by John O'Brien
“Anything?” I call out. She shakes her head and continues her surveillance. Lynn gives note of a pack of dogs trotting up one of the streets nearby but that is all she calls out. The minutes pass without seeing a soul.
“There’s someone coming up the road on a bicycle,” Lynn calls out startling us from our reveries. It’s not that we aren’t paying attention; it’s just that our thoughts meander when we’re still for a period of time.
“Wait, there’s a couple more behind also on bikes. They just rounded the corner,” she adds.
We turn in the direction she is pointing and see four people pedaling with effort up a short hill leading to the mall. They see us parked in the lot and stop. The person in front points us out to the others as they catch up. They start off again heading in our direction. It soon becomes clear that it’s a man, a woman, and two children, if children is the right word. They look to be in their early to mid-teens. They pull up at the edge of the lot and the man pedals forward.
“Are you the ones who gave the announcement earlier?” The man asks. I can tell he is wary by the way he left what is apparently his family at a distance. Not that it would do any good seeing we have vehicles but it’s a cautious move nonetheless.
“Yeah. Nice to see someone else has made it. I’m Jack,” I call out.
“I’m Calvin. Well, people call me Cal,” he shouts back. He doesn’t make a move toward us but stays in place straddling his bike.
“You’re welcome to join us, have a bite to eat, or just chat. You and the others with you won’t be harmed,” I say.
I see some hesitation but he lays his bike down, points to the others telling them to stay put, and walks into our circle. We shake hands and introductions are made. Gonzalez brings over a MRE and hands it to Cal. He tells us of their story of barricading their second story apartment and surviving night after night of night runners. He doesn’t use the term night runners but picks up on it as we mention it. Each day was filled with scrounging what they could from the corner marts and gas stations and repairing any damage to their fortifications.
We give a short version of our experiences in return. He waves his family over following and we are introduced to Janet, his wife, Peter, his fourteen-year old son, and Mary, his seventeen-year old daughter. They each take a MRE and devour the contents in no time flat. They agree to come with us as the thought of shelter without the nightly attacks is very much agreeable to them. Cal tells us it was only a matter of time for them and they feel lucky to have made it this far. There were a few others holding out in the same complex but they were overrun a while ago. As far as they know, they are the only ones left.
His conversation is interrupted by the sound of a vehicle approaching. A blue king cab pickup truck pulls into the lot with people piled in the bed. They pull to a stop just outside of our circle and seven people exit from the bed and interior. Again, introductions are made and we find that they are group of people that came upon each other while foraging and holed up in an aircraft hangar during the night.
The afternoon passes without a sign of anyone else. That’s all we find on this first outing; eleven people but that’s more than I expected. Cal and his family, along with some of the others who rode in the bed, board one of the buses. Simon, the driver of the truck, does not want to part with his truck so he drives behind the buses as we make our way back to Cabela’s. I inform Drescoll of our find and he passes it along to Bannerman and Frank.
Bannerman is present at the entrance to greet the newcomers as the bus pulls under the covered entrance. The rain has started again and we trudge through puddles after parking our vehicles in the lot. The crews working in the fields make their way through the mud and grass. I note the semi’s parked in a row on one side of the lots having apparently finished with the day’s training. I would say the sun was setting low in the west but there is no sign of it. The clouds cover us delivering their droplets in showers. The sky begins to get a darker shade of gray as our day winds to an end.
Our meeting that night is just a recap of the day with Lynn throwing in that phase two training for the first group will begin in the morning after the team training and formation.
“So, what’s the plan for those who finish the training? Are we planning on throwing them on existing teams, using them as replacements, hopefully we won’t have to deal with that, or creating new teams?” Lynn asks.
“I guess we should probably cover that. My initial thought is that we have everyone trained as some form of militia, so to speak, but the ones that excel or want to be on teams can be considered. We’ll need more than just armed teams running around. What do you think?” I ask.
“I’m with that thinking. Train everyone that comes in but they’ll have their own tasks or work groups run by Bannerman. The ones that want to be and qualify for a team should be put on one. Although we have eight teams now, we’ve found times, like those coming up, when we’ve been spread pretty thin,” Lynn answers.
“So we denote who is ready to lead a team and form others when we have people ready right?” I ask.
“That sounds like a good plan to me. I know for one that Jordan is ready,” Drescoll says.
“What about Gonzalez?” Lynn asks.
“Yeah, she’s ready but I’d like to leave her in place as she pretty much leads Red Team when I’m not there,” I answer.
“Okay, I think Watkins mentioned something about Cressman and that she may be ready,” Lynn says. “We’ll fill out the teams as we need and as people become available.”
“Let’s keep in mind that we need others to work in other areas. This isn’t only about filling and creating teams,” Bannerman states.
“Agreed. So we keep it to those that want to and excel in the training,” Lynn says.
“I’ll leave that to you then,” I say.
“Yeah, gee, thanks, Jack,” Lynn says as yet another thing is heaped on her already busy plate.
