by John O'Brien
“Remember when we used to go in there and browse forever?” I ask as we both look at the structure passing by.
“Yeah. And the fudge we used to bring home,” he answers.
“That was the greatest. The greatest sugar high and then crash ever,” I say with a chuckle. “The stuff lasted forever. I wonder if there’s any left and if it’s good?”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Robert replies.
“And, we’ll be able to do a little more than browse now,” I say.
“I call dibs on the sniper rifle in the case,” he says grinning.
“It’s yours. Although I think we’ll find a little better if we can get into the armories on Fort Lewis. But if that one is there, it has your name on it.”
The gray pavement stretches before us as we continue south, the shadows of the fir trees lining both sides cast their shadows across the lonely Interstate. Robert and I maintain conversation about events in our past and some of the memories we shared together as we drive on. The Interstate turns off onto Highway 101 and the sun swings behind us as we head west, with the highway eventually heading north. The drive along the highway becomes even more surreal knowing we passed by this way just a week ago. The week has changed both of us from our experiences. We return with more knowledge and awareness but some of that awareness has also added to our stress. The intense experiences make it seem like more time has passed since driving through here in the opposite direction and adds to the surreal nature of our surroundings. Our conversation dies away slowly as we near the turn off to Mom’s house with worry increasing in both of us.
I feel a great sense of loss as we turn off the highway towards the house. The sense comes from the memories of all of the good times I had with Robert as we pulled onto this highway heading for one fun event or another and realizing those drives won’t happen again; those moments of excitement and anticipation of heading to share the day together.
The sun shines through the trees, forming ribbons of light across the gravel road as we approach the driveway. As the driveway draws near, anxiety and fear intensifies. I don’t want to drive the last few feet for fear of the answer I might find. The sound of the gravel crunches under the tires of the Jeep, rebounding off the thick trees at the side of the road, and is the only sound. A terrible loneliness follows along with the slow crunch of gravel.
I turn into the driveway and immediately begin laughing; both from the release of the nervous tension and from the sight in front of me. There is Mom out in the driveway putting grain out for the squirrels and other wildlife. Only Mom would persist in feeding the deer and squirrels in the midst of civilization collapsing. She drops her large bowl of seed and runs towards us throwing her arms around Robert and then me as we step out of the Jeep.
“I thought I had lost you,” she says with tears streaming down her cheeks. She looks around the Jeep and her hand comes to her mouth as if a shock is coming. “Oh no! Please don’t tell me….”
“The girls are fine, Mom,” I interject before she can complete her sentence and with tears in my own eyes. “We found a few other survivors and they’re waiting at McChord.”
“Thank goodness. Did you find Lynn?” She asks still taking in that we are standing in front of her.
“Yeah, we did along with a few of her friends,” I answer.
“I’m glad you made it. I’ve been so worried for all of you.”
“I’ve been worried about you too. How have things been?” I ask.
“Pretty quiet actually. Oh, I’ve heard some of those horrible yowls some nights but they seemed pretty far away. Nothing like that first night,” she answers.
“That’s good. We’ve come to pick you up. We’re planning on turning the Cabela’s into a fortified haven.”
“I can’t leave, Jack. This place will protect me,” she says.
“I know it will Mom but I want you to come with us. This is a lot worse than you can imagine and we won’t be far away,” I respond. She looks over to Robert who nods his head in affirmation.
“Okay, let me grab a few things,” she says picking up the bowl.
“Need any help?” I ask.
“No, I think I’ve got it,” she answers.
She heads inside the house and returns shortly with several bags in tow. Several times during the trip back to the airfield, I catch a glimpse of movement in the rear-view mirror, continuing to look each time but not seeing anything. I stop on the side of the road after the third time waiting to see if something catches up to us.
“What are we doing?” Robert asks as I slow down and start to pull over.
“I think I keep seeing something behind us,” I answer.
“What is it?” He asks turning to look out of the back window.
“Not sure. I just keep catching movement out of the corner of my eye from time to time,” I respond. “It may be nothing but I want to sit here and see if anything appears.”
We sit with the engine idling but nothing materializes. I turn off the engine and step outside listening for any sound that might give an indication that something is coming up behind us. Only the quiet of the morning with the tinking sound of the engine as it cools down disturbs this desolate stretch of road. I think about turning around and heading back but the anxiety over time and the things we need to get done are weighing on me. I resume the drive after a moment thinking it must be the play of shadows through the fir trees with the sun rising higher into the clear, blue sky or perhaps an occasional breeze shifting the branches.
Our journey back is spent primarily catching Mom up with our adventure and sharing the knowledge we have acquired. Silence fills the Jeep as we turn north onto the Interstate and retrace our previous route. Mom stares at the abandoned cars along the road. This is her first time seeing the emptiness of a world that should be filled with movement and noise. For her, like the trees and animals, not much really changed in her life except having to secure the house and not bring notice to herself. Well, that and not being able to go to the store every once in a while to shop for food.
