by John O'Brien
Feeling like she is stepping over a boundary from one world to the next, she takes a cautious step out from the tree-lined street. She feels an increase in tension within those around her. Nothing happens. She steps again and then folds into her customary trot. The others follow. She keeps a constant eye and ear on the night sky. There is only the bright twinkling of the night lights high above.
Farther into the demolished area, she hears faint squeaks and scurries of smaller creatures. She picks up their scents and notices how prevalent they are. There is more than enough here to feed her pack. She turns into one of the open areas in front of the smoking remains of a building avoiding the small and large chunks of scattered debris. She still wants to look at the lair, which she knows is not far away but her pack comes first. And they must feed.
She sets them into the smoldering rubble to pick out the small, furry creatures. As they appear, many run into the small crevices but there are many in the open areas that they run down. Shrieks from her pack fill the night. Quieter squeaks from their prey fill in the gaps of silence. Several members sit amidst the rubble and snack on their catch. Sandra grasps one of the furry rodents in her hands. She feels it squirm and wriggle to get away. A brush from the two-legged one that has haunted her all this time enters her mind.
She feels him nearby. The food she had in her hands drops to the ground forgotten. It squeals and runs away but is unnoticed by her. She detects the other and it fills her. The tug and intrigue increases until it’s all she can think of. She stares into the distance, through the intervening ruins, directly toward the lair where she senses the two-legged one. Noticing her change, the others of her pack halt what they are doing and look at her questioningly. She shakes her head and sends them back to catching their food.
She glances down at her hands, surprised to see the food she had in them is gone. Looking around, she sees other prey across the street and, with startling speed, starts to run to catch it but is brought up short after only three steps. She feels the one again only this time, there is a difference. She sees an image of another female - a two-legged one. She senses the feelings for this other female the one has for her. Anger and a feeling similar to what we would term jealousy fill her. These raw emotions surprise her.
She heads immediately toward the two-legged lair calling to a few of her pack to join her. She has the others wait to gather food, instructing them to feed themselves and kill enough prey for the others when they return. Without waiting for the others join her, she sets off knowing they will catch up. She wants a look at the lair now. She wants to find a way in and kill this other that she now sees as a competitor. Startled by how she now perceives this other one that has periodically brushed her mind, deep down, she knows this is how she always felt. The surge of these new emotions adds to her surprise. Other thoughts and emotions, unknown before this moment, surge into her mind.
She hears the feet slapping on the pavement to her rear as the others catch up. Her long, brown hair, dirty and tangled, flops behind her as she picks up her pace. She winds through more scattered debris with the smell of smoke and the other acrid scent following her. The sense of the other one leaves but she still can pinpoint where it came from. Before long, she comes to the end of the burnt and destroyed buildings. Before her lies a large road. Across it, high walls tower upward. She knows this is the place of the two-legged one and the lair of others of his kind.
The smells of the two-legged ones rise about the smoke and ash smell of the buildings around her. Other scents of large prey filter over the high walls as well. Her stomach rumbles reminding her that she hasn’t eaten and thoughts of feeding her young one rise to the surface. She will scout the lair and return to feed. Killing the other female and having the two-legged one for her own are not far below the surface and have become the foundation for her thoughts and emotions. How she will get the other one is beyond her. She only knows that she wants him.
She leads her pack across the dark strip of road and up the far embankment, stopping just short of the top. The light-colored walls stretch high above her. Looking to her left, she sees the wall stretch off into the distance out of her line of sight. To her right, the wall continues a short distance before stopping. She heads along it and sees that the wall makes a corner and continues past her sight in this direction as well. Looking at the wall, she doesn’t see anywhere that she can scale it. It appears to be too high to leap to the top but she sends an image to one of her pack to make the attempt. The one she sent the image to starts a run at the wall.
A flash of light and explosion fills the night. The blast knocks her off her feet and she finds herself on the ground without knowing how she arrived there. Her mind is stunned from the concussion and her only thought is to flee; flee and safeguard her young one. Her mind is still too shocked to even know how to move let alone rise. Her senses gradually return with the exception that her ears are ringing loud enough to be painful. Sandra pushes herself up onto her elbows and spits dirt and pieces of grass out of her mouth. She feels the grit in her hair, on her face, and covering her body. Looking around, she sees the rest of her pack slowly rising from where they were blown to the ground.
She rises and shakes the debris off her. Looking to the source of the concussive blast, she sees wisps of smoke rising from a large hole in the ground. The night air is infused with the acrid scent she encountered earlier around the demolished buildings. She searches the immediate area for the one she sent to the wall and locates his body covered in clods of dirt. Not sensing his presence, she does see shreds of clothing lying about. Looking down at the ground close by where she is standing, she spots a foot. Sandra takes a step toward the crater and the body of her pack member but she stops, not wanting to go closer in case there are other things that caused the explosion. The protective instinct toward her young one takes hold and she shivers in fear. She turns and flees with the rest of her pack close on her heels.
