“There’s one of the largest cattle pens in the country on top of this gully,” Jim says chuckling at our reaction.
“Damn! Smells more like someone shit in my nose,” I hear Denton mutter.
“Follow this stream to the west and, where it makes a bend back to the east, you’ll be about a mile away from the prison. It’ll be to the southwest of you at that point. Not sure what you’ll be able to see from there. There should be some light cover ‘til you’re close to the freeway but then it’s flat, dirt fields from there on out. You’ll have to cross two freeways to get to the prison itself if you’re planning on going all of the way there,” Jim says pointing out places on my map.
“Okay, I think four of us should go. That will keep our presence low but still provide some firepower if we need. Robert, Greg, McCafferty, you’re with me. Horace, you’re in charge here. Keep a perimeter and stay out of sight but be ready to support us if needed,” I say. I’m taking McCafferty because, if something does happen and we have to evade, she knows the area better than we do. Plus it will keep her busy and may ease her tension knowing she is doing something. Again, I can’t imagine the stress that must be going on inside of her.
I notice the shocked look on Robert’s face. “Yes, you’re going. We’re only doing a recon and you’re sneaky as hell.”
The shocked look is replaced with a grin. I’m not sure how he can grin with the smell but he manages. There’s something else in his expression but I can’t quite tell what it is. Gratitude perhaps? Maybe enjoying the recognition? I’m not sure. I have mixed emotions regarding this but I’ve come to realize those won’t ever fade. We’re only going to have a look and, although I’ve worked with him and Bri, nothing replaces experience. I just hope he doesn’t have to experience much more. This new world is wearing me out.
The sun is still just past its overhead mark but it won’t be long before it wends its way further to the west. We have some time but we also have a hike ahead of us according to the map. The heat of the day and pervading smell makes the gully feel oppressive. The small amount of water drifting by slowly in the creek provides little cooling and makes it worse in some way. Perhaps it’s because it’s the brownish water prevalent in Texas and not the clear water of the Northwest I’m used to. Whatever it is, I don’t like it a whole lot.
“It’s a little after 13:00 now. We need to be out of here by 17:00. That will give us enough time to get back with some to spare. We won’t have to stop for fuel so that’s a plus. That gives us two hours in and two out. According to the map, it’s about a mile to the bend and we’ll see what we can from there. Any questions?” I ask. No one responds.
“Okay, get your gear,” I tell Greg, Robert, and McCafferty. “We’re traveling light. Radios, ammo, and bring plenty of water. I’m not drinking anything from that,” I add pointing to the almost stagnant water. “Especially with those cattle pens close by. No telling what has leaked in. We’ll meet in five.” I’ve drunk out of worse places but had plenty of iodine tablets. Well, maybe not worse. There weren’t thousands of dead cows possibly leaking their goodness into it.
We start out along the creek bottom. I’m leading with Greg behind followed by Robert and McCafferty. There’s not much we can do for the smell and I’d like to say we get used to it but I’d be lying. I look for something to put under my nose to help ease the stench but come up empty. I make a mental note to keep Vick’s handy for smells. It seems like I already made that mental note but it apparently didn’t take too well. I used to carry it with me always so I’m surprised I didn’t automatically pack it along. I guess not all things have come back as readily.
The creek meanders some in the gully and there are some trees along its meager banks but not enough to keep us shaded from the sun and heat. The odor seems to get stronger the further down the gully we go but that may be my imagination. The banks are high enough to keep us from becoming outlined in any fashion from above but we take care to keep quiet and proceed alertly. I’m pretty sure no one in their right mind would be close with the obnoxious smell in the vicinity.
The warmth works on us as we work our way to the bend in the creek. I find myself stumbling over the occasional rock or two but we keep it slow so I manage to stay out of the creek. At the bend is the faint outline of a road and a ford. I wonder why we didn’t travel here to begin with. Maybe our approach would have been seen from the prison. Jim seems like a pretty good guy and knows the area well so that may have had something to do with it. Or he didn’t want to get any closer. For whatever reason, we’re here and it’s time to take a look.
There’s a faint path leading upward from the ford. It’s mostly overgrown with knee-high bushes but it’s still distinguishable. As we climb, the sound of birds reaches us. The higher we get, the louder it gets. I hold the others back and crouch low as we near the crest. Reaching a position where I can barely see over the edge, I scan the area. If anything, the atrocious odor hits even harder. Yes, I know I’m obsessing on the stench but the overwhelming smell cannot be adequately described. I’ve smelled mass graves before but those were rose gardens in comparison.
The fencing surrounding the pens is close to the rim of the gully. Black humps lie on the ground as far as I can see back to the east, the direction we came from, and to the south. The size, at least what I see from here, is immense. No wonder the air is so offensive. There must be thousands upon thousands of dead cattle. I can actually hear the drone of flies from my position. The earth within the separate cattle pens is actually a deep red from the literal tons of blood that has been spilled on the ground. Further east is something that just about empties my stomach.
