by John O'Brien
Large lakes, and I mean lakes not ponds, are filled with red liquid. I cannot imagine what they used to look like before as I’m sure evaporation has taken its toll but they are filled with blood. Whoever built this gigantic slaughter yard sloped it in such a way that the blood would eventually flow to these lakes. It’s not just one lake but several that stretch back over a mile. This has to be the singular most disgusting sight I’ve ever seen. It must seep underground to the creek below. I don’t see how it couldn’t unless they’ve lined it somehow but, seeing what I am, I sincerely doubt they did anything like that. I’m thinking the brown I noticed in the water isn’t silt or dirt eroding.
“Horace, Jack here,” I call on the radio.
“Go ahead, sir,” she responds.
“Do not, I repeat, do not let anyone drink any of the water in the creek or wash with it. Don’t even let anyone get wet,” I say. “I’m not even going to tell you why, just don’t.”
“Will do, sir,” Horace replies.
I look around the remaining area with the binoculars. There’s not much to see as the pens continue another half mile ahead of us intersecting a major freeway. The slight cover Jim mentioned getting close to the road does not even merit the word slight. It’s almost non-existent. A few trees or copses of stunted trees spread over a field of brown adjacent to the pens. We can get to the highway via the fields and will have to as there is no way I see us going through the pens. The dead cows and stench aside, we’ll disturb hundreds of birds and their flight could alert others that something is prowling around. I can’t see the prison from my position which is probably a good thing. Other than hundreds of scavenging birds feasting in the yards, their cries filling the air, I don’t observe any movement. I crawl back from the edge and wave the others up.
“You are about to see the worst sight ever. There’s a cattle slaughter yard that stretches for over a mile to the east and a half mile to the west. Who knows how far south it stretches. No sign of any movement and I can’t see the prison from here. Let’s edge up and pick the best route to get closer. Try to ignore the pens as you won’t like what you see there,” I say. We crawl up to the edge of the gully.
“Fucking — A,” I hear Robert breathe. “That’s just disgusting.”
“Told you not to look,” I say. Robert looks over with a weird expression. I realize he was whispering to himself and I shouldn’t have been able to hear it. I just give him a shrug and break out the map for us to study.
“There are two major freeways that come together in a “Y” on the other side of the yard. The only buildings I see in the area are the cattle pen buildings near the highway to the west and some in the “Y” between the highways. I’m thinking the prison is sitting in a field on the other side where the roads meet,” I say. “Ideas?”
“We could use the cattle pen buildings to mask our approach and see what we see from there. Maybe even go on the roof but that will mean going through some of those last cattle enclosures,” Greg suggests.
“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of that,” I reply.
“We could skirt the pens using the buildings to cover our approach and see how far we can get. At least we’d be closer,” Robert says.
“True enough. We’re certainly not going to see anything from here. Stay low and quiet. We’ll use the buildings and trees to mask our approach as much as we can. Keep an eye on the road and your ears open,” I say. I’m still not all that keen on getting close to all of those dead cattle. I can’t even imagine the diseases that must be prevalent.
We head away from the gully crouching and angling towards the slaughter yard but mostly using the sparse cover of trees as best we can. The ground beneath our feet is more like baked clay rather than actual dirt and radiates the heat of the day upward. The gagging stench follows us with every step. I breathe through my mouth to alleviate the smell but it makes it seem like I can taste the thousands of dead cattle. I use the buildings as a shield against prying eyes that may be at the prison. The sparse trees end less than a quarter of a mile from the highway. From here, it’s flat, bare ground. I still can’t see the prison but that was the plan for the approach anyway. I halt beside the last tree and listen. The others drop to their knees as well covering our sides and rear.
There’s only the constant, faint buzz of the flies and the cry of birds. The area from our location to the rear of the buildings is only a small one but it is in the open. If anyone happens by while we are traversing, we will be easily seen. The only option if that happens is to drop down and hope we only look like a dark spot on the ground. From the looks of it, we are going to have to cross one of the pens to get to the buildings after all. The dead cattle seem to cover every inch of the ground and the air above them is filled with clouds of flies. The birds are concentrated towards the middle of the slaughter yard so travelling through any of the pens on the side won’t create a disturbance. It’s now that I wish I could fly like the birds pecking away at the corpses; or at least hover. I wave Greg, Robert, and McCafferty forward.
“We’ll cross one at a time. I’ll make for the fence. McCafferty, you’re next. I’ll call for you when I’m there and the coast is clear. Robert, you’re third and then Greg. If we hear anyone approaching, drop down and make like a black hole,” I whisper. The others nod their understanding. I want Greg last as I don’t want Robert alone in case something happens. My priorities still remain the same.
“See ya on the other side,” I say rising.
I rush across the open field feeling very naked. There’s no use trying to be slow or stealthy at this point. If anyone is watching, they’ll see me regardless of how fast or slow I’m going so the key is to keep my time in the open held to a minimum. I feel my boots striking the hard ground as I transit keeping an eye out for any movement. Beads of sweat form from the additional exertion and the hot air is hard to breathe. My stomach is still doing leaps from the sight and smell of the yard and running isn’t helping that at all. I’m too old for this shit, I think drawing close to the wired fence enclosure.