* * * * * *
Captain Leonard lies on his bunk cradling the back of his head with his hands. He flexes his sock-clad feet trying to ease some of the tension he feels while staring at the myriad of pipes affixed to the ceiling overhead. These mostly go unseen as his thoughts race. The information he gathered from the radio conversation today still seems so unreal. He can’t push away the images of what he saw on his journey through the straits and sitting here just offshore from the base. The buildings still stand but the complete lack of movement or people still baffles him. There must be a more plausible explanation than what he received even if it was indirectly verified by the SEAL Team leader.
He asked his communications officer and Chief Krandle to keep silent about the conversation. He knows he has to communicate something to the crew and his officers as they most assuredly know something is amiss but exactly what should he tell them. That is what is currently occupying his thoughts. Humankind gone in the blink of an eye and replaced by some new cannibalistic species. The infrastructure they once knew vanished. If he just springs that on them, they will think he has gone insane. He knows that is what he would think if his captain suddenly told him a story like it. And, if the casualties are as extensive as Captain Walker said, that would mean a lot of the crew’s families would be gone. That news alone might break up their tight-knit group and they need to be tightly knit right now. However, they need some sort of explanation.
He’ll brief his officers after the evening shift change and then make a general announcement. He’ll tell the officers about the conversation but hold their silence as to the exact content and generalize the announcement to the crew about what happened. He’ll tell them that something happened but that it isn’t clear exactly what has happened. He’ll notify them that he will pass along details as he gets them. Until then, it’s business as usual aboard.
The two things he does know is that they will be meeting with this Captain Walker in the morning and that his first order of business will be to restock supplies from the warehouses. They’ll have to surface
, send a zodiac in the morning to remove the security nets surrounding the mooring area, and dock the boat. Leonard did notice two missile boats tied up so he’ll take the other triangular berthing area.
Leonard glances over at the 24-hour clock hanging on the wall in his cramped quarters. Evening has just begun and the crew change will take place soon. The computer on his small desk adjacent to his bunk glows with a bluish tint. He pushes back the multitude of thoughts all vying for attention. He will just stay focused on the tasks at hand and tomorrow will hopefully bring more information. These thoughts are interrupted by static from the speaker mounted by the doorway hatch.
“Captain to the control room,” the words echo in the small, mostly steel room.
Leonard swings his legs to the side of the bunk and sits. Lacing his shoes, he runs his hands down his khaki uniform attempting to smooth out the wrinkles. Turning on the water from the tiny sink in his private bathroom, he splashes his face to ease some of the weariness he feels. Drying with the small white towel hanging close by, he makes his way through the hatch to the control room.
Leonard waves away the ritual command of letting everyone know he has entered and makes his way to where his exec is peering through the periscope.
“What do you have?” Leonard asks.
“Movement onshore, sir,” his exec answers, turning from the lens. “It started after sundown. There appears to be people running near the docks. I’ve only counted eight so far.”
All attention in the control room is focused on their conversation. The crew appears to be manning their stations with their eyes on the controls but Leonard knows their attention is attuned to him. The exec steps away from the periscope housing and Leonard takes his place.
The scope is turned to the night vision mode casting the shoreline in a green glow. The objects onshore appear crisp and, with the exception of the night vision, seem the same as they appeared in the daytime. Movement catches his eye and he increases the magnification. The image zooms in and he catches five people jogging together just before they turn between two buildings and vanish out of sight. So, there are people around, he thinks. But why are they out at night instead of during the day. His thoughts turn to the conversation today and the report by Krandle. Neither that nor his quick glimpse bode well although he is still having a hard time rationalizing it in his mind.
He zooms back out and pans hoping to catch a glimpse of others. He sees more movement and zooms in on them. Four others emerge into the open area in front of the docks. They come to a stop. Leonard zooms in closer. He watches as they turn their faces upward and appear to sniff the air. What the hell? He thinks watching them. The one person in front of the other three opens his mouth wide and they all turn to the side with astonishing speed and run up one of the streets leading away from the dockside. What the fuck is going on? Leonard thinks closing the handles and lowering the periscope.
“Have the officers meet me in the mess,” Leonard tells his exec.
“Aye, aye, sir,” his exec replies.
“Oh, and bring Chief Krandle,” Leonard says.
“Will do, sir.”
“Chief, you have the boat,” Leonard says, stepping from the control room.
“Aye, aye, sir,” his chief responds.
Leonard makes his way to the mess and sits waiting for his officers to appear. They drift in singly and take seats after acknowledging him with a “sir”. He returns each with a head nod. Chief Krandle steps in with the exec close on his heels.
“Everyone is here, sir,” his exec says, turning to close the hatch.
“Gentlemen, you all know something has been amiss since we missed our rendezvous escort. Our route up the straits to here has only hammered in that point. I don’t know what is going on but here’s what we know,” Leonard says, starting off the meeting.
He continues to brief his observations and fully discloses the content of the radio communication along with the sightings just a few moments ago. While he has chosen to disclose everything, he hasn’t reached a decision about what to tell the rest of the crew as yet. Leonard asks Krandle to tell his story without mentioning the specifics of the mission itself. The officers sit in silence after hearing the information but are focused on Leonard with rapt attention.