Large lakes, and I mean lakes not ponds, are filled with red liquid. I cannot imagine what they used to look like before as I’m sure evaporation has taken its toll but they are filled with blood. Whoever built this gigantic slaughter yard sloped it in such a way that the blood would eventually flow to these lakes. It’s not just one lake but several that stretch back over a mile. This has to be the singular most disgusting sight I’ve ever seen. It must seep underground to the creek below. I don’t see how it couldn’t unless they’ve lined it somehow but, seeing what I am, I sincerely doubt they did anything like that. I’m thinking the brown I noticed in the water isn’t silt or dirt eroding.
“Horace, Jack here,” I call on the radio.
“Go ahead, sir,” she responds.
“Do not, I repeat, do not let anyone drink any of the water in the creek or wash with it. Don’t even let anyone get wet,” I say. “I’m not even going to tell you why, just don’t.”
“Will do, sir,” Horace replies.
I look around the remaining area with the binoculars. There’s not much to see as the pens continue another half mile ahead of us intersecting a major freeway. The slight cover Jim mentioned getting close to the road does not even merit the word slight. It’s almost non-existent. A few trees or copses of stunted trees spread over a field of brown adjacent to the pens. We can get to the highway via the fields and will have to as there is no way I see us going through the pens. The dead cows and stench aside, we’ll disturb hundreds of birds and their flight could alert others that something is prowling around. I can’t see the prison from my position which is probably a good thing. Other than hundreds of scavenging birds feasting in the yards, their cries filling the air, I don’t observe any movement. I crawl back from the edge and wave the others up.
“You are about to see the worst sight ever. There’s a cattle slaughter yard that stretches for over a mile to the east and a half mile to the west. Who knows how far south it stretches. No sign of any movement and I can’t see the prison from here. Let’s edge up and pick the best route to get closer. Try to ignore the pens as you won’t like what you see there,” I say. We crawl up to the edge of the gully.
“Fucking – A,” I hear Robert breathe. “That’s just disgusting.”
“Told you not to look,” I say. Robert looks over with a weird expression. I r
ealize he was whispering to himself and I shouldn’t have been able to hear it. I just give him a shrug and break out the map for us to study.
“There are two major freeways that come together in a “Y” on the other side of the yard. The only buildings I see in the area are the cattle pen buildings near the highway to the west and some in the “Y” between the highways. I’m thinking the prison is sitting in a field on the other side where the roads meet,” I say. “Ideas?”
“We could use the cattle pen buildings to mask our approach and see what we see from there. Maybe even go on the roof but that will mean going through some of those last cattle enclosures,” Greg suggests.
“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of that,” I reply.
“We could skirt the pens using the buildings to cover our approach and see how far we can get. At least we’d be closer,” Robert says.
“True enough. We’re certainly not going to see anything from here. Stay low and quiet. We’ll use the buildings and trees to mask our approach as much as we can. Keep an eye on the road and your ears open,” I say. I’m still not all that keen on getting close to all of those dead cattle. I can’t even imagine the diseases that must be prevalent.
We head away from the gully crouching and angling towards the slaughter yard but mostly using the sparse cover of trees as best we can. The ground beneath our feet is more like baked clay rather than actual dirt and radiates the heat of the day upward. The gagging stench follows us with every step. I breathe through my mouth to alleviate the smell but it makes it seem like I can taste the thousands of dead cattle. I use the buildings as a shield against prying eyes that may be at the prison. The sparse trees end less than a quarter of a mile from the highway. From here, it’s flat, bare ground. I still can’t see the prison but that was the plan for the approach anyway. I halt beside the last tree and listen. The others drop to their knees as well covering our sides and rear.
There’s only the constant, faint buzz of the flies and the cry of birds. The area from our location to the rear of the buildings is only a small one but it is in the open. If anyone happens by while we are traversing, we will be easily seen. The only option if that happens is to drop down and hope we only look like a dark spot on the ground. From the looks of it, we are going to have to cross one of the pens to get to the buildings after all. The dead cattle seem to cover every inch of the ground and the air above them is filled with clouds of flies. The birds are concentrated towards the middle of the slaughter yard so travelling through any of the pens on the side won’t create a disturbance. It’s now that I wish I could fly like the birds pecking away at the corpses; or at least hover. I wave Greg, Robert, and McCafferty forward.
“We’ll cross one at a time. I’ll make for the fence. McCafferty, you’re next. I’ll call for you when I’m there and the coast is clear. Robert, you’re third and then Greg. If we hear anyone approaching, drop down and make like a black hole,” I whisper. The others nod their understanding. I want Greg last as I don’t want Robert alone in case something happens. My priorities still remain the same.
“See ya on the other side,” I say rising.
I rush across the open field feeling very naked. There’s no use trying to be slow or stealthy at this point. If anyone is watching, they’ll see me regardless of how fast or slow I’m going so the key is to keep my time in the open held to a minimum. I feel my boots striking the hard ground as I transit keeping an eye out for any movement. Beads of sweat form from the additional exertion and the hot air is hard to breathe. My stomach is still doing leaps from the sight and smell of the yard and running isn’t helping that at all. I’m too old for this shit, I think drawing close to the wired fence enclosure.
