by John O'Brien
“I’d like to do that soon,” I answer.
“Good, because we could use the supplies. Especially with you always finding strays to bring home,” Bannerman says. Just when you think he has lost his humor somewhere, he manages to locate a batch of it.
“Are we okay with crews and teams if we head up tomorrow?” I ask.
“We should be. We have the wall crews and those on the water tower, along with others who tend to the livestock, but with you returning, we should have enough,” Bannerman responds.
“Okay, let’s head up tomorrow and take a look. I’d also like to plan a time to start clearing out the night runners in the area. If the distribution center is good enough for our supplies, we should think about leveling the entire area of buildings and night runners,” I say.
“I think we should take a look at the DC before making those plans,” Lynn chimes in.
“I agree but we need to think about the night runners in the area,” I say and relate our findings about their ability to operate doors.
“Speaking of night runners, you might want to take a look at this,” Frank says setting a laptop down. “This was taken the night you left so I didn’t get a chance to show you yet.”
Frank starts a video he compiled from our security cameras posted along the walls. The video shows a night runner, and a single one at that, prowling around the walls. The night runner tries jumping to scale the heights and, failing that, tries digging under the walls. There is then a series of shots showing the night runner heading around the entire perimeter. The video has been shortened to a large degree or it would take hours to see the whole thing. The ending shows the night runner lifting its head to the sky and heading off into the night.
“That doesn’t fucking bode well but at least it couldn’t get in,” I say as the video ends.
“True, but that’s not all. We just picked this one up from one of our remote cameras,” Frank says starting a sequence of photos.
The first one shows a night runner on a street. There is more of a night runner closer to the camera and then one of its face. This startles me as it comes on screen. It’s a close up of a pale face staring out from the screen.
“Wait, is that the same night runner from the wall?” I ask.
“It certainly looks like it,” Frank answers. “And that camera was found destroyed on the ground. From the images, it seems like the camera captured the night runner, it came back to investigate, and subsequently destroyed the camera.”
“Holy fuck,” Drescoll says. “Are they getting smarter?”
“I don’t know what to make of it to be honest,” Frank says. “But some of the teams have been reporting that several of our other cameras have also been destroyed.”
We sit in a moment of silence as this news sinks in.
“And not to throw any more in, but supply teams have entered into stores and reported that some of the supplies have been scavenged with bags of chips torn and littering the ground. Dented cans have been found near walls where they’ve apparently been thrown at them. Some were broken open and others merely dented,” Franks continues.
“That could be just previous people scavenging supplies,” I say.
“Yeah, it could be,” Frank replies but without a lot of conviction.
“That wouldn’t make any sense,” Robert says. “Wouldn’t people looking for supplies just take the supplies instead of bashing cans against the wall? I mean, the stores even have can openers.
“That’s my thinking,” Franks says. “If I was to hazard a guess, and note this is just a guess, I would say the night runners have found a source of food.”
“That’s not good news at all,” I say. “Everything points to the night runners learning new tricks.”
“That’s how it seems to me,” Lynn says. “I don’t like it but things do seem to point in that direction.”
“Yeah, I don’t like it at all. If they are learning that, identifying cameras and destroying them, opening doors, what else do they know?” I say not expecting an answer.
The ramifications definitely point to our sanctuary not being much of one in the future. It will be a bad time indeed if they learn how to drive or use firearms. My mind ventures down a million paths and none of them look good or have storybook endings.
“Okay, let’s keep these in mind. If we find the distribution center meets our needs, we curtail excursions into darkened buildings. My thought is to level the area around us once our needs are met,” I say. “So, tomorrow let’s head up to look at the DC. The crews continue on as before with our priorities being the walls, the water tower, and the distribution center. We don’t have a lot of time to head out to look for families but we need to get a handle on what we are looking for in the way of supplies for the winter.”
“So, what you’re saying is we look at the DC and, if it meets our needs, we level and clear the area while the crews assigned to work details continue with them. After that, then head out to look for families?” Drescoll asks.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” I say. “Lynn, what do you think?”
“You know how I feel about you heading off again but I agree with the plan. Distribution center, clear the area, and then families,” she answers.
Black, Blue, and Red Teams — yes, again not my favorite colors for a team selection — prepare for the journey north to one of the distribution centers after the morning’s training. I think about giving the teams a day off but I feel time is running out with the coming winter. We have a month or two of nice weather as we usually have an Indian summer but we can’t count on it. We have to secure our supplies to help us through the long Northwest winter, especially with the influx of people.
The teams are outside loading our gear up as Bannerman, Lynn, and I head towards the front door ready for our trip. The interior is a chaotic movement of people. The ones who have just arrived are trying to find their way and others are preparing for their day’s tasks. Kathy catches up to us as we are about to head out of the front door.
“Jack, the guards arrived at the front gate and said you might be interested in what they found,” Kathy says.
“What did they find?” I ask.
“I don’t know. They just said to find you and see if you or Lynn could head there,” she answers.
