by John O'Brien
“We’re ready when you are, sir,” Gonzalez replies.
I nod and pass Robert and Michelle on my way downstairs.
“Good morning, Robert…Michelle.”
“Morning, Dad.”
“Good morning, Jack,” Michelle responds, smiling.
She sounds more cheery about my presence than she did last night. I guess her worry about Robert has been lessened.
“Feeling okay?” I ask Robert.
“Yeah, Dad. Just fine.”
“We’re leaving to take the Spectre up in about thirty. I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready.”
“See you there.”
I find Frank and Bannerman to let them know we’ll be leaving. They nod before turning back to other tasks. I walk out into the chilly morning, dawning bright and clear. Vehicles of all types fill the parking lot with their idling and revving engines. Standing there, I almost feel like a fifth wheel. The place really does seem to run itself. Drescoll, Frank, and Bannerman have done a great job keeping things together. Of course, it’s really been them all along as I’ve been off and about for the most part.
“Jack?” I hear a voice say tentatively behind me.
Turning, I see Julie standing just a few feet behind me. I tense not knowing what is coming. We haven’t really talked much since she was rescued. It’s not that we dislike each other, it’s just that we really don’t have much to talk about and I’ve been gone for a considerable period of time. I’m mostly surprised to hear her say anything. Julie rubs her arms to ward off the chill, glancing momentarily at the team member standing a few feet away — the one assigned to stay close to her.
“Robert told me what you said…and what you did. I just wanted to say…thanks.”
“I only did what was right. There were others involved as well,” I reply, still not really knowing what to say.
“Well, regardless, thank you. And I never did say thanks for getting us out of that camp, so thanks for that as well.”
“It was nothing, but you’re welcome,” I say.
I have never really been comfortable with people thanking or complimenting me and I tend to shrug it off. I know that may be offensive to others but it’s just my discomfort. Julie nods and turns to walk away, pausing momentarily to glance back over her shoulder.
“And, for what’s it’s worth, I’m sorry about Lynn,” she says and continues back inside.
Well if that doesn’t beat all, I think watching her head back with her guard in tow.
The funny thing is, I expected a whole lot more drama with having two exes under the same roof, but that hasn’t materialized, much to my relief. It could be, once again, that I’m gone a bit, which I’m sure they don’t mind in the least, and that I haven’t really engaged them in much conversation.
Vehicles depart from the compound, some gears grinding as they fade toward the gate. My patience is wearing thin and I turn back to see what is keeping Red Team when they emerge from the entrance chuckling. Gonzalez and McCafferty both ruffle Bri’s head to which she grins sheepishly.
“Not to worry, we’re here, sir,” Gonzalez says.
“Good, I thought you had decided to create a replica of the Sistine Chapel,” I respond.
“We finished that fifteen minutes ago,” Gonzalez replies with a grin.
“Good grief. Just load up.”
We take two Humvees north along a route we could now probably blindly negotiate. It doesn’t take long to ready the AC-130, and we are soon lifting off into the crisp morning. The impatience and anger I felt previously has dissipated now that I’m actually taking some action. I’m still not exactly sure what building Lynn may be in, but I have the spot pinpointed in my mind. I’ll fly to where it is and we’ll see what we are dealing with.
Robert is in the command module ready to start the video. I plan on making a few passes to take visual and thermal images, however, I want to limit the time spent over the target. Even though I know deep down the images of Lynn were sent for the reason of locating her, limiting our exposure, and thus alerting those inside are just instinctual.
With Craig in the right seat and Bri doing her job as the flight engineer, I level us off at a low altitude and proceed south toward Olympia. The terrain below is so much different than the other parts of the country. Here, the green foliage remains due to the amount of moisture. Sure, some of the fields are brown as they always are in the summer, but the evergreens make up a large part of the area.
We pass directly over Cabela’s as I fly directly toward the location in my mind. Vehicles across the interstate are busy clearing the remains of the rubble. Trees lie jumbled where they are felled around the outer walls, looking like a large game of ‘pick up sticks’ is in progress. Several folks in the parking lot look up at our passage, some of them waving. I rock my wings in response, quickly leaving the sanctuary behind.
Burned out neighborhoods give way to more trees and buildings as we proceed toward the city center. The once thriving downtown passes underneath and we fly over the ridge overlooking it. Pressing onward, we are soon over the Capital Mall with its empty lots surrounding it. Zooming past it, we are almost out of the city proper when I feel us nearing the spot indicated by the image that was sent. We pass directly over the location and I bank us to get a better idea of what we may be dealing with. In the turn, I look out my window and see a hospital gradually come into view.
It’s situated on the very outskirts of the city but I recognize it for what it is — The Capital Medical Center. It’s one of the larger hospitals in the area. Its tan brick walls and dark windows, which make up a large part of the facility, stretch upward for four stories. Another large section to the north is only single story. While not even close to as big as Madigan Hospital, it still covers a lot of area. It’s another of those buildings that would take a battalion to take if it is indeed infested with night runners.