I notice a narrow strip of land situated between two pens that is free of the black lumps that used to be cattle. It leads directly to a small dirt lot behind the buildings. I alter my path making directly for it. I’m thankful for the lack of any shouts of discovery or shots ringing out. That would really suck out in the open. It seems like it takes forever to reach the far side but I’m there in about two minutes. Two minutes in the open can seem like an eternity. I go to my knees next to a gate breathing hard. I gag twice from the stench. The run across field in the heat doesn’t help this but my stomach settles back to being only slightly nauseous.
My panting is loud but I listen past it for any sounds that my transit was noticed. It’s hard to hear over the perpetual buzzing that is louder now that I’m right next to the thousands of dead cows. I still can’t see the prison from here but look into the dusty lot behind the buildings that is filled with semis and cattle trailers. There are also hundreds of pallets littering the yard. The building itself appears to be a large headquarters or office building with an attached warehouse. I see some of the freeway that runs just in front of the buildings. It’s all quiet except for the birds and flies in the background and there’s nothing moving in the area.
“Okay, McCafferty, it’s clear,” I say.
I see a small dark shape rise from beside a tree and begin to dash across the open field. There’s a shimmer from the heat waves masking McCafferty to an extent. It seems like she is running in place and her dark shape doesn’t grow any larger for the longest of times. She suddenly materializes half way and grows larger by the second until she plops down beside me panting. She gags for a second and then regains her composure.
“You know, sir,” she says catching her breath and talking between pants, “I’ve lived here for what seems like forever and never knew this place was this big.”
“I’m not sure how anyone could live within a hundred miles of this place. It smells now but it mus
t have smelled bad before as well,” I reply before calling Robert over. The same scene is replayed twice again before Greg slides down beside the fence.
“I see your running skills haven’t improved,” he says finally catching his breath.
“I see you still want to lock your teeth on my ass in a biting motion,” I reply. The lack of additional sounds indicates our little adventure can continue.
“Let’s make our way down this lane and through the yard to the far corner. Single file and keep your spacing,” I say.
We rise and open the gate wide enough to pass through. The buzzing of the flies is annoying, much like mosquitos buzzing in a tent, but we are nearing the prison and the irritant is put to the side. We skirt piles of pallets, some stacked and some just strewn, and make our way to the rear of the building near the corner. Feeling the heat radiate from the aluminum-sided building, I crouch and peek around the corner.
The highway looms close with additional buildings across the way nestled between the north-south freeway just in front and another that branches off heading west. Between some of the buildings, I catch the first sight of the prison walls in the distance. Yep, they’re prison walls; tall and concrete. A wide field devoid of any obstructions surrounds it. I take a look through the binoculars, shielding the lens with my hands to prevent any glare reaching out as the sun is in front of me. Heat waves shimmer in the distance obscuring a clear look at the prison. I also glass the buildings across the freeway but I don’t see anything more out of the ordinary than usual. Nothing is normal these days. There is one thing across the road that does catch my attention and I wave Greg over.
“Hmmmm… Nice. A water tower. That is rather handy,” he says following my finger. “Now if we can just get there and climb it without being seen.”
“That would be the ideal result. I figure the heat waves should keep us partially hidden,” I respond.
There’s only one thing really keeping us from gaining an advantage of height to observe and that is the open road in front of us. If the ones in the prison are keeping an outpost, the buildings across from us would be ideal for that. There is also the fact that part of our route across the highway may be visible from the prison itself. I’m hoping the shimmers will help keep us hidden. The water tower is only about a half mile from the walls and, once we begin climbing the tower, we’ll be in the open once again. The ladder leading upward to the catwalk lining the top runs up one of the outside support posts and is in the open. Luckily, it is on the backside of the tower away from the prison.
“Okay. Same as before. We’ll cross one at a time in the same order. Greg, if I’m spotted or rounds start getting exchanged, get out of here. Start heading back with Robert and McCafferty and have Horace meet you. We’re not in a position to duke it out with twenty or thirty others,” I say. “I’ll meet you when I can.”
“You got it,” he replies.
“Okay, here goes nothing,” I say and edge to the very front of the building.
Two sets of railway tracks are directly in front with a wide dirt median separating them from the two lane highway. It’s not quite as far as the wide field we came through but it’s a sprint. I’m hesitant about crossing. It is daylight and I imagine the ones in the prison could be out scavenging. Being this close, there is an increased chance of having them coming or going while we’re in the open. That’s not a comfortable feeling. And that’s aside from them keeping an outpost. I don’t see any cars in front of the buildings but that doesn’t really mean anything.
I take one more look at the buildings looking for any sign that they are being inhabited in any way. Grime covers the glass windows in front. There aren’t any smear marks of someone trying to wipe them clean so that’s an added bonus. I look up and down the highway to the north and south. I don’t see anything but the shimmers could hide vehicles in the distance.