“Okay. We’re heading that way anyway. Thanks,” I say and look at Lynn questioningly.
She shrugs and gets on the radio contacting the guards. “This is Lynn, what do you have?”
He is startled awake. The darkness is complete and he blinks to make sure his eyes are actually open. He’s not sure exactly where he is and feels disoriented. He should be lying on his couch in his living room having lain down to try and sleep his headache away. The hard surface under his back and hips is nothing like his comfortable couch. He brings his hand to his face and can only see a ghostly outline even though it’s close to his face. With his mind waking more, he becomes aware of someone breathing nearby. The more he listens, the more he notices it sounds like several. It’s like the deep breathing of sleep but it’s coming in quicker inhales and exhales than he would expect.
He feels exhausted and sits up still feeling confused and disoriented trying to make sense of his surroundings. His eyes adjust to a degree and he makes out forms lying on the ground close to him. He can also dimly see other objects in the room but can’t make out what they are. A very dim line of light is low to the floor to his left and his mind registers that it must be a door.
He becomes aware of the strong smell of body odor and realizes some of that is coming from him. It’s the kind of smell that can only come about from a number of days wearing the same clothes. This confuses him more and he draws his knees to his chest feeling his bare feet on a cold, hard surface. What the heck am I doing barefooted? He thinks still trying to comprehend what is going on.
Something stirs next to him as if rolling over and he hears a growl. He feels the need to get out into some light to orient himself. The thought g
oes through his mind that this is just a dream but it feels too real. He knows something has happened but hasn’t the faintest clue as to what that could be. He stands a little unsteadily feeling dizzy for a brief moment. His muscles ache and it feels as if every joint in his body pops. He hears a rustling in the dark coming from somewhere close. A growl emits from the inky blackness; not the growl of someone sleeping and rolling over but the growl of something alert and dangerous.
Adrenaline floods his system. He rushes for what he assumes is a door above the thin line of faint light. The line is only a shade lighter than the surrounding blackness. Not having any sense of depth perception, he slams into a metal object which gives with his pressure. The door opens but the light is only marginally better in the hall in which he finds himself. He instinctively knows he is in a building but that’s it. A piercing shriek fills the air behind him. He senses something large moving rapidly toward him.
Fuuuuuck! He thinks pausing and trying to analyze the best way to go. No answer readily comes to mind so he darts left down a hall. He barely registers the cold, slick feel of linoleum under his feet. Thrusting his hands out in front, in order to get some indication if he is about to plow into something, he takes off at a run only knowing he wants to get away from whatever screamed.
He drifts his hand to the side and comes into contact with what feels like a wall. Keeping his hand on the wall, his mind searches for a solution out of whatever he is in. He just knows he needs to get out and away. Other howls fill the air behind. Feet pound behind and he senses they’ve entered the same corridor from the room he just fled. These thoughts compartmentalize in his mind; that he was in a room and now a hall; that he needs to get away.
His fingers brushing the wall come up on empty space. The air is filled with shrieks and the sound of feet slapping the surface of the floor; close and getting closer. He slows just for a moment putting his foot into the empty space and not coming into contact with anything until below the level of the floor. Stairs, he thinks and turns into the empty inky space. Throwing caution to the wind with the screams almost directly in his ear, he tears off down the stairs holding one hand in front of him. A part of his mind knows that stairs end and he doesn’t want to slam into whatever is at the end. The other hand feels a wall to his left.
His hand pounds into what feels like concrete. He turns right groping on the run for another set of stairs leading down. His foot comes into open air and he feels himself falling forward.
“Noooo!” He screams.
The sense of several large things on his heels penetrates his awareness. With his heart racing and fear overwhelming his senses, his foot comes into contact with the edge of a step and slips down to the next one. Still off balance and falling forward, he thrusts his other foot out feeling it contact another step. Whatever is behind him is right behind and he knows he doesn’t have time to regain his balance. He keeps his off-balanced run down the stairs. Shrieks fill the enclosed stairwell.
He barely notices the change from concrete to linoleum once again. The sudden shift from the stairs to level floor causes him to stumble even more and he lurches forward. His outstretched hand, flailing to keep his balance, contacts something solid. There is no way to avert the collision with him being off balance so he turns his shoulder to minimize the impact. His shoulder impacts the heavy object but he feels it give. Sensing he just opened a door, he stumbles through feeling the end of fingers rake through his hair.
His fear escalates to the extent that he thinks his heart is going to either burst or stop. He screams. The light becomes more pronounced as he finds himself in a wide hall. There is light streaming from a glass doorway to his left. He turns instinctively toward the light. He can’t make out anything but the brighter light of the outside. A hand brushes against his scalp just above his left ear but slides off. The light grows beneath his feet revealing the green and cream checkered floor of an entrance lobby.
