by John O'Brien
“To check on something.”
With a quickened pace and a sinking feeling in my gut, I make my way downstairs. Heading to where the prisoner is shackled inside of the storage container, I see two guards posted.
“How is our guest doing?” I ask the one closest.
“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t looked in since Sergeant Drescoll left word that the prisoner wasn’t to be disturbed in any way,” the soldier answers.
“I see. And when was that?”
“Sometime this afternoon, sir. He went in and came out with orders from you that no one was to go in.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Open it up.”
The soldier opens the lock and, with a metallic screech of protest, one of the steel doors swings back. I look in fully expecting the sight that greets me. Inside, his arms still hanging by chains overhead, the prisoner is slumped, his chin on his chest. I don’t need the blood spattered on his shirt or in a large puddle on the ground below him to know he is no longer with us.
“Fuck me,” one of the soldiers mutters.
“Sir…I…” the other stutters, starting his apology.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, venturing to the body.
I lift the prisoner’s head to find one side of his face mostly gone. There’s a smaller hole in the upper back of his head. The skin around the entrance wound is singed and blackened.
“Sir, we didn’t hear a thing. If we’d known…”
“The weapon was silenced. Again, it’s not your fault. Take him down,” I say, dropping the man’s head back to his chest.
Returning to the group, I sense a certain confused tension. As if it weren’t there already.
“Jack, Drescoll’s team says they haven’t seen him since—” Lynn starts.
“Let me guess…since this afternoon,” I interrupt.
“Yes, one of his team remembers seeing him leave in a Humvee, saying he had to run deliver a quick message to one of the crews, and that he’d be back soon. They haven’t seen him since and assumed he was with one of us. Wait, how did you know?” Lynn asks.
“Our only tie to who sent the team against us is gone,” I state.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“Dead. Assassinated,” I reply.
“Ohhhh…shit,” Lynn says, the light dawning.
The others stare with mouths open, some eyes going to Drescoll’s empty chair. The look on their faces indicates they have put the pieces of what happened together as well.
“I should have seen that coming,” Lynn says. “Damn!”
“What do you mean, you should have seen this coming?” I ask.
“Allie’s death hit him pretty hard. Harder than I imagined,” she says and details the conversation she had with Drescoll.
“I can’t say I blame him, but he sure hasn’t made this any easier for us. Lynn, have the teams conduct a quick but quiet search for him. Let’s make sure he isn’t still in the building,” I say, rising.
“And where are you going?” Lynn asks.
“To look for him if he isn’t here,” I state.
“Jack, as much as I want to as well, you can’t do that,” Lynn says.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dark out. Even if you did make it to the ramp, you’d never make it inside the aircraft quickly enough. The noise of your arrival will draw every night runner around. You heard Frank and sensed them yourself, they’re up there in numbers now.”
“I’m afraid she’s right,” Frank comments.
I stand uncertain. Even though Drescoll killed the prisoner exacting revenge for McCafferty, he was…is still one of us. And he may be out in the night alone. However, if I go, that would entail putting others at risk.
Lynn places her hand on my arm, “Jack, he’s my friend, too. I want nothing more than to go out and find him, but, we can’t. He made his choice. We’ll search for him at first light.”
There is a pause as I still stand there, plan after plan running through my mind about how to conduct the search at night.
“Jack, I know what you’re thinking and we can’t take the Strykers either. They might be able to hold out against some of the middling packs, but there is still that group of ten thousand or more out there. There’s no way much of anything can stand against something like that. You know the night runners are cunning and would find a way in,” Lynn adds.
I stand a moment longer and then let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. Conduct a quiet search for him and organize search parties to head out at first light. Then let’s meet back here. There’s still a lot to cover.”
Upon returning, a dejected sounding Lynn says, “He’s not here.”
“I didn’t think he would be,” I say.
The news casts a pall over the group. Most of us can’t believe he did what he has – executed the prisoner and then fled into the night. I totally understand why he did it, but to flee? PTSD does funny things to the mind. It makes the most ridiculous decisions seem like sane ones. In each, it can do different things – depression, anger, emotional turmoil, rob one’s spirit to live. It’s been manifesting itself in all of us since the beginning. We can’t keep up the way we have, with stress each and every day, without signs of breaking. It can take the strongest or weakest. The bottom line is that it will affect each and every one us at some point to some degree. It’s one of the reasons to institute the one day that we take for ourselves, to gather and just socialize, to stave off the ramifications of the stress for as long as we can.
I know most of us aren’t really interested in continuing the meeting with what’s happened, but if we end with this, it will not only carry into tomorrow, but it will have rooted itself more deeply. That will happen anyway; right now we have to focus on the job of living. We’ve had a few setbacks, yet we still need to deal with the cards set before us.
“Okay, folks. I know it’s difficult, but let’s get through this. We have information on the one facility. If the others are operational, then we’re sunk. However, if we’re only dealing with this one, then the way I see it, we are evenly balanced and they know it or they would have attacked already. They have the numbers and a more secure location, but we have the Spooky. If they come out in the open, we can tear them apart, providing they don’t have anti-air capabilities,” I say.
