by John O'Brien
Stepping over the bodies, I hurriedly walk over to Bri and kneel. She’s covered with dust and splotches of night runner blood.
“Are you okay, Bri? Did they get you anywhere?” I ask, concerned that the blood might be hers.
“I’m fine, Dad. I just can’t get up,” she states.
“I love you so much.” I pull her tight against me, hugging her, not ever wanting to let go.
My relief so thoroughly takes hold of me that tears run down my cheek, unbidden. Hearing that first shriek, I thought I had lost my little girl.
“I love you too, Dad.”
Releasing her and looking down the hall at the numerous dead, I realize that ‘little girl’ may not fit her very well. However, she will always be that to me. I open up to see if there are any more night runners about and don’t sense any.
“Jack, are we clear?” Lynn calls from within the room.
“Yeah, we’re good,” I answer.
Lynn and the others enter the hall, staring at the bodies. I hear Henderson give a low whistle as he looks at the scene. I see Gonzalez look from Bri, to the bodies, and then back again, slowly shaking her head.
Recovering from disbelief and shock, the others emerge into the present. Henderson and Denton kneel in the hall, covering its length. Gonzalez, with a final look at Bri, turns and covers the room we entered from. Lynn weaves her way through the bodies toward Bri and me.
I move to the concrete slab pinning Bri’s leg as Lynn kneels beside her, asking if she’s okay. I grab the block and pull. It doesn’t move. Getting a firmer grip, I lift will all of my strength. The slab lifts mere inches.
“Can you pull your leg out?” I ask, straining.
Bri pulls and her leg slides out. Once she’s clear, I let go of the block and it falls back into place, grinding several bricks beneath it. I quickly check her leg to find that nothing feels broken.
Bri rolls from her sideways position and rises. Brushing herself off, she stoops to pick up an empty mag and places it in one of her vest pouches. She then bends to the night runner that was almost on top of her. Rolling it over, she retrieves a knife, its hilt protruding from just under the sternum. With a casual motion, she wipes it on the night runner’s clothing and slips into a sheath at her side. I watch this whole thing, along with Lynn, stunned.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I say.
Finished, Bri rises and we begin making our way through the bodies to the door leading to the room. At the door, Bri looks over the bodies and down the hall, seeming to come out of some state of mind. Her face prior to this seemed devoid of any expression. Looking around, that changes to one of surprise.
“Holy shit! I did this?” she asks, dumbfounded.
“Yes you did, my little warrior princess,” Gonzalez says, turning toward Bri.
We make our way through the short hall and up the stairs. Entering into the daylight filling the building on the first level, we leave this nightmare behind. However, the lesson stays with me. Anything can happen at any time and I almost lost my daughter through carelessness. There was no need to go into a building only to satisfy a curiosity. I feel sick to my stomach thinking what might have been. And I’m still in a state of shock and awe over Bri’s handling of it. It’s just not real and feels as though I read the story in a book.
Careful with our footfalls, we arrive back at the front entrance. Glancing over my shoulder inside the building, I see the difference in the large field of debris. It has shifted, becoming lower and covers the hole we fell through as if it didn’t exist. I look toward the upper levels, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever, or whatever, is or was in there. I neither see nor hear anything.
Entering the sunshine, the breeze blowing strong, still moaning as it gusts through the building, the tension and extreme emotions I carried through our ordeal, diminish. The lesson stays with me though. I put my arm around Bri once again and pull her close. She looks up and, through the grit still covering her face, and entangled in her hair, she smiles.
“So, what happened in there?” Gonzalez asks, brushing some of the grit from Bri’s hair after I reluctantly release her.
Bri tells about her becoming disoriented during the fall and not really knowing what was going on.
“I don’t really remember much. It just sort of happened. I remember being scared and then, I just sort of reacted without thinking about it, like I was watching someone else doing it,” Bri says.
“And the knife?” Lynn asks.
“Well, I remember running out of ammo. I couldn’t get to my handgun so I pulled out my knife. This one night runner tripped and fell down next to me. It smelled really bad. Anyway, it was struggling to get up. I remember feeling it paw at me so I stabbed it. It screamed in my ear and went limp. I tried to push it away thinking there were other night runners coming, but there was only silence.”
Hearing her story horrifies me and makes me sick to my stomach. I’m so happy that she’s okay, but I can’t shake the terror inside that I was the reason she had to go through that. And my daughter doing that, well, once again, it just seems like someone else is telling the story.
Retracing our steps across the airfield, we arrive back at the ramp. Walking toward the aircraft, passing by the wreckage that was once the mechanic hangar attached to the FBO, I notice something out of place underneath several twisted girders that have fallen. Detouring only slightly, I reach down and pluck a journal-sized notebook that is near a small pile of ash and place it in one of my cargo pockets.
We load up. We’ve been here considerably longer than I wanted, so I’m eager to be off. The sun is starting to cast long shadows, and I’d like to be back at Cabela’s before dark. It’s a lot different landing on a short, narrow dirt strip than having a wide, two mile length of pavement. And doing that at night adds an additional pucker factor. Plus, I’m worried about Robert and Greg. I know he’s capable of making it back but, as I well know, anything can happen at any time.
