and I don’t want to rely on it being definitive,” I respond.
“Fair enough but why didn’t you tell us this before?” Franks asks.
“Because I don’t really understand it myself and wanted to know more about it before bringing it up. Plus, in all honesty, I didn’t know what your reaction would be. And I still don’t,” I answer.
“You have to know we’re not going to think any ill of you, Jack. We’re a team and that goes no matter what. We may not agree on everything but we still need to operate as a single entity and, honestly, I don’t think we’d be here if it wasn’t for the experience you bring. That goes for the expertise we all bring. I think I speak for everyone here,” Frank states. I look at each to see them nod in agreement.
“Thanks, everyone. I appreciate that and apologize for keeping that from you. It’s just strange coming to terms with not only that, but everything around us as well,” I reply.
“Completely understandable,” Drescoll says. “So, I have another question.”
“Go ahead,” I say with some trepidation.
“You say you can hear better and see in the dark like the night runners. Do you have their strength and agility as well?”
“First, I’m not sure the extent the night runners can hear, see, or smell so I can’t really talk to any comparison. It does seem they are still more advanced in those areas though. I don’t think I could sniff out a single person in a building. So, I’d have to apply that to other areas as well. Why do you ask?” I answer.
“Well, I was thinking if you had the same abilities, we could test them and therefore know what abilities and limitations the night runners have,” Drescoll says.
The big “duh” goes of
f in my head. How did I not think of something so plain and simple as that before? However, I’ve seen what the night runners can do and I seriously doubt I am able to do what they can do. It is worth looking at though. I almost wish I had their exact abilities and knew how to use them. Then we could test out our defenses, to see if the walls are the right height and if other defensive measure we take will keep the night runners at bay.
“That’s an excellent point and I’ll be honest that I never thought of doing that before. We’ll keep it in mind in the future, but remember, I don’t think anything I have measures up to what the night runners have,” I respond.
I look at Robert and Bri who continue to stare at me as if I’d just sprouted wings. I can’t say as I blame them, or anyone else’s reaction for that matter. I’m sure it was a shock but am glad for the understanding. I’ll talk with them later about it but right now, with the meeting breaking up, Robert and I need to get with Frank, plot out the targets for the night, and get some rest.
* * * * * *
Night runners streak in through the broken door. The chase has been a long one playing cat and mouse with this particular pack. I’ve tried to keep the sprints to minimum to lessen the sweating. I know their ability to find me via scent and have used everything at my disposal to keep ahead of them. Pack after pack have found me throughout the night as I try to make my way to a secure shelter. I wrack my mind to figure out why I’m out here at night but I fail to remember why. All I know is that I’m close to being spent and only have a partial mag left in my M-4. If my count is close to being correct, there are only four rounds remaining. After that, the knives at my side are all I have.
I’m spent and it’s all I can do to keep my panting breath from giving me away. Behind what used to be a customer service desk in a store I can’t remember, I hide behind the partition peeking out through a narrow gap. Eleven night runners that rushed in only moments before hard on my heels stand only a few scant feet away. They stand with their noses in the air trying to catch a scent. I hear their low growls deep in their throats and smell the strong, acrid odor of their unwashed bodies. My choice of hiding spots is iffy at best and I’m surprised I allowed myself to choose it. My only way out is through the night runners.
I slowly glance to my side and see Lynn hugging the cabinets below the counter. Her wide eyes tell of our situation. Somewhere along the way, she lost her NVGs. She’s been relying on me and, when outside, the half-moon to guide her way. I turn gradually back to the milling night runners while fingering the M-4 trigger guard. Four rounds, eleven night runners. Not the greatest of odds. I wish Lynn had a few left but her ammo was spent during our busy night of eluding numerous packs. Close calls and endless running has marked out progress toward shelter. We’re close but this looks like it’s as close as we’re going to get. We might as well be a hundred miles away.
With my heart beating hard in my chest, I’m out of ideas. It’s sit and wait for them to pass hoping they don’t detect us, or launch at them. Lynn is in the dark so it will be up to me. If I do manage to take them out in a quick, surprise attack, and the odds are against that, then the noise will surely bring others. It might gain us time however and allow us to get near our elusive sanctuary. I feel Lynn’s hand on my shoulder and she begins to shake me. Gently at first but with ever increasing strength. “Jack,” she says. I can’t believe she is putting us at risk by moving and talking out loud. I shift to remove her hand and try to silence her. “Jack.” The night runners turn and shriek. “Jack, it’s time.” I jerk awake and come close head-butting Lynn as I sit bolt upright. My heart is hammering in my chest and I break out in a cold sweat.
“Jesus, Jack, what the fuck?” Lynn says, rocking back to avoid my sudden movement.
“What? Fuck,” I say, momentarily confused as to where I am or what’s going on.
“Jack. Jack, it’s okay,” she says, putting a hand on my shoulder. I feel my heart rate begin to decrease as I become aware that I had a nightmare and am sitting safely on my cot in our little cubicle.
“Sorry. Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. The question is, are you?” She asks in return.
