A New World: Storm

by John O'Brien

  “Okay. Keep a lookout for vehicle tracks, movement during the day, heat signatures; you know, that kind of thing,” I say.

  He gives me a look that makes me think I’m Captain Obvious explaining the concept of "round" to a physics professor.

  Ignoring the look, which I’ve had some practice with given that I often state the obvious, I ask: “Have you had any luck contacting any of the other groups?”

  “We have had some luck in that arena. Yesterday, we managed to establish communication with some of the smaller ones via ham radio. We didn’t really say much other than exchanging a few words. I didn’t know exactly what you wanted shared,” Harold replies.

  “Okay. When you speak with them next, would you hand out the names on this list?” I ask, handing him the list of names from the soldiers at Mountain Home. “Sergeant Montore should have another one for you sometime today.”

  “Okay, Jack. I’ll see that they get them.”

  Lynn and I adjourn to a conference room to figure out what remains to be done before we leave for home. For the time being, there is no doubt that we’ll be using the bunker and maintaining two locations. I’m not sure to what extent we’ll eventually use the underground facility, but it is well equipped for survival. Thinking about moving, I know how Jason felt about the idea of having to leave the camp he created.

  Although anxious about returning home, Lynn and I agree to spend another day if we manage to contact the encampments Harold indicated and they are receptive to housing some of the soldiers. It will also give us a chance to establish better lines of communication with them. It’s not that we’d be neighbors who could help out at a moment’s notice, but it’s nice to be able to stay in touch with other survivors.

  Harold shows me the radio and the afternoon is spent raising the other camps. After lengthy talks disclosing what we know, most are receptive to accepting the soldiers offered. Montore presents the list of places, asks for volunteers, and then assigns soldiers close to their homes. When all is said and done with the selections, Montore and just over a hundred and fifty soldiers will be accompanying us back to Cabela’s.

  The next day is spent ferrying soldiers from camp to camp. The camps we visit are in various conditions; some just eking out a living, others doing moderately well. They are scattered across the western part of what used to be the US, with some in Canada along the border. There isn’t really a pattern to their locations other than being removed from heavily populated centers – or once-heavily populated. Those places are now filled with night runners. We spend some time on the ground exchanging stories, but our time is short and we make only brief visits.

  From the moment the sun comes up, we hop from one camp to another, Craig, Robert, and I sharing in the flying so exhaustion doesn’t set in; other than the usual kind that occurs from having to spend most of the day sitting. Every place we visit seems enthusiastic, considering their conditions, about receiving the extra help and being able to communicate with other surviving groups. Some had thought they were the only ones left. At first, I feel a little hesitant about sharing the location of the bunker and our compound, having felt the taste of marauding groups, but the soldiers we leave behind will know their whereabouts anyway. Even in the brief time we spend with each group, I can tell they have banded together to see to their own survival and aren’t interested in taking from others. Of course, once they reach the limit of their endurance or start having difficulties, who knows what they will be capable of. People in desperate situations take desperate measures. With our communication, perhaps we can help them avoid that fate.

  At any rate, I share a little of our information, keeping some of it to myself. Those I feel are on the up and up, and there are very few exceptions, I invite to join with us if they want. Almost to a camp, they decline, having found a measure of safety where they are. It’s the known versus the unknown, but they do agree to stay in contact. I tell them the same that I told Jason, to let us know if things become too difficult and that we’d come get them if we could. Flight will only be an option for a short period of time, but if we can't pick them up, they should make their way to the bunker or to the northwest.

  The remarkable thing about the camps is how many have established solar power generation. They were able to scavenge what they needed and put together workable solutions. Some created solar hot water cells out of copper tubing; others were making do without power at all. Very weary after a day of hopping from one place to the other, we arrive back at the bunker. I inform Montore that the camps were presented with lists of their families and that he and the soldiers will be notified if we hear anything. So far, the list we gave out hasn’t produced any family members, but we also brought back lists from the camps that we’ll distribute among the other survivors. In essence, we’re going to set up an ongoing list of names from all locations that we’ll put up in an effort for others to locate loved ones.

  Contacting Mountain Home before I rest my head, I arrange for some of the soldiers there to drive to the bunker to transfer some of the armored vehicles. Based on our contact with the groups and the list of survivors, our group appears to be the largest, with Mountain Home coming in second. That is, with the exception of Fort McMurray far to the north, which appears to have more than the both of us combined. We’ll have to make an endeavor to contact them as soon as we can. So far, efforts from Harold in that regard haven’t produced any results.

  An Interesting Find

  Waking the next morning, my head feels like someone reached in and stuffed it with a wad of cotton…and a marching corps of drummers. My thoughts are racing and unfocused as I lace my boots. I thought that we’d be in and out of the facility during the initial planning, heading back to our compound almost immediately. Instead, we’ve been stuck here like our boots were glued to the concrete. The information we gathered regarding the satellite is both exciting and frustrating at the same time.