“I didn’t see anything like that mentioned in the arsenal for the site,” Harold chimes in.
“Share all of the information with Frank. Look through it with a fine-toothed comb. We need every scrap of info we can get,” I state. Frank and Harold nod their replies. “They could have shoulder-fired weaponry, but we can counter that. Anyway, we can’t go in and get them, at least in force.”
“Unless we draw them out,” Robert states.
“Yes, unless we can somehow draw them out into the open. Until then, we’re at a stalemate until our fuel situation runs out. When that happens, the balance will shift dramatically, and not to our benefit. So, we have to do something before that happens. And there’s the weather to think of,” I say. “For the moment, we need to consolidate like we have been and get the Spooky in close to protect it, and be able to use it in a moment’s notice.”
“As likely as it is that the attack and this facility are connected, we still don’t know that for a fact. We lost the only thing we had that would do that for us,” Frank offers.
“That, unfortunately, is true,” I agree. A faint light glimmers in my mind. “Frank, do we still have the tablet we took off the shooter?”
“Yes. I didn’t see anything much other than satellite imagery of the compound and surrounding area. Oh, and close-ups of each of us. Do you want me to fetch it?” Franks asks.
“Yes, please.”
Frank brings the tablet and fires it up. As he mentioned, there is current satellite imagery or our compound. That in itself doesn’t prove anything other than the fact that this other group reportedly has control of satellites; that the imagery is recent only provides a weak tie between t
he attack and the facility. Something catches my eye on one of the satellite images. It’s an overlay of our compound, and in the lower right corner, the annotation ‘A-US-1’. It’s the same annotation format as the one in the facility document listing it as A-CC-1. Another potential link. I show it to Frank and the others.
Frank studies it and some of the other images. “I think we have to go with the fact that this facility ordered the attack. All indications point to it,” he says after a moment.
“I agree. So, what do we do with it?” Lynn asks.
“It doesn’t seem like there’s much we can do,” Bannerman says.
“Well, we can’t very well just lie here waiting for another strike,” Roberts adds.
“And we can’t penetrate the bunker with our forces. We’d be outnumbered and outgunned,” Lynn states.
“Can’t we draw them out?” Bri asks.
“Yes, but it would have to be in way that they couldn’t immediately head back inside the bunker,” Robert states.
“We need to do a flyby to get a better picture of what we’re up against,” Franks suggests.
“I agree completely,” I say. “We need more information before we can come up with a plan.”
“A flyby will alert them that we’re onto them. That’s the only advantage we have at the moment,” Frank comments.
“We can hide it as being like any of our other flights. We weren’t bothered on those. If we pick a nearby base, fly there planning our route so we can conduct an overflight, then it will just look like something we’ve done in the past. They might think we are on a normal flight like we’ve done more than a few times,” Robert says.
“I think that’s as good a plan as any other. However, they’ll know by now that we took one of theirs prisoner. They’d be fools if they didn’t have a satellite trained on the op, and I seriously doubt they are fools. Especially given that they may have a trained Israeli agent in charge. No, they’ll have to go on the assumption that we know about them already. But, I still agree with your plan. I don’t see that we have any other choice,” I reply.
“I’m guessing they reached the same conclusion about us being at a stalemate and made a pre-emptive strike to take out our leadership. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why they didn’t try to take all of us out,” Frank says.
“I don’t know either. If they are striking at us, we need to counter that somehow. I don’t think this was a one-and-done attempt. But to do that, we need more information. So, I suggest we head out at first light to search for Drescoll. Then we can make a flight plan to locate Captain Leonard and relay this information to him, jump over to find Greg and pick him up, then stage a fake rescue effort and overfly the facility. Frank, we also need a better picture of what is going on up north with regards to the night runners. If we have more cameras, set them up around the base and outlying area. We’ll take the Spooky up tomorrow night and take a look as well. Bannerman, when will the runway be completed?”
“It should be finished sometime tomorrow, I’m guessing toward late afternoon.”
“Okay, we’ll bring the Spooky down the morning after and then depart in the other 130,” I say.
“How many teams are you taking with you?” Lynn asks.
“I was thinking I’d only bring Red Team. We’re only doing two flybys and picking Greg up. I don’t want to leave us too thin here,” I answer.
“You’ll be landing for a day at an outbase,” Lynn says.
“True, but if there’s any trouble, we’ll just leave. It’s not like we’re there actually looking for something.”
A soldier approaches and whispers in Lynn’s ear. I watch and see her shoulders sag with whatever is said. The soldier departs.
“I have more bad news,” Lynn says after a moment. “Allie’s dad was just found dead by his own hand.”
The news cuts through us almost as much as Drescoll’s disappearance.
“Could this week get any worse,” Bannerman mutters, hanging his head.
The next morning, all but two of the teams are sent out at first light to search for Drescoll. Craig and Roger each take a light aircraft out to assist. They are to look for the Humvee or sets of tracks in the otherwise undisturbed dust covering the roadways. I take Red Team with Lynn in the Spooky to utilize its equipment. Frank coordinates the search from base so we can cover the area effectively.
