by John O'Brien
We spray on the odor eliminator. I cradle my M-4, and stroll to the door on the left. I’m not sure which door will be closest to the canned food aisle and want to see which door to use by taking a look inside. I feel my mind tighten down with our upcoming entry into a possible night runner domain. Our past experiences with that haven’t been the most pleasant. My thoughts turn toward tactics and run through several eventualities. I contemplate our experience inside the BX. I can’t think of a better plan than to establish a perimeter inside and have a couple of team members cart the goods out behind the perimeter. The aisles will limit visibility and that will be dangerous.
I feel the tension building. It’s similar to a high tension wire strumming in a strong breeze. My senses are vibrating inside. There is the unknown and the knowledge that this will be repeated again and again until we become more self-sufficient. Approaching the doors on the left side, there is the unmistakable evidence of night runner activity. Shards of glass litter the concrete sidewalk in front of the doors. One of the side panes has been broken out. The pieces of glass are dispersed so there isn’t the telltale sign of footprints written in blood. Looking in the broken pane, shards are scattered across the white and black tiled linoleum floor. There is a very faint outline of footprints but they appear old.
That aside, the signs are unmistakable. This is like a neon sign saying night runners are here. There’s a faint whirring at the door as the cooler air inside mixes with the warmer air outside. It carries the combination of mustiness and a rotting smell on the very light breeze. The radiant light streaming through the remaining glass doors and other pane cast a rectangular path of light about twenty feet inside. A gloomy gray extends a shorter distance past before the interior is swallowed up in darkness like a vast black hole.
No sounds come from inside but I know that doesn’t mean anything. I can barely see the end caps at the head of the aisles but not down the aisles themselves. The others are gathered behind me as I look around the establishment. The interior dictates a similar entry and formation as we had at the BX in the Azores but we’ll have to have a moving perimeter anchoring against the outside wall. The store opens up some to the left and, unless we take the time to clear the entire side, and still not know if the night runners can come around from that side, that’s our best shot. We’ll have to anchor around the door as well to preserve our path out of here in case something happens.
I pull away. Dizziness takes hold and I feel a moment of disassociation. Shaking my head to clear it, I turn to Watkins and the other team members. The sight of them standing in the parking lot with the sun shining through the opaque clouds seems a touch surreal; as if they all seem a little brighter than they should. The soldiers in their black fatigues, with their tactical combat vests secured to the outside; each either cradling his or her M-4 or grabbing it next to the lower receiver and holding it downward, their eyes all focused on me and the entrance waiting for instructions and the word to go, stands very sharp in my mind. Next to me, Robert looks much in the same manner as the others; a little too bright. It seems like a moment just prior to stepping through a time machine and into an unknown world.
I give my head another brief shake and orient my mind back to the mission at hand; the steel band tightens down. I send Watkins over to the door to get oriented to the interior as well and he returns shortly. We haven’t really worked together but I’m not worried as I’ve seen him work. I squat down on the pavement off to the side of the door and have everyone gather around.
“Here’s the way I see it,” I say starting a brief and then say to Watkins, “Chime in if you see something different or have other ideas.” Watkins nods his response.
“First off, the gathering of food will not be a quiet venture but we still need to keep the noise down as much as possible. Gonzalez, McCafferty, you’ll anchor the entrance doors and be the left side of our perimeter. We’ll anchor everything to the outside wall closest to us as best we can. Henderson and Denton, you’ll be on the far right. Watkins, I want you to follow in behind Robert and me and leave a person at the end of each aisle. Save two to gather food. Robert and I will take the last two aisles directly behind Henderson and Denton. Henderson and Denton, you clear each aisle as you come to it, wait for one of Alpha or ourselves to get into position, and then move onto the next aisle. We’ll be able to cover six aisles that way. Not much, but it’s the best we can do. Any questions so far or does anyone have anything to add?” I ask.
“No, sir,” Watkins answers. I see he’s back to the “sir” thing. Seems to be mission-oriented with him. Not that I mind either way, just continuing to notice.
“Okay, once we have the aisles covered, the two you assign will head down the first aisle and gather what you can. The one guarding that aisle will precede them up the aisle and follow them back down. Gather the food there and deposit it outside and proceed to the next aisle. We’ll get what we can and hope the first six aisles have something usable. If not, then we’ll look to the other doors. If there’s an inkling of any night runners inside, we’re out. If we have to pull out, Henderson and Denton, come back to me. We’ll then pull back and gather the next in line. Always keep your sector clear until you’re pulled back to and keep alert to the radios. Questions?” I ask almost needing oxygen.
“I think we’re good to go,” Watkins says.
I rise and am struck again by the starkness of how everything looks. It’s like everything is etched in the finest of detail but a little too bright. Watkins talks to Alpha and the team members organize themselves into order of entry. We do a quick check of everyone’s radios. We’ll be using the broken pane for entry. The soft clicks of sights being turned on and carbines being charged are the only sounds in the area. We’re ready and, with the charging handles being released, the game faces come on and they focus earnestly. The curtain is about to rise.
Henderson and Denton line up just outside the entrance with Gonzalez and McCafferty right behind. Robert and I line up behind the women and, behind us, the rest of Alpha gets ready in whatever order Watkins has assigned them.
