A New World: Storm

by John O'Brien

  “Wait, isn’t Manitou Springs close to the bunker?” Lynn asks.

  “Well, from what you've said, it’s a little south of there, but yes, it’s relatively close,” Greg answers. “I’m not exactly sure of the status of those we saw, though. There were smoke pillars in the distance, and I’m reasonably sure the people chasing us caused them. It could have been the ones in the caves being hit, or it could have been something else entirely. I really wouldn’t know one way or the other. We really didn’t stick around to find out.”

  “That’s a concern, having a group like that close by. It just seems to me that we can’t have a bunch like that roaming around, especially close to the bunker. They’d have a hard time getting in, but they could hamper operations. And if we lost Harold through some mishap…” Frank mentions, trailing off and leaving the last part unspoken.

  “I think it’s something we should check out. I could ask Harold to conduct an overflight with a satellite, but we’re already over tasking those and we may not see much if they are in caves. The best we could do is see if they have vehicles parked nearby and check it out for tracks,” I say.

  “Are you thinking of going in on the ground, Jack?” Lynn asks.

  “I was thinking of something like that. We’ll need to add it to our list, which we’ll need to prioritize after we look at everything,” I answer. “And we haven’t even scratched the surface of what we need to do yet. Frank, have we seen any changes in the night runners up north?”

  “No, there’s nothing that I’ve noticed. They still seem to be in smaller groups, but we’re also only getting snapshots in differing locations. It’s like trying to see a puzzle with only a couple of pieces in place. We’ll definitely get a better picture once we can get satellite footage. We can look at their movements and hopefully locate their lairs to hit. Over time, we’ll be able to see what their overall trend is as far as movement and see if our efforts are making any difference in pushing them to the east. If that’s what we’re still planning to do,” Frank answers.

  “I don’t see where we need to change that thinking,” I respond. “Bannerman, where do we stand with regards to our efforts at gathering items from the north?”

  “We have taken just about everything we can from the bases and are storing them here. It’s mostly ammunition and weapons. We’ve filled the equipment hangar with vehicles, but we can always swing around the long way if we need more. It’s not like taking the bridges out will hamper us that much. We’ve located several distribution centers to the south and have started moving supplies in from there. With the influx of people, we’ll need to gather more storage containers from the docks. I’ve also brought in fuel bladders from the bases and have established a small refueling depot near the runway. I have a couple of flatbeds set up with the bladders so we can make fuel runs up north as we need,” Bannerman reports.

  “I know we haven’t been back for long, but how do we stand from a personnel perspective?” I ask Lynn.

  “Well, there’s really not much. We have the five new teams, but keep in mind that they are new and we haven’t worked with them outside of training. Although, from what I’ve heard, they have done well providing security and escort duties in the days that we’ve been gone,” Lynn starts.

  “I can attest to that,” Bannerman chimes in.

  “We left three experienced teams at the bunker. Even though that leaves us with greater numbers, I’m still counting that as breaking even. We do have the nearly one hundred and fifty soldiers we brought back that are already trained. We may or may not have to put them through phase two training, but I’ll get together with Sergeant Montore and evaluate that,” Lynn states.

  “What’s your thinking with regards to incorporating them?” I query.

  “I don’t know. If we broke them into teams like we’ve been doing, we’d end up with a lot of teams running around, and that could get more difficult to manage. Not to mention the fact that we’d quickly run out of team leaders. My initial thought is to keep them together as a company and assign them tasks…let the commander, whomever we designate, make the assignments accordingly. I know that may not be a warm and comfy condition considering recent events, but I can’t think of anything else. We’ve taken them on and don’t have enough teams to disperse them,” Lynn replies.

  “Okay, so here’s what we have so far. We need to gather info from up north, both with the satellite Harold is going to task and with the Spooky, gather more storage containers, blow the bridges, and see about those who were in Manitou Springs. I’d also like to contact the group in northern Canada if that’s feasible. According to the file on the camps, they have a lot of people up that way,” I say, trying to get things in some semblance of order.

  “That’s what I have so far,” Bannerman says. I should probably be more like him and start writing shit down.

  “All right. I would like to get back to what Greg mentioned regarding a possible move to the bunker. I don’t think we’re ready for that discussion now, but I’d like each of you to think about it and the possible ramifications of staying versus leaving. And what it would take to conduct such an effort. Tomorrow afternoon, after we get enough containers to support our needs, I’ll take the Spooky aloft and we’ll take down the bridges, provided that will give you enough time,” I say, looking to Bannerman.

  “We should be able to get enough if we throw enough people at it. We’ve basically just doubled our population, so I don’t see that as a problem, if Lynn is ready to release the soldiers to be assigned.”

  “I’ll talk with Montore first thing and we’ll go from there,” Lynn says, not committing to anything at the moment.

  “Okay, we’ll touch base in the afternoon and see where we stand. Oh, while I’m thinking about it, can we have the mechanic give the aircraft a good going over? It seems like we’ll be using the Spooky and possibly the 130 a lot in the coming days and I’d like them in tip-top shape. With all of the use we’ve been putting them through, I have no idea how mechanically sound they are,” I state.

