by John O'Brien
“Feel better?” Drescoll asks after a moment.
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I reply, “Yes…no…a little. Tell me again about what happened inside. I want to know every detail.”
Drescoll describes the fight inside and events following. I listen for any clue as to why Lynn would be taken — or where. Nothing in his story gives me the faintest clue.
“Okay. Let’s meet with the others,” I say. “And Drescoll.”
“Yeah, Jack.”
“Nice job with the defense and getting order restored.”
“Thanks,” he replies with a nod.
“I apologize for my losing control,” I tell the others manning the ops center as I leave.
They all turn and nod, relieving the awkward tension filling the room. Upstairs, I see Robert over with the doctor.
“Tell everyone I’ll be there in a moment,” I say to Drescoll. He nods and strolls over to where the others of the command group are seated.
“How is it, doc?” I ask, joining Robert and him.
“There doesn’t seem to be any sign of infection. As I was telling him, his temperature and vitals all appear normal as do his neural responses. The wound seems to be healing normally. I’m prescribing three weeks of antibiotics just as a precautionary. If I had facilities, I’d have blood workup done but, honestly, everything appears to be okay,” the doctor answers.
“Thanks, doc,” I say, feeling a little relief at his words.
The stress is still there but at least this is good news. I won’t, however, feel one hundred percent relieved until a few weeks have passed without any signs.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
Robert glances over at Michelle standing by the upper railing near their quarters. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“There will be plenty of time to get yelled at later,” I state.
He smiles. “I’m not really looking forward to that.”
The deep anger I felt before has diminished. Not that it’s gone by any stretch, it’s just that it’s contained. Although emotions continue to roil inside, I also feel rationality return. Taking a seat with the group, I note that Taylor is sitting in for Lynn.
“I know we probably all want to talk about the attack and Lynn, or maybe it’s just me that does, but we should catch up first,” I say, detailing our trip, culminating with Greg departing with the Stryker.
Bannerman then begins to brief. “As I’m sure you saw on arriving, the inner wall has been finished and we expect the towers to be completed within the next two days. We’ve focused efforts on that and clearing out the rubble and trees in the area. Additional cameras have been installed on the interior and exterior with additional people monitoring the video feeds. After the towers, we’ll then focus on housing. We have plans drawn up based on what we talked about before. The only changes are watch towers and security watches within each building based on…well, based on what happened.”
“Any word from Leonard?” I ask.
“We haven’t heard anything for a few days now. The last we heard from him was about the same time we last had a radio call from you,” Frank states.
“So, the satellites must have finally gone down?” I ask.
“It would appear so. At least, it would explain the outage,” Frank answers.
Something in his tone says that he’s entirely certain.
“Are you convinced of that?” I ask.
“I can’t think of any other reason,” Frank replies.
“We picked up this guy, Harold, who had some interesting ideas,” I say.
“What did he say?”
“He seems to think someone is blocking our satellite communication,” I answer.
“Did he elaborate?” Frank asks.
“Not really. I asked why not block all communications. He replied that frequencies radiate outward from the transmitter and thus are more difficult to block. If they were close, the frequencies could be jammed but the satellite is a central reception point that can be shut down from a base source. He then shrugged and wandered off. Let’s deal with that at a later time though. Right now, I want to talk about this holding other in house arrest,” I say.
“As I mentioned, we did it for the good of everyone. There was a lot of fear that the others, including Julie, might revert back as it appears Alan did,” Drescoll says.
The mention of their mom being held in house arrest causes Robert and Bri to sit upright.
“Wait, what do you mean my mom is being held?” Robert coldly asks.
“From what we know, and with some guesses, Alan was a night runner previously. Everyone knows or believes that to be true. He’s the one that opened the gates and allowed the night runners to gain entrance. We’re lucky,” Drescoll says, looking in my direction as I also sit more upright at his use of the word ‘lucky’,” well, we’re fortunate they didn’t kill us all. We decided that keeping them with a guard and confining them was in the best interest of everyone.”
“That’s not cool,” Robert states, rising. Bri joins him.
“Sit down,” I say to the both of them.
“Dad, this is not okay,” Robert firmly states.
“I know…and we’ll talk about it. Sit down,” I say more firmly this time.
The problem is that I can see why Drescoll and the others did what they did. I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have done the same, or at least thought about it.
“Okay. What about this? We keep a guard with them at all times for the time being, but they are allowed to go as they please as long as they don’t do anything that endangers the group. I see your point, Drescoll, and would have done the same for the short-term. As far as the curfew at night, we keep that for the time being,” I say.
“How long are you thinking we keep a guard with each of them?” Drescoll asks.
“Let’s just do it until we are all comfortable they aren’t a danger,” I state.
I see Robert and Bri relax a little with this suggestion, but I can tell they aren’t happy with their mom being under guard. I’ll have to have a word with them in private later. It may not make them any happier but I want for them to understand the thinking behind the decision. We may not ever achieve complete security but anything we can do to improve it is something we need to do.
