by John O'Brien
“Dude, just for a moment, wrap your mind around that we’re real. Have you ever seen a vehicle like this?” I ask, waving at the Stryker. “I mean anywhere… TV, books, movies?”
“No. I can’t say that I have,” he answers.
“Then how can you imagine something you’ve never seen or imagined before? You have to base imagination on experience.”
“No, that’s not true,” he says, but I see that he is perhaps contemplating the situation differently.
“Okay. If you’re imagining something you made up, wouldn’t it change each time you looked at it? In some small way?” I ask. He rubs his chin, coming close to shaving his eyebrows with one of the long knives.
“Perhaps,” he responds.
“Well, had it changed?
“No, but I wouldn’t know if it had if this is all imaginary,” the man states.
“You know, we could go back to shooting you in the leg,” I say.
“Don’t even think about it,” he says, taking a step back.
“What do you say you come with us and see just how imaginary we are? I mean, what do you have to lose?”
“I could wake from this and find myself stuck out at night with those nasty creatures about to come out,” he replies.
“I tell you what. Why don’t you try coming with us. If you find that you are still imagining all of this shit before dark settles, we’ll bring you back,” I offer.
He hesitates another moment and then responds, “Okay. I’ll try that but you better bring me back long before the sun sets.”
“You know, I could still shorten this and just shoot you,” I state, chuckling.
“I’d really rather you didn’t,” he responds.
“I’m Jack,” I say, offering my hand.
“Randy. Just so you know, I still don’t think you’re real,” he states, returning my shake.
Randy gathers some gear and comes with us and, by nightfall, begins to believe we are real.
As the sun begins to set behind the hills in the west, I try calling base but don’t get a response from the satellite phone. I try Captain Leonard with silence my only answer. I keep trying until night falls before giving up. Maybe the satellite finally decayed enough to quit working. Who knows? For whatever reason, we are out of communication for the time being.
* * * * * *
Unconscious to the world, Alan throws off the bedding. His only drive is the need to be outside… the need to hunt. He makes his way down the unmoving escalator. He sees, but not with the eyes of the waking world. The seed that was planted has taken hold and he knows only that he wants to feed. He wants the freedom of the open air and it fills him with the intensity of it. The vast room is mostly empty but he smells the others inside. He has an urge to turn back and rampage through them but the pull of the outside is stronger.
Remembering the call of the one the other night, it motivates him to join in the hunt. He misses the chase… the taste of the sweet blood pouring from prey… the succulent taste of flesh in his teeth. He is only vaguely aware of where he is but knows the way out. That is the driving factor, the need to lose himself in the night.
Making his way through downstairs and into the warehouse facility with the docking bays, he removes the clamps locking the doors down. Lifting the doors enough to crouch through, Alan hops down and drops to the ground. The feel of the night air is refreshing and almost fills the urge he has deep inside, but the freedom isn’t complete and he knows prey lies outside of the high walls surrounding the place where he finds himself.
He lifts his nose to the night air and smells prey in abundance. Some of that prey lies on the other side of the mostly high wall that surrounds the interior of this lair and he wants to be completely outside. The need to be completely out holds him and he begins trotting toward the big portal that will let him be free.
The cool night air flowing across his cheeks feels good as does the sweet smell of the tall grass brushing against his pant legs. The urge to find the pack leader he heard the night before is strong. The bright stars and silvery moon accompany him as he jogs through the open field. The walls in the distance slowly grow taller as he draws near. He senses others like him a short distance away and he only needs to get through the heavy portals to be with them.
He sends an image to them which isn’t returned. This perplexes him as he remembers them always answering his calls. He can feel them and hear them but they don’t seem to be talking with him. That doesn’t matter much as he approaches the large gate. He’ll be with them shortly.
It takes some doing but he eventually manages to lift the heavy bar holding the portals closed. The heavy metal bar falls to the ground with a loud clang. Alan pulls on the gigantic door and it slowly swings open a few inches. Eagerly wanting to be out of this lair, he pulls harder. With the hinges emitting a mighty, metallic grind, the steel door inches open. It’s enough to squeeze through and Alan finds himself standing on the very spot he squatted down on upon his arrival. This memory is lost as all he knows is he is free. He wants the thrill of the chase and relishes in his ability to do so.
* * * * * *
Watkins, standing on the upper balcony, watches Alan walk downstairs and vanish beneath the overhang. He has observed him and others wander the facility on many of the nights he has kept watch so thinks nothing of it. It’s not uncommon for people inside to become restless and meander the interior trying to work off whatever is causing their sleeplessness. He’ll investigate if Alan doesn’t appear before long. Keeping the man in his mind, he turns back to watch the interior. His mind wanders to the times before the world changed.
* * * * * *
Sandra heads to the same area close to the two-legged lair where she has been on many nights. She knows Michael won’t be pleased, especially when he finds out she and her pack didn’t gather the alternate food as he ordered. Going against his explicit order and endangering her very place within the pack, she feels close to a solution to getting inside. She wants to see if she can sense this other one and get him to answer her. Wanting information about the inside, she opens up just enough to see if she can sense the strange one that has somehow become enmeshed in the lair.
