Dissension nw-6

by John O'Brien

  “So, how do you keep the night runners out?” I ask.

  “Night runners? What are those?” He says and I describe them.

  “Oh, we call them changelings. They don’t bother us much out here,” he says. “We cleared out the base and we’re rather isolated with the town being over ten miles away. We patrol and take down the occasional one who manages to meander out this way. We also take a cow up to the northwest part of town every couple of days, chain it up, and essentially feed them so they don’t take a mind to wander down here,” he states.

  I think over that idea. It’s a good one but won’t really apply to our situation as there is no way we could feed thirty thousand night runners. Jason goes on to describe setting up cattle pens on base and using the hangars as greenhouses. They took most of the roofs off and lined them with clear, plastic sheeting.

  “I’m just curious, doesn’t feeding the changelings, as you call them, run up your stock of cattle?” I ask.

  “Nah, there are thousands of cattle in the valley. We knocked down most of the fencing and they congregate around the natural watering holes. They’re also far enough out that the changelings can’t get to them,” Jason replies. It really seems like they have a pretty good setup going.

  “Any problems with marauders or bandits?”

  “None so far. I imagine there might be some like that up in the Boise area but we’re truly pretty isolated out here,” he answers.

  “No one is so isolated that satellites can’t find you,” a man behind Jason says. I notice Jason roll his eyes without the man seeing.

  “You know, Captain Walker I take it, this wasn’t any accident. This whole thing was planned,” the man continues.

  “Harold, knock it off. Jack, this is Harold, our resident conspiracy theory nut,” Jason says.

  “Seriously, Jason. I hacked their systems before this went down and I’m telling you, this was planned and those bastards are still around,” Harold says.

  “Yeah, and like I keep sayin’, why haven’t they shown up,” Jason responds.

  “Because they aren’t interested in us… yet,” Harold says.

  “Seriously?! You can’t plan something like this. It’s too easy to get out of control,” I state.

  “And that’s why we haven’t seen them. They’re recovering but they’ll be here. I can assure you of that,” Harold says.

  “And where are they then?” I ask, intrigued but really just primarily amused.

  “I don’t know that. I was just getting there when I was discovered in the system and booted. Then I blew outta town. I was passing through when the shit hit the fan. But I do know that it was at a high level. The Pentagon, the CDC, USAMRIID, the World Health Organization, high levels of government, some who looked like corporate bigwigs. Everyone, man. I saw a list before being slammed outta there,” Harold answers.

  “I’m pretty sure we’d have seen something by now, Harold,” Jason states.

  “Captain, let me ask you this then. You must have flown around some. You wouldn’t just drop in here as a first look. Have you noticed the satellites still operating? Your GPS systems still functioning? I mean, you’d expect those satellites to decay pretty rapidly, wouldn’t you?” Harold asks.

  I think to my surprise that we were able to use the satellite phones. Honestly, I haven’t tried the GPS systems thinking they wouldn’t be accurate for long. I also think about the cell phones operating as long as they did but chalked that up to good old Northwest environmental folks and the transition to solar power. Still, this conversation is more amusing than holding any degree of truth. There will be a conspiracy theorists in any group and I’m surprised one hasn’t cropped up in our survivor group.

  “I guess that depends on the automated systems and the fuel they had onboard. If there was anyone left like that, we’d have seen something of them,” I respond.

  “Wait and see, captain, wait and see.”

  “Harold, that’s enough. I listen to you and let you amuse yourself with your ramblings but I won’t have you spouting that nonsense to our guests, so, knock it off,” Jason says.

  “So, what does bring you out to our neck of the woods, Jack?” Jason continues.

  I tell our story and end with, “So, to answer your question, we are out searching for any surviving family members.”

  “I take it one of yours possibly has family located here? I know who we have. If you want to give me the name of who you’re looking for, I can let you know if they’re here or possibly what happened to them,” Jason states. I give him the name of the soldier noting Jason’s eyes widen a touch. He turns to one of the men with him and whispers. The man leaves with one of the trucks.

  “If you want to bring him out, I think we may have a welcome surprise for him,” Jason says. I’m hoping this means good news and feel elated.

  The soldier joins us and the truck returns a short time later. A young brunette woman steps out from the passenger side with a young boy.

  “Jeeeeeeenny!” The soldier shouts and takes off at a run. They join in a tight hug with the boy joining in. We all look on at the joyful reunion. I’m glad to see a moment of pure joy in this harsh land.

  “I’m sad to say, that his daughter, well, didn’t make it,” Jason whispers.

  It’s another moment of ultimate joy tempered with that of extreme sorrow. I see the soldier sink to his knees and bury his face in his hands. His wife kneels next to him with her arm around his shoulders shaking with his sobs. I know exactly how he feels. It’s not something that time heals. You learn to deal with it but that hole will remain forever.