“You know, I will say that it’s not just Alan’s fault. I carry some of the blame,” Watkins states.
“What do you mean? You were the one who notified us in advance of the night runner’s arrival which allowed us to get into position. Without your warning, we would all have been annihilated in our sleep,” Cressman says.
“It was my complacency that allowed Alan out in the first place. As I mentioned previously, I let him walk around at night. It happened so often that I dismissed it. I was complacent about watching the interior,” Watkins says.
“We didn’t know to watch our own people,” Horace comments.
“No one ever does,” Watkins replies.
“Alright. The blame, if we are to place one, is a shared one. I allowed the cameras to be moved and had us focus on other projects. We can’t trace this or put ‘blame’ on any one person. We’re a team and therefore share the good and bad together. What we need to do is move forward and see that it doesn’t happen again,” I say. “Speaking of moving on, what about training?”
“We’ll have another graduating class and both phases of training for the current group completed in a week. We should be able to form an additional two to three teams with the ones that have finished both phases of training,” Drescoll reports.
“Okay. That’s good news. Sergeant Reynolds and her group can form a team immediately. They are all airborne qualified. We’ll incorporate some of the phase two aspects into our morning training formations,” I state.
“Foxtrot team designation?” Drescoll asks.
“I believe that’s what we are up to for naming,” I answer.
“Okay. I’ll hold a quick class on procedures and expectations if that’s okay,” D
rescoll says.
“Fine with me,” I reply. “We can put Harkins and the eleven soldiers with him into the next training class.”
“Sounds good, Jack.”
“As we’re talking about teams, what about a team leader for Black?” Taylor asks.
“What do you mean?” I respond.
“Well, do we need another…team leader?”
This creates an awkward moment. It’s the elephant sitting on the table that we’ve…well, not skirted, but held off. What he’s asking, besides the team leader situation, is what we are going to do about Lynn. Are we going to give her up as missing?
“No. Lynn will be back. I’ll see to that. There won’t be a replacement because one won’t be needed. However, you’ll command in the interim,” I say to Taylor, who nods his reply.
“So…what are we going to do? Do you have a plan, sir?” Horace asks.
I feel the emotions bubbling up again. With a deep sigh, I answer, “No. I don’t have a plan per se. We operate under the assumption that she’s still alive. That’s the only, and I mean only, one we can have with the night runners taking her — that they want her alive for some inexplicable reason. We don’t know where she was taken so that’s the first thing we need to do –find out where she is.”
“How are we going to do that? We lost her trail and haven’t had any sign of her,” Horace asks.
“I’ll drive with the broadcasting teams and open up to see if I can sense a gathering of night runners of the size we recorded. We also take the Spectre out at night and see if we can locate them on thermals,” I answer.
“What then? What do we do once we find where she’s been taken?” Drescoll asks.
His tone is excited at the prospect that we have tools on hand that may locate Lynn.
“Let’s just find her and then we’ll work out the details on how to get her out,” I state.
“What about Greg?” Robert asks. “We’re supposed to meet up with him and we don’t have any way of communicating with him.”
“Greg is just going to have to wait a few days more. I don’t see any way around that. He knows we don’t have an exact timetable and will proceed…” I begin my reply but am interrupted by an image that forms in my mind.
It’s clear and sharp. I’m taken aback by its sudden appearance. I hadn’t opened myself up consciously but, with the emotions swirling inside, I must have allowed it somehow. In my head is a strong picture of Lynn, alive and in the dark. I turn my head sharply to the source and am able to sense exactly where it is coming from — almost due south. It’s sent by a night runner, the presence a strong one. The image is gone just as quickly as it came. I search outward to regain it but it’s gone. Although it has vanished, the source remains firmly entrenched in my mind.
I take in a deep breath, not realizing that I was holding it. The others in the group all stare at me, questioning, as I had abruptly stopped talking in mid-sentence and began staring at the walls.
“Lynn’s alive and I know where she is,” I state, still not believing it myself.
“How do you know that?” Drescoll asks, incredulous.
“I just saw her,” I answer.
“What do you mean ‘saw’? You mean you sensed the night runners who took her?” Frank asks.
“Yes and no,” I respond. “It was an image of her and it was sent directly to me. I can’t explain it really. It wasn’t like it was broadcast but sent directly.”
“What does that mean?” Frank asks.
“I have no idea. But, I know where she is…or may be.”
“So, we go get her,” Drescoll states. “We could use the Spectre and verify with thermals. We can use it to take them out as they come out.”
“Hold up a moment. We can certainly use it to verify the building…but think about it. What has happened in the past when we’ve used the Spectre on large packs?”
The group looks at each other questioningly.
“They moved. We can’t afford for that to happen here.”
“Okay. Then we verify where she is and then we go get her,” Drescoll restates.
“There may not be a ‘let’s’ to it,” I reply.
“What do you mean by that?” Drescoll says, an ounce of irritation edging into his voice.
