by John O'Brien
Light flashes from an aisle directly ahead of Lynn. Beams from flashlights are focused on the ground. Behind the lights, she can barely make out four sailors speeding her way. Movement on the crates above the four running figures captures her attention. Before she can bring her M-4 to bear, a shrieking night runner leaps down from above crashing onto a sailor bringing up the rear. They both go down, colliding hard with the floor. The surprised scream of the submariner rises momentarily above the cacophony of noise before being abruptly cut off. The three remaining sailors cut off her view of what happens next. The three exit the aisle and are brought up short as their lights shine on Lynn and the few team members close to her.
“Keep moving! Head toward the door,” Lynn shouts. The three continue to stand in place as if stunned.
“Move!” Lynn shouts again.
She watches as one shakes his head quickly as if coming out of a trance. They dart to the side and begin running once again. Lynn puts them out of her mind as they race past her position.
Looking back down the aisle, she sees the night runner that leapt down crouched over the still form of the sailor. Quickly centering her crosshair on its chest, she squeezes the trigger and feels the familiar light kick against her shoulder as she sends rounds streaking outward. She sees the torn and stained shirt of the night runner puff out as her bullets pass through it to strike flesh and bone. It falls heavily on the body it was feasting on. Behind the now downed night runner, Lynn sees more night runners streaking toward her. She catches the movement of more on the edges of the stacked crates above. She imagines the other aisles would give the same picture. The gathering horde of night runners will soon exit the aisles and leap from the tall stacks. She knows that they’ll soon be beset and in for a fight.
“Horace, those doors if you please,” Lynn says.
“Working on it,” Horace replies.
“Black and Charlie teams, be ready to pull back on my command. Horace, if we have to pull back, head for the open doorway,” Lynn says, watching the oncoming night runners quickly closing in.
They emerge from the aisles almost before she knows it. Multiple night runners pour into the open space ahead and jump from the stacked crates forming a waterfall of leaping figures. A horde of shrieks and screams grows exponentially overwhelming any other sound. The space in front of the two teams fills quickly. The area is lit by quick and continuous strobes of light as the soldiers open fire. The leading night runners fall to the ground adding screams of pain to the clamor. More bound over the fallen.
“Start pulling back in line now,” Lynn calls over the radio.
The level of noise echoing inside is deafening. Shell casings bounce on the concrete surface but go unheard. Magazines clatter as the soldiers reload. Mouths open to call “reloading” but the words are lost amidst the thunderous roar of the night runners. Step by step the teams fall back, splitting as they make their way between the vehicles. Even though night runners fall to the ground by the dozens, due to their numbers, they slowly close the gap.
Lynn clicks the mag release dropping yet another empty mag to the ground. Slamming in a fresh mag, she continues to add her fire into the advancing mass of night runners. Another step backward takes her to the rear of one of the trucks. A thin beam lights the area in front of her causing the night runners caught in its path to throw their arms in front of their faces. Those caught in the widening beam fall to the ground writhing in agony. Slowly but surely, the band of light grows. The ones behind and on the sides turn and flee.
The shrieks diminish in volume as the night runners race back into the darkness of the warehouse leaving their dead and dying behind. Daylight pours in lighting the front of the building. The injured night runners, crawling slowly along the floor, scream in pain and slump to the ground. Lynn raises her goggles and, with a look to ensure the attack is over, turns to see Blue Team push the sliding doors the rest of the way open.
Turning back, she shouts, “Anyone left alive, make your way to the doors.” Nothing but several shrieks returns her call.
“Okay, let’s get the fuck out of here,” she yells.
Walking outside, the day looks the same, taking on a surreal aspect. The gray clouds still hover just above the tall roof just as they did when she entered. She feels the intense adrenaline begin to ebb leaving her feeling weary. They’ve made it through yet another encounter. She sees Jack with the rest of Red Team and Greg with his team standing in front. Huddled together off to the side, she spies the five sailors she saw exit the aisles. Of the twelve who went in, they are the only ones who made it out. With a heavy sigh, she gathers everyone up and begins a slow walk to meet Jack who is standing ready with the rest of the teams to back her up if she needed.
I watch as Lynn and the other teams fold against the outside wall by and open doorway ready to enter. A faint, solitary shriek drifts upward from the building. I think about calling Lynn and having her return but she’s the one there and it’s her call. Her core instinct to help others worries me at times as I know her propensity to put herself in danger in order to assist those in need. However, I also know she cares deeply about her soldiers and won’t put them in a position that will risk them unnecessarily.
The tension that was so prevalent just moments ago subsides as we all focus on the warehouse, watching the scene about to unfold. Glancing at Captain Leonard, I see his eyes narrowed in concentration. I wonder if he thinks that we are still trying to interfere or if he believes we are truly trying to help. Perhaps he realizes he made a mistake and is looking to see the outcome. I’m guessing he cares about his people so it may be he just doesn’t realize the danger he sent his people into.
