by John O'Brien
“What about sanitation?” Bannerman asks.
“None needed. He can go where he stands,” I say, noticing Frank nod his approval. “Leave instructions for the guards not to talk with him or answer anything. We’re going to leave him in isolation for a while before we even begin.”
“I probably know the answer to this, but what about food and water,” Bannerman asks.
“None,” I answer. “Robert, Bri, go find Craig and the Spooky crew. Gather your gear and meet me back here. As much as I hate to leave at a time like this, we need to destroy that hospital while we know the night runners are there, and to search the area for the shooter’s team. I’m sure he has others out there. We need to find them.”
Robert lowers his head, “Um….Dad…” he says, hesitating.
I feel the sorrow in my heart increase. “Yeah, that’s right…McCafferty,” I say with a sigh. “Is there anyone else that can monitor her position?”
“I’ll do it,” Lynn says almost before I can finish. “I’m tired of staying around here while you go gallivanting off, and I want to take an active role for a change.”
“But you’re a huge part here. I mean, without you, we wouldn’t—” I start to say.
“You know what I mean,” she interrupts.
I see the exhaustion in her eyes and the loss of weight she sustained during her ordeal.
“Hon, you need to rest,” I say.
“Don’t even! Yes I’m tired, but I want to be a part of taking that place down,” she says, fiercely. Her lips are drawn tight and her eyes flare with anger…or the thought of exacting vengeance.
Even through her tired eyes I recognize that look. I really do think she needs to eat and rest, but what she said makes sense. Given what she had to put up with – some of which I can’t even imagine – she has a right to take part in the lair’s destruction. I know there’s not much that could keep me from wanting that were I in her position.
“Okay. Robert, brief her and fill her in on the position. We don’t have a tremendous amount of daylight left, and I want to be back soon,” I respond. Turning to Frank, I add, “Can you arrange the services for McCafferty? I’m thinking early evening before the sun starts heading down. We’ll be back before then.”
“Sure thing, Jack,” Frank replies.
With nothing much else to say, Robert, Bri, and Lynn depart to gather the crew, Bannerman and Frank to finish the arrangements for our guest, leaving me standing by the open door of the Kiowa. I notice said guest kneeling with the guards standing over him. Anger crowds inside, sharing space with the sorrow over Allie. I hate losing people but, someone like McCafferty should be enjoying her life and giving the world the gift of her smile. And the fact that she took a bullet meant for me…I feel my blood pressure increase. Slamming the door closed, I march over to the prisoner.
He looks up as I arrive. He still has the same deadpan expression, although I see a tiredness in his eyes. This speaks of several nights of lost sleep which will make his upcoming sleep deprivation all that much more effective. We lock eyes as I kneel in front, bringing us to the same level.
“Did I mention that you missed?” I ask, staring hard into his eyes.
He gives no reply, but I know I hit a spot with him by the hardening of his stare and a slight tightening of his lips. That’s good to know. He may be hard, but hard does break. He’s obviously not used to failure. We may be able to use this, but it’s equally obvious that he’s a professional.
“But, I guess that’s kind of obvious eh? I mean with me standing here and you, well, tied up. That must be so disappointing for you. I mean, coming all that way only to miss like that. Damn, I can only imagine how much that must suck. And then to get captured…wow. I bet you were contemplating how to come back and do the job and then, well, here you are.” I continue to stare into his eyes.
I notice, just for the briefest of moments, that the hardness in his eyes changes. When I mentioned coming all that way, they took on a questioning look, wondering how much I know already. If I wasn’t looking for it, I might have missed it, but watching as closely as I was, it was as apparent as if he cocked his head to the side. It was there for only a flash and then back to staring at me like we were two fighters in a ring receiving our fighting instructions. I can also see that the continued reminder of his failure is causing his lips to compress even more.
Some interrogations aren’t looking for actual answers, but rather, reactions to questions. The initial questions are to analyze tactics that might work and, depending on the reactions, the way in to which to ask the questions and how to orient the interrogation. He is steeling himself against questions, not statements. He may be guarded, but not as much as he likes to think. We’ll have discussions rather than question/answer times.
The other secret is to not let the other know that you’ve learned something. You can use that knowledge later and let them guess how you know. If you let on right away, they’ll notice and shut down. And, in that way, you can catch them off guard with the knowledge at a later time.
“Look, you’re obviously a professional, so you know how this is played out. And knowing the game, you know how this ends…every time. There’s no escaping the inevitable. Save yourself the time and some obvious discomfort by just telling us what we’ll figure out anyway. Who sent you?” I say. He remains silent.
This is the type of questioning he is looking for and what he can protect himself against. I really didn’t expect him to say anything. The question was asked because he expected it. It was also a way for me to cover up the parts of his personality I discovered. If I had left it with just the statements, he would think something was amiss and shut down even more.
“Okay,” I say, rising, “have it your way. We know where your team is located. You can save them. It’s on your head whether they live or die.”
The silent stare remains, but the questioning look in his eyes is there again. The question of whether a team is out there or not is answered. The expression was a fearful one and not a look of smugness, so I know the team is small and vulnerable. Now we just have to find them.
