A New World: Dissension

by John O'Brien

  I mention that we have enough ammo for the 105mm stored at Fort Lewis for leveling the local area but not enough for places like Seattle and the surrounding areas. We don’t have to rely solely on the Spooky as we can use C-4 and maybe learn to use the heavy calibers of the tanks but the AC-130 certainly makes shorter work of it.

  We eventually arrive at agreement to continue to use the AC-130 for during the night until Captain Leonard arrives. We’ll then evaluate our progress and priorities at that point. The consensus seems to be to attack for the next couple of nights and then determine our route in the search for families. We all know that time is of the essence and that every day we delay lessens their chance of survival, but our survival here ranks highest on our priority list. Once we have a certain measure of security, we can then head out in our search. Weather will be a contributing factor for heading out across the distances.

  I also mention not finding any night runners in the areas we have already demolished and the absence of them around the Fort Lewis and McChord areas.

  “That means the hospital will be clear, right?” Drescoll asks. “We could use some of the equipment inside, especially as we have a doctor on board now.”

  “I suppose so but just because we didn’t pick any up on the screen doesn’t mean they aren’t there,” I reply.

  “Can you sense them if we get close?” He further asks.

  “I can try, but as I mentioned earlier, it doesn’t really seem to work that way. It’s more of a hit or miss type of thing. I couldn’t sense much of anything below us tonight and there were a shit ton of them. Of course, the distance may have been a factor but I’m not going to rely on it being an accurate indication,” I respond.

  We talk over a few other items and then break for the day. I head off to find my pillow as my eyes are closing on their own. Nodding to Robert and Bri as they trudge toward to their wooden cubicles, I draw the curtains back and barely make it to my cot before collapsing.

  Waking early in the afternoon from a deep, restful sleep, I grab a bite and trudge downstairs to the table. Frank meets me and we go over the map marking buildings. I notice he has selected several in the area we visited last night.

  “I looked at the tape a few times and marked some of the larger buildings that remain where the night runners ran into last night. The big one here,” he says, pointing to a coliseum of Saint Martin’s College, “is where a majority of them emerged from. I would target it first and before dark. If they are still in there, we could get a number of them while they are still inside.”

  “Okay, we’ll concentrate in that area. Good job,” I reply, running my finger along the buildings he’s marked. With his hand covering a wide yawn, Robert joins us.

  “Careful,” I say, “you’ll unhinge your jaw.”

  “It feels like it,” Robert responds, breaking into another yawn which, of course, becomes contagious.

  “Other large groups emerged from these buildings,” Frank says, pointing out other campus buildings, to which Robert and I nod.

  “Now here’s the part that you may not like,” Frank continues. “I couldn’t get an accurate count but by my estimate, the numbers we saw last night were over ten thousand and could be as many as fifteen thousand.”

  I know we saw a lot on the screen, so many that the screen literally turned white, but I had no idea there were that many. I am literally stunned into silence. Again, the theoretical number that must be out there that we can summon up in our head isn’t like physically seeing that many. It’s like when I’d see something in the news that mentioned a billion dollars. It’s easy to conceptualize because it’s something imaginary, but trying to actually visualize a billion of something is mighty hard to do.

  Frank looks at Robert and me staring at the maps with our jaws scraping the ground. “If we take the estimates we found from CDC reports and combine that with the area population, that puts the total number of night runners in the area somewhere around sixty thousand. If we take an attrition percentage from starvation, combat, and other factors, and I don’t even know what number to use, but let’s use a fifty percent attrition factor, then that leaves thirty thousand remaining in the local area. That means those we saw last night only represent half, or less, of those left,” Frank states.

  “I can’t imagine what the larger areas like Seattle would be like,” Robert comments.

  “What will be interesting is to see whether a pack of this size can stay together considering the food they’ll need. My guess is that they’ll have to migrate to some extent or cover a wide area,” Frank says.

