Dissension nw-6

by John O'Brien

  “If you taught others how to fly the helicopter, we could do both and not have to wait for you to be available. Or when we have teams available, we could conduct the search on the ground, or a combination of the two,” Drescoll says.

  I feel a weight descend on me. There’s just too much to do. I thought the burden would vanish or at least dissipate when finished our little sanctuary but that’s just not the case. If anything, it seems to have grown. There is always more to do and not enough people or time to do it. And then there are the night runners prowling the streets at night just on the other side of the wall. The smallest mistake or the moment we are not one step ahead of them could quickly bring about our downfall. It’s this heaviness that is settling in. I wonder if the others feel it as well. I don’t know if we can keep up with this frantic pace. We’ll have to keep it up but on the other hand, we won’t be able to much longer. If we wear ourselves out, we’re going to start making mistakes or miss something.

  “When we have the teams available, let’s send them out for searches without stretching ourselves thin. Coordinate with Frank for the locations and I’ll take others to teach them when I get back from the search for families. I’d like to take the AC-130 up tomorrow to clear more of the area. We’ll have to coordinate for clearing the rubble from the buildings we’ve taken down and cutting the trees back from around the compound,” I say.

  “We have some available for that now if we don’t have to provide an escort. We can use the standby team as both parties will be relatively close,” Bannerman says.

  “I think that’s secondary right now. The meeting tomorrow and setting up our inner defenses come first. We’ll start ground searches for additional survivors when time and resources permit. Tomorrow, I’ll start planning for the trip for the soldier’s families and head up in the Spooky at night. When we finish the inner defenses and have a plan for the quarters, we’ll start on those. We keep the other projects moving along as planned but I want us to start thinking about a Bio-fuel option,” I say.

  “We’re saving the oil we use in the kitchen and I’ll start my research on that soon,” Bannerman replies.

  “Okay, is there anything else?” I ask.

  “You know, I was thinking of when we talked about the sub supplying power and the problems with that. Do all of the subs run on nuclear power?” Robert asks.

  “I think so,” Frank answers.

  “Well, are there other subs and do they replace those rods up at the sub base?” Robert asks. “What I mean is, won’t there be the same problems if those subs lose their fuel rods or if they refuel there. Won’t those go bad?”

  Stunned silence takes the group. I had thought about the Hanford storage facility in Eastern Washington but I totally didn’t take the sub base into account. The rods, if they are there, will evaporate their cooling water source and contaminate the area. They could possibly taint the waters of the Puget Sound if the tides and currents are right. If the radiation leaks into the air, we are near enough for it to affect us and contaminate our own water supplies. That is something I’ll definitely have to ask Captain Leonard when we meet in the morning.

  “Fuck… piss… shit… we’re going to have to ask Captain Leonard about that and a possible solution if it is a problem,” I say. The weight grows heavier.

  We break up for the evening and head down to the nightly training session. Lynn briefs everyone on the day’s events. After the training, I trudge slowly up to the cramped space I share with Lynn. Plopping down on the cot, I hold my head in my hands trying to absorb everything we have to do. All the while knowing the night runners have emerged outside, as they will every night. It’s imperative that we clean them out of the area. Thoughts continue racing non-stop in my head as Lynn walks in and sits across from me.

  “What’s wrong, Jack?” She asks.

  “I don’t know. I sometimes feel that I can’t do this. It just feels like too much and it’s never-ending. We’re going to get tired at this pace, overlook something and then it’s all over. It’s going to catch up to us and trying to second-guess the night runners and their stupid ability to adapt is like trying to hold water in your hand. Seal something up and another place leaks,” I say, wearily.

  “Jack, you don’t have to do it all yourself. You’re trying to do it all and taking too much of the load,” Lynn says.

  “Good Lord, Lynn. I’m not doing anything. Everyone else is doing it. If we keep this pace and constant stress level, and we have to if we’re going to survive, the mental breakdown will come soon. We’re all going to have PTSD on top of everything else,” I say.

  “Believe it or not, these people look up to you and us in the leadership group to make the right choices. We’ve come this far and we’ll make it. We just have to take it one day at a time. You’re loading it all on yourself. You don’t have to run around and be there all of the time. You’re going to wear yourself out,” Lynn says.

  “I can’t ask others to go into danger I’m not willing to put myself into as well. I’ve always felt more comfortable being in front and leading from there. That’s just how I’m geared,” I reply.

  “I know, Jack. You just need to pace yourself. And when your flying toys get taken away, you’ll be standing around wondering what the hell to do. That’s the moment I’m both looking forward to and not. I know you and what happens when you have too much time on your hands,” she says, smiling.

  “Haha… very funny. Maybe I’ll learn to drive a sub,” I answer, looking back and smiling. She always knows how to pull me out of a funk, which is exactly where I was. I can feel a renewal of energy. She’s right, we’ll just make it one day at a time and do the best we can.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s what needs to happen,” Lynn says rolling her eyes. “Please give us plenty of warning before that happens. I can see it now. ‘Lynn, would you please come give me a push. I seem to have beached a nuclear missile sub’.”