“It’s now or never,” I breathe to myself.
With a deep, stabilizing breath, I rise and begin another rush across open ground. I quickly gain the first set of railroad tracks and cross with the gravel crunching under my boots. I notice the tops of the tracks are still shiny from a lot of use but that will change when the rains come. Looking as I cross, they stretch in a straight line to both sides and merge in the distance; eventually vanishing in a haze.
The gravel gives way to packed earth as I make my way to the hardtop road. I keep expecting winks of light to materialize from the buildings ahead but they remain as before; seemingly empty and quiet. The heat radiating from the ground increases as I step onto the concrete of the highway. My boots clomp on the road that once carried a stream of cars and semis. Now, I’m the only one to intrude upon its surface.
I’m across quickly and duck inside a driveway entrance between two sides of a fence. I fall to my knees again panting from the exertion in the heat. The buzzing of the flies is only faint now and the intense smell dissipates to a degree. Either that or I’ve become used to it and that’s not something I want to become used to. The tower looms ahead. It looks like we’ll have to clear another yard behind the building in front of me and then we’re there. I call clear and the others cross one at a time without incident. It already seems like hours since we left. I check my watch.
“We have forty minutes until we have to head back so we’ll have to make this quick,” I say and report back to Horace on our progress.
I feel the strain of being close but not sure of the outcome. It surely can’t be the tension McCafferty must be feeling. I feel both loose and tight at the same time; tension with an underlying calmness. We’ll have to go slow especially being so close to a major intersection. On the other hand, we don’t have a lot of time to spare. The warmth is taking its toll as well. In black fatigues and vest, I feel my energy being sapped by the minute. I know this is the place where mistakes can be made and try to keep my mind sharp. Taking a drink of water, I rise and head across the dirt parking lot to the building’s corner.
The large lot is filled with mounds of scrap metal. Mobile cranes with large magnets attached dot the yard. Wrecked cars line one entire side. This place would be quite handy if we had a smelter. I don’t have time to ponder the possibilities as we need to get to the tower undiscovered, climb it, and see if we can see over the prison walls less than a half mile away. Hopefully all of that will keep me within the undiscovered realm as well.
We move from pile to pile advancing into the yard itself. The piles keep us hidden from view of the roads on either side. We eventually come to the end of the mounds of scrap. Ahead is another building with the water tower sitting close to its side. A larger freeway lies on the other side of the building. We advance slowly to the base of the water tower. I pick up the sound of a car motoring down the road approaching from our right. The whirring of the tires on the hot pavement mixes with the low hum of the engine.
“Car approaching, take cover,” I say in my throat mic. There’s a scramble as we dart behind the building nearest the highway.
The sound of the vehicle increases but I don’t see anything on the road as I peek around the corner of the building. I hope it isn’t bouncing off the large aluminum buildings and actually approaching from behind or side. I look around and see a couple of thick bushes against a fence to our rear. I point and we dash across burrowing into their midst. I lie on the ground at the very edge of the bushes and am able to see a section of highway. There’s still no sign of any car but I can still hear it grow louder. Greg gives me a little tilt of his head. I hold my fingers to my lips and he gets the message.
Lying on the ground increases the heat radiating to my body and I feel grit inside of my fatigue top. My belt line itches from the heat and dirt and the limbs of the bushes are prickling my skin where they touch. All in all, I’m not comfortable. The heat is even masking the adrenaline. I’m so ready to be done with this and go home.
The sound gets louder and I see Greg nod indicating he can hear it now as well. Robert or McCafferty are out of my sight as they
are burrowed in an adjacent bush. The noise changes to the sounds of the car slowing down. I pick out sounds of other engines. There’s more than one and possibly three. The slowing down isn’t a good sign. Either we’ve been seen and a call went out or they are slowing to make a turn. The only right answer is for them to make a turn away from us towards the prison. Any turn toward us or if we’ve been spotted is bad news.
A white pickup truck, going slow, comes into view on the section of road I can see. Another green pickup is right on its tail. Both of the beds appear to have boxes and miscellaneous gear stacked in them. Both trucks vanish in front of the building and they sound like they are slowing more. I wait for the crunch of the tires hitting the gravel and dirt parking lot in front of the building. A third truck comes into view and disappears.
The sounds from in front increase as the trucks begin picking up speed. They fade slowly until disappearing altogether. I realize I’ve been holding my breath and let it out slowly. I feel grimy from the sweat, dirt, and still pervasive smell. A long cold shower sounds so good that I almost wish for the storms to come back. We wait a few minutes longer to see if the trucks come back our way. If they are heading to the prison, they could just be dropping stuff off and return heading on another supply run. We just don’t have the time to wait though. I don’t want to put us at risk but if we’re going to have a look, we have to do it soon. There are only the faint caws, cackles, and screeches of the distant birds.
“Robert, McCafferty. Keep watch from the rear of the building. If anything happens, radio Horace and get yourselves back. Greg, you’re with me. We’re out of time. Let’s climb this monstrosity and get an eyeful,” I say into the radio.
