by John O'Brien
“After we’re in position, then Red Team will clear the bathrooms and Charlie will clear the small store to the right. Red Team will fold back to the middle and act as a reserve while Charlie meets back up with Delta. Following that, Black and Green Teams will head down clearing the left side of the first floor. Charlie and Delta will do the same on the right keeping in line with the others as best you can. Halt at the left and right corners respectively. If we don’t see anything at that point, then Black and Green Teams will sweep the back with Charlie and Delta pulling back out of the line of fire. All other teams will keep watch on your assigned sectors for them. We’ll cover the second floor sweep after clearing the first floor. Are we still clear on what everyone’s assignment and positions are?” I ask.
“Yes, sir,” the responses echo from all.
“Lynn and Drescoll, keep in mind that the side doors are open if you have to escape out that way. If that happens, then Red will move to the left and cover your area. Okay, go brief your teams and then we’ll do a quick walk through,” I say. We haven’t all worked together before so it’s important we get this down and start learning how each team and its members function.
With the teams together and everyone briefed, we walk through the entry procedure in the parking lot. The others not assigned to teams and the birds flitting about the area look on. Only, the birds don’t seem overly interested in what we’re doing. They are off performing whatever errands they happen have on this warm summer day. The afternoon breeze blows across the tall brown grass surrounding the parking lots. A soft whishing comes with it as it blows through the tall firs by the driveway entrance. I look across to the hills of the Cascades for a moment as we regroup and see that the air has become clearer even in this short time since our carbon footprint on this earth decreased dramatically. It’s not that I see them clearly but the purplish smudge they used to be, when you could see them at all, has become a brighter blue. They even look closer and Mount Rainier looms over the city with the sunlight gleaming off its snow-covered slopes.
“Lynn, would you see to it that everyone has been issued the latest gear?” I ask coming back to the moment.
“Already done, Jack,” she answers.
The next few minutes are spent going over instructions on the gear and how it functions. We don our earpieces and throat mics and each team member tests their radios. Loading up on magazines we head over to the front doors in team formations and line up at the entrance in order of entry. I stop at the shattered door on the left and listen for a moment. An occasional gust of wind blows, rustling my pant legs but does nothing to soothe the pounding in my chest. Pre-action jitters are racing through my body. Robert is by my side with the rest of Red Team and I have a tense feeling in my stomach about taking him in. Not a precognizant feeling, just a feeling of worry. We’ll be in the background in reserve for the most part so I’m not overly worried.
I don’t hear anything other than the sound of the wind against our clothes. The portion of the building in front of the doors is covered so light doesn’t penetrate far inside. The small foyer between sets of entry doors receives light from outside but the interior beyond is pitch black; a dark abyss. Charlie, Bravo, and Delta Teams are lined up across the entrance doors from us. I take a step back with Red Team following and allow Echo Team to take its place first in line by the broken glass door.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I say into the radio. “Go!”
A soft explosion of sound and movement follows my command as Echo and Charlie Teams enter through their respective doors and rush inside. The boots of Echo Team crunches over the broken glass on the ground near the entry doors. The swish of clothing grows louder as they proceed in as teams. The clink of metal on metal of sling attachment points moving adds to the soft rush of noise. Pulling my NVG’s down and turning them on, I rush in as the last member of Echo enters. Red Team rolls in behind me.
I spy Bravo Team entering alongside us. I rush through the second set of doors into the darkness. The interior shows crisply through the goggles; cast in a green glow. Echo has taken kneeling positions in line twenty feet in front of the doors. Their infrared aiming lasers reach out into the darkened building, waving from side to side as they search for any movement of night runners. Red Team forms next to them facing left and covers the area. I stand behind them and glance over to see Charlie set up in a similar manner on the other side. No explosion of night runners or their shrieks greets us. It’s all good so far.
