by John O'Brien
When the group stops about ten miles out, they radio that they are in position. We open up, and I can immediately sense their direction and distance. The physical and emotional intuition of their presence is gone, but I can pinpoint them and we are able to communicate mentally. At twenty miles, I have to push farther outward but eventually sense them.
They drive to thirty miles and I only have a vague impression of their direction. However, oddly enough, we can still communicate. Robert comes in more clearly than the others, but I can mentally send and receive messages. The mental effort is tiring after a period of time, especially trying to sense their physical presence, but it’s doable for short periods. I imagine it will become easier with time and experience. This sort of communication seems only marginally affected by distance, at least the distance we are working with at the moment. At some point, we’ll have to test what the limit is, but for now, we have a busy few days ahead of us and I call them back.
Once they return, Lynn takes the teams and they proceed to our equipment hangar for their day of training. I have one last thing to try before we leave. I ask Robert to try with Julie once again. This time, I open up both the night runner side and the one I share with Robert and the others. I stay open until Robert returns, shaking his head. I didn’t sense anything coming from his mom. A thought runs through my mind wondering if I would have been able to sense Alan before he let the night runner horde in. That falls too far into the ‘what if’ so I let go of that train of thought. With that, we plan the day’s flight and depart.
That evening, I study the new photographs that Frank provided of the exit tunnel building and surrounding fields. There is, in fact, only one camera over the door guarding the approaches. I spot numerous undulations, shown by the shadows, which I will be able to use on the fence approach. I prepare the camera systems that Bannerman has supplied and practice, both with the fiber leads and coaxial.
Over the next several days, Phase Two training ends and we assign them into teams. More supplies arrive, Lynn spends the day training with the teams, and I continue to orient Robert and Craig to flying low level at night, complete with them doing numerous night approaches and landings into our little field. Lynn also spends time with Tim as he’ll be in charge of base security with five additional teams. The nights are spent hitting the night runners on the southern fringes and commencing night low-level training. It is days of endless training filled with periods of rest only to start again the next day. At the end of the fifth day, we are ready.
We opt to take an extra day in order to rest and recuperate. We go through the same motions as the previous days so as to not interrupt our routine, which is most assuredly being watched. However, it’s only motions, and most of the day is spent relaxing. The afternoon is spent loading the gear that we’ll need into the trucks housed in the vehicle hangar, including a copious amount of ammo. Bannerman, in all of his genius and magic, has managed to acquire all of the supplies I asked for, which will make my task much easier.
We spend part of the evening going over the plan with the teams again; covering scenarios, signals, and other ‘when shit goes wrong’ eventualities. We forgo the meeting, and the others drop by at times to wish us well. At first light, we’ll be on our way to Portland where hopefully, the hangars will provide enough security that we can hole up for a couple of days before we embark. That will give us more time to train and run through the scenarios as a whole.
Morning arrives. As I lace my boots, I feel that familiar pre-mission anxiety take over. All of our gear is already loaded. The only thing we need to do is grab a quick bite to eat and be on our way. While addressing our small group of survivors the night prior, I pressed that we needed to keep the morning activities as they were the previous days so, there wasn’t to be any farewells or waving of hankies. We needed to keep it business as usual.
With my boots laced, I meet the other teams gathered in the cafeteria dining room. The smell of bacon, eggs, and toast waft from the large kitchen area. Oddly, as I fork eggs into my mouth, I find myself staring at the floor where I killed the female night runner when we took this facility. I remember vividly the look of her eyes as she gazed upward. Severely injured and wracked with pain, she stared at me with eyes filled with agony. I see clearly the look of welcome relief that flooded through them just before I fired.
Lynn nudges me in the ribs, shaking me from my remembrance. She merely looks at me before returning to her plate. Our early morning breakfast is conducted in almost complete silence as each team member is lost in their thoughts. There is only the sound of forks scraping across plates or a glass being set down. It’s not a solemn atmosphere, nor a depressed one. It’s more one of serious intent.
Finishing with our meal, we make our way downstairs. Despite my saying something to the contrary, most of the group has gathered downstairs to see us off. There isn’t any cheering or heroic speech. There are just a few pats on the back as teams members file past, with a few words of quiet encouragement thrown in. I walk past Robert and Michelle embracing near the front doors and out into the early morning light.
Cold air sweeps across the lot, and the light of the dawn touches the pavement. I was never one to look back and wonder if it was the last time I was going to see a certain place, but that thought momentarily enters my mind. This isn’t going to be a walk in the park and, when we return, we’ll still have thousands upon thousands of night runners north of us to deal with. Mostly, my mind is on the teams and feeling nervous for their safety. I know I have a couple of days before we set out in the 130 from Portland, so the cold nature of an impending mission doesn’t fully descend upon me as yet. I just hope we’ve done our homework and the assumptions we had to make prove to be true ones.