As I taxi out, while making sure to keep us on the pavement, I also keep an eye on the flat plains surrounding the airfield. While we were on the ground, it would have been easy for a motorized group to race to our position. I’m sure the other group knows what we did to their column, assuming it was theirs, and where we are.
With the gear tucked into the wheel wells and the flaps up, I turn us west. It’s about a three hour flight home and we climb to clear the peaks rising above forested ridgelines. Robert should be close to landing back at the compound or has already done so. It’s comforting to note that there isn’t an emergency locator beacon going off over the radio. That’s an automatic signal generated in the event of an aircraft accident, and the fact that I don’t hear one is a good indication that he made it.
Leveling off, I set the auto pilot. With the amount of adrenaline that coursed through her, Bri is looking a little tired. She has that faraway stare that isn’t focusing on anything in this reality.
“Bri, go lie down. I have this,” I say.
Her eyes refocus on the here and now. “What, Dad?”
“I said go lie down. I can take care of things here.”
Without saying anything, she unplugs from the console and removes her helmet. Small particles of grit fall out of her hair, some landing in her lap while others float gently in the air. She leaves to find a bunk.
Turning back to the flight controls, in my pocket I feel the hard shape of the journal that I picked up. With us chasing the sun west, I pull it out and look at it. The edges are scorched and the cover blackened. There isn’t any name or title that I can identify but that could easily have been burned away. Opening the cover with care, I see that several pages in the front have been charred, some of them completely gone. Leafing through the journal, most of the remaining pages have differing degrees of scorch marks. However, some writing is still visible.
Checking the gauges and our flight path, I settle into my seat and turn to the first legible writing.
…writing this. It�
��s probably a waste of time, but I have to do something to keep myself occupied. There are long moments between scavenging and nightfall and I’ll go crazy if I don’t do something…
…was in the USAF. No biggy. It’s…
…canned goods are running out. I’ll have to start looking through the neighbor’s houses soon. That’s a hell of a walk though. I suppose I’ll have to fire up the old truck. I’m not…
I heard those things closer last night. Their screams are as annoying as fuck and kept me up. I hope they don’t make it all of the way out here. I’ve seen what they can do. When I went to see…
It’s been a while since writing here. The food ran out and I made some runs to Tom’s and Sam’s. Cleaned them out and running low again. Worked on barricading the old place as those things seem to be spreading out. I haven’t seen any near here yet, but they seem to be getting closer each night. I’m going to have to run into town and get some supplies there. The well is holding up so I just need food. I’ll start with the houses on the outskirts. I hope th…
That didn’t work out so well. Pulled a few items from some houses and ran into a group of people in the area. I guess they didn’t appreciate me taking stuff from ‘their territory’. By heading through backyards, I managed to eventually lose them. This fucking leg of mine made it hard. Broke my fucking knee when a Humvee clipped it while in the sandbox during Desert Storm and it’s never been the same. Of all the luck, in a war zone and I get hit by our own security. Fuckin…
…the group driving around during the day. They haven’t found my place yet, but I need to do something soon. It’s them during the day and those fucking shrieking things by night. It’s pretty obvious they don’t come out during the day. I’m beginning to wonder if there isn’t something about daylight they don’t like. Maybe UV rays? I have a couple UV lights, but I don’t know if that will work. Thought about going out to scavenge at night and using those but I am reluctant to try. If I’m wrong, well, I only get one chance considering what I saw them do to Tom and his family. I may ha…
..going to have to figure out something else. Those creatures found the house and damn near got in last night. Pulled the boards right off the walls. Had to hold them off on the stairs with my shotgun. What a fucking mess. I should have had those UV lights with me. Not sure they would have worked though. Those motherfuckers are fast. Heard them on the roof too. And those other scumbags drove too close for comfort about an hour ago. I’m gathering my shit and heading to the maintenance hangar where I have worked since leaving the AF. That will be a more secur…
Set up shop. It took some doing, but I’m settling here in the hangar. It’s a little better than the house. It will be harder scavenging but hopefully I’ll be left alone out here. I fucking hate crowds and it seems even more crowded since this shit went down. I don’t even know why I continue writing in this thing. Keeps me sane I guess. Tomorrow I’ll se…
…lost this thing. It’s been several days. I suppose I should keep track of them but couldn’t really be bothered. Ran out of supplies and emptied the vending machine. Damn they make those tough to get into. The pipe wrench I used damn near hit me in the head when I swung at the Plexiglas. Luckily there’s a well with a hand pump close by. Those fucking things keep trying to get in every night. So far I’ve been able to keep them out, but they are persistent motherfuckers. They have to be in one of the buildings on the airfield. They keep me up all night and I’m starting to feel the lack of sleep. I’m going to have to do someth…
This idea didn’t work out so well. I set fire to the hangars on the west side hoping to get rid of any place that those things can hide out in. Earlier I burned the guard base buildings and had no problems there. I was going to burn each hangar individually but the fucking wind shifted. Now the whole place is going up. Explosions and streams of fire from the fuel are pouring across the taxiways. It’s only a matter of time before it reaches here. Going to have to get some shit together and take one of the aircraft out of here. I have no idea where I’ll go, but I need to leave.