“Go,” I whisper ahead to Henderson and he darts through the opening.
He is followed immediately by Denton slipping through. Gonzalez and McCafferty disappear within the building and I follow in, snapping my goggles down on entering. The first thing that assails me is the nauseating stench within. It’s the smell of rotting meat, milk, and vegetables. It hits like an invisible wall. I just about gag right there and then. We may have to think about gas masks for future entries as this can have a debilitating effect.
Henderson and Denton are on their knees just inside the door to the right. Gonzalez and McCafferty are aligned in the same way on the left. I tap Denton on the shoulder and point ahead. He and Henderson rise and move to the first aisle. Robert and I take the positions they vacated. Scuffling comes from behind as the rest of Alpha enters. They push up to the first aisle and, with a touch, I direct Robert out to the right. I plan to follow along with Henderson and Denton until we come to our aisles of responsibility.
“You stay close to me until it’s time to cover an aisle,” I whisper to Robert beside me.
“Okay, Dad,” he whispers back.
The store is set up like any other. Cash registers line the front of the store with a wide lane between them and the outside wall. Another wide lane separates the goods aisles from the registers.
“Small change in plan,” I whisper on the radio. “Robert and I will proceed adjacent to Henderson and Denton along the front lane until we come to our aisles.”
Clicks on the radio let me know the others have heard and understood. I glance ahead and see a small band of light from the far end doors. My adrenaline is keyed up and the darkness, showing green in our goggles, has that waiting feeling. I have a sense of night runners inside. The wretched smell of rotting goods is overwhelming any other scent inside the structure so I can’t tell if there’s that tell-tale body odor scent or not. Another item to know
and it’s not to our advantage. The weight of the interior presses around us. It’s not quite as oppressive as being inside with only flashlights and complete darkness around but it still weighs heavily. It’s a feeling I know well. It’s the feeling of a building occupied and you doing your best not to be found.
Henderson and Denton clear out the first aisle and move up to the next. Robert and I rise and inch along in line with them. So far there isn’t a hint of movement or sound. The building itself feels dark and abandoned. The abandoned feeling comes from the building itself rather than a lack of occupants. There’s a tension in the air and it’s not only coming from us, although there is a fair amount of that. A scuffle of boots indicates Henderson and Denton moving up to the third aisle. I keep my head on a swivel and see the various laser aiming points move about the building from time to time. A stray beam will come over a covered aisle and streak through the interior, hitting the ceiling beams momentarily before disappearing.
The third and fourth aisles are cleared and then we’re up. Robert and I cross through an open cashier lane and join Henderson and Denton. Robert takes his place at the end of the cleared aisle and we move up. I stand in the next aisle only a few feet away. Henderson and Denton line the lane to my right. This is as far inside as we’ll get. I ponder whether to take the reserve team off that duty and use them for supplies. We’re not going to be able to clear an entire building of this size with only two teams. And by clear, I mean empty it of supplies. We’ll need these places for more than food. Light bulbs will need to be replaced; toilet paper, all types of odds and ends. Being inside, I think we may need to wait to clear buildings of this size until after we’ve built the wall and we bring all of the entire teams. I table that in the back of my mind.
This is very different from sneaking around in buildings in times past. That was a very different philosophy altogether. Here we have to keep a perimeter and back then the perimeter merely moved with us. Wherever we happened to be, that was the perimeter. I glance at Robert standing nearby as he stares intently down his aisle and above him. Good, I think watching him, he remembers the lessons from the BX.
“Okay, Watkins, we’re in place. Start gathering items from the first aisle,” I say pressing the throat mic.
“Copy that, sir,” he responds.
The sound of a cart being wheeled slowly inside seems to screech across the interior like a fingernail on a blackboard. I cringe at the noise but it can’t be helped. If we hand gather the items, then we’d take forever and I’d rather be in and out quickly if at all possible. I make another mental note to check the carts and maybe even have some oil on hand. I see the two Alpha members disappear down the first aisle. The squeaks end, start, and end again as they venture down the aisle filling the basket. They eventually make their way back and to the entrance door, repeating the process with the second, third, and fourth aisles.
The two gathering goods come to Robert and he heads down the aisle, disappearing from my view. I feel apprehensive about him being in here. I know he’s a man but he’s also my kid. I don’t suppose I’ll ever get used to this. I trust him implicitly but this is almost too much to watch. The sound of the cart being wheeled down the aisle does its start and stop as items are gathered. My heart is pounding within the confines of my chest. I want to be done and out of here. I can’t believe we’re going to have to do this so many more times. Our equipment makes it easier but the stress of being inside a building that is possibly inhabited by night runners puts me on edge.
I glance down my aisle and see a flash of movement past the opening at the end. A soft padding of feet across the floor accompanies the quick darting of a shape across the opposite aisle opening. I immediately know what it is. A night runner!
“Night runners,” I call into the radio. “Pull back.”