“No? Okay, I hope none of them are your friends. I’m actually looking forward to the little chats we’re going to have. You may not like them much, but I’m going to enjoy them immensely.”
“Bugger off, mate,” he responds.
He may not know it, but he screwed up by uttering that. Some are broken by torture and pain, others by, believe it or not, kindness. Everyone has their button, and it’s just a matter of finding out what they are; his weaknesses are anger and pride. Make him angry, twist his words around, confuse him and he rises to a direct confrontation, but take hits at that which he takes pride in and he’ll react. It’s always a matter of bringing an emotional response; fear, anger, even feeling safe. Eventually almost everyone breaks. It’s a rare person that doesn’t. Everyone thinks they can hold out, but in truth, few can.
Lynn emerges from the main building with Robert, Bri, Craig, and the other crew members in tow. Some of my anger, which is the sorrow at losing McCafferty turned inward, is alleviated by the sight of Lynn strolling across the pavement. I feel my heart blossom at seeing her back with us...back with me. The anxiety of her being taken was killing me.
“See ya soon…mate,” I say with a wink to the prisoner and head to meet the others.
* * * * * *
I feel the clunk of the wheels as they retract into the wheel wells. The green lights indicating gear positions wink off; first the nose gear and then the mains. With the engines at full power and the Spooky cleaned up, we claw for altitude beneath on overcast layer of clouds. A quiet, professional calm permeates the interior, but with an underlying element of tension with the loss of McCafferty. This is more than just a mission to take out the night runners who took Lynn; it’s coupled with a mission to find the others responsible for the loss of Allie. It won’t bring her back, but we’ll exact a measure of satisfaction by taking down those responsible. We just
have to find them first.
“Robert, do we need to head to the range for a quick rehearsal?” I ask over the intercom.
The question is meant to ask if Lynn is up to speed with her console duties or whether we need to make a few practice runs.
“No, we’re good to go back here,” he answers.
“Okay. Turning south now. We’ll be on target in about ten minutes.”
“Copy that. We’ll be ready by then.”
Mount Rainier swings into view as I bank the aircraft around, the snow-covered mountain’s flanks angle upward until they disappear into the clouds. The ground vanishes under our nose, but is largely unnoticed, as we run through our checks, setting up for our run on the target. The quick thought of having the aircraft looked over by the mechanic we brought back with us cycles through my mind as we aim for the hospital. The city of Olympia, housing thousands upon thousands of night runners, unfolds below us.
Somewhere below is also the team that accompanied the captured sniper. We’ll have to act quickly to locate them. Once the shooter doesn’t return, they’ll know something is amiss and either bug out or take another crack. They have the advantage as they know where we are and we don’t know their location. That will have to change.
Leveled off at five thousand feet, the hospital becomes visible on our nose. Our checks have been completed and we are good to go for our run in to the target. Images of the night runners inside as Lynn and I were chased through the darkened corridors flash through my mind. There may not be that many inside, but any dent we can make in their population can only help. And, unlike hitting what we thought was a major lair previously, the night runners inside won’t have had a night to escape. It is certain that they are still there.
The hospital slides to the side of our path as I make a change to our heading and set up an orbit. I feel a pang in my chest seeing the front of the structure where we were trapped by the sniper and lost McCafferty. Seeing the entire complex sends a shiver up my spine as I can’t help but think about the ordeal Lynn went through and how close we came to not making it out. I hear Robert make a last minute check-in with each station as we circle.
“We’re ready to commence back here,” Robert says.
“Roger. Can you spare Lynn?” I reply.
“Yeah. She’s monitoring the low-light TV and I doubt we’ll be needing that.”
“Lynn, there’s a ringside seat up here. Want to come up and watch?”
“On my way,” she states.
I wait until she is standing at my shoulder and looking out of the side window.
“Robert, you’re cleared to engage.”
I feel a slight vibration in the airframe as the M102 105mm howitzer sends its payload downward. Below, the shell impacts into the side of the facility with a crash. Smoke, with pillars of yellow flame mixed in its depths, billows away and up. The trees near the building bend from the blast and debris rockets outward. Chunks of concrete, brick, and metal rebar land in a fan pattern across the area, some hitting vehicles in the parking lot. The section above where the shell crashed into the building falls on itself in a pile but is lost behind the billowing smoke.
I feel a second vibration as another shell punches downward. Another section of the hospital is hit with a fiery explosion as the ordinance collides with the structure. I glance back at Lynn and see a small smile on her lips as she watches the shells tear into the hospital. I would reach out to sense the night runners inside but I don’t want to feel their fear or their pain. I keep that part of my mind locked down.
Before long, Robert ceases fire. Looking through the smoke pouring from the devastated facility, the thermal images show a complete ruin. As the smoke clears, I see the destruction. The hospital is nothing more than piles of rubble with some portions of ruined wall structures standing amongst the tumble of stone and distorted metal. Twisted metal rebar sticks out of some of the crumbled walls. Pillars of smoke pour skyward as fires smolder in the ruins.
