by Mark Tufo
Lynn salutes Major Bannerman as he steps up. With the heat rising in waves off the concrete ramp, he returns her salute and looks toward the tower with her. “I think this will make an ideal defensible structure, sir,” she says. “We can hold out here for a number of days if needed, and it will make a logical destination for any arriving force. We’ll need to clear it first, though.”
“Take whomever you need and clear it, sergeant,” Bannerman says.
Given the small nature of the tower, Lynn selects Horace and Turnbull as part of her team having already been in action with them and knowing their reliability under fire. She also selects Sergeant Drescoll to go with her. She details another group to provide security around the structure outside of the fenced area and the remaining soldiers to remain in place as a reaction team. With instructions issued, her team and the security detail load into vehicles and drive slowly over to the tower. Stopping just outside the fence enclosing the tower, Lynn and the rest dismount. The security detail positions themselves around the fence, and Lynn, along with her team, approach the gate leading inside.
The chain-link gate is unlocked, so she pushes it open and proceeds to the stairs, which are currently in their down position making the upward entrance easier.
“I’ll lead with Private Turnbull behind me. Sergeant Drescoll and Corporal Horace, follow behind. Once at the top, we’ll break into two groups. I’ll go left on the walkway, Drescoll, take Corporal Horace and go right. We’ll recon the inside from the windows, meeting up on the backside. If it’s clear, we’ll head through the door and clear it from the inside. Anyone have any questions?” she asks completing her instructions.
They all shake their heads and, with their barrels aimed upward covering their ascent, they head up the stairs. Each flight of stairs rises upward to a point level with the top of each container to a small landing at which the next flight begins. On the first landing, a small winch housing a cable is attached to the first flight leading to it, allowing it to be raised and lowered. The sound of their steps on the metal stairs is drowned out by that of a generator on the ground behind the tower.
Leaving the stairs in their lowered position, Lynn and her team proceed upward. With the heat index now rising above a hundred and ten degrees, they are bathed in sweat by the time they reach the top. The low humidity and high heat work with each other to claim the moisture from their bodies; the heat making them sweat and the low humidity wicking it away almost as soon as it appears leaving them feeling dry and parched.
At the top of the stairs, the metal grating and barred railings of the outside walkway leads to the left and right around the tower. The windows of the tower angle outward and are tinted, making it difficult to see directly inside from their position. They break into their respective groups and proceed up to and around the tower. Lynn peeks in the windows to her immediate front, cupping one hand to allow better vision within.
The interior facing the runway is filled with consoles running around the front and sides of the main tower room. To the rear, a small hallway opens off from the main room and leads to the back. Doors open up to the outside walkway on both sides of the control room close to the rear of the room. There is no movement or signs of anyone inside other than Drescoll peering in the window opposite her. Continuing around the tower, windows open up into two rooms at the rear of the facility; one is an office and the other sleeping quarters housing two bunks.
“I don’t see anyone inside,” she says, meeting up with Drescoll at the rear of the small tower.
“Me either,” he replies.
“Let’s head in both doors and do a quick check down the hallway,” Lynn suggests.
Drescoll nods and they both retrace their steps to the entrance doors. Peeking in the small window set in the door and with one hand on the handle, she checks the door, assuring herself that it is unlocked before looking over at Drescoll peering in and entrance on the other side. Giving him a nod, they both open their doors and quickly step into the coolness of the room. The light from the outside illuminates the entire room but in a dimmed fashion due to the tinted windows. The control panels are lit with both steady and flashing lights and a panel against the rear wall houses a radarscope, its lighter green line rotating around the scope. The fact that the radar and lights are working gives the indication that the generator outside provides power to the tower. The closing of the outside doors shuts off the sound of the generator.
They step into the hallway leading to the back, which extends all of the way to the rear of the tower with four doors leading off it, two to each side. They check each door and find a small latrine behind the first door to the right. The first one on the left leads to a small storage area with the two at the rear leading to the office and sleeping quarters. Back in the main control room, Lynn sees a pull-down ladder leading to a trap door set in the ceiling. She pulls the steps down and proceeds up to the trap door. Turning the handle on the trap door, she opens it and hot sunlight pours in through the opening. She climbs out onto the roof.
The flat roof is covered with large and small antennae toward the front along with the rotating arm of the radar. From her vantage point, she sees almost the entire encampment with its lines of tan convex buildings lined in neat, orderly rows. Main avenues divide groups of buildings and lead to the various zones of the camp. Far off in a corner of the camp, she can make out a section of storage containers piled on top of each other and vehicles scattered throughout. In some places, she sees very small shapes that are bodies lying in the avenues and small alleys between buildings.
An ocean of sand stretches outside of the camp in each direction that merges with the horizon in all directions. Other than the occasional bird flitting here and there, and the group standing around the Humvees on the ramp, there is nothing moving. The only sound disturbing the surreal quietness around her is the generator running fifty feet below and out of sight against the containers.