“So, gentlemen, in conclusion, we know that something drastic has occurred during our transit but we don’t know what that is exactly. For now, we will dock the boat in the morning and prepare for our meeting with this Captain Walker. With the exception of the crew on watch, I want the rest stationed topside with arms after docking. We’ll also send a small crew into the warehouses to begin restocking our supplies. I want us stocked and ready to go to sea as soon as possible if we need to,” Leonard says.
“What about the rest of the crew, sir? What will we tell them? They know something is up and the rumor mill has already started making its rounds,” one of the officers pipes up.
“I haven’t decided yet. On one hand, they need to be kept in the loop to prevent the rumors but we also need to keep ourselves together. If they know their families are in danger or possibly victims, we’ll start losing people or they’ll want us to go after them. We can’t afford that kind of fracture,” Leonard answers.
“We could keep the boat offshore so they can’t go AWOL, sir,” his exec chimes in.
“Duly noted but that won’t stop a fracture from happening internally,” Leonard says. “Right now, I think we keep it general. Don’t discuss this meeting or the contents of it with your people. I’ll make an announcement shortly. Let’s get ourselves prepared for the morning. Any questions?” Leonard looks around the cramped mess at each of his officers noting that each has a hundred questions in their eyes but none voice any.
“Okay, if there aren’t any, except for those of you on duty, get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning. Tomorrow will be an all-hands-on-deck once we dock,” Leonard says.
They break up and Leonard heads back to the control room. Grabbing the microphone from overhead, he makes a boat-wide announcement.
“Attention all hands. This is your Captain speaking. As many of you are aware, we missed our rendezvous with our escort and are now lying off Bangor. Something transpired during our transit across the pond. We don’t know exactly what yet but we will dock in the morning, resupply, and meet with another military group to gather more intelligence. I’ll pass information along when we know more. Until then, we are business as usual. That is all,” Leonard says and hangs up the mic.
He then makes his way back to his quarters, slips off his shoes, and lies back staring at the ceiling once again with a hundred thoughts still running through his head.
* * * * * *
A Ripple On the Surface
Lynn lies next to Jack listening to his deep breathing and soft snores as he sleeps. Her arms are wrapped around his sleeping body and she knows just how tired he is by his soft snoring. She is tired herself but her mind won’t let her fall over the edge into sleep. Reaching down, she pulls the blankets over Jack where they slipped down and folds her arms over him once again. Lying next to him, she feels contentment wash over her. A part of her still feels the deep disappointment of them not being able to relax and enjoy her coming back in peace.
Her thoughts wander to what that time would be like and the times they’ve had in the past. Lying here, it feels like the world outside of the wooden walls of their cubicle is just a bad dream and they’ll wake from it soon. She wonders if a time of peace will actually happen or is this the best it will get. Their daily life is one of constantly striving to survive another day and pushing for peace and security. As optimistic as she sounded to Jack earlier, she wonders if that will actually occur. She wishes she could wave her hand and make it all go away. Even if she could only remove the threat of the night runners, she would be okay with just that much. They would deal with the aftermath of surviving but they would at least be safe. Well, moderately so, she thinks.
Worry creeps into her mind thinkin
g about the transformations in Jack. The physical ones. How will they affect him and are the changes complete? She hasn’t noticed any alterations recently nor has he shown any signs of the once usual headaches. Thoughts wander. She envisions a time in the future when they are safe from the night runners. Where they can rebuild. Where she and Jack can live out their lives in peace and contentment. Build their place of safety and eradicate the threats. Let others run things and the two of them can just exist together. The gap between those thoughts and the reality around them seems so big.
She hears a small rap on the wooden frame of their doorway covered by a blanket. Well, speaking of reality, she thinks, gently removing her arm wrapped around Jack. She removes her covers and rises trying to not wake him. Peeling the cover back from the doorway, she sees Watkins standing in the soft glow of the interior lighting. She holds a finger to her lips and nods toward the inside of her room asking Watkins to keep his voice low so as to not wake Jack.
“Sorry to bother you but we have activity on the cameras,” Watkins says in a whisper.
“I’ll be with you in a sec,” Lynn says.
She slips on her boots, makes her way out of the small room, and follows Watkins down to their little control room housing the radios and monitors. Watkins points to one of the monitors and Lynn sees a thermal image of several night runners gathered a short distance away from the northeastern corner of the wall.
“They arrived just a few minutes ago,” Watkins says. “So far, they haven’t moved much. They’ve just been standing there looking at the wall.”
Lynn watches as the small group runs off to the side by the corner and stops once again. The night runner’s movement vanishes from one monitor and appears on another. The fact that they appear to be looking at the wall in a calculated manner sends shivers up her spine. She sees one of the night runners, which appears to be a female although it’s hard to tell on the thermal image, look down the wall one way and then the next. This heightens Lynn’s worry and she feels goose bumps form on her arms.