  We talk for a few moments and I extend an invitation for his group to join us if they would like. It’s mostly to fill the uncomfortable moments as the sad scene continues a short distance away. I tell Jason it would take us a couple of trips to gather all of them as we are loaded down at the moment. I notice Harold listening with interest. Jason says he will have to talk with the group but gives an indication that not many will want to leave. They have a sense of security where they’re at and are well supplied. I can understand not wanting to leave a place of security for an unknown. He extends an invitation to spend the night with the promise of an answer in the morning.

  The soldier asks if he can be given leave to go with his family. I nod and let him know that we are spending the night. I let Jason know that we are used to spending the night in the aircraft but he tells us there are plenty of homes that have been cleaned up and are available. I feel a little anxious about being in an unsecured place like that. He offers to give us a tour of the place and makes vehicles available as long as we don’t leave the base. I talk it over with our group with the census coming to, “It sure would be nice to sleep in a real bed.”

  It seems they are secure here and, from what I can judge by meeting others in the little town they’ve created, it seems okay. I meet with those that were assigned to the base and provide security. They report they have had little problems with the changelings and seeing they are “feeding” them today, they don’t anticipate any difficulties. Still anxious but understanding the others wanting to sleep on a comfortable bed, I let them stay. I’ll remain with the aircraft along with Robert and Bri. I tell the team members that if anything happens, they are to make for the aircraft. I also arrange for us to maintain radio contact. And, with that, we dine with the others here and adjourn to our sleeping quarters.

  I radio Lynn on the sat phone before turning in. Oranges, reds, and purples paint the sky behind the mountains rising in the west, bathing the cockpit with the last of the day’s rays. We secure the aircraft and make a last radio call to the teams.

  “I hope you are enjoying that cot, Jack. Don’t think about me sinking into this pillow top mattress,” Greg says.

  “I hope you sleep well. Don’t lose any sleep thinking I might just take off on you in the middle of the night,” I respond.

  “You wouldn’t do that. You’d miss me too much,” Greg replies.

  �
�Yeah, I would. And by that, I mean no, I wouldn’t. That popping sound you’d hear would be a bottle of bubbly opening and me celebrating.”

  I set the radio by my side making sure the volume is up and turn off the aircraft battery. The kids and I lay in our bunks talking for a few hours before we drift off.

  The moon hangs bright and crisp in the velvet black sky. The pinpoints of light that share the night sky are lost from view directly around it from its brilliant glow. The sharpness above goes with the brisk evening below. It and the stars suspend over the earth, witnesses to all that transpire below but not caring. They have their thing to do and those below have theirs. They wheel about the sky as they’ve done for time immemorial. Those below are relatively new to the universe and therefore merit little of their attention. Their trials and glories are short-lived by comparison.

  All of that is lost on her as she deals with her own struggles. She is separated from her pack. Those that survived the quick but brutal fight with a large pack of four-legged ones fled. The others that were members of her pack lie on the darkened street where they fell, bathed in the silver glow of the tingly, bright light hovering in the night sky above. She is at least thankful that the four-legged ones fled as well or she wouldn’t be around to have these thoughts.

  She and her pack were out hunting when they found themselves tracked and then beset upon. The night hunt had already been a long one, the fight short, and now the time of darkness is drawing to an end. She is badly injured and crawling across the hard pavement as she has been doing for some time. Realizing that time is not on her side, tired and in pain, she reaches out to struggle another couple of inches.

  Pain flares inside at the movement but she must make it to shelter before the bright, burning light rises, signaling the end of her time outside. She has felt the agony of it for a fleeting second before and has no desire to experience that again. It’s like a hand on the burner that is quickly withdrawn but the memory of it lasts forever.

  She slowly raises her head to see she is close to the side of the hard path. Ahead is high grass with an abandoned two-legged lair beyond. That is her goal, her salvation, shelter from an excruciating, painful end. With a grunt to mask the pain that shoots through her body, she pushes up and over the small rise at the edge of the street. She then collapses again waiting for the pain to subside. Behind her, a dark smear along the pavement marks her path. It doesn’t look far but, to her, it seems like she has been crawling for an eternity. She looks at the distance she’s traveled and eyes the shelter ahead. A measure of despair and fear, the feelings different to an extent to what we’d know as feelings, enters as the distance looks impossible.

  With the pain reaching a tolerable level once again, she stretches her arms forward, lifts up slightly, and pulls herself forward a little more. That’s the way it’s been for hours — reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait… reach, rise… Her senses tell her she doesn’t have long which pushes her to greater endeavors — reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. The pain she is feeling now is nothing to what she’ll feel if she doesn’t reach the lair.

  Her mind reaches out but the only packs she senses are far away with many already heading back to the lair. She’ll get no help there. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. The white hot pain encompasses her entire body, flooding her mind with the shooting agony. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. She makes it to the edge of the grass and, with another effort, enters it. The safety of the lair draws closer.

  It’s a race against time. Distance is her enemy and will-power her only tool. She wants to just lie down and give up. The desire to live won’t let her. She has no idea how she’ll enter the lair just a short distance away but will deal with that when she gets there. First things first, she has to make it there. One thing at a time. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. She knows she is badly injured and not even sure her body will make it through the night. That worry will be dealt with later. She does feel her life force ebbing from her with each effort. Each exertion tires her even more and she feels her energy being sapped. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait.