He makes for the outside. There is nothing soothing about the fact that he will be outside but it will enable him to better fight what is running and clawing after him. Sight is imperative. With the hand brushing against him twice, he knows that whatever or whomever is just behind him is faster or at least knows the interior better. A loud chorus of howls and screams causes him to lose control of his bladder. He feels the warmth but doesn’t care. The sharp pain of his feet being cut on broken glass lying on the floor also registers but doesn’t slow him one bit. He is through the broken glass door in a flash.
Finding himself in a parking lot, he turns knowing he can’t run any further with the pain coming from his cut feet. Expecting to be hit immediately by that which is directly behind him, he raises his arms to protect himself from the impact. Nothing. He lowers his arms and is confused at seeing nothing. He touches the back of his head remembering the feel of fingers and a hand expecting something to still be there. He knows he didn’t imagine it as he can still hear screaming emanating from within the tall building he is now standing in front of.
With his heart racing, he looks at the unfamiliar building. He racks his brain for a clue as to how he got here but comes up blank. There are images in his mind but none form a coherent pattern. His feet sting so he sits on the paved lot watching the door for signs of anything heading his way. He can’t go further until he stops the pain in his feet and the bleeding. Feeling along his bloody feet, he finds no embedded glass shards.
Taking a good look at himself for the first time, he notices he is covered in blood; his clothes are caked in it. Fear rises again thinking he has been greatly injured. His outer shirt is shredded, barely even on him, as are the bottoms of his jeans. He removes his outer shirt and checks himself to locate the reason for all of the blood but finds himself whole. Well, except for his feet. He presses the remains of his shirt against his feet to stop the blood flow and then wraps pieces of it around them.
He walks gingerly across the lot, keeping an eye on the building he just left, and picks a random direction. The sun is coming over the horizon and a chill fills the air as he limps along a street. In the distance, he sees a wall and heads warily in that direction. A short time later he sees a large metal gate and sits down on the pavement outside. His feet ache and he removes the strips of cloth he put around them. He isn’t comfortable just banging on the gate or shouting given his very recent experience but he just can’t walk any further.
He hears a screech of metal on the other side and the gate partially opens. Two soldiers step outside aiming weapons at him. He is too tired, sore, and scared to do anything other than continue sitting. They help him inside. They ask him about the blood on his clothes to which he has no answer. From behind, he hears, “Hands on your head and on your knees.”
“We found this guy at the front gate but something doesn’t seem right, First Sergeant. We have him under guard,” the guard replies.
“What’s not right?” Lynn asks.
“It’s hard to explain, First Sergeant. Perhaps you should just see for yourself,” the guard says.
“Okay, we’re on our way,” Lynn responds.
“What the fuck is that all about?” I ask Lynn furrowing my brows.
“I haven’t the faintest clue,” she answers.
There is a cacophony of noise in the parking lot as trucks are warmed up, gear stored in Humvees, doors slammed, and the general murmur of conversations with the occasional bark of laughter or raised voice. The teams heading north gather in several vehicles and head towards the gate with a flurry of revving engines. Approaching the gate, I see a man kneeling on the ground with his hands cupped behind his head. Two guards stand behind covering him with their M-4’s. We pull up in front and stop. Exiting, I walk over with Lynn to the man and two guards.
“What’s up?” Lynn asks one of the guards with the guy on the ground looking back.
“We found this guy outside of the gate when we arrived this morning, First Sergeant. He claims he can’t remember anything except going to sleep on a couch, waking u
p in a dark building the next, and being chased. He said he saw the walls and made his way to the gate after escaping. We just thought it was odd especially with him being in bare feet and his clothes covered in blood,” the guard answers.
Lynn and I turn to get a better look at the man. His dark hair, hanging to the bottom of his ear, is matted. He is indeed not wearing any shoes. His feet are dirty and covered in grime. Cuts with fresh blood can be seen on his soles. The tattered jeans and what perhaps used to be a white or yellow T-shirt are smeared in rust-colored stains. It looks like he ran through a hose spraying blood; some obviously old stains and others looking relatively fresh. The thighs of his pants are caked and to the point of being solid rather than pliable cotton.
“Escaping from what?” Lynn asks.
“He said he’s not sure who they were,” the guard answers.
“Did you search him?” Lynn asks.
“We did, First Sergeant, and didn’t find anything,” the guard replies.
“Okay, good job,” Lynn says and turns to the man. “What’s your story?”
The man gives us his story but says he can’t remember anything prior to lying down on his couch. He feels that some time has passed between then and now but can’t remember a thing. He mentions he has vague dream-like recollections of running at night and other horrible things but those are just patches of images with no association.
“Call Drescoll and have a team come up to pick him up. Clean him up but keep him under guard,” I tell one of the guards from Green Team.
“Will do, sir,” he replies.
“We’ll help you but understand we have to take precautions,” I tell the man.
“Against what?” He asks confused.
“Have Drescoll brief him as well and find out exactly what he remembers,” I add to the guard.
“If you truly don’t remember and it’s not just a knock to the head, you’ll be filled in. Just wait here and you’ll be fine shortly. Sorry but that’s the best I can do right now but prepare yourself for a pretty shocking story,” I say. The man just nods.
