by John O'Brien
“Be there tomorrow afternoon. Keep the lights off and stay quiet. Turn your phone off for now and then back on when it’s light. I’ll call you then.”
“Ok.”
I try Mom once again after the texting session but still don’t get a reply. I’m extremely worried about her. I really have a hard time with worrying and it eats at me until I find an answer one way or the other. I also notice an edginess with Lynn. I would normally attribute it to the text but I understand her well enough to know that it goes deeper than that. She keeps biting her lip and that’s one of her signs that she is nervous or anxious about something.
“Everything okay?” I ask noting her nervousness.
“I’m just thinking about Mom and Craig and worried about them,” she answers. I pull her in close and wrap my arms around her.
“Well, I told him five days and that isn’t until tomorrow. Craig probably doesn’t want to fly at night into a strange airfield,” I say whispering into her ear and continuing to hold her close.
We hold each other for a moment longer and then head down into the cargo compartment gathering everyone around as best as the confined space will allow. The thuds against the side of the fuselage continue sporadically as the night runners persist in their attempts to get to us. Their howls are muted by the thin steel walls between them and us. I cannot really say we are becoming accustomed to this, as the bangs still startle us each time, but we are able to focus to an extent.
“I just want to give a rundown on tomorrow. First of all, Bannerman, will you put together a list of our critical supply needs? The overall plan is to gather vehicles, raid the armories, and then caravan down to Cabela’s. For that, we’ll need a few cargo trucks and some bolt cutters. We also need a few Humvees so we can scout the area for any additional survivors. Make sure they are filled with fuel. Siphon if you have to. Once we get the vehicles, head out and cover the area in teams. When we finish here, we’ll head down and make further plans once we see what we are up against. Lynn, will you please see to the assignments?” I ask finishing the quick briefing.
“Will do. Drescoll, take your team along with Alpha and Bravo to secure the vehicles. Horace, take your team and search the open maintenance hangars for bolt cutters. The rest of us will unload the supplies in the meantime,” Lynn says. Everyone nods at their assignments.
“There’s two Humvees parked on the ramp. I’ll be taking one and Drescoll, you can take the other with your team to the front gate where there are two others parked. That should be enough for all of you,” I say adding to Lynn’s instructions.
“What are you doing with the other Humvee?” Robert asks.
“Going to check on Mom. I can’t get her on the phone. I’ll be back by the time the vehicles are secured,” I answer.
“Can I go?” He asks.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Bri, Nic and Michelle, I want you to stay here with the others.”
The sound of boots shuffling and walking on the cargo floor fills the aircraft as everyone finds a place to settle in for the rest of the evening. Our rest is broken by the echoing of the hollow, metallic thuds periodically through the night. The night runners eventually give up close to dawn and we are afforded a small period of rest.
Another dawn breaks over the Cascades to our east, filling the cockpit with its radiance. My head is aching from all of the time spent at altitude with its low humidity. I am dehydrated coupled with a lack of sleep. I feel a little overwhelmed thinking about the busy day and times ahead. There isn’t time or room to ‘take a break’ and deal with the issues another day. Lynn stirs beside me and heads into the back after a good morning kiss. I get up shortly thereafter thankful I don’t have to plop right down into the pilot seat. My rear end could use the rest.
The feeling of being a touch overwhelmed, with all that needs to happen today, almost brings me to a standstill and I’m not sure where to even start. One step at a time, I think heading out into the chill of the morning air. The sun rising above the hills is refreshing and fills my low energy to an extent. It feels a little colder than it should due to our spending the last few days in warmer climates but it is rejuvenating. There is not much talk among our group as most of us are lost in our own thoughts and feel spent from our efforts to get here. It feels like this should have been a destination rather than a beginning. There is a prevalent feeling of wondering if any of us have the energy to embark on this endeavor. However, we also know we don’t have the luxury of doing nothing.
Standing in the light morning breeze, I try calling my mom once again and still get no answer. Drescoll, the rest of Green Team, and Robert stand beside me waiting to head out. I then dial Kelly getting several rings before she picks up.
“Jack, are you coming down to get us?” Kelly asks answering.
“Yeah, we’ll be down but I can’t get there until later this afternoon. I’m not exactly sure when but we’ll be there,” I answer.
“Who is we?” She asks.
“Lynn, Robert, Bri and I.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“You mentioned Brian and Jessica were with you. Where’s Carrie?” I ask with the sun fully rising and casting our shadows long across the dark gray tarmac.
There is a pause before she answers, “She was with her dad and I haven’t heard from her. Can you go see if she’s okay on your way down?”
I feel my stress level increase as I don’t think I will be able to get the things accomplished that need to be done here, check on Mom, see about Carrie, and get down to Kelly. Even though the daylight hours are longer, there is so much that needs to be done and I’m not sure what condition our possible future sanctuary is in. It may take some time to ensure it will provide the safe haven we need. There is someone who needs help and I want to be able to do both. The time constraint makes this impossible.