Bannerman clears his throat to change the subject and adds, “Well, we finished the fences today and will be starting on the structures tomorrow. I’ll need some people to head out with flatbeds to pick up a great deal of lumber from the surrounding yards. And some others to start taking the greenhouses down. We won’t be able to put up more concrete pads until the rain clears. The training today with the trucks went well and they should be able to make their way down the road without dropping transmission pieces all over. We still have some work on backing up with a trailer but I don’t foresee that being a great problem tomorrow.”
“Jack, I have something that’s been bugging me. Well, not exactly bugging me per se but rather that’s been on my mind,” Drescoll says and looks at Robert and Bri before continuing. “Forgive me if this comes out wrong but didn’t you think that was, what was her name, oh yes, Julie. Didn’t you think that was her in the house when you told your story of getting Robert and Bri?”
“Yeah, I thought it was for sure but I’m guessing I was wrong and not for the first time,” I answer.
“What if you weren’t wrong? I talked some with her and there seems to be a huge gap in her memory,” Drescoll states.
Silence settles among the group as the ramifications of what he is saying is slowly absorbed. Bri tilts her head and looks at me in askance. Robert stares with his mouth open slightly and turns looking for his mom. The others have a glaze wash over their eyes as they draw inwards thinking of what Drescoll’s question implies.
“I just had to be wrong, that’s all. We would have seen others I think if that were possible. I mean, we’re talking about a genetic alteration. I don’t know but that doesn’t just disappear, does it?” I say but not terribly sure of what I’m talking about.
“Think about it,” Drescoll pushes on. “That means she would have to have some sort of antibodies or something. If that were true, couldn’t we use that to reverse the whole process?”
“I am no physicist or geneticist. Or kind ofany ‘cist’ for that matter. I wouldn’t know the first thing ab
out that. Or how to use it or synthesize it. I don’t know that anyone here would either. That’s a pretty big ballgame we’re talking about. And we’re not even sure that’s what happened. She could have just hit her head or something. I wouldn’t even know how to check for something like that,” I answer. “Anyone have anything even remotely close to an answer?”
Everyone shakes their head. Frank said he’d ask around to see if anyone had any expertise but I’m highly doubtful. Anyone with that kind of knowledge would be working for the CDC or some research facility although the University of Washington had a pretty good medical department and medical research going on. My knowledge is frightfully small in that area other than knowing that genetic changes are possible. One only has to look outside at night to know that. All I know about it could be crammed into a thimble with room left over for a finger.
A thought runs through my head that we’ve all seen too many movies about this very thing and it seems so easy on screen. In real life, like many things, not so true. My realm of expertise on the subject would be to draw someone’s blood and shoot it into one of the night runners and see what happened. I mean besides pissing it the hell off. Nope, not into running around with a pissed off night runner just to see what his or her reaction would be. The ramifications that Drescoll has brought up is making my head hurt again. I check my ears for a trickle of blood.
“Well, one thing we aren’t going to do is experiment with people but if we do find someone with some knowledge, I’d be happy to hear them out,” I say after another long bout of silence. We don’t have a final word but just drift away as our thoughts about what Drescoll said almost paralyzes any other process.
The next morning dawns with mostly clear skies. It’s obvious it rained through the night but the clouds have parted leaving only faint reminders they were there. A few clouds still gather but for the most part, it’s another nice day coming our way. The sun glistens off the wet pavement as I gather the teams together before our daily training.
“I just want to let you know that I haven’t forgotten that you have families as well,” I begin addressing the group in a semi-circle around me; some kneeling on the still wet parking lot while others stand cradling their M-4’s. “I plan to take the 130 out when we can afford the time but it’ll have to be soon.” I see several faces light up.
“Now, there are limits we have to observe. First, any home or place we go has to be within 100 miles of a military airfield. We have to have JP-4 available. We can obviously only use the daylight and we have to be able to get there, search, and return by nightfall. We have to stay west of a line running from the middle of Texas due north to the eastern border of North Dakota. The majority of nuclear power plants lies east of that line and has most likely rendered the eastern part of the country inhospitable,” I continue.
Several faces fall at the news of the limitations. McCafferty raises her hand. “Sir, exactly what is the limit for Texas?” She asks with a hint of trepidation in her voice.
“What place are you thinking about?” I ask in return.
“Lubbock, sir,” she answer.
“That should be far enough west,” I say seeing her eyes light up.
“I’m sorry for those that have family outside of those areas. I truly am and if we could, we’d go find out about everyone but the hard fact is that we can’t risk going east of that line,” I say.
I feel sick at heart looking at some of the crestfallen faces. I’d like to say I know of that feeling and could empathize with them but my kids are safe. I could perhaps share in the anxiety of not knowing they are safe given recent events but to totally not be able to find out or know for sure, no, no one who isn’t going through that could possibly know.
“Sir, are you sure the power plants melted down?” One soldier asks.
“I’m pretty sure,” I say looking to see who asked so I can address them directly but I can’t tell. “All of the safety systems and triple-redundant fail-safes relied on their own generation of power. When that power isn’t available, then the chain reactions start. I’m quite sure they are all in the process of melting down if they haven’t already. With the predominant eastern flow of wind and the numerous plants on that side of the country, well, the coverage has to be almost complete and we wouldn’t know until it was possibly too late. I’m truly sorry.”