In addition, the teams broadcast both over the radio and loudspeaker, letting Drescoll know that all is okay. That’s in case he thinks he is in trouble and is staying away. We’ll definitely be having some words if he returns, but the important thing now is to get him back. He’s had more than a few hours head start on us, and the area we have to cover is vast.
At the end of the day, after covering thousands of square miles by air and ground, we are no closer to knowing where Drescoll is than when we started. If we haven’t found him with such an extensive search, we aren’t going to by prolonging it. It’s with heavy hearts that we work our way back to the compound. I cast a thought out, wishing him well and hoping he will return. I will miss him.
The runway is completed at the compound so I land the Spooky there. I plan to take it up just before dark to try and get a better picture of how much the night runners have infiltrated the area north of us. I don’t know what caused them to vanish from there a short while ago, although I have a pretty good idea, but it’s apparent that there is a vacuum that is being filled. If night runners are venturing out of Seattle as Frank suggested, it doesn’t bode very well for us, and we need to get a fix on how many there may be.
Lynn is quiet as we enter Cabela’s and, like the rest of us, subdued.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask as we gather around the table to plan for the night and for the route to take come morning.
“No, not really. I just should have seen it coming. I’ve known him for some time, and I keep thinking there was something I missed. This is so unlike him.”
“Stress can do some fucked up things to the mind. I’m guessing he knew what he was going to do before he talked with you,” I say.
“Probably but…shit. I guess I’ll have to find someone to lead his team. How about Gonzalez?” Lynn asks, turning to look at me.
“She’d make a great team leader, but with the loss to Red Team already, I need her there,” I answer.
“Okay, I’ll find someone else. I think Taylor is ready. I don’t want to think of that now. Let’s get tonight planned.”
Frank joins us to point out where he has placed the cameras and found the greatest increases in the night runner presence. We map out a search pattern and get to the business of planning our flight route to find Leonard, pick up Greg, and conduct our overflight.
With the sun sinking low against the western hills, its glow flashing through a break in the clouds overhead illuminating the underside of the overcast in oranges and reds and silhouetting the mountains, we send a cloud of dust to the rear as we apply full throttles. The Spooky lurches forward as if eager to escape the earth and find the peace of its home in the sky. This has been an emotional week, and it will be nice to lock the wheels up and find the solace of flight.
As we claw our way over the perimeter fence, I think of how I should have thought to bring the aircraft inside the compound earlier. It sure would have made some things easier. It’s funny how we become trapped in the way things are usually done even though we think we have accustomed ourselves to the newness of our environment. I turn the aircraft north as the sun sends a last flare of light through the heavens.
It seems, once again, that the more we do to ensure our survival, the harder it becomes. It’s like we have to fight against our own advances. The farther we get, the more we seem to be attacked from so many angles. I’m ready to be done with this stress shit and get on with our rebuilding. We’ve done well to survive to this point, but at what cost – Nic gone, McCafferty gone, Drescoll apparently giving up and leaving, Allie’s dad taking his life. They won’t be
the last unless we can get some respite from the continual attacks.
Robert’s voice on the intercom, readying the aircraft for our mission, breaks into my thoughts and brings my mind to the operation at hand. I reach down to the monitor and set it to the thermal imaging. That will be the best way to find out just how prevalent the night runners are. The plan is to engage if we find numerous night runners, but the primary mission is to get a feel for the numbers in the area. Our first sweep will be to check out the bases themselves.
The last glow vanishes from the western sky. The sun is setting noticeably earlier now, giving us fewer hours in the day to do what we need. The aircraft is quiet and tension builds as each member watches the screens to see what will happen. I, for one, am hoping it stays just the way it is – dark.
I might as well have hoped for all of the night runners to instantly drop dead. The camera zoom is pulled back so we can see a wider area. White blips suddenly appear from multiple locations. The packs are of medium-sized and not the complete white out we experienced when they gathered in the thousands a while back. Still, there are hundreds of them pouring from the buildings below. Lynn and Frank were right, there is no way we would have made it to the aircraft last night.
“Are we recording this?” I ask Robert through the intercom.
“We are,” Robert replies. “Do you want us to engage?”
“No, not right now. We need to make sure we get a good picture of the entire area before taking them out,” I answer.
“Copy that.”
After circling the base, we head over the surrounding areas of Tacoma and are met with the same picture; a few small to medium-sized packs roaming the streets for food. Taking a tour of the rural areas, the night runners are definitely less numerous than in the built up areas. This may be because they want to stick close to their lairs but, as Frank has said many times, they will have no choice except to venture farther afield once the food supply runs out.
Glancing at the monitor, it is apparent that the area has been infiltrated. They are not as numerous as they were around our compound, but they are definitely here in numbers. What I wouldn’t give to find out where that large gathering is in our area, if they are still there. We’ll have to conduct more searches for them when we return. I don’t like not knowing where that large pack is, especially as we were recently attacked by a smaller group.