  “I’ll have him look them over,” Bannerman responds.

  “And hopefully we’ll have the relay up and running by then as well. I’m not sure where Harold is, as far as positioning the satellite, but it may be that we can start gathering better intel tomorrow or the day after. We can also make a run up north with the Spooky tomorrow night and see what our friends have been up to,” I say.

  “When do you think we’ll check out the caves and the northern Canadian group?” Frank asks.

  “I’m not sure at the moment. We have a lot to think about so let’s get together tomorrow evening and touch base. It may be that we wait until we have satellite info before we come up with an actual plan,” I answer. “At the very least, we need to stay with our initial plan to try and push the night runners to the east. And, let’s not forget that Leonard is on his way to Bangor with four subs. I don’t know what his plans are, but we need to keep that in mind as well.”

  “One last thing, Jack. It’s nothing serious, but it’s something you asked me to keep an eye on. We’re experiencing slight radiation level increases. Again, it’s nothing that warrants any more attention than keeping a watch on. It may be some of the fallout coming across the Pacific, and as we stand, we’re well within safe levels. Like I said, it’s nothing drastic, but it has been increasing slightly since we’ve been monitoring it,” Frank briefs.

  Oh great, something else to worry about. It’s not like we didn’t know about it, but it does make me think more about the bunker.

  Later that evening, while lying on my cot and listening to the rustle of people settling in for the night, I stare at the plywood sheets nailed to the beams overhead. With my head cradled in my interlaced fingers, I consider just what we have accomplished. The amount of things we’ve gone through seems so much larger than the few months we’ve experienced. And yet, here we sit with danger still knocking at our door. Even though a lot of things are better – for instance, the ability t
o lie down without screaming hordes pounding to get in – it seems in some ways that we are in no better shape than when we started. We’ve made gains, but those have only seemed to keep us one step ahead…if that. And, it seems to me like we’re about to lose that small margin. There’s a feeling deep within that feels all we’re doing is for naught and I’m not exactly liking the sensation.

  “So, what do you think?” I ask Lynn, lying beside me.

  “About what?” she asks in return.

  “About relocating,” I say.

  “Well, Jack, the bunker does offer a lot. There may not be as much fishing or hunting as readily available as there is here, but the conditions aren’t bad. It’s not like we’ve been taking advantage of the game anyway. And, more importantly, there aren’t half a million night runners running through the streets a few miles to the north,” she answers.

  “True enough. Do you think it will really offer what we need?”

  “Jack, you don’t need me to answer that. You’ve been there yourself. If you want me to say yes; then yes, it offers what we need,” she says, turning to look at me.

  “I know. It’s just difficult thinking about giving this up and leaving.”

  “Yeah, these guest room suites would be hard to give up,” she chuckles, sweeping an arm to indicate our luxurious wooden box with a curtain for a door.

  “You know what I mean,” I state.

  “Yeah, Jack, I do. And I don’t have the right answer. It would be a big undertaking moving everything, but I’m more worried about the night runners up north. We can’t take them all out. The best we can hope for is to thin them a little. Even so, it would barely make a dent in their numbers. If our efforts to move them east are for naught and they decide to sweep down, there’s nothing we can do to stop them. But you already know that as well. What’s eating you?” she asks.

  “Nothing,” I reply.

  She laughs. “That is such a woman answer.”

  “Okay, fine. I hate to leave this place. Even though it’s more than likely the right move, I have reservations about it considering the effort in sweat and blood that we’ve put into it. I know how Jason felt about the thought of leaving Mountain Home. Cabela’s, for me, has become synonymous with safety…a sanctuary. I know the bunker will be better and it has more room. Hell, the place is damn near perfect. Yet, here I am hesitating. See, it’s shit like this that gets to me. It’s obvious what we have to do, but I can’t pull the trigger,” I reply.

  “No one likes having to leave something they built from scratch. And, believe me, none of us are going to be dancing at the thought of leaving, if it does comes down to that. Well, except for Bannerman, that is. He might dance from the sheer fact that there is room for everyone and he won’t have to harp on providing adequate sleeping quarters. Sleep on it though, it’s not like we have to decide tonight,” Lynn says.

  I try, but my mind is full of racing thoughts. Mostly, trying to will Harold to a solution with the satellite. Eventually, I drift off.

  In the morning, I feel better. I haven’t come to a decision, that’s for the group to come up with, but I’m okay with whatever we arrive at. Cabela’s still holds the feeling of home for me, and the idea of spending lengths of time underground is a little unnerving, but I don’t have the reservations I had the night before. For now though, it’s time to see to the things we can do today, and plan for tomorrow.

  It ends up that there isn’t really much for me to do. Bannerman dispatches crews to gather additional storage containers and we ground the aircraft for the day to have the mechanic look over them. I accompany Lynn when she meets with Montore, and after some discussion, she releases them for duty. We agree to have them fold into a single company led by Montore, with the caveat that we may disperse some to other encampments we come across. Checking in with the technicians installing the equipment, I find that they will need the rest of the day to finish up.

