by John O'Brien
She immediately picks up the cause of the sounds as her light catches on a figure against the back of the cubicle. In a flash, Lynn recognizes it as that of her roommate, who is turned away from her against the far metal wall. As soon as her light hits upon her roommate, the figure turns around quickly and, with a snarl and shriek, the gray blotchy figure launches toward Lynn. The building interior is once again lit with triple strobes and the sound of gunfire as Lynn depresses the trigger of her M-16, sending three projectiles out into the space between them. The three rounds converge upon the figure’s chest launching her backward and slamming her against the wall with a ringing thud. Her now ex-roommate topples to the side and, after knocking against the wall locker, slips slowly to the floor.
With the return of silence to the interior, Lynn retrieves her ready pack from her bunk and they head back to the front of the building with more dog tags added to the ones gathered in her almost full pocket. Shouldering their weapons, Horace and Turnbull pick up the body of Private Manning and they step out into the heat and light. The transition from the cooler and darker interior causes them to blink and an immediate sheen of sweat coats their skin. They set Manning’s body into the rear of the Humvee and, after replacing their depleted magazines from the ammo in the Humvee, they make their way to Horace’s barracks and then to Manning’s, encountering none of the creatures within either of them. Finished with gathering their ready packs, they return to the TOC.
They are the last detail back and meet up with the rest of the group. Each detail quickly shares their very similar stories. In all, they lost three soldiers and have two additional wounded counting the loss of Manning and Turnbull’s injury. However, they found six other very frightened and exhausted soldiers within the various barracks. Mounting the vehicles once again, the group heads over to the Intel shop gathering up and destroying the sensitive documents within. While there, they also try contacting other units within and outside of the camp with no success. Finishing, they then head across the camp to the small airstrip and control tower.
Driving out from between buildings lining the ramp serving the airstrip, they see the control tower off to one side adjacent to the ramp. The light gray concrete ramp is empty of aircraft but several ground carts and fuel trucks are parked neatly in front of one of the buildings. Several other Humvees are parked in various locations in front of other buildings. Bringing the small convoy to a halt on the ramp, Lynn gets out of her vehicle and studies the control tower.
It is a small portable tower; a cross between a smaller control tower and a glass enclosed RV hybrid. There is an outside metal walkway encircling it and it bristles with antennae pointing skyward from on top. It is mounted on top of five concrete-filled cargo containers with metal stairs running up the side to the top and the entrance. The stairs are similar to external fire escapes with the bottom portion able to be raised about ten feet off the ground. The entire structure is enclosed by a chain link fence in close approximation to the tower with razor wire encircling the top.
Lynn salutes Major Bannerman as he steps up. With the heat rising in waves off the concrete ramp, he returns her salute and looks toward the tower with her. “I think this will make an ideal defensible structure, sir,” she says. “We can hold out here for a number of days if needed and will make a logical destination for any arriving force. We’ll need to clear it first though.”
“Take whomever you need and clear it, Sergeant.”
Given the small nature of the tower, Lynn selects Horace and Turnbull as part of her team having already been in action with them and knowing their reliability under fire. She also selects Sergeant Drescoll to go with her. She details another group to provide security around the structure outside of the fenced area and the remaining soldiers to remain in place at their current location as a reaction team. With instructions in place, her team and the security detail load onto vehicles and drive slowly over to the tower line abreast. Stopping just outside the fence enclosing the tower, Lynn and the rest dismount. The security detail takes station around the fence and Lynn, along with her team, approach the gate leading inside.
The chain link gate is unlocked so she pushes the gate open and proceeds to the stairs which are currently in their down position making the upward entrance easier.
“I’ll lead up with Private Turnbull behind me. Sergeant Drescoll and Corporal Horace, follow behind. Once at the top, we’ll break into two groups. I’ll go left on the walkway, Drescoll, take Corporal Horace and go right. We’ll recon the inside from the windows meeting up on the backside. If it’s clear, we’ll head through the door and clear it from the inside. Anyone have any questions?” She asks completing her instructions.
They all shake their heads and, with their barrels aimed upward covering their ascent, head up the stairs. Each flight of stairs rise upward to a point level with the top of each container to a small landing at which the next flight begins. On the first landing, a small winch housing a cable is attached to the first flight leading to it allowing it to be raised and lowered. The sound of their steps on the metal stairs is drowned out by the sound of a generator on the ground behind the tower.
Leaving the stairs in their lowered position, Lynn and her team proceed upward. With the heat index now rising above 110 degrees, they are bathed in sweat by the time they reach the top. The low humidity and high heat work with each other to claim the moisture from their bodies; the heat making them sweat and the low humidity wicking it away almost as soon as it appears leaving them feeling dry and parched.