  I chuckle and lie back on my cot. Lynn curls up next to me with her arms wrapped around me. Peace and contentment flood through my body. The weight I felt before feels a lot lighter now. Thoughts still course through my head but they’re eventually pushed to the side as I lie next to her.

  Sandra wakes. The hard, wooden floor beneath her is cold and unyielding. Her pack surrounds her providing warmth. The sense of others waking enters her mind. The vast room is filled with other packs but there is still plenty of room for many more. She stirs and sits, readying herself for the nightly hunt. Although she doesn’t notice it on a conscious level, the air is filled with the musky scent of unwashed bodies, the smell of her kind.

  She rises and stretches, the kinks of sleeping on the hard floor working themselves out. Thinking of the young one inside, she ponders how the nightly hunt will go with so many. She knows she wants to take her pack up to the area around the two-legged one’s lair. The tug on her mind is strong and she wants to look it over. She doesn’t agree with Michael that they need to pull back. They should attack and eliminate any threat to the packs. However, she doesn’t want to let him know she disagrees as yet. The intrigue with the other one in the two-legged lair is another reason she wants to go there. She doesn’t know exactly what her feeling is, or why she has it, just that it exists. Feeling eyes on her, she turns to see Michael standing in the middle of the open area looking in her direction. The look he is giving her is one of perplexity yet with a searching aspect. She has the feeling he is analyzing her. She returns his gaze. Michael releases his stare after a moment turning to the other pack leaders gathering around him.

  Michael rises from resting in the middle of the wooden floor. The jostle of other waking in the lair garners only a little of his attention. Part of his mind is busy with how to conduct the nightly hunt with so many to feed. He knows there isn’t enough food in the local area for a pack of this size. They will have to spread out in order to not only feed for this night, but others. However, the greater part of his mind is on the female night runner, Sandra, who came in with
her pack last night. He caught her tight-lipped expression indicating a disagreement with his notion that they need to pull back in order to save the pack from the two-legged ones. There’s also something else about her that he can’t quite figure out. He doesn’t trust her implicitly. She seems to have something in mind but he doesn’t know exactly what it is from her thoughts. She, like him, seems to have the ability to shield herself when she wants.

  He continues to look in her direction as she rises from her position and stretches. The good of the pack rests on his shoulders. He wasn’t ready for the gathering as yet but here they are. The other pack leaders gather around him and he senses anxiety within each of them. After all, they came together in a moment of distress. His thoughts return to the night before; the streaks of light streaming down from the night sky. The images and sense of packs vanishing as those lights poured from seemingly nothing.

  Every one of them felt the other packs’ demise and they are nervous about the coming night. They all heard the thunderous explosions and saw the large flashes of light throughout the night. Michael wonders if the same thing will occur tonight. Without knowing what it was, he plans to keep the pack away from that area. He will disperse them to the other areas for the hunt. He knows he needs to break them into smaller groups for the hunt and send them into the outlying areas.

  Sandra arrives in the circle of other pack leaders. He senses the young one she is carrying within her. There are others who carry young ones as well. These will be the future pack members and leaders so they must be fed and protected. He had given a lot of thought during the time he isolated himself as to how to hunt and capture food, especially with larger packs. He sends images to the pack leaders of how to corner food, come at the food from different angles, and how to drive food into waiting pack members. He outlines areas for each and then sends them on their way with one last image; beware of the thing from above. If they hear it in the sky near them, they are to take cover in the nearest building. For himself, he will go with a different pack each night.

  Sandra runs through the street. The sound of her pack close behind her echoes off the abandoned two-legged abodes on both sides of her. Most of the places they traveled this night have been burnt to the ground. In some, only the skeletal remains are seen while others have been razed to the ground. Trees, lining the street and cast in the shadows in the grayness of her sight, pass by as she and her pack search for prey. Michael assigned her pack an area to cover for food. Feeling a persistent tug to the north and the two-legged lair, she has gradually turned her pack in that direction.

  She rounds a corner and leads her pack even closer. The houses and trees suddenly give way to rubble and destroyed buildings. She stops and gazes out over this sudden change in their surroundings. Glass and debris are scattered in the open areas in front of each building. Large chunks of the structures lie in the streets before her. She sees wisps of smoke rising from some places where the buildings once stood and an acrid odor permeates the area. She recognizes the scent as similar to that emitted after the two-legged ones fire their guns. Caution grips her as she continues to survey the scene. She feels the restlessness of her pack standing still both behind her and to the side. They all remember the image sent by Michael of the danger above and they all felt the loss of packs last night.

  She turns her gaze upward half expecting to see the lights she was sent in the images. The night is silent. The droning she heard last night absent. A shriek from afar carries over the night air. One of the packs has found food. She hears a call from even farther away. A call from one of the larger four-legged ones that also hunt in the night. The stillness returns.

  Feeling like she is stepping over a boundary from one world to the next, she takes a cautious step out from the tree-lined street. She feels an increase in tension within those around her. Nothing happens. She steps again and then folds into her customary trot. The others follow. She keeps a constant eye and ear on the night sky. There is only the bright twinkling of the night lights high above.