I set up a circle around the building and have Robert begin videoing the structure from all angles. I look at the repeater as we go thermal but nothing much comes to view on the screen — it’s much the same as the visual representation except cast in shades of grays and whites. I wish we had x-ray capabilities to see inside, but I’ll analyze the videos once we get back to the compound.
Making one last circle, I commit the environment and building to memory. The area itself is mostly open with an apartment complex to the east and several smaller medical offices to the south. The parking lot, dotted with trees, is filled with vehicles. A life flight helicopter sits on a single helipad to the side, the rotors dropping toward the ground.
“Did you get it?” I call to Robert over the intercom.
“I think so. I’m reviewing the footage now,” he replies.
I take us a distance away from the facility while Robert continues to review what we recorded.
“It looks like we have good recordings from all angles,” he reports a short time later.
“Roger that. We’re heading back,” I state.
I radio in the coordinates of the hospital to base as we make the quick trip back to McChord AFB. We land and shutdown in short order. Robert grabs the video from the equipment and we button up.
“Are we heading back to Cabela’s?” Bri asks as we stand ready to load into the Humvees.
“There’s one other thing we’ll need,” I state.
“Let me guess, building plans,” Robert says.
“Where are we going to get those?” Bri asks.
“From the front reception desk…I hope,” I answer.
We load up and I notify the compound of our intention to visit the hospital to get a better indication of what we may be up against. I don’t know that Lynn is still in there having had no new images but it’s the only thing I have to go on.
“Jack, are you planning to go in?” Drescoll radios a few minutes later.
“Um, not very far in,” I state.
“Frank just marked the location on the maps. I’ll meet you there,” Drescoll repl
ies.
“Copy that.”
The drive takes longer on the ground than it did in the air but we eventually arrive. Drescoll’s Humvee is already parked in the eastern lot, the side facing the front entrance. He is standing with the rest of his team looking toward the immense structure. He glances at us arriving before turning back to the building.
The enormity of the complex becomes readily apparent as I step out and meet up with Drescoll and his team.
“You think she’s somewhere in there?” he asks.
“It’s where the image of her came from. Whether she’s actually in there is anyone’s guess,” I answer. “After all, it was only an image of her.”
“So, what’s the plan to get her? This place is huge,” he says.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to take a look at the video and the building plans first. I think we can eliminate most of the outside rooms though,” I say, looking at the dark plate glass windows filling a large part of the building walls. “That leaves her somewhere in the interior.”
“That’s a lot of area to cover.”
“You have that right. Now, let’s see what we can do about obtaining some plans,” I say.
We cross the parking lot to the main entrance, passing cars and trucks covered in grime. The tall grass in the medians between the rows of parking spots has turned brown but the trees dotting the area remain green. The shrubs lining the walkway to the entrance, which were once trimmed to perfection, now look like they have a serious case of morning hair.
The entrance itself has tinted windows, rising to the height of the entire first floor, on either side. The glass on the automatic doors of the entrance itself are broken out, a sure sign that night runners lie within. For the first time encountering this sign of a night runner lair, I’m a little relieved to see it. It’s another clue that Lynn may actually be within the hard walls and dark windows. Kneeling, I look into the entrance foyer. The shards of glass from the broken doors have been moved from the entrance itself and arrayed in a pile near one of the exterior walls.
That’s new, I think, looking on. I stare inside trying to get a feel for the place.
“Can you open up and see if you can sense any night runners?” Drescoll whispers at my side.
“I’d rather not right now. I mean, if they’re inside, I’m sure they know we’re here by our smell and we weren’t exactly stealthy with our approach. Just call it a gut feeling that I’d rather not right now,” I answer.
“You think they might try to stop us from entering?”
“They may. We need those plans, if they exist. Without them, our chances of getting Lynn out are drastically reduced.”
“So, how do you want to play this?” Drescoll quietly asks.
Looking farther inside the foyer, I see that the radiant light extends quite a distance in due to the full height of the windows. A reception desk is on the far side of the foyer, sitting at the edge of the fading grays of the sunlight. The tinted windows, however, reduces the brightness of any light and casts the interior in gloom.
Trails leading farther into the interior mar the dust-covered floor — more evidence that night runners have been using this place. Even if night runners happen to be inside, and judging by the body odor I can smell, they are, they won’t be able to get to us if we go no farther than the desk.
“Both teams in. You’re in first and on the left, Red goes in second and to the right. We set a perimeter no farther than the edge of the light. I’ll head to the desk and see if I can find anything that would have the hospital diagrams in it. I’m guessing they would have to have had something on hand in order to guide patients and visitors to the right place,” I state.
Green Team stacks at the entrance door followed by Red Team. On a nod from Drescoll, they enter quickly into the foyer, sweeping along the left wall, their boots plodding on the hard floor. Red Team follows on their heels fanning out to the right. Both teams quickly settle into position creating a semi-circle with the entrance door at their backs. I step into the foyer as a single, faint shriek sounds from within the depths of the hospital.
Every soldier tenses at the sound. The scream echoes down corridors and fades. Silence resumes. I halt in the middle of the teams, waiting for a chorus of shrieks to follow. Nothing. The coolness of the interior coats us as we wait for what we’ve become used to, an explosion of night runners heading our way. A deep quiet follows the single shriek.