“Alpha, Bravo, Go!” I say pressing the mic button at my throat. Another soft explosion of sound is heard as both teams enter and rush by Echo to take position further into the building. The structure stands silent to the assault within it.
Delta rushes in on the heels of Bravo, heads to Charlie, and they both head further to the right by the cashier stands. Black and Green rush immediately behind and past me. Their boots pounding on the linoleum tiled floor cease as they take up positions on the left. Thin beams of light move around the inside like a laser light show. The building falls silent except for the whisper of cloth rubbing; the team members moving as they search the interior. I feel like we have entered a long vacated and empty tomb.
Scanning the interior with the rest, I see the large centerpiece looming large in the middle. Created to look like a rocky hillside, stuffed animals of all kinds stand on and along its surface. Short shelving units, filled with an assortment of boating and fishing goods, cover the left side of the store creating a multitude of aisles and lanes. To the left front and right, clothing racks are crowded together limiting the visibility. Cashier stands are to our immediate right.
“Charlie Team, start clearing the small store. Delta, be ready to back them up. Red Team will be searching the bathrooms,” I say.
“Roger that, Charlie moving,” I hear Mullins respond.
“Okay, Red Team, let’s move,” I say in a whisper to the team just in front of me. “Robert and I will cover the outside, the rest of you go into each bathroom and clear everything. Remember, these night runners can be tricky so check everywhere. We don’t want to be blindsided.”
Red Team rises and advances down the short hall to the first door. Gonzalez, McCafferty, Henderson, and Denton ease the men’s door open and proceed inside. Robert and I keep an eye on the other door. They emerge a couple of minutes later and report it’s clear before doing the same with the women’s. We move to the center behind Echo Team. Charlie Team reports the food store clear a few minutes later.
“Alright folks, we’re moving up. Echo, move up to cover the near side balcony. Alpha, Bravo, move up alongside them and cover the other balconies. Alpha, don’t forget the far escalator. Blue, you have the near stairs. Move!” I say into the radio.
The teams move up into position with a swish of movement and the sound of boots on the hard floor; the noise unnaturally loud in the stillness. They take their positions seconds later. Seeking targets, pin points of light flash in every portion of the large building. Nothing moves in the green glow of our goggles nor does the air erupt with a symphony of shrieks. The tomb-like atmosphere prevails.
Making sure everyone is in position, I say, “Alright everyone, here comes the fun part. Lynn, Drescoll, start up the left side. Mullins, guide Charlie and Delta up the right. Go slow and cover everything.”
“Moving out,” Lynn responds.
“On the way,” Mullins says.
I look to the flanks and see the teams begin to advance down the sides of the first floor, making sure they stay under the balcony overhang. Both Green and Charlie swing further to the sides of the building in their respective areas.
“Everyone else, keep your areas covered no matter what unless I tell you different. Listen up on the radios,” I say as the teams penetrate further.
I monitor their progress while checking the balcony sides and far end; watching as they swing into small aisles or check between clothing racks. Their progress is slow but thorough. There is a whisper of wind blowing in the broken
doors behind me. Other than a hint of movement from the side teams or the occasional “check that area over there” or “cover me” on the radio, the black abyss we have entered remains still. There is a tension prevailing within the silence. It’s not a matter of if night runners are in here but a matter of when they will show themselves or when we will find them. The signs by the entrance doors are unmistakable; our previous experiences have taught us that much.
The teams are a quarter of the way up the side when Cressman whisper over the radio, “Night runner on the far balcony, second floor.”
I look over and see it against the metal bar railing that encircles the balcony ledge. With both hands gripping the upper surface, the night runner is leaning against the railing peering down in the direction of Delta. Although invisible to the night runner, six laser points of light instantly focus on its chest and head from Bravo centering their weapons on it. The night runner lifts its nose in the air and begins sniffing; testing the air for our scent. It sniffs, looks around the area, and then repeats the process. It knows we’re here.
“All teams hold position. Cressman, take it out,” I whisper into the radio.
