by John O'Brien
The pause in our conversation is a little too long and I have an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. A faint impression brushes against my mind, coming from below. It’s too quick to pinpoint but, for some weird reason, an image of Lynn flashes through my mind. It could just be caused from my worry, but it feels different than that. My anxiety builds and I open my mind for a moment. I swear the image came in the form I’ve become accustomed to sensing from night runners. It’s gone so quickly but the picture was of Lynn in a dark room. It doesn’t make any sense. I open up a little more, but nothing else returns.
“Drescoll, are you there?” I finally ask.
“Yeah… sorry, Jack. I was organizing transportation. I’ll talk to you when we pick you up. Drescoll, out.”
That throws me for another loop. There is definitely something going on, and I’m sure I’m not going to like it. Apparently, Drescoll doesn’t think I will either. If he was maintaining communication security, he would relay that in the form of coded phrases we developed. I glance at our sanctuary that is about to disappear under the wing looking for signs of something amiss. Again, to all appearances, everything seems normal. I feel like calling Drescoll back to get some information — I’m not overly fond of the waiting game — but I trust him and he is doing what he is for a reason. I focus on the upcoming landing but with a definite tightness around my heart.
The landing isn’t one of my more stellar feats of flying, but we’re on the ground. I taxi quickly to the ramp and park next to our collection of 130s. One of them won’t escape the surly bonds of earth anymore and soon, none of them will. A couple of Humvees pull onto the ramp as our propellers wind to a stop. They are followed by several school buses and a Humvee bringing up the rear.
I open the ramp. The cargo compartment needs airing out and cleaning as some of the stomachs riding in back didn’t overly appreciate the flight. Bannerman and Drescoll, along with Drescoll’s Green Team, meet us at the rear of the aircraft. I make a quick round of introductions and signal to Drescoll to meet me off to the side, leaving the care of our passengers in Bannerman’s capable hands.
Joining Drescoll, who is standing to the side, I turn to glance at Robert. He knows what the look is for and gives me a head nod letting me know he is okay. I signal for to him to refuel the aircraft. The plan I had was for us to wait for a few days to see if Robert is indeed okay, and then head back out to meet up with Greg. I have a feeling that those plans are about to change.
“Okay. So what the fuck is going on? Where’s Lynn?” I ask Drescoll.
Another glimpse of Lynn’s face surfaces in my mind, fading just as quickly as it did before. I shake it off and stare at Drescoll waiting for his answer, one I’m sure I’m not going to like.
“What’s the plan with Greg?” Drescoll asks.
“You’re stalling, Drescoll. What. Is. Going. On?”
His shoulder slump and he sighs. “Okay, Jack…this is a hard story to tell, but here it is,” he answers and proceeds to tell me about the attack and Lynn’s capture.
“Taken?! What the hell do you mean taken?” I say, my voice deadly calm.
My insides don’t match the tone of my voice. My heart feels like someone has their hand around it and is squeezing with my stomach on the verge of emptying its contents.
“Frankly, Jack. We’ve discussed that at length and can’t figure it out. I tracked them but then lost the trail in town. You’ll have to see the tapes. We have teams out every day, all day searching and broadcasting.”
“How in the hell did they get in?” I ask, going a little numb.
I’m anxious to get back and start my own search. Robert bitten, Greg out on his own and expecting our return, and now Lynn taken by night runners — her fate unknown. My head feels like it’s going to explode from the enormity of it all. I feel the rising pressure. Part of me wants to drop to the ground while another part wants to explode in frustration and rage.
“You know, Alan, that guy who showed up at the gates?”
“Yeah. What about him?”
“He apparently opened one of the loading dock doors and then the main gate,” Drescoll states.
“And we let him?”
“Jack, no one knew. Our thinking is that he, well, reverted back in some fashion. We’ve pieced together the events, but not the why.”
“Where was our security? Why didn’t the cameras catch this?” I ask, feeling my temper rise.
“Jack, remember we had to move the building cameras to the walls. We’ve since fixed that hole.”
With a deep sigh, I reply, “Yeah, I remember. My fault. Take me to where you lost the trail.”
“Jack, that trail is days old.”
“You will take me there. Right now,” I say and storm back to where the others are offloading gear and loading into buses.
Robert has begun refueling the aircraft with Bri monitoring in the cockpit.
“I’m going off with Drescoll for a little bit. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I ask.
“Yes, Dad, and I’ll tell you if I start feeling any different. I’m tired but okay,” he answers, turning back to the gauges.
“Okay. When you’re finished here, make sure everyone is loaded up. Head back with the rest of Red Team and I’ll meet you back at the compound,” I say.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“I’ll tell you about it when I get there,” I say and go see that Bannerman has everything under control.
“I’m so sorry, Jack. I don’t know what to say. If there’s anything…” Bannerman says, his sentence trailing off.
“Thanks. I’m heading off with Drescoll. Have the group assembled when I return.”
“Will do, Jack. This may be the wrong timing, but what about Greg?”
The pressure of so many things threatens to blow every vessel in my body. I stand for a moment as I try to reformulate plans, but each thought only stays for a brief second before being replaced by the next.