She still isn’t sure how he came to be inside or why the two-legged ones tolerate that one being in there with them. As confused as she is about the situation, she is not against using it and seeks to establish some form of communication with the one. She sensed him and sent messages but hasn’t received any indication that he even heard her. His thoughts and movements were easily seen and she understood all of them. She knows that Michael will know of her coming to the two-legged place and she will have to find another lair before the night is over. She knows of several possibilities and will have to reserve some of the evening to search for one that will accommodate them.
She has kept her ear to the skies listening for that unforgettable droning sound but the night remains quiet. On occasion, the shriek of one pack or another finding prey drifts through the evening air. With her keeping watch once again, her pack rushes forward into the rubbled ruins to forage.
Sandra immediately senses the strange one just a short distance away. She locates his exact position and follows as he makes his way through the inside of the lair. His thoughts don’t give her a picture of what the inside looks like but she does see his desire to be outside. The hesitation the one had about staying in and feeding on the two-legged ones gives her no small amount of worry. Not understanding how he is controlling himself with two-legged prey so close, she is relieved when she feels his thoughts change and he moves on.
She squats on the boundary line where the intact structures meet the ruined ones. The bright white light in the night sky casts rays through a small tree above her, creating dancing shadows as a very light breeze blows through the area. Her focus though is on what is transpiring only a short distance away and her curiosity is peaked as to what this strange one will do. Knowing he wants outside, she wonders if he’ll be able to scale t
he tall walls from inside.
Sandra sends a message asking the one to answer and tilts her head as if this will enable her to better receive his response. Although she can still see the images emanating from him, she doesn’t get a reply. She tries once again receiving the same silence. Frustrated, she shifts minutely and continues to watch.
Standing excitedly as she sees the one open a door that leads inside, she stops herself after taking a few steps in the direction of the two-legged lair. The door is open and their den is vulnerable. She looks to the sky to gauge how much time is left of the darkness. They haven’t been out long and most of the night remains. If we can just get over the walls, we can enter, she thinks, feeling an eagerness rise within. I’ll watch to see if he can get over the walls. Perhaps he’ll show us a weakness and a way in.
Sandra becomes even more interested as she observes in her mind the one’s departure from the building and into the night. He isn’t making directly for the walls as she thought he would. He is running under the starlit skies for the far side of the walled lair. She senses his objective is a large door leading through the walls. Literally quivering with excitement, she calls to her pack telling them to forget what they’re doing and come to her. They all rise from gathering the furred rodents and look in her direction in a questioning manner. Hesitating for only a moment, the large pack drops what they are doing and quickly surrounds her.
Sandra leads them in a fast run in a wide, looping circle around the walls toward the metal gates she remembers seeing on her one circle around the lair. This must be where the one inside is heading. The one inside is jogging slowly toward the gate and the pack settles in the woods a short distance from the large portals. Keeping the pack out of sight of the walls, she edges forward, stopping just as she senses the strange one struggling with something heavy that is keeping the doors shut.
Her heart is racing with anticipation as she witnesses one of the large doors move. It opens only an inch or two. She maintains a watch on the gate and soon it swings open farther. The one emerges from the opening. Sandra can barely contain her excitement. The way into the two-legged compound is open. Now’s her chance.
She sends a quick image of the female to her pack with the instructions that she is to be taken alive. Kill any who stand in their way but the capture of that is their goal. “Getting the female is a priority over feeding. Grab her and go. We’ll leave immediately when we get her. No stopping to feed,” Sandra sends.
With that, the pack launches forward out of the woods toward and then through the gate.
* * * * * *
“Sergeant Watkins!” Watkins hears his name shouted from downstairs.
He leans over the railing and sees one of the people manning the night watch in the control room standing at the entrance. The person waves frantically upon seeing him. Bounding down the stairs, he enters the control room. Looking at the monitors lining one of the walls, he immediately understands the urgency of the shout. Hundreds if not thousands of night runners fill three of the screens. Most are still emerging from the woods on the far side of the road leading to the entrance but they are speeding toward the gate.
The sight causes his heart to leap in his chest and adrenaline floods his system. What makes him catch his breath is the camera showing the front gate slightly open with one person standing just outside. The way into the compound is open and a horde of night runners are on their way.
“Wake everyone!” Watkins says to one of the operators and turns in a flash. His last sight of the monitors before bolting from the room is of the first of the night runners beginning to pour through the gate.
* * * * * *
With the alarm given, the teams emerge from their cubicles. Their sleepiness wears off quickly as they slip on their vests and gather their gear. Forming into their teams, they begin to take their prearranged positions established in case they ever experience a breach of the walls and sanctuary. The interior turns from the quiet of peaceful slumbering into a madhouse of shouts, tromping boots, magazines being loaded, and weapons locked and loaded.