At the top of the stairs, the metal grating and barred railings of the outside walkway leads off the left and right around the tower. The windows of the tower angle outward and are tinted making it difficult to see directly in from their position. They break into their respective groups and proceed up to and around the tower. Lynn peeks in the windows to her immediate front, cupping one hand to allow better vision within. The front interior facing the runway is filled with consoles running around the front and sides of the main tower room. To the rear, a small hallway opens off from the main room and seems to lead to the back of the tower. Doors open up to the outside walkway on both sides of the control room close to the rear of the room. There is no movement or signs of anyone inside other than Drescoll peering in the window opposite her. Continuing around the tower, windows open up into two rooms at the rear of the facility; one is an office and the other sleeping quarters housing two bunks.
“I don’t see anyone inside,” she says meeting up with Drescoll at the rear of the small tower.
“Me either,” he says in return.
“Let’s head in both doors and do a quick check down the hallway.”
Drescoll nods and they both retrace their steps to the entrance doors. Peeking in the small window set in the door and with one hand on the handle, she checks the door assuring herself that it is unlocked before looking over at Drescoll peering in the door on the other side. Giving him a nod, they both open their doors and quickly step into the coolness of the room. The light from the outside illuminates the entire room but in a dimmed fashion due to the tinted windows. The control panels are lit with both steady and flashing lights and a panel against the rear wall houses a radar scope, its lighter green line rotating around the scope. The fact that the radar and lights are working gives the indication that the generator outside provides power to the tower. The closing of the outside doors shuts off the sound of the generator running outside.
They step into the hallway leading to the back. The hallway extends all of the way to the rear of the tower with four doors leading off it; two to each side. They check each door and find a small latrine behind the first door to the right. The first one on the left leads to a small storage area with the two at the rear leading to the office and sleeping quarters. Back in the main control room, Lynn sees a pull-down ladder leading to a trap door set in the ceiling. She pulls the steps down and proceeds up them to the trap door. Turning the handle on the trap door, she opens it a
nd hot sunlight pours through the opening. She climbs out onto the roof.
The flat roof is covered with large and small antennae towards the front along with the rotating arm of the radar. From her vantage point, she sees almost the entire encampment with its lines of tan convex buildings in neat, orderly rows. Main avenues divide the groups of buildings and lead to the various zones of the camp. Far off in a corner of the camp, she can make out a section of storage containers piled on top of each other and vehicles are scattered throughout. In some places, she sees what appear to be very small shapes of bodies lying on the avenues and small alleys between buildings.
An ocean of sand stretches outside of the camp in each direction, merging with the horizon in all directions. Other than the occasional bird flitting here and there and the group standing around the Humvees on the ramp, there is not a thing moving. The only sound disturbing the surreal quietness around her is the generator running some fifty feet below her and out of sight against the containers.
Lynn leaves the roof and steps into the room once again, closing the trap door behind her. “We’ll have to locate someone up there at all times in shifts to monitor the area and look for survivors during the day and for security at night,” she says looking at Drescoll.
He nods and looks around the control room. “It’s going to be a bit crowded in here.”
“Yeah, not much we can do about that,” she says stepping out of the room and onto to the walkway signaling the group, standing on the ramp watching her activities, over.
With the rest of the group gathered about the control room with standing room only and barely enough room to fit them all, Lynn addresses Major Bannerman. “Sir, we’ll have to set up in shifts with a small security team for night that will sleep during the day. By day, we’ll monitor the surrounding area and scavenge for any weapons, ammo, food, water, medical or other supplies we may need. During the day, the night security team can sleep on the bunks. At night, we’ll have to stretch out as best as we can on the floors. We’ll give it five days and rethink our strategy should no one show up.”
“Sounds good, Sergeant Connell. I’ll leave the details to you,” Bannerman says.
Lynn then leads Specialist Taylor to the main console. “Can you work these and teach others how to do it?” She asks.
“Piece of cake, Sergeant,” answers Taylor.
“How many soldiers do you need to man the radios 24/7?”
“Well, considering we won’t have a lot of communication to handle, I think two others for three shifts of eight hours should suffice.”
“Okay, pick two and teach them what they need to know,” Lynn says stepping over to the side of the control room and looking out of the windows to the single strip of gray asphalt serving as the camp’s runway.
Gazing down at it, she thinks both wistfully and longingly, I hope you are doing okay Jack and I hope you come. The odds of both seem very remote to her at the moment; I mean, they talked about events such as this but only really as a means to fill the time and for fun. Would he really jump in an aircraft and fly half of the way around the world to pick me up? And, that is assuming he is still alive, and if he is, will he just gather up his kids and call it good? Suddenly, home and the hope of getting out of here seems very, very remote. With a heavy sigh, she turns back toward the group and begins making assignments.
Assignments are made to bring the weapons and supplies into the tower from the Humvees and to scavenge diesel for the generator. The supplies are placed in the office along with the extra weapons and ammunition. After the diesel is brought and off-loaded, the Humvees are parked close to the fence facing away but not close enough to be used to vault over the fence. The gate is then locked and the stairs raised as the sun descends toward the flat, sandy horizon; becoming to a giant ball of fire as it sinks closer to the horizon. The decision is made to leave the generator on in order to keep the radios alive. Although its noise may be an attractor, it has been running continuously for some time and therefore is not something significantly out of the ordinary.