  However, the fact that we have satellites to help with our night runner problem is probably one of our most beneficial gains to date. We should be able to pinpoint night runner lairs and take them out. Of course, that could lead to unforeseen ramifications, as so far they've been able to adapt to whatever we throw at them. We’ll lose our ability to use the satellites soon, and if we aren’t able to get the satellite working before then, we’ll have taken a giant step backward, leaving us where we were. And, when the fuel goes bad, we’ll lose our airborne assets. I worry about that more than anything else, as it will put us at a distinct disadvantage…and with our low numbers, we are already at one.

  We’ve kept up communications with Leonard. There isn’t really much to share, other than progress updates on their trip toward Bangor. It’s more maintaining contact than any actual information.

  Lynn has preceded me into the vehicle bay, which, while not quite a frenzy of activity, is very busy with people on one task or another. It’s evident that Lynn has set wheels in motion. I really don’t know what I’d do without her leadership. Without her ability to organize and make things happen, we’d all be scrambling to stay alive…if we even managed that. The soldiers that will be accompanying us are throwing duffel bags into the rear of vehicles. Alpha, Bravo, and Green Teams will be staying behind with Harold, with Watkins in charge. They’ll drive the loaded vehicles to the aircraft, help load up, and return once we depart.

  Looking at the people getting ready to leave, I see there isn’t really much for me to do. The return route has already been planned and we’ll input it into each of the nav computers when we board. A quick check in the control room shows that we should have fairly good weather for our trip back. There are a few layers of clouds close to Olympia from a front that looks to be heading in. That shouldn’t affect our flight, but it could bring low ceilings and rain with it. That could be a factor when we resume our nightly forays up north.

  I’m anxious not only to get back, but also to set up the relay monitors so we can have this information at our fingertips. We won’t be abl
e to control too much of anything, and will have to task Harold for most that we’ll require, but we can put that part into place if we need to. While I’m becoming more and more relaxed with the idea of Montore and his soldiers coming along, I’m still feeling a little hesitant about the technicians. There’s no real reason for this feeling, as they have seemed to have folded in line and have helped Harold with what he’s required of them. Perhaps it’s that they were a little closer to what was going on and went along with it. Maybe it’s because I am better able to relate to the soldiers.

  It takes a while, but we eventually load the 130 with all of the gear. The soldiers, the three technicians, and Jan make themselves as comfortable as possible. Craig, Robert, and Bri will fly the Spooky back. Although my trust factor is better than it was, I don’t want them flying the others back. I’ll be flying the 130 with Gonzalez acting as my flight engineer. The teams will be the only ones armed, to ensure that nothing happens inflight. It’s not that I’m worried they would actually hijack the aircraft, it’s just that, well, it just is. Once we arrive, we can sort things out and come up with a better solution.

  The flight proceeds smoothly and we are soon descending through thin cloud layers. I alerted Frank and Bannerman of our flight back to the compound and they are waiting as we land and taxi in. Bannerman has his usual "I don’t know where we’re going to fit them" comment, but our housing development is starting to take shape. We won’t have to be pressed into tight quarters for much longer. Once he is given a project, it seems to go happen quickly. I understand his concern though; the infusion of a hundred and fifty others will push our already cramped quarters to the limit and consume the supplies we’ve gathered at an exponentially greater rate. If we do decide to relocate, and that’s only a small itch in the back of my mind, the housing concern will fall off the radar.

  Like everything else we’ve been presented with, Bannerman takes our newcomers in stride. After showing the soldiers where they can park their gear, he takes the technicians and their equipment to a location separate from our control room to begin setting up. It will take some time to establish a relay, but he allocates some of those within our group to assist. Lynn assigns Horace and some of her team to keep an eye on them. Bannerman is even able to allocate some space for Jan to work in. It’s not much and there isn’t much she can do at the moment, but it’s a place for her to set up her files.

  I had mentioned Jan and her research to Frank and he immediately gathers with her to learn all that she knows about the night runners. Anything he can glean from her research and the testing they did at the CDC may help us.

  Even though there is a lot that we need to focus on, and with the danger to the north still pressing in on us, it’s good to be back. The last few days have taken their toll on me, and I’m exhausted. I know there is a lot on our plate, and a lot of decisions that need to be made, but at least we took care of one major threat and now we can hopefully concentrate our efforts. We just need to decide on what those will be. However, first things first. I’m starving and I smell like an outhouse exploded on me. I’m not sure if I’m wearing the fatigues or they are wearing me. I’m pretty sure they could walk through the fields on their own and I’m surprised they haven’t broken; not torn or ripped, but actually broken…snapped off. If I tossed them into a night runner lair, I could use them as an area denial weapon.

  I let everyone get settled and cleaned up before we gather for a meeting. It’s important that we bring everyone up to speed and make plans for our immediate future. We may be out of the fire with regards to the one group targeting us, but time is still not on our side. I’m sure the night runners didn’t take a time out while we dealt with other matters. It would be nice if they did, but they aren’t very accommodating in that regard. On my way to the showers after eating, I see Greg conversing with some of the soldiers we brought in. It’s good to see him up and about. For some reason, seeing him recovered to the extent that he can rejoin the group leads me to believe things just might turn out okay.