  Her surroundings are lost from view in the tall grass. The world has collapsed down to the foot she can see around her. The next few inches of progress require her entire focus. Off into the distance, she can barely hear the shrieks from the returning packs. A few howls of the four-legged ones drift on the night air. A hissing scream issues from nearby as two feral animals meet and fight for territory. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait.

  Her senses tell her that the sky toward the high rises of land is lightening. She has made it far but her crawling isn’t the only thing that has been moving. Time has followed her every effort. She feels a trickle of blood escape from her lips, hanging down from her mouth in a long string. Pain grips her insides as the throws up a mixture of liquid and the remains of the little food in her, hitting the ground with a splash. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait.

  She can’t see anything but the very top of the shelter ahead, appearing to loom over the top of the reeds. She’s close and a small amount of hope enters. Along with that measure, another tearing pain grips her and she slowly folds into a ball attempting to ward off the agony. With a small part of her mind that is still hers through the pain, she tries to will the hurt to go away. She needs to keep moving. Her panting breath is the only sound as the misery begins to ebb. On her side, she makes out the blackness of the night sky lighten, becoming the dark blue of the impending day. Her heart races with fear.

  Uncoiling, she pulls herself another foot. She wishes her legs would work so she could push off and not have to rely totally on her arms, but she lost the feeling in those long ago. The stalks of grass surrounding her become more defined as the light increases. Panic enters her mind and she reaches out again, the dread of what is coming overpowering the pain to an extent. More of the shelter appears. She’s close and her mind begins to have thoughts of how to enter. Hope increases. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait… closer by another few inches.

  A flare of golden light strikes the top of the lair and then the grass, slowly traversing down the stalks. She shrieks with fear and despair. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. The light from the bright, burning ball inches slowly downward. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait… Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait.

  The light is half way down the blades. She sees the entrance ahead through the grass. She is almost there. Just a few more efforts. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. Her forward progress is matched by the march of the light downward. It’s just above her position in the grass. With a shriek she reaches forward. The light falls upon her.

  The moon continues to sail across the sky in the dawning light of the day, uncaring to the troubles below.

  Feeling drawn by both the two-legged one occupying her thoughts and the other strange one she felt, Sandra leads her pack north again. There are plenty of the small furry creatures to feed her large pack so she’s not worried about them eating. She’s intrigued and not sure which intrigues her more, the one who brushed her mind so long ago or the one who felt like her own kind but didn’t respond to her call. The intrigue with that one stems from his being inside the two-legged lair yet not feeding on them, or responding to her call. She also wonders why the two-legged ones allow him in their midst.

  Watching over her pack once again as they scurry among the ruins to feast, she reaches out. She knows this will allow Michael to know where she is but she’ll deal with that later. She rubs her stomach subconsciously in a protective nature. The young one inside of her has started to show lately. Soon, she won’t be able to hunt with her pack and they will have to bring her food. That time will be short and then she’ll have to hunt for him or her.

  Her protective nature, however, is overcome by her intrigue and infatuation with this two-legged one and that confuses her. It feels alien as she knows she should normally be concentrating on her young one. She feels torn but can’t help what she is doing. She senses the other strange one. He is still insid
e the lair and she wonders if he is being held captive by the two-legged ones. She can’t imagine being inside without wanting to feed… needing to feed… the rage would be too intense not to attack.

  She sends the mental image for him to join but receives no response which puzzles her even more. She sends other images in order to establish some sort of contact but there aren’t any return messages indicating he heard. She calls once again to join her, to hunt with her and her pack. Nothing. She searches for the two-legged one but doesn’t sense him. With a shriek of frustration, she stops searching and joins her pack to feed.

  Alan wakes in a cold sweat. He looks around feeling terror mixed with eagerness and a strange thrill. His heart is racing as he becomes aware of his surroundings. Fearing he is downstairs again, the few objects in his cubicle become clearer in the dim light of the interior. At least I’m not waking somewhere downstairs tonight, he thinks, rubbing his face.

  The dream, more of a nightmare but a thrilling one, fades slowly and he tries the catch the quickly disappearing remains. He feels more than sees that there was a call. For some reason, that call seems familiar but he associates that with the other nightmares he’s had since arriving at this compound. He feels welcomed by the people here and has a sense of safety but there is a strange pull to be outside. It is a deep-seated feeling of needing to be out that he can’t place. He feels drawn.

  Images swirl in his head that both terrify and exhilarate him, arousing him in an odd way. They are pictures of him running through the night. Instead of the terror he used to feel in dreams like this, he feels a sense of delight. Perhaps that’s because he wasn’t being chased but rather doing the chasing. The visions he has in his head are of hunting and rending flesh. This repulses him but he can’t shake the stimulating feeling they present. This frightens him more than anything else.