That’s the last thing written. Whoever it was apparently dropped it in their haste to get out of there. At least the story of why the airfield was burned is known. Not that it will do any good but it’s always nice to find out what happened when confronted with a mystery. Closing the journal and sticking it back in my pocket, I wonder where the person who wrote it went.
The flight back is an uneventful one. The sun seems to be winning the race west, drawing ever closer to the horizon as we drone along in the clear, afternoon sky. It will be a close one to see whether we make it to the compound before the sun vanishes below the horizon.
A fair distance out, with the bottom edge of the sun resting on the horizon, I call the compound, getting a reply on the first attempt.
“Did Robert arrive?” I ask.
“Yes. He landed several hours ago.”
“How is Greg?” I ask, worried to hear the answer that he didn’t make it. From what Lynn had said, he had been in pretty bad shape.
“The doc is with him but he hasn’t regained consciousness yet. I don’t have word if he’s stabilized or not.”
“Anything else I should know about?”
“Not that I know of, Jack. Frank’s here. Would you like for me to get him?”
“No, that’s okay. We’ll be there in about an hour,” I say.
“See you then.”
The western sky transitions from yellows to deep oranges. Droning along with the forming sunset ahead, with the blue overhead deepening toward twilight, lends itself to a very peaceful scene. It’ll get busy in a short bit as I set up for the descent and landing, but that is still a few minutes away. Even with all that has transpired and all that is pressing, I lean back in the seat and relax, taking in the moment, worries diminished for the time being.
With the sun just sinking below the mountains to the west, casting the land in twilight, I bank the aircraft and line up on final. The runway carved out within the compound walls is a lighter shade than the surrounding field but barely visible in the fading light. With the gear and flaps lowered, I descend toward the narrow strip.
Off to the side of the runway, I make out the dark outline of Robert’s 130 parked on a makeshift ramp. The outer walls of the compound flash under my nose, briefly illuminated from the intensity of the landing lights. The guard towers, standing at the corners and at intervals along the walls, are no more than dark shapes that pass by quickly. The inner wall, meant to enclose the compound and provide for a secondary defense, flashes underneath. Easing the power back, I flare and feel the aircraft settle onto the narrow, dirt strip. We’re home.
Shutting down, I just sit in the seat, utterly exhausted. It’s been a hell of a day, and past few days. Although we can’t totally relax within the compound walls, we can at least feel a measure of safety. Now, with us being targeted by a group that has access to far greater technologies, even being within the walls carries a certain tension. While we may have a basic understanding of their capabilities, we don’t know for sure. The fact that they attacked Greg’s team with only an armored column gives credence to the info Harold found, with regards to what they have available for use anyways.
Looking out of the window into the gathering darkness, there are headlights from several Humvees that have come to pick us up. With effort, I unbuckle and make my way outside. Robert, Bannerman, and several others are waiting for us.
“Made it okay, eh?” I ask Robert.
“Yeah, it was a pretty uneventful flight really,” he answers.
“How is Greg?”
“He was still unconscious when we landed. I think the doc is with him, but I haven’t seen him since we arrived,” Robert says.
“Why didn’t you wake me for landing, Dad?” Bri asks, walking up and stifling a yawn.
“You needed your rest, Bri. It’s all good.”
“What in the hell happened to you?” Robert asks, seeing remnants of grime on Bri’s face and in her
hair.
Bri starts to tell her story, her voice fading as her and Robert walk away, heading toward one of the Humvees. Gathering our gear together, we trudge wearily to the waiting rides. I don’t say much. Returning to Cabela’s brings back the full extent of what we’re facing.
Inside the building, with night fully upon us, Robert heads up the stairs. Bri and the others of Red Team grab a bite to eat before heading to wash away the grime accumulated from two days in the field. Lynn and I head upstairs to see the doc and check on Greg.
Walking into a partition set up for the doc, I see Greg lying on a bed. There’s a lot of swelling on one cheek and his closed eyes look sunken. His breathing appears shallow but with normal repetitions. A mask connected to a green oxygen tank covers his mouth and nose. Turning to the doc, who is standing next to the bed, I ask how Greg is doing.
“He’s stable for now and is doing well from what I see. His vitals are close to normal. I thought at first there might be some swelling on the brain but there aren’t any indications of that. This is really the best I can do for him considering,” the doc says, sweeping his arm to indicate the oxygen and IV setup. “We just don’t have the equipment and, to be honest, even if we did, I only have the vaguest notion of how to operate them. We’ll keep him monitored and the IVs going for hydration. The concern will be if he remains unconscious for a period of time. He’ll need sustenance beyond what the IVs will provide. But, we’ll let him rest and see if he recovers on his own. I won’t be concerned unless several days have passed without a change in his condition. After that, we’ll have to come up with something different.”