From the night runner’s behavior, it is pretty obvious it doesn’t know our exact location. I want it gone before it finds us and issues its shriek of warning. We’ll have to deal with them at some point but I would rather come upon them rather than having to fold back into defensive positions, especially with the limited visibility through the clothing racks. I would also rather not have a body just lying around waiting to be discovered but it is, once again, a matter of a certainty versus a probability.
I know the night runner in view will eventually scream out and, by the looks of it, very soon. The suppressors we are using aren’t the Hollywood “ptew” type of suppressors as those don’t exist. The length of the suppressor required for that would be like carrying a tank cannon. Yeah, try wielding that around. However, it does reduce the volume from a bang to a subdued pop. The M-4 isn’t a loud weapon as far as weapons go to begin with. However, it’s also not like it goes unnoticed, especially not in a silent room.
There was always weighing the danger of noise and needing to take out a guard in order to advance in times past. That is one reason why I always liked carrying a silenced .22 but then there was the danger of the round not being effective at distances. It was definitely a very close quarter’s weapon.
All but one of the laser points of light leave the night runner except one centered on the head. A soft “pop” is accompanied by the metallic sound of a bolt being blown to the rear and cycling, the mag spring pushing another .223 sub-sonic round into the chamber. The spent shell ejected from Cressman’s M-4 clinks across the floor, bouncing several times before coming to rest. The steel core round leaves the barrel with a flash of light and reaches out for the night runner, the bullet’s path intersecting with it split seconds later. The steel hits the lower jaw. It tumbles upward by the force of hitting the solid bone, the angle of the shot, and the fact that 5.56mm rounds are designed to tumble on impact. The mandible shatters and the now partially splintered round is propelled through the soft tissue of the roof of the night runner’s mouth, entering the cranium and exploding out of the top with a shower of blood. The air above it is filled with meatier chunks of flesh, brain, and shards of bone. The night runner dies instantly and staggers backwards before dropping from view. A hush resumes in the area with a faint smell of spent gunpowder lingering.
“Nice shot, Cressman. All teams, continue your movement,” I say after a moment of surveying the area and realizing we haven’t raised the ire of any night runners.
“Thank you, sir,” Cressman replies.
“That was louder than I thought,” Robert, standing beside me, whispers in my ear.
“Yeah, it’s always louder inside. Natural outside noise and a more open area always makes it seem quieter,” I whisper back.
Green, Black, Charlie and Delta make it to the half-way point towards the rear of the store when Cressman whispers once again in the radio that she has spotted another night runner, this one on the balcony above and to the right. I quickly halt the teams in place and snap my head in the direction she indicated. Again, several thin beams converge and dance on the night runner standing by the second floor railing on the right side. The gray-skinned creature, seeming to glow in my goggles, lifts its nose in the air and snaps its head to the right. It leaves the railing quickly and trots over to where the first night runner was, disappearing from view. All of this happens too quickly to issue a command to fire.
A loud shriek reverberates within the interior; the night runner has discovered its fallen comrade. Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later, I think waiting for events to unfold. Time comes to a halt. The last vestiges of the scream echoes throughout and a palpable tension grips the air. The release of adrenaline from the fifty-four soldiers standing and kneeling in various positions can almost be sensed. My own heart kick starts with a boom. It’s game time and the opening kickoff is away.
Choruses of screams suddenly erupt from the darker depths of the building; the first shriek, fading off, just a prelude to the rising symphony. The escalation of noise is like a ghostly crowd cheering a touchdown in an enclosed stadium; however, the sound is piercing rather than booming.
“Everyone hold positions and focus on your areas. Cleared to engage at will,” I say searching the upper and lower levels for movement; knowing it will not be long in coming.
“Night runners on the top floor,” Cressman calls over the radio.