  “What about the other fifteen or so thousand in the area? Where do you think they’ll be located and do you think they’ll eventually join up with those we saw last night? As far as that goes, do you think they’ve established other large groups?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure to be honest. I’m guessing there were a few that migrated outward into the countryside. I imagine those will be in smaller groups just because there aren’t that many places to house larger packs. And, I have no idea whether they’ll join up or if there are other large groups. For the most part up until now, we’ve only observed small packs of five to seven and larger groups of up to twenty or so. We don’t have any information on how they group or why, but it does seem they have the tendency to collect together,” Frank answers. “Like I mentioned, they may group together based on prey or leadership. We’ll just have to watch and see.”

  The others on the flight crew begin to arrive singly or in small groups. I brief the overall flight for our practice runs up at Fort Lewis and for the night. Robert briefs the systems and changes for selecting and firing on two targets simultaneously. That will be utilizing both the 40mm auto-cannon and gatling gun in unison. The 105mm howitzer will be used for single targets, those being the buildings. With everyone hovering around the large map with the buildings for the night marked, I point out the targets mentioning Frank’s briefing about where the night runners emerged from and his estimate of numbers.

  “We’re going to conduct practice runs this afternoon over the ranges, land to refuel and rearm, and then we’re taking off again during daylight to destroy the campus buildings in the hopes of catching those night runners we witnessed last night inside,” I say. Smiles light up around the table thinking of being able to catch that many night runners indoors.

  “We’ll then patrol the rest of the evening looking for night runners on the prowl and taking out the remainder of the marked buildings. The weather looks better than last night but we’ll be keeping an eye on it. Be ready as night falls to engage any night runners emerging. Any questions?” I ask. There aren’t any so we gather our gear and fold into the vehicles the same as last night.

  Taking off, we circle one of the large Fort Lewis ranges. It takes a while to get the coordination for multiple target selection and firing. After quite a few runs, the crews are able to put their rounds on the selected targets. It’s not as good as when we run the single targets but our rounds eventually impact close to the ones selected. I’m not too sure about using this as our first option, but if the night runners emerge like they did last night, then close is good enough. Our 40mm and 20mm rounds will decimate their ranks. I’m eager to see the devastation we’ll bring upon the night runners. This time, we’ll be ready for their emergence. They kind of took us by surprise last night and, although Robert reacted quickly, we could have taken out a far greater number. Their numbers worry me, okay, scare the shit out of me, and I’m all for reducing those. Zero would be good number.

  We land to rearm and refuel. The cloud cover has broken letting the sun shine through in intervals. If it clears and the winds calm down, there is a chance of fog forming so we’ll have to watch for that. It will be easier given that we’ll be able to fly under the weather and have a clear visual of the region. Feeling the sun warm my shoulders as it casts its rays through a break in the clouds, I hook up the fuel lines from the truck Robert drove over. We stand next to each other as t
he volatile fuel runs through the thick, rubber hoses and into the selected tanks. The high-revving truck is loud but we manage to shout about the noise.

  “Are you sure about running multiple targets tonight?” I ask, shouting above the truck noise.

  “Yeah, I think we have it down,” he answers.

  “You know we can’t afford to lose any time or be off target if they emerge suddenly like last night,” I say.

  “Dad, we’ve got it. It took us a while to work the coordination but we can do it,” he replies.

  “Okay. Just don’t forget the leads.”

  “No worries, Dad, we’ll handle it and bring the rain down on their heads,” Robert says with a smile.

  I shake my head remembering my own youth and enthusiasm and it’s hard to hide a smile hearing it from my own son. There was a time when I used to use those same words. The others return with a fresh load of ammo just as we are reeling up the last of the hose. Bri walks out from the rear of the aircraft readjusting the M-4 on her shoulder, a weapon she has used several times.

  “The gauges all show fuel although the right wing outer fuel gauge stuck for a moment. I tapped it and it ran up to full,” she says as Robert drives the fuel truck over by the base operations building.

