by John O'Brien
Gonzalez’ head is on a swivel looking around her home town. Tension is very apparent around her eyes. She points to the left off the main street and we enter a residential district. Another turn and we find ourselves on a narrow street partially covered with sand blown in from the outlying fields. The houses lining the street are in need of fresh coats of paint. The yards are bare of any vegetation with the occasional house having a chain link fence encircling it. Cars line the streets, are parked in driveways, and in open air garages. Toys and bits of junk are scattered in the bare front yards. Several screen doors swing open and closed as the blasts of air blow through. One screen door hangs only by its bottom hinge. It won’t be long before a flurry of wind tears it off and carries it to join the other debris in the yard.
“Bring it up a little and stay alert,” I say to Horace.
Our engines and the banging screens are the only sounds in the neighborhood. We drive slowly up the crowded street. Looking closer at the houses, I see that some have their doors fully open or slightly ajar. That’s not a good sign, I think associating any open door with night runners.
“That’s it right there,” Gonzalez says pointing to a rundown house with peeling white paint. My heart tightens noticing it’s one of the houses with its door ajar.
I pull up front and park the Humvee at an angle blocking the street but still able to drive away quickly if we need. I see Horace park in the same manner behind us. We stay in the running vehicles a moment longer to see if we’ve drawn any attention. Nothing but screens slamming against walls or door frames. The brown fields in the far distance, beyond where the street ends, blur and sharpen as heat thermals rise from the ground and are blown away.
I shut the Humvee down and step outside. The heat and humidity become more intense as the day warms. Looking skyward, the billowing clouds continue their slow build. It looks like there will definitely be thunderstorms in the area by mid-afternoon. The wind feels good as it occasionally sweeps through, wicking the quickly accumulating beads of sweat away, but begins to die down meaning the heat will increase and lend its energy to the overhead cumulus clouds. The slamming of vehicle doors behind me brings my attention back to the teams emerging into the sandy street. With the guns manned, the remaining team members gather around me.
“Horace, I want Blue Team outside in a perimeter. Make sure both guns are manned. Red Team will go inside and search,” I say.
“You got it, sir,” she replies. She orders her team into covered positions directing two onto the top guns.
“Gonzalez, this is your show. You know the house,” I say.
“Okay, sir,” she responds and describes the interior of the house.
“Everyone stay alert but watch itchy trigger fingers. Remember, there might be Gonzalez’ parents and sister inside. Make sure of your targets before you fire. We’ll call out once inside. One last thing, the door is ajar and I don’t have to tell you what that possibly means. I’m sorry to have to mention that,” I say patting Gonzalez on the shoulder, “but we have to keep ourselves safe and alive.”
“I understand, sir,” Gonzalez says with a sigh and an increased tightness in her eyes.
We arrange our gear and grab NVG’s from the Humvee before heading up the concrete steps leading to the front porch. The overhanging eave shelters us to a degree from the sun. The clouds, although building, haven’t blocked the sunlight that is creating a furnace. Standing before the slightly open door, I feel a tickle in my mind.
I open a touch and the tickle becomes a series of confused images. Not that the images are confusing but that the source appears confused. With Henderson and Denton on each side of the door and McCafferty behind her, Gonzalez reaches for the door handle. Forcing the tickle into the depths of my mind once again, I reach out to Gonzalez’ shoulders. She turns.
“There’s at least one night runner inside,” I say feeling bad for what that may mean. What I don’t tell her is that I think I’ve woken it, or them.
Settling into the passenger seat of the Humvee, Gonzalez feels the apprehension of what they are about to do. She is very anxious about what she will find but holds a sliver of hope that her parents and sister are still alive. The nervousness makes her want to turn around and head back. It might be better if she doesn’t know and she can keep the image that they are okay a reality. The smells bring back memories of her time growing up in the area along with the feel of the heat and humidity. It brings the comfort of being home.
They journey along the remembered fields and vast openness of the area. The green circles of the watered crops are no longer a part of the landscape but replaced by an endless brown. The highway she travelled many times in the past rolls by. Her stomach clinches as the welcome sign and the first houses of Clovis come into view. She feels like time and the surroundings are passing in an out-of-control fashion. On one hand, she wants it to slow down so she can assimilate it. On the other, she wants this to be done one way or the other. The unknown and what she may find is eating her up. Their coming into the city and nearing her parents’ house feels like an onrushing freight train and she isn’t able to get out of the way.
She directs Jack off the main street and onto a connecting road, turning onto her street shortly thereafter. Looking at the long, sand strewn street that ends near one of the fields surrounding Clovis brings back memories of her childhood days; some good and others bad. These streets hold a lot of stories, she thinks as they progress slowly along them. The houses and yards in front of them haven’t changed much. It still represents an area without much money; rife with gangs and drugs where some try to live out their existence as peacefully as the streets will allow.
She looks to one the neighbor houses noticing tape across a front window. She remembers the time when gunfire interrupted the night, as it did at times, and a stray round found its way through that window. The police and ambulances arrived a short time later, although it always seemed like they took longer responding to her neighborhood. She gets why now as they wouldn’t want to barrel into her neighborhood without plenty of backup, especially after an exchange of gunfire.