Those not on any of the teams emerge with panic-stricken looks but shuffle off to the upstairs dining room and surrounding area giving the soldiers the freedom to move and shoot at will. They lie on the hard, chilled linoleum floor with hearts racing and eyes wide with fear. They’ve all practiced this numerous times but now it is for real. Practice may make it easier to move into position and know where to go but it doesn’t help with the sheer terror of actually having to do it.
Watkins stands next to Lynn and Drescoll telling what he witnessed on the monitors. “There are thousands of them on the way,” he reports.
Lynn knows they won’t be able to get updates from the control room as the outside cameras were moved to provide coverage along the length of the walls and haven’t been replaced. There just weren’t enough cameras on base to provide coverage for the walls and the building. They had planned to locate more from the naval bases farther north but higher priorities overrode those plans.
Lynn and Drescoll stand near the upstairs railing arranging the last of their gear on their vests and checking their weapons. The teams are all just coming into their positions along the upper railings as the first loud shriek sounds downstairs, filling the vast interior with its echo.
* * * * * *
Sandra watches as her pack streams by her. She is running along with them but allows many of them to pass. She knows the two-legged ones are dangerous and she will lose many in her pack but they are numerous. Among the eagerness and excitement she feels, she relishes in the fact that she was right and Michael wrong. A part of her sees this as an opportunity to take them all down once and for all but she has a specific quarry in mind. It overrides any other thoughts.
They will vacate after they capture the female. Deep down, she knows the wrongness of this with regards to the overall pack. An opportunity like this won’t appear again. She thinks of keeping up the attack once she has the female and eliminate them all. The thought of feasting on all of the two-legged ones she smells brings about an overpowering, salivating hunger. The odor of them also induces rage. She’ll have to control her pack tightly if she is to accomplish what she wants tonight. If the two-legged one is inside, she will capture him as well. She doesn’t sense him but will direct the pack to him if she senses or spots him. If that opportunity arises, she will kill the female once the two-legged one is captured. She’ll have to play this night as it comes.
She rushes past the strange one by the gate. He stands as if embracing the pack. She senses some of her pack turn on this one. He feels the same as them but carries the scent of one of the two-legged. Sandra hears his cries of pain but doesn’t care and runs on. He’s fulfilled his purpose.
* * * * * *
His heart is beating fast… he is free. The night air somehow seems cleaner, fresher. Alan is so eager for the hunt he is almost salivating. He wants that sweet taste and to feel flesh in his mouth once again – sweet, raw meat. And to be with a pack once again; to be safe and secure both in knowledge and numbers.
He senses a large pack waiting in the nearby trees across the hard path and watches as they emerge. He sends a call but doesn’t receive any response from them. The leading ones race past him as if he isn’t there and continue through the opening behind him. Alan smells them for the first time. They have a different scent than he remembers. It’s the odor of unwashed, musky bodies and not the familiar aroma. He stands confused as they flow by him, looking left and right for any sign of recognition. The strong female he sensed the other nights runs by him with only a cursory glance.
Fear begins to surface and he’s not sure why the others aren’t acting like he is one of their own. He senses their eagerness to be inside and feed but that shouldn’t cause them to completely ignore him. Among the picture images he is receiving is something about a particular female inside but that is quickly shunted away as his alarm grows.
The others of his kind continue to stre
am by. The night is filled with their screams of hunger and excitement. Turning to the front, Alan is shaken by a transformed one directly in front of him snarling and coming directly at him. The image fills his vision and he begins to raise an arm to fend the one off. He quickly realizes there is more than one coming at him. His heart kicks up another notch as he recognizes the hunger in their eyes. The one directly in front slams into him. Alan feels himself knocked backwards and begins to fall. His vision of the transformed ones flowing around him turns into one of small, bright lights above against a velvet sky. He impacts the ground on his back and his head rocks back hitting the hard pavement below. Stunned, he is only vaguely aware of growling bodies on him.
He is brought back to full consciousness by a loud scream of pain and realizes it is own. Coming out of his foggy state, he is aware that he was walking in his sleep again but this time, he is not merely downstairs but surrounded by snarling faces. He feels agony beyond compare. A fleeting memory surfaces of waking in the crowded room of what he has become to know as night runners. This feels the same only, instead of the night runners chasing him through the building, they are on him, tearing into his flesh. Another thought intrudes through the pain, that maybe this is just another one of his nightmares. However, he has never felt pain in them before and it was usually him doing the biting and rending of flesh.
He screams as he feels another set of teeth sink into him and tear a chunk of flesh off. The white-hot agony races through his body like electricity and his flailing to remove the night runners from him weaken. All thoughts he had flee and his mind is now only filled only with the redness of sheer agony. With his eyes squeezed close and teeth clenched hard, he arches his back as another strip of flesh is torn free. Suffering beyond belief envelopes his mind and body. His mouth is closed so tight that only a whimper escapes but the agony is too much. His back falls back to the ground limply. Darkness invades and his last breath escapes in a puff of white mist.