  “Keep an eye on it. It may stick on the way down as well,” I say, thinking we may have to switch the gauge out with one from the HC-130 parked next to us.

  The specific fuel tank and gauge are the same between the aircraft so it should be an easy change out. It is, however, a reminder that everything will eventually fail and that the fuel becoming unusable may not be the only limiting factor on our ability to fly.

  “I will, Dad,” she replies.

  Loaded up again, we climb into our positions and take off into the afternoon sky. It’s going to be another long night but at least we’ll have some action to keep us occupied rather than just boring holes through the sky. I feel a heightened degree of anticipation knowing we are about to hammer a large night runner lair. I’m also looking forward to the start of the night when we may have the chance to ‘bring the rain’ with the emergence of the night runners. With the hope of a seeing a large number of them again, I turn the Spooky south listening to Robert and the crew run through their checks and bring the systems online.

  We set up and orbit around the Saint Martin’s campus. It’s daylight with the clouds breaking farther apart. The late afternoon sky drifts through the windshield as we circle. I glance down at the large arena that Frank indicated housed a majority of the night runner horde we saw. The light of day will allow me to watch the awe-inspiring sight of the 105mm rounds impacting.

  Robert sets up the target and clears the gunner to fire. Making sure to keep a stable platform for the crews in back, I look down just in time to witness the impact. With a yellow and orange flash, the first round collides against one side of the structure. The point of impact disappears in a cloud of smoke and dust that rockets upward quickly. Brick and large chunks of the building are hurtled outward into the surrounding parking lot. As we circle, gaining a different vantage point, I see a portion of the building has collapsed into a pile of debris. Robert waits for the call that the weapon is reloaded and clear before issuing the command to fire once again.

  The picture is repeated until nothing is left of the facility except a smoking pile of debris. Small and large chunks of the building are scattered over a vast area of the parking lots. We move onto the other campus buildings leaving the area around the library intact.

  “Any sign of bodies?” I ask, watching the devastation below.

  The repeater scope I have dialed in zooms for a closer look at the rubble. I can only glance down at it in intervals but I don’t see anything that resembles a body or parts of bodies amongst the wreckage.

  “I don’t see any from here,” Robert reports after a moment.

  “Alright. Keep an eye out but let’s move on,” I say.

  The sun moves on toward the western horizon turning from a yellow to an orange ball sitting just above the silhouette of the Olympic Mountains. The waves of the South Sound sparkle as the rays bounce off their crests. The campus below lies in smoldering ruins. I radio the base notifying Frank of our progress and for him to have a team prepared to recon the campus below us tomorrow to search for bodies. Although we don’t see any through our cameras, we need the intelligence to see how successful we are. Frank will need that info to update his intel on the remaining night runners in the area. I cast my thoughts outward and ‘see’ nothing. It’s blank without even a hint of a night runner about. I wish I understood this ‘ability’ better.

  We drone on, taking out some of the marked buildings as the sun sinks lower behind the mountains. My eagerness to catch the emerging night runners increases with each inch the sun lowers. It vanishes with a bright orange band of light spreading behind the hills, highlighting the underside of the remaining clouds. I tell Robert and the crew to be ready. The guns are loaded and wait for the order to rain death below. The cameras zoom out ready to catch the appearance of the packs. Seeing we may have taken down a central lair, the remaining packs could materialize from anywhere. The orange sunset changes to purple and then darkness dominates the landscape.

  I can almost feel everyone holding their breath expecting the screens to light up like last night. The silence within the aircraft matches the quiet that seems to emanate from the ground. It’s as if the world is having a final silent moment waiting for two forces to collide. The sunset fades into darkness yet the screens remain empty. There is no sign of any night runners escaping their lairs to run into the night. I cast outward once again and feel the same emptiness. We’ve either annihilated the night runners in their vast lair or they’ve moved somewhere else. Or it may be something altogether different.