  Farther into the demolished area, she hears faint squeaks and scurries of smaller creatures. She picks up their scents and notices how prevalent they are. There is more than enough here to feed her pack. She turns into one of the open areas in front of the smoking remains of a building avoiding the small and large chunks of scattered debris. She still wants to look at the lair, which she knows is not far away but her pack comes first. And they must feed.

  She sets them into the smoldering rubble to pick out the small, furry creatures. As they appear, many run into the small crevices but there are many in the open areas that they run down. Shrieks from her pack fill the night. Quieter squeaks from their prey fill in the gaps of silence. Several members sit amidst the rubble and snack on their catch. Sandra grasps one of the furry rodents in her hands. She feels it squirm and wriggle to get away. A brush from the two-legged one that has haunted her all this time enters her mind.

  She feels him nearby. The food she had in her hands drops to the ground forgotten. It squeals and runs away but is unnoticed by her. She detects the other and it fills her. The tug and intrigue increases until it’s all she can think of. She stares into the distance, through the intervening ruins, directly toward the lair where she senses the two-legged one. Noticing her change, the others of her pack halt what they are doing and look at her questioningly. She shakes her head and sends them back to catching their food.

  She glances down at her hands, surprised to see the food she had in them is gone. Looking around, she sees other prey across the street and, with startling speed, starts to run to catch it but is brought up short after only three steps. She feels the one again only this time, there is a difference. She sees an image of another female — a two-legged one. She senses the feelings for this other female the one has for her. Anger and a feeling similar to what we would term jealousy fill her. These raw emotions surprise her.

  She heads immediately toward the two-legged lair calling to a few of her pack to join her. She has the others wait to gather food, instructing them to feed themselves and kill enough prey for the others when they return. Without waiting for the others join her, she sets off knowing they will catch up. She wants a look at the lair now. She wants to find a way in and kill this other that she now sees as a competitor. Startled by how she now perceives this other one that has periodically brushed her mind, deep down, she knows this is how she always felt. The surge of these new emotions adds to her surprise. Other thoughts and emotions, unknown before this moment, surge into her mind.

  She hears the feet slapping on the pavement to her rear as the others catch up. Her long, brown hair, dirty and tangled, flops behind her as she picks up her pace. She winds through more scattered debris with the smell of smoke and the other acrid scent following her. The sense of the other one leaves but she still can pinpoint where it came from. Before long, she comes to the end of the burnt and destroyed buildings. Before her lies a large road. Across it, high walls tower upward. She knows this is the place of the two-legged one and the lair of others of his kind.

  The smells of the two-legged ones rise about the smoke and ash smell of the buildings around her. Other scents of large prey filter over the high walls as well. Her stomach rumbles reminding her that she hasn’t eaten and thoughts of feeding her young one rise to the surface. She will scout the lair and return to feed. Killing the other female and having the two-legged one for her own are not far below the surface and have become the foundation for her thoughts and emotions. How she will get the other one is beyond her. She only knows that she wants him.

  She leads her pack across the dark strip of road and up the far embankment, stopping just short of the top. The light-colored walls stretch high above her. Looking to her left, she sees the wall stretch off into the distance out of her line of sight. To her right, the wall continues a short distance before stopping. She heads along it and sees that the wall makes a corner and continues past her sight in this direction as well. Looking at the wall, sh
e doesn’t see anywhere that she can scale it. It appears to be too high to leap to the top but she sends an image to one of her pack to make the attempt. The one she sent the image to starts a run at the wall.

  A flash of light and explosion fills the night. The blast knocks her off her feet and she finds herself on the ground without knowing how she arrived there. Her mind is stunned from the concussion and her only thought is to flee; flee and safeguard her young one. Her mind is still too shocked to even know how to move let alone rise. Her senses gradually return with the exception that her ears are ringing loud enough to be painful. Sandra pushes herself up onto her elbows and spits dirt and pieces of grass out of her mouth. She feels the grit in her hair, on her face, and covering her body. Looking around, she sees the rest of her pack slowly rising from where they were blown to the ground.

  She rises and shakes the debris off her. Looking to the source of the concussive blast, she sees wisps of smoke rising from a large hole in the ground. The night air is infused with the acrid scent she encountered earlier around the demolished buildings. She searches the immediate area for the one she sent to the wall and locates his body covered in clods of dirt. Not sensing his presence, she does see shreds of clothing lying about. Looking down at the ground close by where she is standing, she spots a foot. Sandra takes a step toward the crater and the body of her pack member but she stops, not wanting to go closer in case there are other things that caused the explosion. The protective instinct toward her young one takes hold and she shivers in fear. She turns and flees with the rest of her pack close on her heels.

  Captain Leonard lies on his bunk cradling the back of his head with his hands. He flexes his sock-clad feet trying to ease some of the tension he feels while staring at the myriad of pipes affixed to the ceiling overhead. These mostly go unseen as his thoughts race. The information he gathered from the radio conversation today still seems so unreal. He can’t push away the images of what he saw on his journey through the straits and sitting here just offshore from the base. The buildings still stand but the complete lack of movement or people still baffles him. There must be a more plausible explanation than what he received even if it was indirectly verified by the SEAL Team leader.