“We’re under a bit of a time crunch here and I may not be able to do both. If there’s time, I’ll head over there, otherwise I’ll head down and we’ll see about her on the way back,” I respond.
“What do you possibly have to do that you can’t go see if she’s okay?” Kelly asks a little irritated.
“I have a group of people here to see to and we just landed yesterday. We have a lot to do to make sure we’re safe for the evening. I’m sorry but I have to see to them as well. I’ll call you when we’re on our way and I’ll go look for Carrie if there’s time,” I answer.
“Okay, hurry.”
“I’ll go as fast as I can. Talk to you in a little while,” I say.
“Okay, bye,” she says and there is the click of the line disconnecting. I continue to be amazingly surprised the phones still work at all. This would have been a great advertisement for them in times past - ‘Coverage, smoverage, our lines last through an apocalypse.’
“Well, shall we get this party started,” I say to those gathered around me. Drescoll merely nods his reply.
My few interactions with Drescoll leads me to believe he has a strong, silent type of personality; confident yet quiet. Or maybe he just doesn’t know how to interact with me. Although taller, he is a bit younger than I am and, with his being in the military for a number of years, that may equate to me being an authority figure in his mind. With what I have witnessed and how he has conducted himself from the stories Lynn told, he is stable, reliable, and knows what he is doing. I let Lynn know we are off. We gear up and head over to the Humvees parked by the remnants of our earlier outdoor luncheon.
“I really haven’t heard much from you regarding our circumstance and plan. What do you think?” I ask Drescoll as we stroll over to the vehicles.
“I think it’s a good plan. As good as any we could have come up with and makes sense,” he answers.
“What do you think our chances are?” I ask further.
He pauses for a moment before answering as we walk with our shadows stretched out before us, “We have a good group here so we should be able to pull it off. I think any problems we might have will come if we find others out there and how
well they fit in. A tight group like ours can weather through this but if there’s any dissension that comes about, then stupid things happen. That’s also providing we don’t discover any further surprises regarding the night runners. The only other things I foresee are the problems with having to go into the buildings on a regular basis for supplies, caring for anyone who gets injured, and, like you mentioned earlier, any diseases that crop up from all of the dead.” Those are the most words I have hear him say in the time since Kuwait.
“I agree. It’s going to be up to the team leaders to keep things tight and set examples. My feeling is that if we can last through the summer, we should be okay. The future problem I see is when we have to adapt to the fact that there isn’t any more manufacturing to take care of things that break,” I say enjoying this openness and conversation with him.
“Can I be perfectly honest, Jack?” Drescoll asks coming to halt by one of the Humvees.
“You certainly can. I welcome it and expect no less,” I answer wondering where this is going.
“In my opinion, that was a foolish thing you did going back into the CDC like that. I just don’t see that the information we came across was worth the risk. We would have figured it out eventually without it,” he says meeting my eyes.
“Well, I think the information we came across was worth it, especially knowing that we don’t have to worry about the immunity aspect and turning into one of them if we are bit. I honestly didn’t know what to do if that were true. That piece of mind alone was worth it to me,” I say looking back at him.
“This heading down with just a couple of you fits in the same category as far as I’m concerned,” he adds.
“I would take others but there is so much we have to do before the sun sets again. I think everyone will be needed up here and the safety of a secure environment is more important,” I say.
“Well, you seem to know what you’re doing and that’s good enough for me. I’m not saying saving others and getting the information isn’t and wasn’t important, it’s just that folks are beginning to look to you for leadership and if something were to happen to you, I’m worried there might be a breakdown,” Drescoll says in a lowered voice.
“You and Lynn can easily handle things if something were to happen to me,” I say addressing his concern.
“Probably, but not as well I think. Well, I hope you find your mom well,” he says sticking his hand out.
“Thanks. I appreciate that and you take care of yourself. There may be others around that may not take kindly to you borrowing their vehicles,” I say returning his shake. “Follow me to the gate. Honk or flash your lights if you see something or you need to stop.”
“Will do,” he says and climbs into the driver seat with Green Team already seated within.
Robert and I climb in the other Humvee. I check the battery and wait for the light signaling the glow plugs are warm before starting up. With a “thumbs up” from Drescoll beside us, we start off in the early morning light toward the front gate.
Nothing much has changed since our journey into the base just a week ago. It still has the ghost town feel; the structures intact but with no one home. This is where our journey began so there is a bit of a homecoming feel. The eeriness is not as prevalent as before but there is no way it can completely disappear as we travel through the empty streets. Only the lonely feeling of a world abandoned follows us as we make our way past the desolate buildings. I used to get this feeling in times past when we would travel through deserted villages where the people had long ago fled from various roving armed bands; the once busy dirt streets, filled with the noises of villagers going about their daily lives, just echoes of the past.
We keep a lookout among the buildings and streets as Greg couldn’t have been the only remaining soul here. Birds flit through the calm, warming air and over the brown grass fields, their life changing little in the aftermath. The only change in their life is perhaps the registration of a new predator. Andrew, the first person we met following the death of the world, enters my thoughts and I wonder if he made it to find his parents in Spokane. With the immunity seeming to be familial, it makes sense that one parent, if not both, would have survived the vaccine. Whether they survived the days following is another story altogether. I find myself hoping he at least survived and manages to find his way back here.