I catch glimpses of numerous shapes darting from right to left along the second floor on the far side; possibly heading toward the escalator. A host of night runners suddenly appear at the upper balcony, both ahead and to the far right, pausing momentarily before vaulting the rail and leaping to the first floor. The sound of clothing racks falling to the floor or thrust aside rises out of the din of the yells. Flashes of light emit from Bravo Team as they begin firing into the night runners pouring like a waterfall over the balcony railing; the coughs from their suppressed M-4’s add to the many noises filling the interior.
Bravo’s rounds collide with the horde streaming over the railing, knocking many askew of their downward path but many more of the shrieking beasts reach the first floor unscathed. The loud coughs and metallic clinks of expelled rounds hitting the tile to their sides are continuous; the only pause of fire with each member is with the changing of empty mags for full ones.
“Delta, wheel left. They’re coming over the balcony edge. Charlie, cover to their rear,” I shout into the radio.
I see intermediate flashes of light coming from the right under the overhang as Delta begins to engage the host making it past the curtain of fire put up by Bravo. The flashes and an increase of sounds ring out from the right as Delta and Charlie find themselves under a sudden rush of night runners.
“Night runners on the first floor coming from the rear,” Mullins calls out over the radio.
The soldiers from Alpha start firing at night runners beginning to make their way down the escalator stairs to the left rear; with some vaulting down over the left side balcony.
“Lynn, orient to your right. Can you get an angle on the ones coming over the balcony?” I call pressing the mic button amidst this rapid and sudden onslaught.
“No. The stairs and a wall of some sort are blocking our line of vision,” she answers.
“We’re starting to get night runners on the first floor on the left,” Drescoll calls.
I see quick flashes of light bouncing off the ceiling in Lynn and Drescoll’s direction as they begin engaging night runners coming down the left flank; the sound of their shots add to the din of the battle. Night runners continue leaping over the railings on the right and the far side by the corner of the balcony. It’s a tide that Bravo Team cannot hope to stop and can only put a small dent into.
“Echo, peel off three to help Bravo,” I say.
I would divert mor
e but the last thing we need right now is night runners dropping directly into our base of fire. Greg turns and taps three members of his team. They peel off and turn, joining Bravo Team and add their additional fire into the jumping masses. Thin lines of light extend out from Bravo into the avalanche of bodies. Some within the horde fall sideways with shrieks of pain and fall to the floor with hard thumps, injured or dead.
Alpha is pouring fire into the ones trying to get down via the escalator but their massed fire is holding the night runners at bay for the moment. The small amount of night runners that do make it over the side run directly into Black Team and are brought down. The muzzles of Blue Team covering the near stairs send their deadly projectiles upward as small groups of night runners appear at the top of the stairs. The wall of steel they lay down doesn’t allow a single creature to make it to the first step. The ones that appear at the top are propelled backwards, vanishing out of sight into the dark recesses of the second floor.
The laser aiming devices from Bravo and Alpha are steady as they fire into their appointed areas. The lights from Charlie and Delta wave around on the right as they seek out targets and defend themselves; the poor visibility from the numerous clothes on that side making it difficult to have clear lanes of fire. I see the same on the left with Black and Green Teams although to a lesser extent. The rapid development of the firefight and the limited visibility makes it difficult to determine exactly what we are facing on the first floor. The time from discovery to this point of determined defense has been short; only a matter of moments.
I would like to throw Red Team into the fray but am worried by what I don’t yet know or see. Becoming engaged will make us unavailable should something crop up that needs our immediate attention. If something were to happen and no one was available, our line could quickly fail and we could find ourselves trapped in small pockets of defense which could be easily overwhelmed. The carbines from the three Echo Team members remaining begin flashing at intervals as they keep our backside clear on the second floor. A body falls into view, dropping from the near-side balcony and lands in front of Red Team with a thud so hard it is both heard and felt. Red Team startles and all weapons immediately round to the body but it doesn’t move or rise from the cream-colored linoleum.
