by John O'Brien
“Will do, sir. Give her about two minutes to get into position.”
“That will be perfect, thanks. I’ll give three clicks when I’m ready.”
“Copy that. Three clicks,” Gonzalez replies.
I choose the north side because I don’t want the ones already on the east side to transit this area and I want the four in front of the doors to head away from me. It wouldn’t be in my best interest to have the entire contingent of night runners on the fourth floor to run through my position. That would kind of defeat the purpose of a distraction.
I check both directions to make sure it’s clear and ease back into the hall. Crouching at the corner once again, nothing has changed. I’m not very comfortable having night runners in the halls behind me but they are still making a racket some distance away. That doesn’t mean they won’t be spreading out or returning soon though.
“We’re in position,” Horace radios.
I press the mic three distinct times. Faint sounds of glass shattering and gunfire drift down the hall. Watching the night runners, I see them tense and turn abruptly toward the sound but they don’t move.
“Again if you please, Horace,” I whisper.
I hear more muffled sounds of shattering glass and firing. The shrieks behind me increase in volume as does the sound of running feet.
Move dammit, I think, trying to will the four night runners into action.
With a combined shriek, they take off running away from me. One set of the double doors slams open, startling me, and six additional night runners run out into the hall. They pause for a second, looking both directions, and then run after the four.
Screams and feet slapping on the hard floor continue to increase in volume. I glance behind me to see several night runners pass the hall an intersection away. They go by quickly, but I hear more following. Several more pass a few junctions down. It’s only a matter of time, and a short one at that, before they enter the hall I’m in. I stay in my position wanting to give them a chance to get some distance from the room. I have a gut feeling this is the one I’m looking for. If it’s not, then I’ll fold into one of the side rooms and wait for things to calm down and rethink my strategy.
When the six night runners have nearly faded from my sight, I slip silently around the corner and creep up to the doors. The double set of steel fire doors open outward with no windows, the fiber camera barely fits under it. I don’t have much time. I shield the glow as the screen comes to life. Inside, I see several long tables and chairs that give the impression of a large lunch room. A long counter lines the back wall and, standing near the middle of the room, is a single night runner looking off to the side.
I pan around and there, near the left wall, is Lynn. From this angle it’s hard to tell, but it looks like there’s another night runner directly behind her and holding her. My heart leaps at the sight of Lynn. I’ve found her and she’s alive. The problem is that I won’t be able to get a clean shot on the night runner holding her from this angle should I enter here. There’s another set of double doors behind and to the side of the night runner holding Lynn. Shrieks continue to fill the hallways.
It’ll be a tight shot on the night runner holding Lynn if I enter through the other set of doors, but the angle will be better. I withdraw the camera and swiftly head to the farther corner. The shrieks and cacophony of noise filling the halls allows me to move faster without the sound of my movement being heard. A quick peek around the corner shows more night runners streaking past an intersection just ahead.
I wait for a break and slide into the hall. I lie on the floor near the doors to minimize my silhouette to those that may flash by. If they turn down the hall, I’ll readily be seen though. I’m close but not there yet. I can’t fuck it up now by being hasty but I do need to be quick. I slide the camera under the door to verify nothing has changed. The two night runners haven’t moved. The one in the middle is tilting its head to the side as if trying either to hear something or puzzle something out. I don’t really care which as long as it isn’t calling the building full of night runners to this location.
Another pack enters the junction and pauses. Five night runners glance in all directions and begin sniffing the air. My heart freezes. I’m too close to be found out now. Fear that I have made it this far only to be discovered at the very door surges through my body. My heartbeat thumps against the cold, hard floor. My M-4 lies on the floor next to me but I don’t dare move. Any motion will be seen. Their eyes occasionally cast that eerie glow as their heads turn from side to side searching for something. The chances of them turning down the hall I’m in and consequently seeing me are high.
“Quickly, Horace, I need more gunfire into those windows,” I whisper.
I can’t hear the gunfire through the din of the night runners shrieking and running rampant, but I know Horace begins firing by the way the heads of the ones nearby turn sharply. They streak off to the side vanishing from view. I breathe a quick sigh of relief and rise, gathering the camera and my carbine. This is it, go time.
With one hand on one of the door handles and a finger caressing the trigger guard, I pull gently on the door to verify it’s unlocked. It thankfully is. With another calming breath, I swing the door wide open and step inside, raising my M-4.
The angle on the night runner holding Lynn is sufficient to get a clean shot. It turns its head toward me. The only thing that maneuver does is to allow it to see the muzzle flash that ends its life. The night runner’s head snaps back as my single round penetrates its hard skull, sending a spray of gore across the back of Lynn’s head. Blood flies from its nostrils and mouth as it falls heavily to the floor, bouncing off a table and knocking over a chair.
Lynn ducks to the floor as the flash of my shot fills the room and the grip on her is released. Faster than I could ever imagine, the night runner in the middle of the room turns, screams, and takes a lunging leap toward me. I bring my carbine around to center my dot on it. As quickly as I move, it seems to move faster; but I only have to move my barrel inches, whereas it has to move feet. My dot centers on its chest as the night runner, her greasy hair flowing behind her, prepares to launch into the air at me.