Exiting the Humvee, her old neighborhood presses in on her yet there is a feeling of elation as well. If it wasn’t for the life and death reason they are here, she might feel like the returning conqueror. Gonzalez turns to her parents’ house. The rundown condition is counter to her father’s determined effort to make the best home possible for her and her sister. She knows how much her brother running off with the gangs weighed on him and her mother.
“I understand, sir,” Gonzalez says with a sigh, feeling tension gather in her gut at the implication of Jack’s words.
She checks her gear with the others but her eyes never leave the house for long. Each moment outside without someone emerging lessens the odds of her parents and sister being here. She knows her dad would have come out when the Humvees arrived. With the rest of Red Team behind her, she climbs the all-too-familiar steps to the porch. The weather-beaten boards creak beneath her boots. The sound of the rotting wood, moaning with the weight, reminds her of her dad and his intention to replace the porch. Each time he would finally get around to it, other bills or something else would erode the money he saved. The memory adds to her sadness as she now feels this search may be for naught. They have some time to look around the city and she holds onto the small hope that they are safe somewhere nearby. First though, she knows she has to enter the home of her childhood.
Standing by the door, she puts the NVG’s on her head and checks her M-4. Checking for a round in the chamber, she moves the selector switch to ‘Auto’ and reaches for the door handle. She pulls up short as she feels Jack’s hand on her shoulder and turns to see what he wants.
“There’s at least one night runner inside,” he says.
Gonzalez is confused about how he would know that but sees sorrow in Jack’s eyes as he relays the news. She knows open doors may indeed signal night runners but his statement is one of assuredness. A memory f
lashes in her head of the time they were in Madigan. Jack commented that the night runners knew they were in there and were coming. She hadn’t heard them herself but he said it with the same assuredness.
“How do you know that, sir?” Gonzalez asks.
“You’re just going to have to take my word on it. I know we have to go inside but keep on your toes,” Jack answers.
“Okay, sir,” she says.
A light dawns in her head. Not the bright light of an “aha” moment but a click of understanding. Something happened to Jack when he was in that coma. She should have seen it before. Other memories surface of seeing him look oddly to the front door during their meals or at a building as if he perceived something the others couldn’t. Maybe he did. He can sense them, she thinks looking at him a moment longer. It’s almost too much to deal with right now. With an answer about her family, or potentially one, right in front of her and now to have this realization. The freight train continues speeding down the track and she is standing right in its path.
She turns back to the door. Jack has stepped back and McCafferty stands at her shoulder with her M-4 at the ready. Henderson and Denton are ready to the side. Through the turmoil of emotions, a sense of pride shines through. She is part of a great team. The anxiety, frustration and disbelief she felt at Jack’s words changes. Gonzalez realizes he said those things, not because he was being cold-hearted but just the opposite, he cares about them and only wants to see them safe. She knew this even as he spoke but her anxiety only allowed so much in.
She reaches again for the door handle and, with a nod to the others, pushes the door open and rushes in with her carbine up and ready covering the immediate front. She senses more than hears McCafferty right on her heels as she covers the right. Gonzalez pushes further into the room with her eye tracking the small red crosshair as it traverses the room in her parallax view. Milliseconds later, a swish of clothing announces the arrival of Henderson and Denton. The open living room is clear of any movement and the lack of anything inside gives rise to a small doubt of Jack’s “knowledge.” Doubt gives rise to hope although a limited one as no one came outside to meet them when they pulled up.
She stops and goes to one knee and looks around the familiar room. McCafferty parks herself just off her right shoulder. Henderson and Denton are covering the right with Jack just inside the front door covering the entire room. The curtains covering the front window are pulled down on one side angling across the window. The open door and partially open window provides a dim light to the interior. Against the far wall sits the couch that was part of her life for so long; the cushions indented in the middle from the many times they sat as a family in front of the old console TV. Her dad’s green chair sits in the corner; the fabric on the arms thinned to the point where they’ve lost all color and has stuffing showing through.
The dining room opening is in front of her with the kitchen opening to left of the rickety table and chairs. Several plates lie on the table and the dim light catches a sparkle of silverware on the floor. Ahead and to her left is the hallway leading to the bathroom and back bedrooms. The house feels empty with the exception of memories. Gonzalez motions to Henderson and Denton pointing to the dining room. They both slide their NVG’s down and creep forward covering each other and the opening.
Gonzalez covers the hallway entrance with McCafferty. The chill Gonzalez feels is more than from the cool interior of the house. This is what she wanted but now, being here, she is not so sure she really wants an answer. She pulls her own NVG’s down over her eyes and turns to see Jack take station on his knees in the middle of the living room covering all approaches. She notices he doesn’t have his NVG’s down but is covering the rooms as if he can see everything in detail. Another click of understanding settles in her already overwhelmed mind. She takes a deep breath and settles into the moment. This is only another mission, she thinks looking to McCafferty. With a nod, they both rise and approach the hallway.