The light of the dawn grows as we walk across the field toward the vehicle hangar. The silence we experienced in the dining facility matches the quiet with which we march through the brown grass. The only sound is the stalks as they rub against the pants of almost a hundred legs and the sound of that many boots marching across the hard soil. We gather in the hangar and loiter for a while, trying to simulate the same thing the teams have done every day for the past six days. It will be difficult to conceal the trucks leaving but hopefully, if the other group is watching, they will see that it is only a supply run when the trucks return this afternoon. The hope is that they will miss that the seven teams marching into the hangar don’t return.
After an hour, we load into the covered supply trucks. Three of the trucks will be taking two teams apiece with a fourth taking myself, Red Team, Robert, Bri, and Craig. Red Team will be going in light on this with Robert and Bri having to fly the 130.
The truck lurches forward out of the hangar. Even though we have a couple of days before heading east, the jostle signals that the game is on. Up until I first put my boots on the ground, we aren’t necessarily committed and can pull back, but, once that happens, we’ll have no choice but to move forward—or at least I won’t. With the exception of a few shared words, we maintain our silence during the trip down, our bodies only occasionally jostled while our thoughts tumble incessantly.
In the back of the truck, as we make our way south, I can feel the nervous energy emanating from those riding with me. Of course, it could just be mine.
Will the hangar provide enough security for us to stay two days, or will we have to embark when dusk arrives?
If we have to leave this day, then it is what it is, but it will feel rushed. From the moment our wheels leave the ground, we’ll be continuously engaging from one phase to the next. It would be nice if we had a little break before we set out. That will enable us to have more training and gear the mind better toward what we are propelling ourselves into.
Part of me worries about my end of things; whether I’ll be able to circumvent the security measures that I run into. I have an idea of what I may encounter within the facility; I’m drawing from previous experiences, but it’s only a knowledge of usual security measures. This coul
d easily end in one giant clusterfuck.
Being stuck in the enclosed back end, it’s difficult to gauge our location. We have the back panels closed so I can’t see any of the familiar landmarks. The drive seems to be taking forever. I’m surprised when we finally pull to a stop and I hear the crews riding in front hop out. Soon after, I hear the sound of what I assume are heavy hangar doors opening on their metal rollers. The truck doors shut and we start forward once again, driving into the hangar.
Once we’re given the all clear, we quickly scramble out, quick being relative as my knees don’t seem to want to straighten again, and unload our gear. Quickly looking around, the hangar seems like it will provide a secure location for us to hole up in. There are only the large doors and one other exit leading into the building. Thick paned-glass windows rest high across the main doors and along the upper sides of the hangar. They are out of reach of any night runners, unless they’ve developed the ability to fly, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point.
The crews that drove us turn the trucks around in the immense open area of the hangar and park them in open view just outside. They begin grabbing anything they can find and start loading it into the back of the vehicles. While they are doing this, we gather at the rear of the hangar in order that we won’t be seen at an angle from above.
In order to simulate a supply run, the crews take a couple of hours to load the trucks. It’s mostly for show, but they do their best to make it look like a supply run. Finishing with the hangar, they close the large doors and drive over to the only remaining 130 that was stationed at the guard base, open it up, and begin offloading anything they can find. With the afternoon setting in, they climb back into their trucks, leaving the rear ramp of the 130 open, and drive away. I hear them leave the ramp, fading until they are gone completely, leaving us alone in the hangar.
We gather our gear and secure the one door leading in. Lynn sets a watch schedule and we find places to settle into. There is only the light gray painted concrete floor which will make for some uncomfortable sleep times. Through the windows set in the doors, I see clouds gathering to the west in the afternoon sky. That’s a good sign, and I hope they bring rain with them. I also hope whatever system seems to be trying to make its way to us, that it stretches far to the east when it does. It would be nice to have cloud cover all of the way, as long as the ceiling isn’t too low.
We are now in the ‘wait’ portion of the ‘hurry up and wait’ mode that we all know and love. We have the night and two more days before our planned departure. In the afternoon glow seeping in through the windows, the soldiers break out several decks of cards and more than one backgammon board can be seen as we spread across the hangar floor.
Looking up at the tall, arched roof overhead, I know that we won’t have to worry about a significant buildup of heat within which could show on any thermal imaging systems that may be perched high overhead. I just hope that our ruse worked, although there’s really no way of telling until we land and set the first boot on the ground.
After a while, the sky overhead slowly changes to a deep blue. The sun has descended below the cloud cover slowly inching eastward. The soldiers pack up their games and Lynn positions them with overlapping fields of fire toward the hangar entrances. Night is coming and, with it, the night runners are sure to make an appearance.
Just before total darkness settles in, I lay a line of ammonia from several jugs in front of the doors to try and mask our scent. Finishing, I stand next to the door and find that I can’t detect any hint of our odor. I realize that I hadn’t thought to ask or test Robert to see if he is able to see in the dark, or has enhanced hearing and smell. I’ll have to do that after darkness falls. Right now, with nighttime closing in, we have to keep our attention focused to see if our location is a secure one.