Passing by the hospital, I shudder recalling the close call within. The building carries a foreboding feeling similar to the CDC building; that the façade is hiding a darkness and terror within. I remember the words Drescoll spoke just a short time ago when he mentioned having to care for the injured. The foreboding comes stronger knowing we will possibly have to raid a hospital soon for medical supplies and equipment – knowing it will not be a pleasurable operation. With the traffic surrounding the exit ramps to the hospital and the larger amount of vehicles in the parking lots, I have the distinct feeling the medical facilities will have a greater amount of dead within complicating matters. Not just from the nauseating stench but from the onset of disease with so many dead, plus, the knowledge that there may be quite a few night runners within those facilities. If we are going to go in, we will have to do that soon as the disease from the decaying bodies will only get worse with each passing day.
Robert is quiet during our ride through the base. The smell of the decomposing bodies by the front gates reaches us before we catch sight of them. Again, we have to maneuver our way through them, missing the bodies as best as we can. The stench is overwhelming and my gut clenches with nausea. A few of the bodies have been picked at from the carrion. The sight and smell is disgustingly atrocious.
“That’s just plain nasty,” Robert says as we thread our way through and pull up to the front gate, parking by the two abandoned Humvees sitting cross-wise at the rear of the booths.
“You’re not shitting,” I say trying not to breathe. Drescoll pulls up and parks beside. Several Green Team members exit heading over to the empty Humvees.
‘Why don’t you take this one as well,” I say walking over to his window. “We’ll take the Jeep. Just wait and make sure we can get it started.”
“Okay, Jack. Good luck to you,” he replies.
“You too. See you in a couple of hours,” I say grabbing the tool kit I brought with us from our supplies.
Robert and I walk over to the Jeep I left parked in the visitor lot so many days ago, avoiding the booth with the boots still poking out from the doorway. Seeing the Jeep parked there brings a little comfort. It brings a small sense of normalcy and familiarity in a world distinctly lacking in the normal. Climbing into the familiar seats of the Jeep, we start it up and pull out of the parking lot; waving to Drescoll and the others as we exit.
Mom’s house is only about a forty minute drive. We should have no problems enroute as we have travelled this way before and didn’t notice any road blockage on the way. The lanes to the hospital in Olympia became congested but the left lane was clear as far as I could tell. We drive out of the gate and turn south onto Interstate 5.
“Whatcha thinking about?” I ask Robert as we pick up speed.
“Nothing really,” he answers. “Just hoping Grandma is okay and thinking about Mom. Wondering if any of my friends made it. That sort of thing.”
“Have you tried calling or texting any of your friends?” I ask avoiding talk about his mom for the moment. In truth, I really don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry.
“Yeah, but I haven’t heard anything back.”
“I’m really sorry about your mom, kiddo. I know that must really hurt. Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“Not really,” he answers. I can tell he is holding back the tears that want to come out with the sadness he is feeling.
“You know, this genetic change may not be a permanent thing,” I tell him keeping my eyes on the road ahead of us.
I offer this as a hope, not really a false hope but in all honesty, I am at a loss for words. There isn’t really anything com
forting to say when dealing with a loss that great. He looks over with a “you’ve got to be kidding” expression.
“Seriously Robert, we can’t ever give up hope on something we want or wish for. At any rate, know that I’m here if you ever want to talk about that, or anything. I’m here for you.”
“I know, Dad. I feel at a loss right now as to what to do or where I fit in. I mean, I was fine while we were flying as I knew what to do and had a place. Now, I feel like I don’t know where that place is,” he says turning his face to the window.
“There is always a place and there’s plenty to do Robert. You and the girls will always have a place with me,” I attempt to answer his feelings of being uncertain.
“I understand and know that, but that’s not what I really mean,” he says. “I guess I mean that I’m thinking you won’t let me help, that you’ll try to keep us safe and won’t let me participate. There are guys on the teams that are close to my age and I always get left behind.”
“I completely understand. It’s really hard for me to explain the protective nature of being a parent; the desire to keep your kids safe no matter what.”
“But I’m not a kid anymore,” he interjects.
“I know and you’re right in that I need to let go a little. I would like to wait until you can be trained better but, well, just know that it’s hard for me to let you be put in a dangerous situation. But you also need to learn,” I reply and pause for a moment to collect my thoughts.
In truth, I have thought about this a great deal and haven’t had any revelations regarding it. He needs to learn and gain self-assurance but I am also hesitant to put him in any situations where he can. I had been expecting a light bulb with the correct decision to go off but the bulb has remained dark to this point.
“You know, you’re right. I need to let you go out more but you still need training. Plus, I do need you in other situations. So, with that said, you can consider yourself officially part of Red Team but you’ll be partnered with me and, for now, only go out when I do,” I say knowing I will never reach a fully thought-out decision but also knowing I have to make one.