I listen as Lynn briefs the teams and watch as she readies herself and steps inside. I feel anxiety in the pit of my stomach as she disappears knowing full well what possibly waits inside. I’m sure my call telling Lynn that there are night runners inside is going to raise a few eyebrows. I noticed Leonard’s quick glance when I made the call. I said that in the clear over an open channel so everyone is going to run that through their minds. But there’s no way I’m going to hold something like that back when it can help. That’s Lynn down there. It’s all I can do not to run over and be the one to go inside. If it comes up, I suppose I’m going to have to explain that radio call. Perhaps it’s time to tell the command group.
The other teams rush through the open door one by one, flowing like a black wave until they vanish into the dark opening. I feel a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach watching the last of them disappear knowing well the fear and dread of being in a possible night runner lair. I’m thankful for the distribution center in that we can very much limit any further excursions into darkened buildings.
Minutes pass with only the short radio calls from Lynn to the other teams and some calls requesting information on those inside. One comes that grabs my attention. It is one I was rather expecting to hear at some point given that night runners are holed up within the warehouse building.
“Black and Charlie team, hold up. I have something to my front. Standby,” I hear Lynn say.
Another minute and then, “I have two night runners and a dead body three meters to my twelve o’clock in front of the truck,” Lynn whispers on the radio. “Keep alert for others. Mullins, can you get a shot at them?”
I look to Captain Leonard and say, “If you’ll excuse me, I have my people to attend to.” He turns his head briefly to nod before gazing back to the warehouse.
I take a few steps and hear from behind me, “Captain Walker, we’d be happy to help if you need?”
Turning, I see one of the SEAL Team members standing slightly off to the side. Captain Leonard turns sharply to the Chief but doesn’t say anything.
“We can always use the help, Chief… Krandle is it?”
“Yes, sir,” Krandle responds.
“Like I said, we can always use the help but we don’t have any spare comm gear or NVGs,” I say.
“I understand, sir�
�� Krandle says with a nod.
Leonard looks at the chief with a hard stare before returning his focus back to the large cream structure that his men are currently in… along with our teams. I tell Frank and Bannerman to wait with Leonard and make my way to where Greg is standing with Red and Echo Teams. They are more relaxed but still in their covered positions behind the vehicles and manning the weapons. Greg walks to meet me.
“You’ve heard the calls?” I ask to which he nods.
“I want us to be in a position to support Lynn if they run into trouble,” I say.
“Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. Any worries about the boys in white?” Greg asks nodding toward the Captain and the sub.
“Not for the time being. I’m not sure their Captain is a big fan of me. I don’t think he believes what is going on but I don’t think they’ll cause any problems. I think he’s trying to digest it all just like we had to,” I answer.
“That can’t be easy.”
“No and I’m not sure I have yet.”
“That’s because you’re an old man,” Greg says.
“At least I didn’t fall out of the ugly tree and get hit by every branch on the way down,” I respond.
“Look who’s calling who ugly,” he replies, leaning over me trying to be intimidating.
“Hey, I’m not the one kids point at and mistake for a sea cow when swimming… just sayin’.” Humor is one way we disperse the tension of knowing our team mates have entered a night runner lair.
Lynn’s call of, “Night runners on top of the crates,” interrupts our little tete-a-tete prompting action on our part.
“Red Team, Blue Team, form up on me,” I shout.
We form up and begin trotting toward the distant warehouse. As we draw closer, my throat tightens and heart rate accelerates hearing a din of shrieks emanating from within. I head toward the open side door when I see the large doors begin to slide open. The sound of shrieks increases through the thin aperture that is growing wider by the second. It’s hard to make out who is pushing the doors apart but I see a full team shoving on the large, heavy doors. The screams within change in tone from rage to screams of pain.
With the doors mostly open, I see Lynn and several of the other team members that entered standing in a line deeper inside the building. Scores of night runners lie scattered on the gray painted concrete floor. Some caught in the light arch in pain before slumping back to the ground. A group of five men huddle together outside off to the side. I observe Lynn lower her weapon and shout something into the interior. She stares into the darkness waiting for something. Finally, she shouts, “Okay, let’s get the fuck out of here,” and turning, she heads in my direction.
As she draws near, I see the weariness of the post-adrenaline phase of combat etched in her eyes. There is of course the bone-deep weariness we all carry from the struggle to survive on a constant basis. It brings a bleached out quality to the eyes that tells of having to endure stress over a long period. It’s the look of frontline veterans returning from a combat tour overseas and something I’ve observed in all of us. I also notice a splash of blood on her cheek which sparks additional concern.
“Yours or someone else’s?” I ask, nodding to her cheek as she stops in front of me.
“What?” Lynn asks, tilting her head.
“The extra bit of rouge on your cheek you managed to pick up,” I reply.
“Oh, someone else’s,” she says as she reaches to her cheek. She then wipes the spots of blood with her sleeve leaving a light red smear.
“Better?” She asks, finishing.
I look at the streaks and shake my head. “Yeah, um, much better,” I answer.