I notice a narrow strip of land situated between two pens that is free of the black lumps that used to be cattle. It leads directly to a small dirt lot behind the buildings. I alter my path making directly for it. I’m thankful for the lack of any shouts of discovery or shots ringing out. That would really suck out in the open. It seems like it takes forever to reach the far side but I’m there in about two minutes. Two minutes in the open can seem like an eternity. I go to my knees next to a gate breathing hard. I gag twice from the stench. The run across field in the heat doesn’t help this but my stomach settles back to being only slightly nauseous.
My panting is loud but I listen past it for any sounds that my transit was noticed. It’s hard to hear over the perpetual buzzing that is louder now that I’m right next to the thousands of dead cows. I still can’t see the prison from here but look into the dusty lot behind the buildings that is filled with semis and cattle trailers. There are also hundreds of pallets littering the yard. The building itself appears to be a large headquarters or office building with an attached warehouse. I see some of the freeway that runs just in front of the buildings. It’s all quiet except for the birds and flies in the background and there’s nothing moving in the area.
“Okay, McCafferty, it’s clear,” I say.
I see a small dark shape rise from beside a tree and begin to dash across the open field. There’s a shimmer from the heat waves masking McCafferty to an extent. It seems like she is running in place and her dark shape doesn’t grow any larger for the longest of times. She suddenly materializes half way and grows larger by the second until she plops down beside me panting. She gags for a second and then regains her composure.
“You know, sir,” she says catching her breath and talking between pants, “I’ve lived here for what seems like forever and never knew this place was this big.”
“I’m not sure how anyone could live within a hundred miles of this place. It smells now but it must have smelled bad before as well,” I reply before calling Robert over. The same scene is replayed twice again before Greg slides down beside the fence.
“I see your running skills haven’t improved,” he says finally catching his breath.
“I see you still want to lock your teeth on my ass in a biting motion,” I reply. The lack of additional sounds indicates our little adventure can continue.
“Let’s make our way down this lane and through the yard to the far corner. Single file and keep your spacing,” I say.
We rise and open the gate wide enough to pass through. The buzzing of the flies is annoying, much like mosquitos buzzing in a tent, but we are nearing the prison and the irritant is put to the side. We skirt piles of pallets, some stacked and some just strewn, and make our way to the rear of the building near the corner. Feeling the heat radiate from the aluminum-sided building, I crouch and peek around the corner.
The highway looms close with additional buildings across the way nestled between the north-south freeway just in front and another that branches off heading west. Between some of the buildings, I catch the first sight of the prison walls in the distance. Yep, they’re prison walls; tall and concrete. A wide field devoid of any obstructions surrounds it. I take a look through the binoculars, shielding the lens with my hands to prevent any glare reaching out as the sun is in front of me. Heat waves shimmer in the distance obscuring a clear look at the prison. I also glass the buildings across the freeway but I don’t see anything more out of the ordinary than usual. Nothing is normal these days. There is one thing across the road that does catch my attention and I wave Greg over.
“Hmmmm… Nice. A water tower. That is rather handy,” he says following my finger. “Now if we can just get there and climb it without being seen.”
“That would be the ideal result. I figure the heat waves should keep us partially hidden,” I respond.
There’s only one thing really keeping us from gaining an advantage of height to observe and that is the open road in front of us. If the ones in the prison are keeping an outpost, the buildings across from us would be ideal for that. There is also the fact that part of our route across the highway may be visible from the prison itself. I’m hoping the shimmers will help keep us hidden. The water tower is only about a half mile from the walls and, once we begin climbing the tower, we
’ll be in the open once again. The ladder leading upward to the catwalk lining the top runs up one of the outside support posts and is in the open. Luckily, it is on the backside of the tower away from the prison.
“Okay. Same as before. We’ll cross one at a time in the same order. Greg, if I’m spotted or rounds start getting exchanged, get out of here. Start heading back with Robert and McCafferty and have Horace meet you. We’re not in a position to duke it out with twenty or thirty others,” I say. “I’ll meet you when I can.”
“You got it,” he replies.
“Okay, here goes nothing,” I say and edge to the very front of the building.
Two sets of railway tracks are directly in front with a wide dirt median separating them from the two lane highway. It’s not quite as far as the wide field we came through but it’s a sprint. I’m hesitant about crossing. It is daylight and I imagine the ones in the prison could be out scavenging. Being this close, there is an increased chance of having them coming or going while we’re in the open. That’s not a comfortable feeling. And that’s aside from them keeping an outpost. I don’t see any cars in front of the buildings but that doesn’t really mean anything.
I take one more look at the buildings looking for any sign that they are being inhabited in any way. Grime covers the glass windows in front. There aren’t any smear marks of someone trying to wipe them clean so that’s an added bonus. I look up and down the highway to the north and south. I don’t see anything but the shimmers could hide vehicles in the distance.
“It’s now or never,” I breathe to myself.
With a deep, stabilizing breath, I rise and begin another rush across open ground. I quickly gain the first set of railroad tracks and cross with the gravel crunching under my boots. I notice the tops of the tracks are still shiny from a lot of use but that will change when the rains come. Looking as I cross, they stretch in a straight line to both sides and merge in the distance; eventually vanishing in a haze.
A New World: Awakening Page 14