I listen intently for the sound of running feet or some indication that a horde is on its way. We should be safe in the light, but anyone inside of a night runner lair, and hearing that sound, cannot feel anything but fear. Tension fills the foyer. Dark hallways extend out to the sides and back of the large room. Nothing comes out from their shadowy depths. There aren’t any flashes or glimmers of pale faces hovering on the edge of the light. The fact that night runners aren’t howling at the edge of the light is more than a little eerie.
Soldiers sneak glances my direction. I still don’t open up — perhaps afraid of what I might actually sense. Although I know it would be good to know how many we may be up against, now or when we come back, I just don’t feel it’s the right time to play our hand. Deep within me is the fear that I’ll spook the night runners and they’ll move Lynn — assuming she is even here.
The thought that she could be close by, in this very building, creates its own impatience within me. I want nothing more than to call out and hear her voice — and to move deeper into the shadows to find her. Sanity prevails though and I know that I…we have to do this carefully if we are going to get her out alive.
With my M-4 held at the ready, I walk over to the large reception desk. Rounding the corner, I’m startled to see skeletal remains on the floor amidst a couple of overturned chairs. Only pieces of rotting clothing remains attached to a mostly devoured corpse. The lower jaw hangs open as if still uttering the final scream. One of the arms is missing and the right leg lies some distance away from the carcass. One of the telephone systems has been knocked to the floor and lies next to the desiccated body. The phone handle and cord rests near the head of the body as if it were trying to make that last call. Shaking my head, not wanting to think of this person’s final dark moment of terror, I turn my attention to the desk.
The dark wooden desk has sheets of paper strewn about its surface and on the floor behind. Dust covers dried pieces of paper that are curled at the corners. Thick clouds of dust rise as I blow on the sheets, the particles settling slowly to the floor and casting dust motes in the light streaming in from outside. Nothing I see resembles building plans.
Most are memos directing patients to the right rooms. One departmental note specifies that the hospital is no longer taking patients and for the staff to direct any further incoming patients to their family physicians. I note with a kind of morbid fascination that several of the pieces of paper are covered in dark stains.
With only the sound of the teams shifting positions as they continue to scour the interior for signs of night runners, I begin opening drawers. The third drawer I access yields what we came in to find, a notebook with the diagrams of the interior rooms listed by department. I tuck it in my vest and start making my way back to the entrance. I wait at the entrance as the teams fold back to the door, their attention still on the interior. I nod at Robert and Bri as they pass by.
One by one, the teams exit until only Drescoll and I remain. A shriek erupts from one of the darkened halls, echoing in the large foyer. We both turn sharply toward the source bringing our weapons to bear. A single ghostly face flashes once at a hall corner before disappearing. I hear no sound of feet running meaning that it’s still there, right around the corner. Drescoll and I quickly exit.
“What the fuck do you think that was about?” Drescoll asks as we emerge into the full light of the day.
“Hell if I know. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that it was a guard posted to give an alert if something entered. It could be anything, though. It could just be
a night runner that smelled or heard us but couldn’t come at us because of the light,” I answer.
“If it was a guard, that has some chilling ramifications,” Drescoll adds.
“More chilling to me is that they can conceive the concept of kidnapping,” I say.
“I really don’t think I like these night runners much.”
“The sooner we get Lynn, the quicker we can set about seeing to their destruction. And, given the attack on Cabela’s, we had better do that quickly before they do the same to us,” I say.
“Why was there only one, though? Are we sure there are more of them here?”
“No, but all of the signs point to the fact that there are more…a lot more. I would find out for sure, but I don’t want to spook them. We are dealing with a much more upgraded version of night runner nowadays. Aside from them taking Lynn, and apparently alive, did you notice the house cleaning?” I ask.
“You mean the glass swept aside?” Drescoll responds.
“Yes. Have you ever seen that before? I mean, it’s been a while since we entered a lair but there was always glass strewn across a bloody floor. Now it seems they’ve adapted on a few new levels.”
“That’s just too fucking scary to think about.”
“You have that right, my friend,” I say, staring at the immense structure.
I think about yelling to Lynn to let her know we are here. I’m sure her spirits could use a lift, but yelling would be the same as opening up — if they aren’t setting this up for us to come in, then it might spook them and I can’t take that chance. Of course, their knowing we were inside their lair might do the same thing but there’s no use compounding the issue. I’ll look at the video and diagrams and be back tomorrow. Then I’ll let them know I’m here. Knowing Lynn may be inside the building I’m staring at brings that stowed anger to the surface. Yeah, they’ll fucking know it!
* * *
The muted droning sound interrupts her dozing. There is little to do in the dark and fading off into sleep is a blessing. Lynn’s moments awake are agonizing to say the least — time drags on eternal. She’s tired, dirty, and the room stinks of her own waste, the reek of the night runners, and her own body odor. The time spent in the darkness is only broken by the change of the night runners at the door, food and water brought to her, and bathroom breaks. Her mind continues to play tricks on her and there are times when she’s positive she imagined the sound of the 130 seemingly so long ago.