Lynn leaves the roof and steps into the room once again, closing the trap door behind her. “We’ll have to position someone up there at all times in shifts to monitor the area and look for survivors during the day and for security at night,” she says, looking at Drescoll.
He nods and looks around the control room. “It’s going to be a bit crowded in here.”
“Yeah, not much we can do about that,” she says, stepping out of the room and onto to the walkway, she signals the rest of the group, who are standing on the ramp watching her activities.
Later, with the rest of the group gathered in the crowded control room, Lynn addresses Major Bannerman. “Sir, we’ll have to set up in shifts with a small security team for night that will sleep during the day. By day, we’ll monitor the surrounding area and scavenge for any weapons, ammo, food, water, medical, or other supplies that we may need. During the day, the night security team can sleep on the bunks. At night, we’ll have to stretch out as best as we can on the floors. We’ll give it five days and rethink our strategy should no one show up.”
“Sounds good, Sergeant Connell. I’ll leave the details to you,” Bannerman says.
Lynn then leads Specialist Taylor to the main console. “Can you work these and teach others how to do it?”
“Piece of cake, sergeant,” answers Taylor.
“How many soldiers do you need to man the radios 24/7?” Lynn asks.
“Well, considering we won’t have a lot of communication to handle, I think two others for three shifts of eight hours should suffice.”
“Okay, pick two and teach them what they need to know,” Lynn says, stepping over to the side of the control room and looking out of the windows to the single strip of gray asphalt serving as the camp’s runway.
Gazing down at it, she thinks both wistfully and longingly, I hope you are doing okay, Jack, and I hope you come.
The odds of both seem very remote to her. I mean, they talked about events such as this but really only as a means to fill the time and for fun.
Would he really jump in
an aircraft and fly half of the way around the world to pick me up? And that is assuming he’s still alive. If he is, will he just gather up his kids and call it good?
Suddenly, home and the hope of getting there seem very, very remote. With a heavy sigh, she turns back to the group and begins making assignments.
Assignments are made to bring the weapons and supplies into the tower from the Humvees and to scavenge diesel for the generator. The supplies are placed in the office along with the extra weapons and ammunition. After the diesel is brought and off-loaded, the Humvees are parked close to the fence facing away but not close enough to be used to vault over the fence. The gate is then locked and the stairs raised as the sun descends toward the flat, sandy horizon, becoming a giant ball of fire as it sinks closer to the horizon. The decision is made to leave the generator on in order to keep the radios alive. Although its noise may be an attractor, it has been running continuously for some time and therefore is not something significantly out of the ordinary.
The last vestige of the sun disappears below the horizon signifying the end of another day. The soldiers within the tower prepare quick meals and settle in for the evening. Darkness comes quickly as it is wont to do in the desert, and Lynn climbs out onto the roof with the night watch. She posts two guards on top with one more inside alongside the night radio operator. Settling down on her belly near the edge of the roof, she gazes out over the encampment. The street lights along the major avenues and roadways shine down on the emptiness, casting their circular patterns of illumination on the sandy ground below. In a few buildings, lights shine in the darkness creating the image of a small city in the seeming normalcy of night. Here and there, rectangular patches of darkness show where the small generators powering those areas have either failed or are depleted of their fuel.
The ramp itself is lit by large banks of lights around the perimeter illuminating most of the ramp but leaving some areas near the middle in darkness. Looking out at the runway, Lynn sees the white lights of the runway stretch away to the left and right, terminating in red lights toward each end. The blue lights of the single parallel taxiway, coupled with the runway lights, create an image reminding her of Christmas. Focusing back toward the camp, she sees an occasional flash of movement as small groups of figures dash beneath the street lights. Off into the distance on the far side of the camp and close to the barracks, several shrieks rise into the air above the encampment, faintly reaching Lynn.
Lynn brings the binoculars from the tower to her eyes and focuses on one group of figures as they dart through the lights. They are running close together in a pack-like formation seemingly focused on something, their intent unknown. She notices that each group she spies in her magnified view seem to run from place to place. Nowhere does she notice any individual walking as they transit. The only exception is when they seem to stop to investigate something, whether that is a door or building or something lying in the road. When investigating something, they seem to maintain a pack-like stance, with none venturing off, but with each one conducting its own individual action within the pack.
One group she is watching appears to be investigating a building door. Suddenly, one of the creatures looks suddenly to its left and she sees its mouth open up; the shriek it emits reaches her a second or two after. The entire group breaks into an immediate run in the direction indicated by the one who emitted the shriek. It comes to Lynn that the shriek could be their form of communication and seems to indicate a discovery in some fashion or another. She makes another interesting discovery; the other groups seem to respond to the shriek as well. The shriek seems to inform others and they react as if it is a calling, much like wolves or coyotes will in the night with the discovery of food.