Looking at the ruins, there is no way any night runners could survive, unless they were buried deep in some basement. If that’s the case, they’ll have a hard time digging themselves out. I open up and sense nothing. My senses in this area aren’t entirely reliable, especially from altitude it seems, but there isn’t a flicker from below. There isn’t any use in continuing as we’ll just be pounding some of the larger debris into smaller rocks. And, we don’t have an unlimited supply of ammunition.
We secure the stations and make ready for the second part of our mission, finding the sniper’s team members that I believe lie hidden in the area somewhere. If they’re close, they will have heard the thunderous destruction of the hospital below and know something is up. The thought that we should have looked for them first surfaces, but there isn’t anything we can do about it now. I was focused on taking out the night runner lair before night fell. Lynn squeezes my shoulder and gives me a smile before making her way aft and back to her console.
“I’m going to climb higher and set up a grid search pattern to the south. Robert, have all monitors on. We’re looking for vehicles without a coating of grime, tracks, people…anything that looks like there might be someone around. My guess is that they’ll be encamped a distance from the city to minimize the night runner threat. Look for barricaded buildings or something similar. Speak up if you see anything that looks slightly out of place,” I say.
With that, we turn south, leaving the destroyed night runner lair smoking behind.
* * * * * *
Taps
For the second time this day, Michael is awakened from his slumber. This isn’t the panicked waking that the previous one was, but more of something that gradually pulls him from the dream world to the waking one. He is groggy at first and rolls over to fall back asleep, noticing many of his pack within the large interior are restive as they too have come awake. His eyes open as he realizes there are images of pain and fire entering his mind.
He pushes himself to a sitting position. The low noise of his pack jostling around the interior increases. Many rise to a sitting or standing position as the images fill their minds as well. Waking more, Michael reaches out and knows instantly the images of fear and death are coming from where Sandra’s pack was. He senses, through the minds of the distant pack members, the explosions that are rocking the lair. He also senses the agitation that is sweeping through his own pack.
Fear of the unknown thing that is tearing the lair apart emanates strongly from the far pack. Flashing images of individuals running through the halls to escape. Multitudes are running randomly, hoping to escape the fire and destruction. Floors and walls rock, knocking many off their feet. Images of plaster falling from the ceiling enter Michael’s mind. Other brief pictures are of entire hallways disappearing in a tumult of falling debris. Members from the far pack vanish from his mind, never to return.
Shrieks from Michael’s own pack echo as they share in those images. Some run around the interior as terror from the distant pack enters their minds. Michael’s own fear is mixed with frustration because he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to send some message that will help, but he doesn’t have a clue as to what that should be. The faraway lair is coming apart and he doesn’t know why. He does have the deep sense that the two-leggeds are responsible but has no idea how. The only thing that comes to mind is that thing that deals death from the night sky.
With the images storming into his mind, Michael looks up at the ceiling far overhead. He dreads that the destruction he is witnessing in his mind will come to his lair next. If it does, there is no place they can go. Heading outside into the bright, painful light is certain death. Thankfully, the lair that is being destroyed is some distance away. He anxiously stares at the ceiling while the other pack vanishes from his mind by the tens and then the hundreds. Soon, there is not a single flicker of life left that he can sense.
The rest of his pack settles down after the last of the images fade from their minds. They feel his apprehension and huddle in
corners or in groups, waiting for the same to happen to them. Whimpers and moans fill the vast, darkened interior of their lair and Michael wonders what Sandra has brought upon them. He thinks, belatedly, that he should have killed her when he had the chance. Whatever destroyed her lair is far more than he can deal with. Michael no longer thinks of his place as a sanctuary. He thinks again that he and the two-leggeds can’t inhabit the same area. The answer, however, remains elusive – run or attack?
Time passes without the concussive noise or destruction arriving. Michael begins to relax, and the pack eventually drifts back to sleep. Even though the other pack didn’t come close to the numbers he has, he knows numbers won’t mean a thing if the lair is attacked like that. Sandra’s demise and the way the two-leggeds accomplished it escalate the danger of them. The destruction of the lair, and in such a short period of time, intensified this feeling ten-fold.
* * * * * *
“Dad, turn um…to 210 degrees. I’m picking up something on the thermal. It may be nothing, but it’s the most we’ve seen so far,” Robert says over the intercom.
We’ve been running a grid search, but in a seemingly random pattern for the last hour. The pattern is random so that, if there is someone on the ground, they won’t know we are searching for something. We’ll appear to be on a training flight. If we were to crisscross the area, it would become abundantly clear we were in an active search mode. We need to hurry though, as there isn’t much time before we need to head back for Allie’s ceremony. The sun is lowering and will hit the horizon soon.
I turn toward the heading given by Robert. I don’t want to head directly at what he found as that would be obvious as well.
As we near the area, I look to the monitor and see where Robert has zoomed in. On the screen is a standard looking farmhouse with an attached garage, complete with an oak tree in front providing shade and an equipment shed and barn nearby. Switching to the thermal imaging, I see what drew Robert’s attention – a heat signature emanating from the garage. It’s faint but there, and brighter than anything else we’ve found. It’s lucky today is cooler or we might have missed it entirely. Of course, it could be anything, but any heat registering would have to be something; either a sign of some other survivor(s) or from the team we suspect is in the area.