  All in all, I find myself wandering around making busy work. I’m not accustomed to having nothing to do and it’s not a comfortable feeling. Each day since this all began has been one busy day after another, with not enough hours in each one. Although a lot is getting done, I worry about how little time we do have. Having nothing to do allows my mind more time for thoughts to randomly circulate, which is never a good thing. The meeting that evening is quick, as there isn’t much to report.

  It’s not until the afternoon two days later that I actually have something to do, by which time I’m ready to lick the walls. It should be a good feeling to have had a couple of days off, but it’s just not something I’m acquainted with. I should have spent the time giving my mind a break or planning in the event we decide to move, but what I end up doing is managing to annoy everyone else. The aircraft have been serviced, additional containers have been brought in along with supplies from the distribution center up north, and our relay has been installed and tested. Bannerman feels we’re adequately supplied with storage regardless of what avenue we take.

  With the aircraft certified airworthy, well, as much as the mechanic can do so, we’ll begin taking out the bridges to the north, which will hopefully push the night runners east when they move onward. Frank is quite certain on that point: The night runners will move, it’s just a matter of when. With that many scattered in the area from Tacoma north to Seattle, it’s inevitable that their food supply will dwindle, forcing them to move.

  Bannerman directed some of Montore’s soldiers to set fires toward the south end of Tacoma, well away from bases and the fuel depots, hoping that will aid in the efforts. Although that will create a vast area of scorched earth, it will also hamper our ability to do much of anything else. The basic idea is to create an area of deniability regarding food and shelter, whereby the night runners will hopefully then venture into the formerly populated areas to the east in search of easier prey and places to hole up. Then, if they do head south afterward, they will skirt around our compound. Hopefully our scent, and that of the cattle we are maintaining, won’t draw them back in our direction.

  The weather has grown more overcast over the past couple of days as the clouds thicken. Harold let us know that a front was closing in, and although he wasn’t a meteorologist, said it looked like it was moving slowly and might remain for several days. Driving to the Spooky with Robert, Bri, Craig, and the rest of the crew, the first droplets of rain splatter on the windshield. It’s not heavy, but the gray clouds overhead promise more. Looking upward, the visibility is still good enough for what we need to do, and if we delay, we may not get another chance at the bridges for some time. Besides, I’m sure everyone at the compound is ready for me to do something other than bother them. I’m also thankful we were able to get some dry days in which to conduct the burns. By the look of things, we may not be able to get back to those for a while.

  We have three bridges to take out, all within a one-mile radius. One is a wooden railroad trestle; another, a two-lane concrete structure. Those shouldn’t present too much of a challenge. It’s the six-lane dual bridge of the interstate that could present some problems. The steel girders will prevent us from putting 105mm shots directly into the roadway. Even then, we may not do much more than reduce it to a footbridge over the river.

  As we go through the checks in the gunship, the rain becomes more incessant, each drop splashing harder on the windscreen. With the propellers spinning in a blur, we wait out the shower at the end of the runway. It’s not that we won’t be able to takeoff and conduct our mission in the rain; we have the ability to see through the showers and still hit our targets. It’s getting back down that will present a problem. Our instruments will allow us to shoot an approach down low, but if the visibility drops too much, we won’t be able to identify the runway.

  The rain lessens and I push the throttles up. Small puddles have formed on the hard dirt surface, and as we accelerate down the runway, our props throw back a misty stream of water. We are soon airborne, and level off quickly. In most places, the ceiling is still
high enough for us to operate, with pockets of rain showers slowly moving across the landscape. Most of Puget Sound is hidden beneath one of the larger downpours slowly making its way across. Luckily, it’s not one of the steady downpour systems, at least not yet, so we’re able to dodge around the few showers in the area. Getting aloft again tonight may be iffy, but we need to see firsthand what’s going on.

  As the river bridges are nearby, we are over them almost immediately. I set up an orbit around the first one, the wooden railroad trestle, and clear Robert to fire. A slight shudder runs through the Spooky as the first round is sent downward. The river erupts near where the support posts meet, sending a geyser of mud and water shooting skyward and out to the sides. The fountain rises, slows, and then falls back in on itself, gaining speed as it descends. With a huge splash, waves generated by the explosion ride up and down the river, and wash ashore in a rush of water. In the aftermath, the bridge still spans the waterway, although it leans dramatically to one side.

  With the cannon reloaded, Robert and the crew fire on the bridge again. Whatever minor adjustment he made works this time, as the center of the trestle vanishes under another explosion. Timbers, mixed with smoke and more water, blast outward and tumble into the air, causing big splashes as they fall in the water.

  When the air clears, the trestle spanning the river is gone. The railway and supporting structure just ends, with large timbers and rails angling down the embankments. Several broken-topped pilings jut out of the water but the current carries the rest downstream, with some washing up on small strips of the banks to peek out from overhung limbs.

  The next bridge is close, so I only have to alter our flight path a touch to set us up at the next firing position. The large shower heading across the nearby expanse of water is closing, but we should have enough time to finish this one. The two-lane concrete bridge is part of the old highway connecting Olympia and Tacoma and isn’t as long as the railroad trestle. It will be interesting to see what effect the 105mm has on it.