“We’ll talk when I return,” I say.
I feel like breaking down and letting the tears flow but I need to take action. Even if that action might be futile, I need to be doing something to find Lynn. I know that the tears will come and once they start, they won’t stop. Right now all I feel is anger and frustration. If Lynn is out there, I need to find her. The images I briefly had of her come to mind and I’m not sure what to make of them. Hell, I’m not sure what to make of any of this.
The very thought of someone being captured or taken by night runners seems preposterous. Why would they do that? And why would they break off their attack once they were inside the building. It just doesn’t make any sense. However, it doesn’t need to right now. Right now, I need to see for myself. I need to get my sweetheart back. The fact that she may be held by night runners brings such fear that I want to weep. Thinking of the terror she must be feeling breaks my heart.
“You ready!” I shout across the ramp to Drescoll.
He merely nods and I walk to the Humvee. Loading into two of the Humvees, we are soon speeding through the deserted base. A tense silence fills the vehicle. More thoughts race through my mind, trying to put logic to the situation and failing. I’m also trying to not collapse. For me, we can’t be moving fast enough. I lean over to glance at the speedometer and then to Drescoll driving. I realize that we can’t go any faster without turning the Humvee into a carnival ride but that doesn’t help my mood.
“Look, I’m sorry I spoke to you that way,” I tell Drescoll.
“It’s okay, I understand how you feel,” he replies.
“Have you found any clue about where she might be?” I ask as we turn onto the interstate after leaving the base.
“None, Jack,” Drescoll answers and tells again of the events and efforts since. “She is my friend too, Jack. There isn’t a stone I won’t turn over to find her. That’s the feeling for the entire compound as well.”
“I know.”
I’m glad he is referring to Lynn in the pre
sent tense. That’s a little comforting at least. It means that he believes that she is alive, wishful thinking or not.
“And just so you know, I’ve called for a form of curfew and a lockdown at night,” Drescoll states.
“That’s understandable given how it seems to have happened,” I say. I’m really only following the conversation on the peripheral.
He blows his breath through puffed cheeks. “You should also know that we’re keeping Julie and the others confined to an extent in their cubicles.”
This grabs my attention and I turn sharply toward him. “What do you mean by confined?” I ask, my voice again cold and calm.
“She and the others can shower, go to the bathroom, and eat, but I have detailed a guard to be with them when they leave their rooms,” Drescoll answers.
This is the kids’ mom. They aren’t going to like this very much and, as a matter of fact, I’m not a big fan of it either. Certainly, I understand the reasoning, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Has she or the others exhibited any sign of reverting back or causing trouble?”
“No. I did it for the good of both sides, for their protection as much as our own. There isn’t a whole lot of trust right now. People are scared, Jack.”
I get what he is saying and I see no problem with his reasoning. It’s just that…one, it’s the kids’ mom, and two, we can’t afford to have the camp split and for paranoia to reign. This is a time when we need to be of one mind with regards to our survival. Distrust like that can break us up — a fracture that can widen into disruption.
“We’ll talk about that tonight,” I state. “Wait, does that mean they don’t trust me?”
“No, Jack, I haven’t heard anything along those lines,” Drescoll states.
He said that with no hesitation at all so I believe what he is saying.
We arrive at our turnoff. As we track along, Drescoll describes how he followed the path of the night runners. The churned up ground is still clearly visible but it is slowly reverting back to its overgrown nature. I make a mental note to have the grass cleared away — possibly burnt. We drive slowly along the rubble-strewn streets. Crews work among the debris, heavy equipment lifting the debris into dump trucks to be carried off. A significant portion of the wreckage in this area has been cleared. Drescoll continues to explain the signs he found and we are soon winding down neighborhood streets. The signs taper off to nothing. We finally arrive at where Drescoll lost the trail for good. We stop and I get out.
Looking closely around the area, it is like Drescoll said, there isn’t any clear indication of where the pack of night runners went. I look for the smallest sign of Lynn — something dropped, a shoelace, piece of uniform, anything but come up with nothing.
Staring at the sky growing a darker blue with the fading day, I open up, pushing farther outward, but I continue to come up empty. I don’t sense any night runners in the vicinity. I push farther. I pick out a few small packs farther south but nothing of the magnitude that Drescoll mentioned.
“You said there were thousands?” I ask.
“Yeah. Thousands upon thousands, Jack. You’ll have to see the video to get a perspective of just how many,” he answers.
I stand for a while staring down the forlorn streets. The tops of the trees sway in the wind, the whoosh of it blowing through the needles of the tall evergreens. My pant legs and shirt sleeves flail against me. I sniff the breeze, hoping to catch a scent. Nothing.
“Jack, we should start back. Night will be here before too much longer,” Drescoll says, hesitatingly.
“Huh? Yeah, okay. Radio that we’re coming in and have the group assembled. I’ll be along in just a moment,” I reply.
He places a hand on my shoulder for just a second and then turns back to our lead Humvee.
I stare down the streets, wishing for a sign, something to tell me where Lynn is. I still can’t believe this is happening…has happened. The grief I have kept tamped down threatens to overcome me.