Just before the interior goes completely black, there is a rustling among the teams and night vision goggles are lowered. We crouch or kneel on the hard surface, and wait.
Night falls. The tension emanating from each one of us can be felt. I can reach out and touch it. The hangar walls have thick insulation to keep the large enclosure warm in the winter months, but even so, we all hear faint shrieks drifting to us, riding on the cool, night air.
* * * * * *
With his breath streaming behind him, Michael runs across an open field with part of his pack spread out to the side. He feels others as they race through the trees nearby, chasing down the various scents of prey hanging in the night air along game trails. Most nights, they hunt the surrounding countryside, finding enough to keep the pack fed.
As he races with his pack, hoping to catch food that may come into the field, attempting to elude the ones running through the trees, he only concentrates with part of his mind. The rest of it is tuned to the packs of his brethren far away. He’s felt them over the past nights as they’ve slowly made their way closer. Their large numbers have spread across the area where the ones he rescued once were. A while ago, he had felt their cries of suffering and went to help, rescuing those currently in his pack and eventually gathering them all together.
He senses the other strong presences in that direction and doesn’t know why they haven’t gathered in larger packs like his. If the stronger ones called, the small packs fending for themselves would surely gather.
Another of his mind is also searching for the death coming from the night sky. For the last few nights, and some of the nights before that, he’s sensed packs vanishing from his mind as they hunted the streets. Along with that, he’s seen the images of their panic from the light that pours down from the sky, felt their agony as those lights fell within their midst. Each night, he’s felt the anger rise within him, to the point that it almost consumes him. His kind is being decimated from that which he cannot see or fight.
He knows that the time for him to meet with the other strong presences is close at hand. In one regard, Sandra was right, they are going to need to take the fight to the two-leggeds if they are going to survive. With the losses he’s felt each and every night, he knows they won’t have a chance unless they kill them. They will lose many if they attack, but he now feels they will lose more if they don’t. The two-leggeds must go.
The next night, knowing it will be a long journey, Michael sets off with a few of his pack at first darkness. He keeps wide of the two-leggeds’ lair and constantly checks the sky for any sign of the death that floats in the darkness. Gazing into the cold night sky, seeing the thousands of twinkling lights blinking at him, he watches and listens for any signs that his pack has been seen. There isn’t any of the roaring from above that comes just before the rain of death. In the back of his mind, he has the feeling that he should know what it is in the sky but, every time he thinks about it, it frustratingly fades.
His run across fields and through streets holds off the cold that threatens to envelop him when he stops. The nights have been getting colder and it may get to the point that they won’t be able to go out in search of food. The pack will have to hold up in their lair, huddled together for warmth. That’s one of the reasons that he’s had some of his pack locate the food hidden in old two-legged lairs and store it. He knows of no way that they’ll be able to hunt if it gets too much colder, at least for long periods of time. In some capacity, hidden deep within the folds of his mind, he knows the cold won’t be permanent and the warm nights will return. They just have to make it until then.
A sliver of moonlight reflects off the water over which he runs with his pack behind. His exposed skin tingles from the radiated light, reminding him of the painful ball of light that keeps them to the night. Using one of the old two-legged paths used to cross the waterway, Michael quickly runs across and vanishes into the woods on the other side. Wary that he is approaching the area where he felt packs being decimated, he doesn’t want to stay in the open and be spotted.
Climbing out of the valley, he pauses on the edge of where some two-leggeds’ buildings begin. Standing in the tree line, he s
quats and listens. He doesn’t hear the roaring sound coming from the sky or feel any of the packs in the area permanently vanish from his mind. The other packs are spread for as far as he can sense, running through the night searching for food. Numerous images come to him: one pack running by a host of lairs, another relishing the taste of blood and fresh meat, and more filled with the eagerness of the chase. The night is filled with the shrieks of his kind.
He reaches out to the stronger presences he’s felt from afar, feeling each of them stop in their tracks as his thoughts reach them. Sensing each of them turn in his direction, he sends out a call for them to attend him. Several are hesitant, being nearly as strong in terms of presence as he; but in the end, they all turn toward him.
Shooting the Gap
Throughout the night, although we hear faint shrieks continuously—some drawing closer—there aren’t any night runners that approach and test the hangar’s integrity. We stand down after a while, turning the safety of the teams over to the watches set by Lynn. Before finding my sleeping bag on the hard floor, I ask Robert if he has the ability to see in the dark. Removing his NVGs, he glances around and tells me that he can see just as well without them. As he’s not used to it, it’s a little disconcerting for him at first, but he quickly catches on. I don’t know why with having this ability, that we aren’t sensitive to the light; but I’m thankful that’s the way it is.
We further test his hearing and smell and find that it has been enhanced as well. Once we return home, I’ll have to check this out with the others. And, I’m sure there are others like us that we haven’t run across yet. It may be that we have to incorporate this aspect of opening up when we are out in order to find them. They may have shut down their senses by this time, but it’s worth checking out nonetheless.