We arrive back at the gate two hours after passing through on the way out. I radio Lynn letting her know we are back. The flight line has undergone a transformation of sorts as I pull onto the ramp. A mixture of olive drab and light brown transport trucks and Humvees are parked in a line to the rear of the aircraft. I glance about the ramp to see if Craig’s aircraft has arrived but it is empty of any corporate jet. I was really hoping to see its presence on arriving. I know Lynn is worried but she isn’t overtly showing it as I see her directing supplies being loaded onto one of the transports.
Parking by the other vehicles, I step out and walk over to where Bannerman is standing near the open aircraft ramp. Nic and Bri rush out of the back and over to Mom, wrapping their arms around her and giving her a big hug. I hear their excited voices behind me as they begin to tell their stories. The gray pavement at our feet is beginning to heat up as the sun wends its way higher into the early summer sky. No breeze moves through the grass on the far side of the runway or disturbs the air around us.
“What do we have?” I ask Bannerman after a moment of watching soldiers load the last of our supplies from the aircraft.
He looks at a clipboard he found somewhere, “Well, water is our most critical element. We have enough for a couple of days without having to get more or finding a source. We have enough food for at least a week although we may get tired of MRE’s. There’s plenty of ammo for the weapons although we don’t have much for the M-60’s on the Humvees. Weapons we have in plenty. One of the things we’ll have to think about is clothing depending on what you want to do with that. That should be no problem depending on what’s left in Cabela’s but if you want us to stay with uniforms, we should see about visiting the clothing store and the division supply.”
“Okay. I think our best bet for getting water in the short-term is to hit the local stop-and-robs. I don’t think we’ll find much infestation in those locations. We’ll set
up hitting the larger stores when I get back. Good point about the clothing. I really didn’t think about that one. Thanks. We’ll add clothing supply when we hit the armories. I’d like you to go with the teams we put together for the main divisional armories and get everything that might be useful that we can fit in the transports. If you can and time allows, try to get the weapon racks themselves so we can store the weapons neatly when we get to Cabela’s,” I say.
“Will do, Jack,” he says.
Lynn walks over dusting her hands off on her fatigue pants. “We’re all loaded up and ready to go.”
“We should hand out whatever antibiotics I pulled out of the hospital. They should be in the cardboard boxes I had stored inside,” I say. “We should all be in a position to administer those quickly if someone gets scratched or bitten by a night runner.”
“Okay, I’ll see to it. The trucks are all gassed up. What do you want to do with this?” Lynn asks nodding at the 130 beside us.
“Not much we can do I guess. I’ll grab the helmets with the NVG’s and we’ll just close it up. You never know,” I answer.
She nods and then asks, “So, how do you want to do this?”
“Well, you know where the armories are right?” I ask and Lynn nods.
“Okay, then we’ll convoy over to the special forces armory. Leave me Alpha and Red Teams and you take the rest over to the other armories. Does that sound good to you?” I ask.
“Sure. What about the goggles?”
“We only have twelve so let’s split them between us. Did we find any bolt cutters?”
“Yeah, Horace found a couple in the hangars so we should be good to go,” Lynn responds. “What about the others?”
“I’ll take the kids and Mom with me. You take Kathy, Little Robert, and Kenneth. We’ll also leave a team with a vehicle here for when Craig shows up,” I answer. Little Robert appears at the top of the ramp with Mike beside him. Mike trots down and sits at my side.
“I guess I’ll take Mike as well,” I add, smiling.
Lynn doesn’t smile back but directs her gaze to the empty skies around us. “If he can, he’ll be here,” I say putting my arm around her.
“I know,” she says still staring into the blue sky wishing her brother and mom would materialize.
“We can fly over and see if we can find him after we get back,” I say.
“No, I don’t think that would do any good and would be too dangerous anyway,” she says sighing.
“Okay, I’m sure he’ll show up, hon. When we’re finished with the armories, Bannerman mentioned clothing so if you wouldn’t mind gathering those as well. Afterwards, drive the transports back here and head out in individual teams covering both McChord and Fort Lewis to check for any additional survivors. Concentrate on the housing areas but don’t enter any of them unless you absolutely have to. It’s 1000 now so let’s plan to meet back here by 1400 and stay in radio contact,” I say trying to divert her worry and having my own worry about time.
“Explain to me why we’re taking the civilians with us if we’re leaving a team here?” Lynn asks taking her eyes from the sky and looking back at me.
“Good point. I didn’t really think about it and guess I’m a little focused on getting to Cabela’s,” I answer.
The NVG’s, medical supplies, and bolt cutters are distributed. Lynn gathers everyone, introduces Mom, and disseminates the plan. I must admit it feels a little strange being in this role with Mom here. I had always separated that aspect of my life from my family. Not that they didn’t know or anything, but more like I didn’t share much about it. It just feels a little odd, that’s all. Grabbing the helmets from inside, I detail Bravo Team to remain with the now disabled aircraft and the civilians. I hop into the Jeep with Robert as the other teams pile into the waiting vehicles.