“Be okay, Lynn. Please. I need you. If you’re out there, know that I will find you,” I say quietly, hoping it will reach her.
Turning, I walk to the vehicle and we make our way back. The crews we passed are packing up and heading back to the compound as well.
* * *
She startles awake, hearing a faint drone drift through the walls of the lair. It’s the same sound that she’s heard periodically, especially on the nights when fire rained down from the darkened sky and slammed into the hunting packs. Her heart thumps with a shot of adrenaline, at first fearing that they’ve been found and their lair is about to be taken down. She casts outward as the drone fades into the distance and senses, for a brief moment, the two-legged one. A sense of relief fills her. She was worried that she wouldn’t find him again. She sends a quick image of the female and closes her mind back down, not wanting Michael to sense her location. She’ll have to do this carefully. She waits a little longer and sends another image before falling back into a slumber, her hands wrapped around her growing stomach.
* * *
With her arms around her drawn up knees, and her rear sore from sitting on the hard surface of the floor, Lynn rests her head wearily on her knees. Dozing periodically, she brings her head up sharply as a muffled droning penetrates her consciousness. Deep growls and a nervous type of shuffling come from the night runners near the door.
That’s right, assholes, that’s your death overhead, she thinks, recognizing the sound of a 130.
The sound fades and the night runners calm down. The fact that she heard the aircraft tells her one thing — Jack is here. That was either him returning or he is using the 130 to search for her. Of course, having no idea of what time it is, it could be him out in the AC-130 on a night mission. The mere fact that he is around lightens her spirits. Lynn wishes she could communicate with him in some fashion and help him find her but that seems next to impossible.
If that was him arriving, he will hear shortly what happened. She knows he will turn over every stone to find her, just as she would for him. Jack has the ability to sense night runners and will have a better chance than Drescoll and the others of finding her. If he can find the large pack, and pin down their location, he will find her.
With a smile painted on her face, the first in a while, she lays her forehead back to her knees.
* * *
We pull into the parking lot with a host of other vehicles coming back after finishing their day’s tasks. A few anxious glances are directed my way before turning quickly away. I’m not sure if the anxiousness is from wondering about my reaction to Lynn being taken or if there is something more to it — a form of mistrust.
The inside of Cabela’s is a bustle of activity from arriving crews and our new guests getting settled. We now stand at over three hundred and thirty people. With our supplies stacked on the lower levels, this many people crowds the interior and greatly increases our need for additional housing. That will have to wait until our inner perimeter improvements are complete but I’m sure I’ll hear it from Bannerman when we meet.
I call Robert aside as he is getting ‘reacquainted’ with Michelle and tell him to go see the doctor. The stare from Michelle is unmistakable. I know I’m not her favorite person for taking Robert all of the time. I’m quite sure she views me as some controlling dad who is constantly taking her boyfriend from her and trying to kill him. The reason for talking to Robert on the side is because I’m not sure if he’s told her about his bite as yet. That’s his story to tell and his time to tell it.
“I will, Dad,” Robert replies once we have some space to ourselves.
“I mean now,” I reply.
“What about the group meeting?”
“That can wait. I have a couple of things to do before we meet anyway so hustle yourself up there. I won’t ask you if you’re feeling okay because I know you’ll tell me if you aren’t. Did you tell Michelle yet?”
“No.”
“Are you planning
to? I only ask because it’s bound to get out and she’ll eventually hear about it. Trust me on this one, It’s better if she hears it from you first…although that’s your call. Now get upstairs,” I say.
He sighs and walks over to Michelle. Motioning to Drescoll, I keep an eye on Robert and Michelle, seeing her eyes go wide after a moment. She shoots a glare in my direction. Yeah, I kind of thought that might happen.
“I want to see the video feeds for myself before we meet,” I tell Drescoll.
We stroll into the operation center filled with video monitors. Drescoll plugs in the tape. I watch with horror as night runners stream by the gate cameras and enter the compound. Thousands pour across the monitor.
“That’s Alan,” Drescoll says, pointing to a figure in the middle of the storm.
I watch as he gets torn apart and disappears under a torrent of night runners. The screen then empties as they streak farther into the compound leaving the mutilated body of Alan lying on the hard surface.
Drescoll reaches over and fast forwards the tape. Soon, night runners begin exiting. I feel hot tears of sorrow and frustration at the sight of Lynn being carried off, her body hanging listlessly. Watching them disappear from the screen, I feel a building rage and a desire to kill every last night runner. That feeling was there at losing Nic and has never left. Having Robert bitten made it worse and now with Lynn being carried off, it is pushed to a crescendo.
The last of the night runners vanish from the monitor and Drescoll reaches across to turn the recording off. I continue to stare at the blank screen — my anger being fueled by fear. I no longer see the screen but my mind is running through scenarios to wipe every night runner from the face of the earth.
The pressure becomes too much to keep within. I stand and kick the chair I was sitting on across the room. It slams against the far wall and tumbles to the floor with a clatter. The staff manning the video feeds and radios flinch, glance fearfully at me, and then return their attention to their screens. Several people poke their heads in the doors and then quickly leave. An uneasy and awkward silence fills the room.
