by John O'Brien
Yeah, heard that one before and it’s pretty easy to tell the good guys from the bad guys now. If there’s one thing that gets me riled, it’s shit like that. Of course, there’s no telling if the people inside are good guys as yet, but the ones to our immediate front aren’t the likable sort and I place them immediately in the bad guy column.
“Look, we didn’t know and we were just out looking for supplies. If we’d have known, we wouldn’t have come into town. Just let us go and we’ll be on our way. If not, we’ll pick you apart from in here,” a reply from the store shouts out.
The burly man laughs, “There’s not enough of you to do that. You should have seen the signs posted. Save your women. Last warning.”
I look at Robert lying a few feet away questioning about the signs the guy mentioned. I sure didn’t see any so I don’t know how anyone else would have. He shrugs a response back. Oh well, they should have made it clearer. I’m not about to stand for this bullying bullshit. I’ve seen it way too much and it’s getting rather tiring.
“Try us if you think you have the balls. You’ll have to come in and get us,” the man inside the store shouts in return.
I like the guy in the store. Good guy or bad, I like his attitude. Of course, they aren’t in a good position to be boastful or egg the other group on. They’re surrounded and I’m guessing there isn’t a back door or they would have used it.
“Henderson, Jack here,” I say.
“Go ahead, sir,” Henderson replies.
“Can you see the back of the building? Is there anyone posted outside?”
“Standby, sir.”
A few seconds pass. “I have a clear view of the rear for a ways back and I don’t see anyone there,” he says.
“Okay. We’re in position behind the group out front. I’m initiating verbal contact with them. Standby,” I state.
“Roger that, sir, we’re standing by,” Henderson responds.
“We’re here and ready when you need, Jack,” Greg says.
“Greg, start ‘er up and bring it to the corner,” I say.
“Be there in just a sec,” he replies.
“This is Captain Walker. You are covered on all sides. Everyone slowly lay your weapons on the ground. That goes for everyone inside and out,” I shout.
The men behind the trucks, especially the large man and those around him, turn quickly toward the sound of my voice. They look side to side searching for where we are. The bushes and tree limbs are hiding us well. I see panic and bewilderment form on many of the faces. Some, including their apparent leader, bring their guns up as if they’ll just fire randomly and fight their way out.
“Don’t even fucking think about it. You’ll be dead before the bullet leaves the barrel,” I state.
Heads swivel to the sound of my voice but I can tell they are still having a hard time locating my exact position. Some are still turning their heads and the big man’s is twisting from me to the store front. He knows he is surrounded now regardless of where we might be. Losing face is not his exact favorite thing to do and he knows his bullying is what keeps him the leader of this group. At least, that’s what he thinks. And it may well be the case.
“Lay your weapons on the fucking ground… Now!” I shout. “Those who do will make it through the next few minutes still breathing. Those who don’t will see what awaits them in the next world. I’m not fucking kidding around here! Now, anyone want to be a hero?”
I see several have located me hidden underneath the branches. Or at least they have located where my voice is coming from. I also notice that the barrels of the weapons that were protruding from the store windows have vanished. That’s either a good thing or bad but I’m taking it as a good sign. We are in a decent position regardless of what happens next.
The whine of the Stryker approaching barely penetrates the babbling of the stream directly behind me. Several begin to lay their weapons to the ground at my gentle request. They look toward the sound coming their way. The mammoth turning the corner hastens the actions of some and their weapons clatter to the ground. A few begin to stand back up at the sound of the approaching Stryker. I have no idea what they think they can do against it armed as they are. It’s most likely an instinctive reaction.
“I would highly recommend you don’t do what’s going through your mind,” I shout. “Fire on us and you lose your free pass.”
All of the men gathered look stricken with a few turning toward the beefy man asking what they should do. The men who were lowering their weapons freeze in their position. The leader is in a tough spot and he knows it. He doesn’t want to sacrifice himself and is looking for a way to save face – something that he can say ‘it’s not worth it’ or something to that effect. Well, I do not really want to give him that chance. If he’s allowed to do that, he’ll just return and make for more trouble. We still have the search for the soldier’s family and I don’t want to be lingering around with these assholes trying to think of a way to get back at us.
“Greg, a warning burst down the middle of the street if you please,” I say on the radio.
“I aim to please,” I hear his reply.
“That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard… ever!” I state.
His reply is lost as the .50 cal opens up with a quick burst. The chunk… chunk… chunk… of the heavy caliber fills the air. The large rounds impact the street just in front of the trucks and create sparks where they hit. The thick whine of the bullets ricochets down the street. They impact a building farther down the road with substantial thumps. If my voice, the realization that they were surrounded, or the sight of the Stryker didn’t create a stir, the sound of the heavy gun firing and hitting so close sure spurs greater action. The weapons the men were holding now fall from loosened grips with a multitude of clatters.