“I mean, that if there are as many as the videos showed, the teams won’t stand a chance inside. However, let’s not jump to anything until we have more info. I’ll take the Spectre out in the morning and see what we come up with,” I respond.
Knowing that Lynn is alive and possibly where she is, I feel a little better. The sensations of excitement and fear bubble inside me in a chaotic mix. Mostly, I feel impatient. I want to be off right now and begin searching — to head straight into the teeth of those that may be holding her. It has to be from the night runners that took her as there is no way I could receive such a message from Lynn herself.
The exhilaration bounds among the group knowing that she is alive, or, better put, my belief that she is and that I know where she may be. I say ‘may’ because it was just an image and not an actual confirmation. That was going to be the hardest part — finding her. A certain anxiety takes hold because she may be ‘captured’ and perhaps surrounded by thousands of night runners. I may know where she is, but getting her out will be a different story altogether. It may prove impossible.
“What’s the plan for the next few days with regards to activities?” I ask.
I hate even uttering those words, but there’s nothing I can do at the moment about Lynn until we have more information.
“The plan is to continue with the towers and clear the rubble. We’ve felled a fair number of the trees around the outer wall. We’ll begin cutting those up into firewood and storing it in cargo containers. Before winter sets in, I’d like to put wood stoves in the interior to take some of the load off our electrical needs. The plan for the housing is to incorporate wood stoves for heating into those as well,” Bannerman states.
“We also need to clear the taller grass away from the walls. I’m not sure of the impact on the walls if we burn it, but that would be the easier solution,” I say.
“We’ll run a test on a section of it,” Bannerman replies. “If there isn’t any detriment to the walls, we’ll move forward with that idea.”
“I know you’ve been busy, but have you had any luck researching bio-fuels?” I ask.
“We’ll have to make a foray into one of the libraries we’ve kept intact once we can spare any teams. I’ll plan that once we start on the housing.”
“Okay. Anyone else have anything?”
“What about sending one or two more teams out with another Stryker to meet up with Greg?” Horace asks.
I find myself half turning to Lynn to see if we have teams to spare for that, but catch myself.
“Let’s see what we find out tomorrow. We may or may not need the teams to get Lynn,” I state. “Anything else?”
No one responds so the meeting breaks up. I pull Bannerman and Frank aside to take a look at the housing plans. The others head off for their dinner or to find their cots. We pull open plans and begin to go over them. The exhaustion of only getting a little shuteye for the last day and a half is taking its toll, both in my thinking and ability to focus. Stress and lack of sleep are making it next to impossible to think logically or follow a line of thought. Before long, I call a halt.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I know I said I wanted to go over these, but I’m finding I can’t keep my eyes open a moment longer,” I say.
“Of course, Jack, I completely understand,” Frank says with Bannerman nodding in agreement.
I stroll wearily back to my room, stopping at Robert’s place. Knocking softly on the partition, Michelle pulls the blanket serving as a door to the side.
“He’s asleep, Jack,” she says.
“How is he?” I ask.
“He’s exhausted from running around. But, other than that, he’s fine,” she says with a touch of coldness in her voice.
I can’t say I really blame her. I could do a whole lot of apologizing — trying to get her to understand the need to gain experiences and tools to survive — but I’ve never been very good at that. Instead, I say lamely, “Let me know if anything changes.”
“You’ll be the first to know, Jack,” she says and closes the doorway.
With a sigh, I turn and head toward my own room. Lying on the cot, I look over at Lynn’s empty one. Sorrow flows through me. I feel lost without her. Part of the grief stems from knowing she is possibly spending another night inside a night runner lair and I’m lying safe and dry in comfort.
“I’ll get you out, Lynn,” I say softly as the first salty tears fall to my pillow.
* * *
Even with the turmoil of emotions running through my system, sleep eventually takes hold and I fall into a deep slumber, awakened only by the sounds of others as they move about the premises — shouts from below as crews get ready to move out, laughter occasionally floating above the rising din, boots stepping across the hard floor. I come abruptly awake wanting to get out and find Lynn. Quickly scrambling out of my sleeping bag, I join the ruckus outside.
Robert and Michelle are gathered at the upper railing engaged in a quiet conversation. I see Bri sitting with the rest of Red Team finishing off their breakfast. Not wanting to disturb Robert and Michelle, I wander toward the dining area and Red Team. Gonzalez is apparently telling a tale that has the rapt attention of the others. As I near them, they all break out in a fit of laughter. I smile as it’s good to see Bri accepted as one of them. I’m still not overly comfortable with her being on a team to begin with, but it’s good to see her fitting in.
“Good morning, sir,” McCafferty says.
She is the first to see me nearing. I know that is meant as the greeting it’s intended to be, but it is also serves as a warning to the others that rank is around. It’s a much better way of doing it rather than the elbow nudging or quick whispers I’ve seen. It doesn’t mean they were talking about me or anything bad, it’s just instinct.
“Good morning,” I reply. “I hate to break up the merriment but we’re leaving for the Spectre in thirty minutes.”