As if the radio call was a signal, shrieks fill the interior. Or perhaps it’s that they realize they’ve been discovered and that the game is up; perhaps planning on trapping us within but now their presence is known. The screams seem to come from everywhere at once; to the front along the back lanes, to the right from the depths of the store, to the left from the bakery and deli counters. I swear it even seems to be coming from above. A glance verifies it’s just the incredible volume rebounding off the ceiling.
Night runners pour into the aisle in front of me and I hear a multitude of footsteps pounding across the floor to my right. The soft bark of M-4’s, firing to my immediate right from Henderson and Denton, verifies night runners in that direction. Their gunfire rises momentarily above the howling. The night runners streaking my way are packed shoulder to shoulder and I fire a couple of bursts into their midst. The first two drop immediately and are pushed to the floor from the ones behind.
Henderson and Denton are at my position keeping us from being overrun from the side. Increased fire is testament that night runners are appearing in other locations as well. I fold back with Henderson and Denton to Robert’s aisle. The two gathering the items are backtracking as rapidly as they can but are also blocking the exit. Robert is on the other side of them firing quick bursts into the night runners pouring into his aisle. How in the world did they get here so quick in the numbers they did? I think with a sense of urgency. Robert is closer to them and trapped.
“Move it!” I yell to the Alpha members that are moving much too slowly for my taste.
Constant bursts of fire from Robert is keeping the night runners at bay for the moment but there are more behind and he’ll have to reload soon. Light flashes off the assorted goods on the shelf beside him from his rounds reaching out to the creatures in front. They drop in the aisle, forming a small mound, but others replace them as they push onward. He backs along with the other two but the night runners are closing the distance.
“Stay here,” I say to Henderson and Denton who are kneeling at the corner of the aisle dealing their form of destruction to any who come streaming out into the lane from the far aisles.
The suddenness of the attack is startling and close to overwhelming. I direct Denton to cover the aisle I was in, so they don’t just round the corner on us, and move into the aisle. My son is up ahead and, although moving back slowly, he is clearly trapped. I take one step into the aisle and see his mag leave his receiver. He gropes for another at his vest pouch and then they’re on him. The foremost night runner slams into him and knocks him off balance. Another, just behind the first, runs into him and knocks him to the ground. They both go down on top of him and I hear him yell; startled, fearful, and perhaps pain. They’re on top of my son and bent over him. I lose it!
“Make sure everyone gets out,” I yell to Henderson and become oblivious to all else.
I race up the aisle replacing my own mag, passing the two backing quickly out. My focus is on the night runners bent over Robert. Time and motion slows. He is writhing under the two night runners on top of him as he tries to gain some leverage on them. They are too well situated and bent over him. I chamber the first round with a flick of the bolt release. I hear Robert scream in pain and feel the kick from my M-4 as it delivers the first rounds. They streak out for the night runners clawing and biting my son. The first bullets impact one of the night runners on top of the head with the others entering the back of its head and back. A small splash of blood sprays out from where the round hits on top with a larger shower erupting into the air above it as my second round takes off the back of its head. It slumps down on top of Robert and rolls to the side.
I quickly shift my aim to the next one; the thin beam of my aiming sight coming to rest on top of its head as well. Robert’s hands are on the side of its head trying to keep it away but I see his grip weaken. Light flashes and my next rounds are on the way. I’m oblivious to this as my entire focus is on getting to Robert. Nothing else matters. A similar pattern of blood gushes from the second night runner and it slumps on top of Robert.
“Get up!” I yell sending another burst into night runners trying to take their fallen pack members’
places.
He tilts his head backward looking in my direction but doesn’t move any more than that. His goggles have been knocked clear and I see his wide eyes looking back at me with fear and pain written in them. A night runner goes down at Robert’s feet but another fills the gap immediately. I switch to semi in order to conserve rounds. Reloading will force me back and I may lose him forever if that happens. And that’s not going to happen. A rage built on fear erupted upon seeing my son go down and now it builds even higher with the thought of being pushed back. I take steps forward spitting out single rounds. A steel net of determination tightens down in my mind. I will reach my boy! There is nothing that will interfere with that.
Night runners go down as rounds strike their bodies, either injuring or putting them down for good. A small mound begins to build. The line of creatures isn’t able to advance but neither is there any room gained either. I step next to Robert’s head and look quickly down.
“Can you get up?” I ask delivering another round into a night runner seeking to get closer.
There is no response but he continues to look up into my eyes. I see a large chunk of flesh has been ripped from his neck and blood is spilling to the floor his head. Fear, panic, and anger continue to rage through my system but it is at a level below a certain calmness. It is the fuel that is keeping my ability, determination, and actions going. The overriding calmness, well, more actually a lack of emotion, is the source that directs those actions. They combine to create a wall that no night runner will break; a wedge between me and my son on the ground that no one will overcome. The combination makes it so no other result is possible. I kneel beside him continuing to deliver rounds into the waiting night runners, their screams echoing in my ears. I plan to drag Robert while keeping the creatures at a distance. I look down at his eyes quickly, locking with his gaze, and see the life leave his eyes. His head lolls to the side and the pooling of the blood beside him slows. I reach quickly down, firing the single rounds one-handed into the mass just feet away. Feeling on the side of his ruined neck, I can’t discern a pulse.