The silence is complete. There’s a shifting of feet as some are eager and others saddened. To say this situation is awkward is to put it mildly. I would rather be in the midst of a proctology exam than be standing here telling the ones that have family in possible radiation zones that we can’t go there.
“So, I need a show of hands of who wants to go and who might have family or loved ones within those parameters,” I say wanting this awkwardness to be over.
A few raise their hands. I notice all of Red Team have their hands in the air. That makes it easy, I think counting the others. I ask Lynn to contact Watkins down in the Columbia Gorge with the information to see how many he has that can and would like to go. In all, we find twelve that can and are going. I let them know that we’ll have to wait for an opportune time but that it’ll also have to be soon. If we miss our window for any reason, we won’t be able to attempt it and to also prepare for that eventuality. Several ask about heading out with ground transportation if their homes are too far from a military field. I answer that we may be able to do that in the future but depleting our already thin resources for the period of time it will take isn’t possible at this time. I leave them with the, “we’ll have to see what the future holds. If we can, we will do just that.” The throaty roar of semi’s starting punctuates the atmosphere. Clouds of smoke rise from their stacks.
“Okay everyone, form up and let’s get on with this morning’s training,” Lynn says saving me from any further discomfort.
I had thought this would be mostly good news for the soldiers but it’s mixed. Even the ones who can go feel bad for the ones who can’t. There is a lot of shoulder patting as the teams head across parking lot. I suddenly feel very tired.
“Coming, Jack?” Lynn asks over her shoulder as she walks along with the others. I nod and head over to where they’re gathering.
After training, I lift off in the helicopter and head north. I’m solo today as Robert and Bri are starting the second part of their training today. I still have a queasy feeling in my stomach from this morning with the soldiers. I don’t think they have any hard feelings toward me but sometimes the messenger is associated with the feeling of pain or anguish. I felt bad seeing some of their faces as the hope of finding their loved ones, slim as it may be, was dashed. Sure, there were the vague promises of heading out over land but they know the line across the country still stands. Lynn and I had a private chat after training to be prepared for some leaving. Even knowing the extreme dangers in all of the forms this new world presents won’t stop the pull of wanting to know. I have no doubt that some will leave. However, it’s my hope that the camaraderie found with their colleagues will keep them here.
I head into the clear sky and am presented with the wide open wilderness of it all. The blue sky above with a scattering of clouds; the tail remnants of the front that came through. The vast area around is devoid of any form of life. No movement; just the open areas, the waters of the Puget Sound and the rivers feeding it, the brown fields, the houses nestled in amongst trees, the backyards that hold memories of days past. Even the birds seem to have disappeared. It brings a lonely feeling.
Frank picked out an area around Fort Lewis. I’ll cover the base itself, although we traversed it once seemingly years ago, and the surrounding towns of DuPont and Tillicum. The rally point will be the main entrance to Fort Lewis; actually, the Interstate just in front but the main gate will be a recognizable description to anyone in the area. I fly over the empty towns and base, once busy centers of activity, and broadcast the same message as the day before. I land at Gray Army Airfield and switch out helicopters before making my way through the bri
ght morning back to base.
Bringing it in for a landing, I see Robert, Bri, and a few others in the brown field sitting in a semi-circle around Lynn next to my landing spot. They are beginning the next part of their training. Another larger group is gathered around several other team members. It appears Lynn has started another phase one training group and is leaving it up to the teams to teach this portion. I bring it in and set it down with the group holding onto anything that might blow away and disappear in the tall grass. Lynn looks over with an irritated look and I just shrug. That look tells me it’s a good thing I didn’t follow through with an earlier thought of hovering right over the top of them.
I shut down and head inside to gather the three teams to meet at our broadcast time outside of Fort Lewis. It’s much the same as yesterday except we head north. We only find five people who answer our call; one husband and wife with their young daughter and two other men in their mid to late twenties. None come from the base but I’m happy to be finding some survivors still existing in the world.
I take Robert and Bri aside that evening instead of heading to the roof so we can go through some additional training. My hope is to pass on what little wisdom and knowledge I have. My overall plan is to combine tracking, stealth, and tactical techniques with some discussion thrown in. This training will now encompass our evenings together but we can still go to the roof when the training only involves discussions. I’m not a master of any of these but, like I mentioned before, you only have to be one step ahead to teach.
The evening is more of a recap with Bannerman telling of progress with the buildings. A lot was accomplished in getting one of the large greenhouses apart and that should be finished within the next couple of days. Several large lumber yards were found, thank goodness for being in the Northwest, and he’ll start hauling the material back the next day. He tells of Watkin’s status and that he should be finished and on his way soon. I’m a little edgy about them staying away for so long seeing there is the very real potential of marauders but I’m sure the sight of the Stryker vehicles will make anyone think twice. At any rate, I’ll be happier when they return.