I squeeze the trigger three times, sending high speed projectiles out of my suppressor. Each finds its target and rips through flesh and bone. Some of the bullets hit bone and splinter, tearing through the soft tissue of the lungs before exploding out of the back. Splintered bone follows the path of the bullet. The night runner’s vocal scream of “Noooooo” fades to a gurgle. She falls to her knees and reaches out a hand.
“I warned you that I was coming,” I say, my barrel trained on the night runner’s head and finger hard on the trigger.
“You were meant to be with us…with me. You were mine.”
Convulsing, blood pours out of her mouth and nose in a torrent. The shine of her eyes fades and she slumps forward onto her face.
What the hell was that all about? I think.
Aside from being stunned upon hearing a night runner verbally speak, what it said confuses me. However, there are more important things to take care of at the moment. There will be time to think about it and analyze it later — at least I’m hoping there will be a later. I turn to see Lynn kneeling on the floor, her head looking left and right.
“Lynn, are you okay?” I ask. Shrieks permeate the building.
“Jack?”
“It’s me, hon. Stay put. I’ll be right there,” I say, walking quickly to the female night runner.
I nudge her over with my boot and am a little sickened to see her slightly extended belly. It also sends a shiver up my spine knowing they can reproduce. The night runner’s eyes are open and staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing. I swiftly go to Lynn’s side and put my hand on her shoulder.
She flinches at my touch and I realize she is completely in the dark. I take out the NVGs and place them in her hand. She quickly dons them.
“I love you,” I say into her ear. I pull her to me and we
hug each other tightly.
“Thank you. I love you so much,” she responds.
With the escalating screams filling the passageways outside, I pull back, hand her my sidearm, and a coil of 550 cord.
“We’re not out of this yet. We need to hurry and seal these doors. Tie them like we did at the high school. You take that set of doors,” I say, pointing to the set I just came through, “I’ll take the other.”
She turns and shakily walks to the set of fire doors. I run to the other set and begin lacing the cord around the swing handles, tying the two together. I barely complete the knots when pressure is put on the doors as night runners on the other side try to pull them open. I turn to see that Lynn has hers tied off as well. I make additional loops to give added strength. Assured that the doors will hold for the time being, I walk over to Lynn. I want nothing more than to embrace her hard again. It felt so good to hold her once more and feel her body pressed against mine. I didn’t know if I would ever see her again and didn’t want to let her go. Warmth floods my heart at the sight of her. With the night runners trying vigorously to enter and shrieking ferociously, we’ll have to put that off until we get outside.
The doors rattle in their frames as the night runners, more than likely angered by the demise of their pack leader — at least I’m assuming the dead female was just that — try to gain entrance. We are far from being out of the fire and may very well have just stepped into it.
“Is everyone okay?” Lynn asks, clearly exhausted and spent from her ordeal.
I can’t even imagine what she must have gone through — first attacked, then kidnapped and held in a lair of night runners. That has to be anyone’s worst nightmare.
“Yeah, everyone is fine.”
“So, what now, Jack?” Lynn asks, eyeing the shaking doors.
“Yeeeeeah…about that?”
She just starts laughing. Hearing her laugh at a time like this makes me think that being held by the night runners made her lose her mind …wait, I hope that didn’t that come out loud? No…good.
“You didn’t think this all of the way through, did you?” she asks, still chuckling.
“Yeah, I did. It’s just that…well, did you have to be in the exact middle of the building. Couldn’t you have chosen an outside office? That would have been helpful on your part,” I joke.
The night runners go at the doors with a renewed frenzy. The combined noise of those gathered outside now makes it hard to even hear a shout. The cord wrapped around the handles, although strong, won’t hold forever. The night runners will eventually manage to rip the doors from their very hinges.
I radio the teams letting them know that I found Lynn and our current predicament. I’m going to have to come up with something soon or, instead of riding off into the sunset on a white horse, we’ll end up like a Shakespearian tragedy.
“What can we do to help, sir?” Gonzalez asks.
The noise from outside of the room prevents me from hearing all of what she said. After several tries, I finally hear the entire message.
“Prayer might help,” I reply.
“Copy that, sir, one prayer on the way.”
I glance up at the ceiling. The roof is only a few feet over our head but it might as well be a hundred miles. Even if the teams had explosives on hand, they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint Lynn and me well enough to blow an effective hole in the roof. I certainly don’t have anything that will blast through the concrete overhead. Besides, judging by the weakening doors, we wouldn’t have enough time to set up anything anyway.
However, the ceiling does give me an idea and one I should have thought about a while ago. The hard ceilings have crawl spaces between it and the concrete slab that house the piping and conduits necessary for building operations. The spaces aren’t large in most cases but they are navigable. The only problem is that fire walls could block our path. The good thing is that this type of ceiling is more structurally sound than a plain drop ceiling and will support our weight better. I just hope the night runners don’t discover the crawlways.
“Do you feel strong enough to crawl in the ceiling?” I ask Lynn, knowing she must be tired and her energy level low.