Various forms of, “Fuck this! I’m outta here,” sound out as the group takes to their feet in a hurry. I’ve never seen such a big man run so fast in all my life. I’m pretty sure land-speed records are reached as they all take off down the street with him passing the lot of them in the process. They are soon lost from my view but I can hear their footsteps pounding on the pavement for a short while. I turn to look at the bridge expecting to see them cross but it remains empty. I’m guessing they ran farther to the north, a guess that is verified by Greg as well as Henderson. There still remain the people inside the store and the need to ascertain their inclination.
“Okay, those of you inside, it’s your turn,” I shout.
“Who are you?” A male voice asks.
“I’m Captain Jack Walker. I want you to lay down your weapons and come out single file showing your hands,” I respond.
“How do we know you aren’t like the others and just trying to lure us out?” The voice says.
“I guess my word is all I have. That and a 50 cal Stryker parked up the road,” I state.
“Works for me. We’re coming out.”
I watch as three men and two women emerge from inside with their hands raised. I don’t notice any weapons immediately visible. They spread in a line near the front.
“Is that everyone?” I ask.
“This is it,” one of the men answers.
“Okay. If we go in and find anyone, and we will go in, they’ll be treated as hostile. That means…” I say, leaving the statement hanging.
The small group in front of us looks at each other. I see the man doing the talking emit a sigh and his shoulders sag slightly. “Fred, Jim, come on out,” he says, looking over his shoulder. Two additional men exit the store.
“That’s it,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s everyone,” the man replies.
“You’re sure this time.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. This is all of us.”
“Greg, Henderson, and Denton, keep us covered. We’re moving to the group. Keep an eye out for the ones who fled,” I say over the radio. Greg and the others respond positively.
We leave our cover and approach the group cautio
usly. Gonzalez and McCafferty frisk each of the people as Robert, Bri, and I cover them. No additional weapons are found with the exception of a few knives and survival tools.
“Okay, and you are?” I ask.
“I’m Carl and this is…” he says, introducing the rest of his small group.
The group seems okay and we have them covered regardless. I have Greg move the Stryker past us to the main intersection of town just a block away. He’ll keep watch in that direction with Henderson and Denton providing cover behind us. I’m still not sure how fast the other antagonistic group will recover and respond, or if they even will, but the leader will want to save face somehow. I’m guessing they will return to whatever hideout they happen to have if they want to rearm themselves. Sitting out in the open like this isn’t giving me warm, fuzzy feelings so I want to make this quick.
“So, Carl, what’s your story?” I ask. I can tell he is hesitant about revealing anything but looking around at a dozen well-armed soldiers who happen to have a Stryker as a pet and the fact that we haven’t harmed him or his group seems to loosen him up.
“We have a place not too far away up in the hills. We are fairly self-sufficient and prepared to some extent for this. Occasionally though, we come down into these small towns to scavenge for supplies. Great Falls was overrun almost immediately so we avoid that place like the plague, pun intended,” Carl says. I give Carl and his group a quick rundown of our story, including the reason we are here.
“Sorry to give you bad news, captain, but no one has been around here in some time. I’m not sure where those other folks came from but they’re new here,” Carl says.
“Are there others in your place? You are welcome to come along with us if you’d like,” I say, explaining what that would entail.
“We have two others watching the place and we’d have to talk it over amongst ourselves,” Carl replies. “If you wouldn’t mind if we talked in private for a moment, we’ll let you know.”
“That’s fine but make it quick. There are still those others around and I’m not interested in finding out what they have for an encore,” I state.
Carl and his group gather together in a circle and I hear their murmurings. I can actually hear their conversation but I tune it out to give them a semblance of privacy.
“Hang tight everyone. We’re having a little pow wow here,” I radio.
Carl and his group finish their conversation and accept our invitation. “Supplies are running low in the area anyway,” he states. “We will need to gather our gear though. Is it okay if we retrieve our guns?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. You’ll have to be quick about gathering your gear. We’re going to search some more here to make sure there isn’t family still around. You can meet us at Malmstrom AFB. Do you know where that is?” I ask.
“Yeah, Captain, I know where that is,” Carl answers.
“Call me Jack. Okay, we have a C-130 parked there by the runway. Do you know what one looks like?” I say.
“I’ve ridden in one way too many times not to know one intimately,” he responds.
“Fun rides eh? Okay, it’s the only one there so make your way there, but be there before dark as we’ll be sealed up by then,” I state.
“You won’t find us out and about after dark. We’ll be there. The others seem to have left us a couple of vehicles here. Perhaps they won’t mind if we borrow them,” Carl replies.
“They don’t look like they’re being used to me. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather get off these open streets. See you soon.”
With that, Carl and his group retrieve their weapons, load up into the vehicles they brought along with a couple of the pickup trucks, and drive down the road we entered on, disappearing around the corner. I have Red Team pick up the weapons dropped by the other group and pile them into the Stryker.
I get with the soldier whose family lives, or lived, here to get directions. Although Carl seemed familiar with the area and what happened to it, it wouldn’t do to come this far and not check for ourselves. I owe that much to the soldier and hope we find his parents alive and well.