  “Okay folks, let’s press on to the other buildings. Stay alert for any night runners on the prowl. Be ready but it’s apparent we aren’t getting the show we had last night,” I say over the radio. I listen as Robert sets up the next target and I contact Frank with the news.

  The remainder of the evening is clearing building after building. We don’t see a single night runner all night and I don’t know whether I should feel worried or relieved. Depleting our 105mm rounds, I head over the base area searching for any night runners out hunting but we come up empty. To all intents and purposes, the area seems to be clear. I know that can’t be true given the numbers that Frank said must still be around. I open myself and push outward in the hopes of feeling something, even lowering our altitude in case the distance is a factor. I don’t sense anything all night. We land and shut down a little after midnight, sealing the aircraft up and stretch out where we can in order to catch some sleep.

  * * * * * *

  Michael rises feeling the others of the pack begin to stir with the coming of the night. They lost a lot of the pack the night prior but a greater majority of them survived the exploding buildings and that which hunted them from above. He ran the packs far away from the devastation and found a series of buildings which would suffice for their lair. He had to split the pack into different buildings but they were roomy and will provide warmth and shelter. He feels their current location will place them far enough away from the two-legged ones to provide an increased margin of safety.

  Running far through the night in their escape, he felt their fear and hunger. Tonight, they will set out on the hunt and search for food. Some he will send to find new hunting grounds. Others he will have search for the alternate foods prevalent in many of the abandoned two-legged places. He will have those supplies brought back to stock the lair if they encounter lean times. They will also have food if they are unable to hunt because of the thing in the sky that brings death. If they know that is out and about, he will keep them indoors and they will feed from the supplies.

  Michael senses the hesitation of the pack members as darkness falls and they step cautiously out into the unknown. They are far from their normal hunting grounds but he smell
s fresh scents on the night air as he stands by the entrance watching the packs emerge. He sees them glance upward toward the sky before trotting off with their individual groups. Faint blasts echo in the night from distant explosions, lighting up the sky in intervals. The skyline flashes before the muted booms reach them. He warns each group to take cover if the explosions draw closer or they hear the droning from above.

  The building empties with Sandra leaving with one of the last groups. He catches a look from her before she trots off with her large pack. Hers is one of the packs he designated to search the buildings for food they can stock. Michael isn’t exactly sure of what her look means but he knows it isn’t one challenging him. He would have taken action if it was. He can’t allow any challenge to his leadership now that he has gathered so many together. The result would break the gathering apart and they may find themselves in competition with each other rather than cooperating. With the danger surrounding them on a nightly basis, he won’t let that happen. He has allowed Sandra’s arguments only because of the size of her pack and the fact that she has a young one, but there is a line that he won’t allow to be crossed. Giving a low growl of frustration, mixed with eagerness to be on the hunt, he lopes off into the night with others chasing down the scent of a large prey in the area.

  * * * * * *

  The night runner lopes down the tree-lined street with the other five of his pack running behind seeking out the elusive scent of prey in the chill of the night. He was told to take his pack out to search for good hunting grounds; feed his pack and then locate areas where prey is in abundance so the packs can feed on subsequent nights.

  They are hungry from not being able to feed the night before. Images quickly surface of last night and having to stay hidden in the building, along with several other packs, while booming explosions rocked the area around him. He had felt fear as some of the other packs vanished from his thoughts with each tremendous blast and had wondered if the next would be on the structure he was hiding in. The sheer terror of hunkering down in a corner with the others of his small pack squatting next to him; all of them jumping with each impact. The ground-shaking blasts drew closer and closer until he was sure the next would bring the walls down around him and the others. There were several moments when he wanted to just rise and flee into the night. The one who leads them all sent a message to keep hidden and that’s the only thing that kept him shivering in the corner, thinking his time was limited. He felt relieved when the loud explosions stopped and he took his first tentative steps outside. There was a great fear that he would be cut down like the others he felt earlier. Then there was the long run through the rest of the night, tired and hungry, to find their current lair.