  Following the initial bustle that the sudden influx of people creates, and with the day fading into late afternoon, we gather to meet where some shit happened. Okay, actually we gather to meet to talk about moving forward, more specifically, what we’re going to do about the neighbors up north. I’ve been anxious about this conversation.

  “Nice to see you’re feeling better,” I say to Greg, who has joined us.

  “I’m not sure what your definition of feeling better is, but it’s nice to get off that bed. Although, I could get used to being waited on,” he comments.

  “When this is over, I’ll see that you’re set up with a lawn chair on the beach. The waiting on? You’ll have to figure that one out on your own,” I say.

  “Awww…and here I was thinking I’d pretty myself up in the hopes that you would do that,” Greg says, grinning.

  “It’s always nice to have hopes and dreams,” I respond. “And the thought of you getting ‘prettied up,’ well, let’s just not go there. There isn’t enough bleach in the world to erase that image.”

  “You like it and you know it,” Greg replies.

  “No…no,” I say, shaking my head. “You couldn’t be more wrong if you tried.”

  “If you two are done making out, can we move along?” Lynn interjects.

  I’m about to ask if she has somewhere else to be, but anticipating a snide comment, she turns sharply toward me. Exhibiting one of my wiser decisions, and admittedly, those are far and few between, I keep my mouth shut.

  Clearing my throat, I begin by telling about my adventures, if that’s the correct phraseology. To me, they are anything but that. I focus on the bunker, the satellite Harold is working on, and although everyone already knows the importance of it, I detail what it could mean to us. Having the potential of eliminating nearly two-thirds of the night runner population in a single stroke could make all of the difference.

  “I don’t have to remind you that the night runners are breeding and the number differential we’re looking at now will only get worse,” I state.

  “Wait, did you say the infected are breeding?” Jan, whom I invited to the meeting, asks.

  “Well, we’re not entirely positive. If they are, we don't know at what rate,” I say, describing the fact that we observed a pregnant female when rescuing Lynn.

  “We haven’t found any other signs of pregnancy on the videos and pictures we have, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t. That only means that we haven’t found any on the streets at night,” Frank adds.

  “We knew they had the capability, at least anatomically. I never would have guessed that they would actually attempt to reproduce. That takes it to a whole other level,” she says, musing.

  Jan then relates her findings from the CDC to the group as a whole, not being able to add much from her own research due to lack of resources.

  “Do you think there’s a chance of coming up with something if you had the right equipment?” Frank asks.

  “I’m not sure if there’s anything that can be done, but it’s like playing the lottery: If you don’t buy a ticket, the odds drop to zero,” she states.

  “I know there are research labs at the University of Washington. I don’t pretend to know what would be there, but it seems likely we could find what you need,” Frank says.

  “I did some research work there and remember some of the layout. I’d prefer the equipment we had at the CDC.”

  I chuckle and tell her the story of our excitement entering that facility.

  “UW it is, then,” she says.

  “I know that’s important and may be one of our avenues if we can’t get the satellite functioning in time, but we have other pressing issues to discuss. So, let’s put that on our to-do list and press on,” I comment.

  I continue relating Harold’s work on the satellite, the setup we have at the bunker, and our contact with other groups. I also mention that there is apparently a large group in northern Canada and that I’ve asked H
arold to direct a satellite overflight so we can get a better look. I finish by talking about the relay we're setting up here and that we're assigning a satellite specifically set to monitor the night runners up north. I know I’ve briefed these things before, but it’s important that everyone stays on the same page.

  “Before we move on, I’d like to mention the people I ran across in the town of Lamar. They didn’t have any problems with night runners and were pretty well set up with regards to their long-term survival,” Greg says.

  At the mention of his experience, the mood dampens as we remember the loss of those with him. An entire team, along with the people they rescued, wiped out. I never did hear his whole story and only had assumptions based on what we found.

  He relates his experience with the town and farming community they ran into on their way to look for families; about how the townspeople cleared out a community in the middle of nowhere with good access to water and surrounded by farms. To hear Greg tell it, they were more than just eking out a living; they were prospering. He, of course, mentions how he thought the townspeople eradicated the problem to begin with. Frank nods at this, knowing the base commander at the Azores ordered the same thing. That method had been working for the base until several of the remaining personnel left and the night runners from the town showed up.

  “What I’m trying to say is that we might want to think about doing the same thing. I know we are established here and we have worked hard to make it what it is, but if we can’t keep the night runners at bay, perhaps we should find the same thing for ourselves. I don’t mean to complicate matters, but it’s something we should think about,” Greg says.

  “I also think that’s something we should have on the table,” Frank states.

  “Okay, let’s add that to our list,” I reply, thinking of how long that list is apt to get.

  Greg continues with his story, leaving out some of the more morbid details, but tells his account of arriving in Manitou Springs, encountering the group in the cave, the rescue, and subsequent chase.