We head across the ramp in a convoy with Lynn’s Humvee in the lead. We have the radios set on an agreed frequency but keep the airwaves silent. Lynn will be making radio calls over the various frequencies as we proceed through McChord and onto Fort Lewis to raid the armories. We wind our way through the silent streets. At least with the other vehicles on the road with us, there isn’t that lonely feeling of passing through a desolate place and gives a certain sense of normalcy. Well, riding through a base in a convoy is not really normal for me. It is just nice to see others around even if they aren’t the crowds that used to inhabit these streets.
Brake lights shine ahead and the convoy of vehicles comes to a stop. In a brown grassy field to my left, a hillock sits surrounded by a chain link fence topped with razor wire. Behind the fence and nestled at the base of the mound, a heavy set of double-steel doors sit embedded slightly into the hill. I park the Jeep behind the transport vehicle in front and jump out. Red and Alpha Teams exit their vehicles further up and Lynn walks back down the column in my direction.
“This is the main armory for the special forces battalion. We’ll make sure you get in before proceeding to the divisional armories,” she says standing in the shade of the transport.
“Okay and we’ll keep in contact with the personal radios. Give me a radio check once you get there. I’ll have someone standing by the vehicle radios just in case. Good luck and I love you,” I say feeling the heat of the truck exhaust against my pant legs.
“I love you too. See you shortly,” she replies and begins her stroll back up to the lead Humvee. I see her at one of the other vehicles momentarily to talk about one thing or another.
I walk to the double-wide gate in the chain link fence gathering Red and Alpha Teams along the way. The fence has a tempered padlock holding the two gates closed. Watkins brings the heavy duty bolt cutters and, with Calloway, attempts to cut the post on the lock. The two of them grunt and strain on the cutters and the lock eventually gives way with a resounding snap. The bolt cutters and the strength of the two men have won that battle. Watkins removes the lock and swings the gates open. The other members of the teams keep a lookout for anything in the surrounding area.
I’m not too concerned with night runners inside the armory as the gate was locked and, from my vantage point, the razor wire at the top is untouched. Remembering Lynn’s story of the night runners gaining entrance to the tower in Kuwait, there would be ample evidence that they had been this way. The razor wire would have been strewn with body parts lying on the ground. There is also the fact that there is an identical lock securing the armory doors. From experience, and I can’t assume this to be the case in every instance, the night runners leave clues that they have gained entrance to a building. I worry about their presence, especially seeing we haven’t secured a more permanent safe place yet, but will be doubly worried if they gain the ability to enter into locked places.
A paved drive leads from the gate to the armory doors. The sun is peeking above the tops of the nearby evergreens casting ribbons of light across our path. The idling of the vehicle engines behind interrupts the serenity that might otherwise be found on this calm summer morning. I find it a little odd that I am becoming used to that silence. The eeriness of the events is fading into the recesses of my mind. It still feels dream-like but not as much as it once did. Maybe because I am worrying so much about everything that my consciousness is not recognizing it to the extent it did. Not that I didn’t worry or wasn’t fearful before, it’s just that now I am really feeling the time crunch.
The scene at the gate repeats itself as the lock snaps under the effort of Watkins and Calloway. Alpha Team keeps their weapons trained on the heavy steel doors for precautionary means as Watkins swings one of them open. The squeal of the hinges rises above the idling engines as the door pivots fully open. A cool breeze rushes out from the dark interior, cooling us as it passes by. Seeing the dark interior, I expect to hear the shriek of a night runner even though the doors were tightly locked. Nothing. Calloway reaches in and swings the second door open to the sound of the metal hinges rubbing together.
“Mount up!” I hear Lynn yell by the vehicles.
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nbsp; The sound of doors slamming precedes the noise of engines revving up. A few gears grind as the convoy begins moving out. I turn and watch the precession move off. The convoy quickly disappears from view and the sound diminishes into the distance, until we are once again left with the silence I have come to expect. The only vehicles left are the Jeep, two Humvees and a large transport truck sitting in the road by the open gate.
* * * * * *
She scrambles in the broken window, like she has done every night, before the bright light that brings the burning pain rises into the pre-dawn sky. Her hunt was successful and she will sleep without being hungry today. The four-legged one she chased down and cornered fed her for another night and she is satisfied. Food is becoming harder to locate each night and she finds herself having to wander farther afield to obtain it. Small packs roam the night and she has not joined any of them for the moment. She feels like she can fend for herself better although the picture messages sent from the others are becoming more insistent. She knows she will not be able to avoid joining one for much longer and it might be against her will. So far, her lair has not been found by the wandering male packs and she has been left to herself.
She empties her bladder and makes her way up to the darkened room where she sleeps. Her shoulder still hurts where she had to fight the four-legged one but her agility and strength won out in the end. Curling up on the floor, she falls asleep and shuts her mind off from the other packs that are finding their way to their own lairs.
She wakes suddenly in the midst of a picture-filled sleep, confused for a moment as to how or why she is lying on the floor. She sits up quickly, the thoughts and memories of the previous evening gone; unable to recall the last few days at all other than to know that there had been a last few days. Oh My God! Where are my kids? She thinks scrambling out of the ink black room, knocking her shoulder against the wall and wondering where and how she hurt it. Checking the upstairs bedroom and finding their beds empty, she flies down the stairs in a panic calling out their names, her voice echoing throughout the house.