“I’ll manage,” she replies.
We head to the far corner of the room. With my selector switch on auto, I send bursts into the ceiling, angling them so any ricochets don’t come back our way. I stitch a large square pattern in the corner. I move one of the tables under the spot and place another on top of it. Moving a third table next to the stacked ones, I create a large stepping stool of sorts.
I climb up and bash next to the holes with the stock of my M-4. A square chunk of ceiling falls to the table showering me with white dust. The banging of the doors grows stronger and is barely heard over screams so loud that my ears begin to ring. The night runners are slowly but surely forcing the doors open through sheer strength, determination, and numbers.
I boost Lynn into the limited space above. Replacing my mag and strapping my M-4 tightly, I hoist myself though the hole. The space is large enough to get through at an almost doubled over crouch. Small diameter metal and plastic conduit hangs down from the concrete slab overhead sharing space with rectangular aluminum HVAC ducting. The path is blocked by a concrete fire wall to the east, toward the front of the building.
Keeping as quiet as we can, we wriggle through and over conduit to the wall on the other side of the hallway. We won’t get very far in any direction due to the fire walls but at least we can get out of the trapped room. Pipes and ducting heads from the main channels and bends ninety degrees down into rooms. It’s pretty easy to tell rooms from hallways because of the layout of the conduits.
The noise from below vibrates the ceiling causing dirt particles to jump up and down. The hallways were chilled but here, in the confined space above, it’s a lot warmer. I feel grit in my hair and on my exposed skin as we make our way slowly south. Soon we butt up against another fire wall. We have no choice but to go down.
I take out my heavy LMF knife and punch through the ceiling where I calculate a room to be based on the piping and by tapping. It wouldn’t do to escape from the room only to drop down into the same hall as the gathered horde. I imagine the night runners must stretch a considerable distance in the hall to either side of the room we were in. Even though the screeching of the night runners will most likely block out the noise of my suppressed M-4, the confined space makes using it a little unwieldy. I carve out another square, not quite finishing the opening. Grabbing a section, I lift it up, lay it beside me, and peer into the room.
We’ve come upon a small office. An elongated desk occupies one wall, with two rolling chairs next to it. Workstation monitors and a pile of folders sit on the desk’s surface.
“Are you okay?” I ask Lynn, to which, she nods.
I edge my legs into the hole, making sure I don’t knock anything over, and drop onto the desk. I then help Lynn down. We aren’t out of it yet but at least we have a little breathing space — hopefully.
A door exits into another hallway out of view of the main hall crowded with night runners. However, with the number of night runners, the hall on the other side of the door could easily be filled with them. I ease the fiber scope under the door, careful to check for feet prior to inserting it all of the way out into the corridor. It’s empty for the moment, but the shrieks still shaking the walls let us know that the night runners are still very close. I also can’t assume that all of the night runners in the building are actually at the door. There may be many others hunting the hallways or rushing to join.
“Okay…it’s clear. We’ll creep along and make sure each hallway intersection is clear. I’ll lead. If we’re discovered, we make a run for the east side. Those are the closest outside offices which will give us access to daylight. That’s our goal,” I say, putting the scope away.
“Let’s do it,” Lynn says, readying her sidearm.
I ease the door open and, with a last check, we slip silently into
the hall. I don’t know how long we’ll go undiscovered. I’m not sure that the smoke still covers my scent and I know they’ll smell Lynn. I just hope they are so focused on the doors that it will go unnoticed. We glide down the halls, avoiding the empty gurneys and rolling carts crowded against the walls.
At the first corner we come to, I look down the hall in both directions. Toward the room we escaped from, several packs of night runners are running to and fro in frustration, attempting to find a way in. They are some distance down the passageway but there’s no way we’ll be able to cross here without being seen. I notice a change in the tempo and tone of the shrieks. The night runners that are visible all turn and look in our direction. As one, they begin streaking for us.
“They’re onto us. Straight ahead, go!” I yell, grabbing a grenade at my vest.
Pulling the pin, I let the grenade fly down the hall toward the night runners quickly closing in and take off after Lynn. I catch her just as we cross through the next juncture. A rocking explosion temporarily drowns out the screams. As I have the greater firepower, I take the lead in case we encounter any night runners that attempt to block our path. I glance behind and see night runners pouring into the hall behind us. I ready another grenade.
“Right at the next intersection,” I shout.
I toss the grenade behind as we near the crossing. The turn is to take us out of the hall so we don’t get peppered by shrapnel. As we turn, five night runners enter the corridor at the junction ahead of us. We are charging toward each other and the distance quickly dwindles.
I raise my carbine and begin firing bursts into their midst just as the grenade goes off behind. The first two go down as if tripped, hitting the floor hard. Still, we race toward each other. Another burst sends a night runner crashing into a rolling cart, tipping it over and spilling its contents to the ground with a crash. I hear two gunshot reports over my shoulder and watch as the two remaining night runners fall. The first flips backward with its feet in the air and the other follows in the same manner a split second later making it look like the two executed a poorly timed synchronized swimming maneuver.