She scans the immediate area around her and finds it vacant. Bringing the binoculars skyward, she attempts to find any moving points of light to indicate aircraft in the vicinity, but she sees only the bright diamonds of stars twinkling back. Handing the binoculars to the soldier lying next to her, she scans the fence perimeter with her Mark-One eyeballs. The fence and the ground directly below her are well lit from lights shining downward from positions about half way up the tower. This way, the area can be lit without affecting the vision of the controllers.
“Wake me if you see anything unusual or if any of the creatures venture close. I’ll be at the bottom of the trap door stairs,” she says, rising.
“Yes, first sergeant,” the private responds as Lynn grabs her weapon and descends the stairs into the control room to settle into her sleeping bag.
She stands alone on a small hill with sand stretching endlessly around her and turns around confused as to how she arrived or what she is supposed to be doing. She has the impression that she is supposed to accomplish something important but can’t remember what it is. A panicked feeling comes upon her. She feels something bad will happen if she can’t remember what it is or the errand goes undone. A hint of movement out of the corner of her eye to the right causes her to look in that direction.
About twenty feet away, a turtle slowly makes its way across the sand, pulling itself along with great effort.
What in the fuck is a turtle doing in the middle of the desert? she thinks as her vision zooms in close.
She sees in the turtle’s eye that it is not in great pain, nor worried about its situation, but is merely doing its thing. No destination or plan; just one step after another. It has accepted its lot in life and is just doing it with no thought to anything else. Suddenly, a gust of wind whips by shaking her.
She looks away from the turtle toward the direction of the wind. Where before there was an endless blue sky, there is now a towering mass of clouds billowing upward. The clouds are building quickly, far quicker than anything she had ever seen before and turning the cloud mass into a dark, greenish-gray color. The gusts continue to radiate outward from the mass, each one shaking her and rocking her back on her heels.
The storm continues to build and creates a gigantic wave of sand that begins rushing toward her. Lightning stabs out from the clouds striking the ground in all directions. The wave closes in quickly, gaining momentum with gusts that continue to rock her. They carry a new sound along with the booming crash of thunder as if the thunder is speaking words. With each lightning bolt, the words come to her; “Sergeant!”—lightning flash—“Sergeant!”—lightning flash…
Feeling panicked, her eyes spring open to see the face of the private on guard hovering close to her, lit by the cupped flashlight in his hand. “Sergeant,” he says, rocking her shoulder with his other hand.
“I’m awake, private. What is it?” Lynn sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes. She looks at her watch and notices it is 03:30.
Two hours until sunrise.
“You asked me to wake you if any of the creatures came close. There are several of them milling around outside the fence,” he answers.
“Did they notice you?” Lynn asks, grabbing for her weapon lying on the ground next to her.
“I don’t think so,” he replies.
“Okay, let’s take a look. Absolute silence,” Lynn says, rising and stepping on the first rung of the roof stairs.
On the roof, Lynn settles down onto her belly and crawls slowly to the roof’s edge. Peering down onto the ramp, she sees five of the creatures close to the fence milling aimlessly. A couple of them seem interested in the Humvees parked a short distance away, looking in the windows. One climbs onto the hood of a Humvee and seems to try and pull the windshield open using the windshield wipers. Two of them closest to the fence occasionally turn their noses in the air.
“Are they sniffing?” the private asks in a quiet whisper next to her.
Lynn turns slowly to him and puts her finger to her lips. The private nods. She looks back down, and to her, it does appear like they are sniffing at the air. Every minute or so, one will seem to catch a scent of something and hold a sniffing stance with a greater intensity, as if trying to identify some odor or retrieve something that mom
entarily came to it. With a suddenness that is startling with both its speed and intensity, given the apparent aimless milling a moment before, one sniffing creature turns its head sharply in their direction and gazes intently up at them.
Lynn knows they are in the darkness above, and the glaring lights shining down on the creature have to be blinding it as to their location, but it is staring very intently and directly at them. Its body turns to orient it in their direction without moving its gaze from them one iota. Lynn senses more than hears, given the sound of the generator, growls emitting from the creature only fifty feet below. The growling attracts the attention of the others and they wander over to it and look upwards. Suddenly, all five of them stiffen and begin to emit loud, rumbling growls of their own and stare directly at the two of them perched high on the roof above.
“Go wake Sergeant Drescoll,” Lynn tells the private. “Go quietly and slowly. Fill the sergeant in on what’s going on, and then, the both of you come here.”
“What about the major?” he asks.
“Forget him! Do as I ask!” Lynn says quietly but with authority.
Without a sound, the private slides backwards away from the edge. Lynn hears his footsteps ring lightly on the stairs as he descends but keeps her focus on the creatures as they continue to have a stare off. The situation and coolness of the night air sends a shiver along her body. A light goes off in her head; the cool air is sinking, bringing their scent along with it.
These things can hunt and detect by scent!
She creeps away from the roof edge losing sight of the creatures. As she moves away, she turns her head toward the remaining soldier on the roof and whispers loud enough for him to hear, “Private, off the roof NOW!”