Henderson and Denton join us and we load into the Stryker. We turn toward the short bridge and, not seeing any signs indicating weight limitations, proceed across following the soldier’s directions. The town is very small and there are only a couple of crossing streets. We take the first and only left. An alley appears half way down the street and the soldier directs us down it. I do not want to have the Stryker in such cramped quarters as the others are certainly about. Being such a small town, they can easily track our progress and position by the heavy whine of the diesel engine. We park and disembark. I send Greg with the soldier and his team up the alley and to the house in question. I have Henderson and Denton tag along with them in case Greg needs them for entry. I cast out and sense a few night runners in the area but none nearby. It’s almost a relief to feel them. It would be nice if I actually figured out how this stupid thing works.
I send Gonzalez and McCafferty to opposite ends of the street we are on to keep a watch down the streets. They trot off and each finds a position by the corner of a house. The sun has risen overhead and the houses and trees along the street cast very little shadow. Although there is still a chill in the air, it is warming up. One squirrel, perched high in a tree on the corner of the block, squawks madly at our intrusion into its domain. It’s apparently not happy with our being here and is letting the world know.
I take a moment to bask in the rays of the sun shining down on my shoulder. I try casting my thoughts out farther. I sense just a couple of others but find it easier to reach out now for some reason. I cast out farther and farther. I know there are only empty plains around and don’t expect much but am seeing what my limits and capabilities are. I keep going feeling a pressure in my head as I concentrate. I notice the harder I concentrate, the more limited it becomes. I try relaxing and just visualizing. By relaxing, it seems easier to expand and I sense a small group of night runners farther to our southeast. I don’t know if it’s just the area we’re in or whether it’s the night runners themselves that seem to limit this back home. For whatever reason, it’s just easier now. The distant night runners are harder to pinpoint and I can only sense them being in a general direction. The squirrel chirping in the branches above enters my consciousness and I pull back.
Greg informs me of their entry and subsequent search. The house is empty and I turn to watch the team members walk into the alleyway and make their way back. The soldier has his head down with others patting him on the shoulders consoling him. I was hopeful that we would be successful with the partial success we’ve had so far. I guess every ending can’t be the happy one and I feel for him. I’m sure he was feeling hopeful after seeing some of the other team members find some of their family alive. I stroll over and give him my condolences as well.
“What about those folks we ran into that fled, sir. They might know something,” he says, hopeful.
“I wouldn’t know where to look for them and am not sure I want to run into them again,” I reply.
Seeing his head and shoulders sag tugs at my heart. I’d like for all of the soldiers to find their families, especially after they risked all to help rescue my kids.
“They might be holed up at the school, sir. That’s where I’d go,” he says.
Once again, that torn feeling surfaces. I’m not all that eager to run into those folks again, especially close to wherever they call home. They have the advantage of knowing the area better and will definitely hear us coming. Surprise – gone… knowledge – gone… advantage – marauders. However, we are here and I feel we should make every effort to find out what happened. He didn’t question going into an armed compound at night with night runners all around to get my kids. I just don’t want to sacrifice the many for one. If smoke trails appear, we’re outta there. I pull the others aside and ask them their thoughts. After all, it’s their ass. To a person, they not only agree that we should go, but are
quite adamant about it. So, we board the Stryker and set off to see the wizard.
We backtrack to the center of town. The school is only a block up and on the left so it’s not like the large man and his merry band of followers had to trek far. I’m sure they were gasping for air upon arriving though. And maybe a few wet spots located just below the belt. I know I almost wet mine when the .50 cal went off and struck the street in front of us. That’s about as close to being on the receiving end that I want to get. The soldier shows us a side path to an open lot by the school so we don’t become trapped on the narrow street in front of it.
We edge around one of the houses and flatten the tall grass growing in the yard. The single-story light-colored school building appears with the gym on our side. I immediately spot, through the mounted camera, two men perched on the roof with weapons aimed our way. We halt and I open the top hatch. With a mega phone in hand, I call out saying that we aren’t looking to harm anyone but looking for some people and give them the names. There isn’t any response to my call except the men on the roof shifting positions.
“I’m going to need a response,” I say, asking again.
A shot rings out and I hear the ping of a bullet striking the armor close to the hatch. The ricocheting round pings off into the distance, quickly fading. Really?! How stupid can you get? I think. Why is it that people think firing on an armored vehicle is a good thing?
“A simple yes or no would have sufficed. Now, let’s try this again, are they there or do you know their whereabouts?” I ask. Again there isn’t any response. At least they don’t try firing on us again.
“Do you really want this .50 cal to start chewing your place to ribbons?” I state.
Finally, a voice calls out. It sounds very much like the man shouting in front of the store. “No, we just arrived a few days ago and there was no one here. Now, get lost!”
I think about opening up anyway but merely close the hatch and have the Stryker reverse out of there. I look at the soldier sitting amongst the others with tears streaming down his face. The others around him console him again. I ask if there was any other place they would go and he just shakes his head. With a very melancholy feel within the interior, we trace our route back to the 130. Parking the Stryker off to the side, we set up a small perimeter with each team taking turns on watch. We settle in with the sun passing its zenith and into the afternoon.