“Yeah. Just a fucking nightmare. I’m guessing it’s time to get up,” I say.
“Well, it is, but do you think you should venture out tonight? Maybe you should rest and give it a go tomorrow night.”
“I’m good. It was just a dream and I’d rather not head back there so quickly, thanks.” I reply.
“Sometimes I’m not sure which is worse. The nightmare outside or the ones in our head,” Lynn says, understanding.
The Rain Cometh
We’ve all had the nightmares that follow extensive time in combat or nerve-wracking environments. The realness of them seems to sometimes match the reality of the waking world. The intensity of them leaves one feeling more tired than when you went to sleep. With my racing heart calmed to almost normal and the adrenaline fading, I rise, slip on my boots, lean over to give Lynn a kiss, and make my way down to the first floor.
Robert and Craig meet me at one of the wooden tables to go over our plan for the evening’s flight. Our main goal is to knock down more of the structures in the area. We’ll keep a sharp lookout for any night runners on the prowl. If we find any, we’ll break off from clearing the buildings to pursue them. Frank has circled the service stations and libraries. We’ll need those resources intact. The one fear I have of leaving those structures standing is that any night runners in the area will certainly use them as lairs so that we can be pretty assured of encountering them when we decide to enter. The service stations are small for the most part and easily cleared. The two major libraries in the area are a different story altogether.
With our maps marked, Robert briefs Red Team and the others assisting with reloading on the operations for the evening. He will be directing the fire control again tonight. We gather our gear and head out to begin the drive north. The breaks in the clouds I noticed earlier have disappeared but the overcast has lifted. We’ll have to keep an eye out for that. Although we can operate in any weather and see through the clouds, I do not want to land in bad weather without runway lighting. We can navigate just fine and set our own approaches but it’s the lights that allow us to find the runway with low ceilings. I don’t mind shooting an approach to get to a lower altitude but I don’t want to have to fly it down to minimums. It could make for a short evening.
A very light breeze has sprung up which will make the formation of fog more difficult. If we had the calm winds we experienced earlier in the day, I would most likely call off tonight’s flight. As autumn sets in, we’ll have more of this type of weather which will limit our ability to fly. The gray is a darker shade as the day begins its wind down toward dusk. We could just take out the buildings during the day and make it easier but I want to catch as many night runners as we can and that means flying at night. It may also give us more information as to where they are located, where they hunt, and possibly the numbers we are facing.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask Robert as we pile our gear in one of the Humvees.
“You’re kidding, right?! Of course I am. Not to make light of what we are doing, but I get to direct fire for a howitzer, a 40mm auto-cannon, and a gatling gun. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. You know, it’s funny, I expected something much different but it’s not so different than the games we used to play. More complicated, yes, but really not that much different,” he answers.
“As long as you keep in mind what we’re doing and why,” I say.
“Of course. How could I ever forget? Every day reminds me,” he states.
“How are you doing, Bri?” I ask as she walks up toting her gear.
“I could use more of a nap but I’m ready,” she replies.
I seriously don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing my young daughter, who once tumbled on the mats in her cheerleading outfit, in fatigues and toting an M-4 like it belonged. I once again reach out for a sliver of hop
e that this won’t always be the case. I hope they won’t have to face this for their entire lives. And, along with that, I hope that their lives are long-lived ones. My hope being that at least they outlive me. No parent should outlive their child. I feel the hole in my heart thinking once more of Nic. Her death seems both so long ago and just yesterday. A sad feeling washes over me. I just want to sit on the pavement and lose myself for a moment. My sweet, sweet girl… gone… forever.
“Dad, are you okay?” Bri asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s load up and head north,” I respond, shaking loose from memories.
The drive north is like every other one we’ve taken, driven mostly in silence as we become lost in our own thoughts and contemplate the night ahead. I keep an eye on the overcast watching for any signs of it lowering. The fog can roll in quickly this close to so much water but with the breeze, we should be okay. Driving through the base that once looked and felt like a ghost town, the melancholic feeling that accompanied such trips is absent. It is replaced by an almost feeling of normalcy. I don’t know if this is a good sign or bad. It is, however, a suggestion that we are adapting mentally to our situation. Now if we can keep PTSD at bay.
Rolling up to the aircraft, we quickly stow our gear and take our stations. Not too many words are exchanged as we all know what we have to do. Going through the pre-flight checks, I hope the aircraft will remain intact and not develop any mechanical issues. We’ve put a few hours on it and lack for any maintenance and it’s a long way to go to get another one. Although we don’t have a long time left for our ability to fly anyway, I don’t want to take the time to fetch another one. The Spooky is the ideal weapon for this environment.
We start up without any problems and all systems check out. We taxi to the runway and lift off into the darkening sky. Although the ceiling is high enough for us to shoot an approach and pop out at a reasonable height to find the runway, we will have to venture into the clouds for our runs. This won’t hamper our operations in any way though. I’ll just head north on occasion and shoot an approach to verify we still have an adequate ceiling height.