“Jack, you’re such a horrible liar,” Lynn says making another attempt which only makes it worse. I decide it’s in my best interest to not say anything else.
“So, what happened in there?” I ask, nodding toward the bodies covering the warehouse floor. Lynn proceeds to give me the cliff notes version of what happened.
“How was your little chat?” She asks, finishing.
“It was interesting and is bound to get even more so after this,” I answer.
I look over at the remaining sailors gathered together and nod for them to start heading back to their captain. They look plenty shaken but they start walking slowly, periodically looking over their shoulders at the building. Lynn directs several team members to head back inside to gather empty mags lying on the floor in the lit area. We then begin walking across the wide, empty lot and up the drive to the piers. Two firefights and it’s still morning. Yeah, it’s already been a long day and we still have a long night ahead of us. I’m quite ready to wake up from this nightmare.
“I can’t believe he sent his people in after what we told him,” Lynn says as we slowly make our way back.
“I’m not sure he understands the situation but I bet he’s ready to listen now,” I reply.
“He’d better. That’s all I have to say. That was not fun.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” I say, putting my arm around her and giving her a quick hug.
I leave Lynn and the other teams by the vehicles and walk down the dock toward where Captain Leonard and the others are still standing. The surviving members of his crew have just left his side and are making their way to the docked sub. I close up to where Bannerman, Frank, Leonard, and Krandle and his team are standing.
“I owe you my thanks, Captain Walker,” Leonard says. “My men briefed me on what happened inside. Their story seems a bit far-fetched and if I hadn’t been standing here myself, I wouldn’t have believed it. It still seems a little too unreal.”
“Believe me, captain, it was a lot for us to swallow in the beginning as well,” I reply. “I’m sorry for the people you lost.”
Leonard merely nods and turns to Krandle, “I owe you my apologies for doubting you as well, chief.”
“I’m not sure I still believe it myself, sir,” Krandle responds.
“I’m guessing you’re ready to listen now,” I say.
“I am, Captain Walker,” Leonard replies with a nod.
“Yeah, about that,” I say and proceed to tell our story.
Captain Leonard listens as I tell him about the happenings as far as we know leaving nothing out. He has a nod here and there along with several episodes where he tightens his eyes. I feel like I’m telling a children’s horror story as I listen to myself tell of the events of the past few months. It seems unreal to me as I tell it… and I lived it. I notice his lips tighten as I mention I was prior service and wasn’t in when it all went down but, to his credit, he doesn’t say anything. I mention our compound and our efforts to gather survivors and clear the area of night runners. After seeming to run my mouth for days on end, I finally bring him up to speed on where we stand now. I’m not usually much of a talker and I totally feel that I’ve used up my words for the next several months if not a year. I finish by inviting him and his crew to join us.
“I think that’s a great idea for us to join up. As far as I can tell, I’m now the base commander here. We can fortify this location and you can bring your people up. We can begin rebuilding here and can certainly use your expertise,” Leonard says.
“Oh boy, here we go,” I hear Bannerman mutter. I don’t think anyone else heard it but it was fairly clear to me.
“Captain, I know where you’re coming from but there isn’t any government anymore. That part of the world is gone,” I say.
“Captain Walker, I know you may be a civilian now but the others with you are still part of the government. We’re the government until we meet up with any still operating in an official capacity,” Leonard replies.
“Leonard,” I say purposely using his name rather than rank, “there aren’t any but small, scattered groups to ‘govern’.”
“Then we govern them. I’m the ranking officer at the moment and we’ll just have to keep the government alive in that manner,” he says.
“There… isn’t… any…
government… to keep alive. We have opted to go with a functional command. You know, to have the best chance of survival. What you saw here,” I say sweeping my arm toward the warehouse, “doesn’t even come close to what is going on. These night runners are rampant and are as wily a foe as you can ever imagine. There are also bands of marauders about. Now, you are welcome to join us and of course we’d have you on the leadership team, but we have a harmony within our group that I won’t have messed with. Every day here is a fight for survival and we need the cohesiveness that we have in order to survive. I get where you’re coming from, truly I do, but right now we need to establish a safe haven and we can move onto other things once we have that.”
I notice Krandle give a slight nod at my little speech. I see Leonard’s jaws clench and the veins in his head begin to stand out. I’m quite sure he isn’t used to being talked to in this manner but to be honest, that’s not my concern. Frankly, I’m tired and this morning hasn’t improved my mood much. I understand his position and might act exactly as he is if our positions were reversed. It must be fucking confusing as hell to just walk into this situation. However, my main concern is for the people with us and I won’t sacrifice what we have for anything. It’s not that I even remotely think I’m the best for the job and will willingly follow anyone who has more experience. As a matter of fact, I’d welcome it with open arms but until that happens, this is where we are.
“Walker,” yeah, I notice his dropping the rank, “I plan to restock and head down the western seaboard and possibly to Hawaii to see the situation there. Know that this conversation isn’t over.”