The last vestige of the sun disappears below the horizon, signifying the end of another day. The soldiers within the tower prepare quick meals and settle in for the evening. Darkness comes quickly as it is wont to do in the desert and Lynn climbs out onto the roof with the night watch. She posts two guards on top with one more inside alongside the night radio operator. Settling down on her belly near the edge of the roof, she gazes out over the encampment. The street lights along the major avenues and roadways shine down on the emptiness casting their circular patterns of light on the sandy ground below. In a few buildings, lights shine in the darkness creating the image of a small city in a seeming normalcy of night. Here and there, rectangular patches of darkness show where the small generators powering those areas have either failed or are depleted of their fuel.
The ramp itself is lit by large banks of lights around the perimeter illuminating most of the ramp but leaving some areas near the middle in darkness. Looking towards the runway, Lynn sees the white lights of the runway stretch away to the left and right terminating in red lights toward each end. The blue lights of the single parallel taxiway, coupled with the runway lights, create an image reminding her of Christmas. Focusing back toward the camp, she sees an occasional flash as small groups of figures dash beneath the street lights. Off into the distance on the far side of the camp and close to the barracks, several shrieks rise into the air above the encampment faintly reaching Lynn’s ears.
Lynn brings the binoculars from the tower to her eyes and focuses on one group of figures as they dart through the lights. They are running close together in a pack-like formation seemingly intent on something. What that intent could be is unknown to her. She notices that each group she spies in her magnified view seems to run from place to place. In none does she notice any individual walking as they transit. The only exception to this is when they seem to stop to investigate something, whether that is a door or building or something lying in the road. When investigating something, they still seem to maintain a pack-like stance with none venturing off but each one conducting its own individual action within the pack.
With one group she is watching, they appear to be investigating a building door, seeming to mill about. One of the creatures looks suddenly to its left and she sees its mouth open up; the shriek it emits reaches her ears a second or two after. The entire group breaks into an immediate run in the direction indicated by the one who emitted the shriek. It comes to Lynn that the shriek could be their form of communication and seems to indicate a discovery in some fashion or another. She makes one other interesting discovery and that is the other groups seem to respond to the shriek as well. The shriek seems to inform others and they react as if it is a calling as well; much like wolves or coyotes will in the night with the discovery of food.
She scans around and finds the area around her seemingly vacant for the present moment. Bringing the binoculars skyward, she attempts to find any moving points of light to indicate aircraft in the vicinity but is only met with the bright diamonds of stars twinkling back. Handing the binoculars to the soldier lying next to her, she scans the fence perimeter with her mark one eyeballs. The fence and the ground directly below her are well lit from lights shining downward from positions about half way up the tower. This way, the area can be lit without affecting the vision of the controllers.
“Wake me if you see anything unusual or if any of the creatures ventures close. I’ll be at the bottom of the trap door stairs,” she says rising.
“Yes, Sergeant,” the Private responds as Lynn reaches to grab her weapon and descends down the stairs into the control room to settle into her sleeping bag.
She stands alone on a small hill with sand stretching endlessly around her and turns around confused as to how she arrived there or what she is supposed to be doing. Her mind tells her that she is supposed to accomplish some important errand but can’t remember what it is. A panicky feeling comes upon her as she feels some
thing bad will happen if she can’t remember what it is or the errand goes undone. A hint of movement out of the corner of her eye to the right causes her to look in that direction.
About twenty feet away, a turtle slowly makes its way across the sand, pulling itself along with great effort. What in the fuck is a turtle doing in the middle of the desert? She thinks as her vision zooms in close and she can see in the turtle’s eye that it is not in great pain nor worried about its situation but is merely doing its thing. No destination or plan; just one step after another. It has accepted its lot in life and is just doing it with no thought to anything else. A gust of wind suddenly whips by shaking her.
She looks away from the turtle and in the direction the wind came from. Where before there was an endless blue sky, there is now a towering mass of clouds billowing upward. The clouds are building quickly, far quicker than anything she had ever seen before and turning the cloud mass into a dark, greenish gray color. The gusts continue to radiate outward from the mass, each one shaking her and rocking her backward on her heels.
The storm continues to build and creates a gigantic wave of sand that begins rushing towards her. Lightning stabs out from the clouds striking the ground in all directions. The wave closes in quickly, gaining momentum with gusts that continue to rock her. They carry a new sound along with the booming crash of thunder as if the thunder is speaking words. With each lightning bolt the words come to her; ‘Sergeant;’ lightning flash, ‘Sergeant’; lightning flash……
Feeling panicked, her eyes spring open to see the face of the Private on guard hovering close to hers lit by the cupped flashlight in his hand. “Sergeant,” he says rocking her shoulder slightly with his other hand.