Settling down on the near corner, with McCafferty across the opening, Gonzalez looks down the darkened hall. All of the doors leading to the bedrooms and bathroom are open. The green glow of her goggles picks out a little light showing in the bedrooms from sunlight filtering in through the windows. The bathroom, two doors down the hall to the right, remains dark. If there is a night runner or two in here as Jack said, they would be in the bathroom, she thinks taking her first step into the hall with McCafferty right behind her. The silence is complete within the house. The shuffling of Henderson and Denton stationing themselves by the back door has stopped. She can’t even hear her own breathing or the pounding of her heart in her chest. The house itself seems to be holding its breath. I hate this, Gonzalez thinks taking another step.
The narrow hall is only wide enough for one person at a time. A very slight rustle coming from the bathroom brings her up short. It was subtle but it sounded like something shifting inside. Her heart rate quickens further threatening to pound right out of her chest. Gonzalez pauses waiting for another noise. Nothing else emits from the bathroom. It could be the house making noise as it warms up, she thinks. She lifts her foot to take another step.
The eruption of noise and movement startles her. Her heart bounds as adrenals kick into their highest gear flooding her system. It’s an explosion of noise from the bathroom. A shriek fills the narrow hall. Where, only a moment ago, the house seemed to be holding its breath, there is now an unearthly howl that shakes the walls and her very soul. The scream is accompanied by a burst of movement. Fast as lightning, a shape emerges from the bathroom entrance. Gonzalez shifts her red dot to the doorway. A night runner runs into her field of vision. Entering the hallway just a few feet away, it becomes wholly visible and turns with astonishing speed toward her. The face of her dad glows bright in her goggles. The shock is truly too much. She freezes.
The sound next to her ear threatens to stop her heart; the muted coughing like someone slapped her softly open-handed in the ear. Strobe-like flashes bounce off the walls and light the hall. Time slows. She watches in horror as the first round strikes her dad just below the left eye causing a splash of blood to erupt and spatter the wall. The round tears into the flesh, hits the cheek bone and continues into the sinus cavity. Slowed by the thick bone but its force not depleted, the bullet rips past the bone structure and into the soft tissue of the brain. Taking large amounts of gray matter and severing hundreds of blood vessels, it slams into the interior skull and imbeds itself.
The second round hits fractions of a second later above the left eye. The hard bone flattens the steel core bullet immediately with the forceful impact and it angles to the right. The force of the impact creates a small initial hole but, now flattened, the remains of the bullet crashes into the skull just above the left ear. It opens a large hole spraying blood and the gory remains of the brain against the wall with a loud slapping sound. The third round misses impacting the wall next to the back bedroom door.
The night runner’s head, her dad’s head, is flung backward. The upper shoulders follow, then the upper body. Its feet fly high into the air barely missing Gonzalez’ chin. The body then slams onto the hall floor with a thud. The house returns to silence once again. Gonzalez pans her carbine to the bathroom and other doors expecting another night runner to emerge and fearing who that might be. Her actions are by rote as her mind is still frozen by what she just witnessed. Her heart is sick with pain and her stomach threatens to spill the contents of her meager breakfast.
Nothing emerges. Gonzalez looks down at the body lying on the thread-bare carpet. Tears well in her eyes; her vision becoming a blurry green. The dreams her dad had for her and her sister lies unmoving on the floor, slowly seeping into the carpet. Her dream of better things for her parents fades with the last echoes of the muted gunshots in the narrow hallway in the middle of a rundown neighborhood. With her vision blurred by tears, she walks over and kneels by her dad. Cradling her M-4 in one hand, she reaches out to touch her dad’s cooling shoulder.
>
“Oh, dear papa,” she says in a shaky voice. The tightness in her heart threatens to spill into uncontrolled sobbing. A tear leaves her eye and make its way down her cheek under the NVG’s. She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up to see McCafferty standing over her.
“I’m so sorry,” McCafferty says. What was held back now spills out into deep, wracking sobs.
I kneel in the middle of the living room. It would be dimly lit given normal conditions but things are far from “normal.” With the goggles perched on my head but not lowered, I can see well. The furniture and framed pictures on the wall show up in fine detail. It’s not the green glow that I’m used to in darkened areas but more in shadings of gray with a hint of color attached to them. There is no difference between what I can see “normally” and what shows up when I slide the goggles down except for the overall shading.
I watch as Henderson and Denton head off to the back of the house under Gonzalez’ direction. Gonzalez and McCafferty rise and edge to the hall entrance. I want to open up and reach out to ascertain where the night runner is and what it is thinking but I don’t dare. If I do, it will know exactly where I am or at least I assume it will. With Gonzalez and McCafferty in the enclosed hallway, it could be on them in moments flat. I’m pretty sure I pinpointed it to inside the house with the momentary glimpse but now I’m as blind as the rest of us. What use is having this? I think watching the two women enter the hallway and disappear from sight. I’d rather I didn’t because I feel like any choice I make in this situation might be the wrong one.
A shriek shatters the silence which rebounds around the small house to the point that it feels like it’s actually inside of me. The hallway is lit with flashes of light and I hear a suppressed burst of gunfire followed by a loud thump. I’m on my feet in an instant rushing toward the hall.
“Henderson, Denton, maintain position,” I say looking down the corridor.
