by Lundy, W. J.
Every twenty feet along the fence, a placard hung. US Government, No Trespassing. The fence itself was ten feet high with Y posts at the top, supporting triple strands of barbed wire. Just enough to keep an honest person out.
Weaver shrugged. “This isn’t anything out of the ordinary, bro. All bases have fences and signs like this.”
Luke nodded and continued to carefully study the fence line. Looking a bit farther down the road, he could see that the fence on the eastern side had been screened off with black fabric to prevent anyone from looking in. He scanned his eyes along the base of the fence and could just make out a hidden gate.
“That screen,” Luke said in a low voice. “That’s to hide whatever they got inside. Is that normal too?”
“I mean, it’s not abnormal. It’s not completely weird or anything.” Weaver watched Luke study the terrain. “What are you looking for, anyway? The main gate is probably up the road.”
Luke put his hands on his hips and spun around again, looking in all directions, then pointed at the screened-in security barriers. “The fence is on both sides of the road, and we seem to be traveling down the center of the reservation. I imagine, like you mentioned, a main facility gate is up ahead.”
He walked back to the shoulder and knelt by the screened fence again, picking up a handful of rocks and letting them fall back to the ground as he rolled them through his fingers. “Look at the color of these rocks right here in this section,” he said, “Doesn’t match the others on the shoulder of the road.”
“Yeah, so what, Tonto? You’re wasting time. Let’s head for the main gate,” Weaver said.
Luke shook his head. “No. I don’t think that’s the best play. I guess we have a decision to make.”
Weaver walked closer and slung his rifle over his shoulder. “A decision? I thought we already decided.”
“Yeah, we know what we’re here to do, but how do we expect to do it?” Luke said softly, keeping his eyes on the black-fabric-covered fencing on the right side of the road.
“Well, we came to shut down the tower,” Weaver said. “We have plenty of bang in that bag, so let’s go find it and blow the hell out of it.”
Luke dropped the rest of the gravel and walked farther down the road, approaching the concealed screened gate. Weaver snorted as if he’d just seen it there. The gate was constructed to look like part of the fence. Double-sided and large enough to fit wide vehicles through it, the gate had the same fabric stretched across the opening. Luke ran his hand along the poles, searching for a locking mechanism. He found two large push bars that ran through rings and into a mechanism on the far side, where they couldn’t be reached by anyone on the road.
He grabbed the fence and pulled, testing its sturdiness. Then he leaped up, grabbing the links and pulling himself up just high enough to see over the fabric. He hung there for a moment before dropping back to the ground.
“Just what I was expecting,” Luke said, stepping back. “That gravel over there is also new, and so is this gate. The metal on these sections isn’t worn down and tarnished like the rest of the fence. It was recently cut, and this dropped in.”
“You want to tell me what exactly this is supposed to mean?” Weaver asked.
“This was just added probably around the time the grass was cut. Someone chopped a hole and added a gate here to let vehicles rapidly pass in and out. On the other side, there is a field full of shipping containers. If I had to give you a reasonable guess, I’d say they cordoned off the larger facility and staged something here.” Luke smiled at Weaver and began walking back to the MRAP. Over his shoulder he said, “But more importantly, I don’t see any security on the other side. No towers, no cameras, nothing. This was hasty and single purpose—to get loads of materials in. Then they shut it all down and walked away from it.”
At the side of the MRAP, Luke opened a compartment above the tires and removed a large pair of bolt cutters and began walking back toward the gate.
“What? We just going to bust in over here?” Weaver said. “We do that, and there are guards on the inside, they won’t be happy.”
Luke laughed. “I’ve been thinking about that. If there are guards inside, what do you think they will have to say when you tell them we’re here to blow up their tower?”
Laughing ,Weaver shook his head and looked hard at Luke. “You think sneaking in and blowing it up will go over any better?”
“We are about to find out,” Luke said, this time with a genuine smile.
He moved to the gate and set the teeth of the bolt cutters on the lower section of lock bar. He pushed the handles together, and the bar snapped with little resistance. He moved to the top of the second bar and repeated the action. The lock bars fell away, and the gate pressed in, now only held by the black fabric. Luke passed the bolt cutters back to Weaver. He pulled out his KA-BAR knife and cut a long slit in the fabric. With the screening gone, the gates easily swung in, exposing a rough dirt road on the other side.
Just as Luke had seen before, the road ran through a field, both sides of it stacked deep with shipping containers. Beyond the rows, they could see the long fingers of a communications antenna. “Stay here while I move the truck off the road.”
Weaver moved back to the gate and pulled both sides wider and watched as Luke drove the black MRAP through and parked it tight between two high stacks of shipping containers. It stuck out like a sore thumb, but it was better than leaving it on the road. The vehicle’s ramp dropped, and soldiers poured out as Weaver worked to re-secure the gate and pull the fabric back over it. Then he grabbed his own gear from the vehicle.
Luke moved onto the dirt road, wearing a light backpack and carrying his rifle. Kate, the young girl, was by his side. “Let’s take us a walk. I have a feeling the place is abandoned, or at least all moved underground.”
“What if it’s not?” Kate asked.
Luke stopped and looked at her then at the others. “If we are confronted, we surrender. Remember, we are just survivors from Camp Alamo, looking for help. Nothing more.”
“Are we taking the demo charges?” Tucker asked.
Luke grimaced and shook his head. “What demo charges?” he said sarcastically. “I just said, we’re from Camp Alamo, looking for help.”
Weaver returned from the truck with his pack on and his rifle slung. “We got it, deputy, now just lead the way.”
Looking around a last time, and confident they were alone, Luke stepped off with the girl still beside him. Weaver hung back on the road, and the rest of the men staggered their positions. The container field stretched on for the length of two football fields, then the dirt road connected with a paved one that continued off to the northeast. Ahead, on the right, was an empty parking lot and a large, square, steel-sided building with no windows.
Luke kept them walking the road, the team examining the building as they passed. He felt Weaver close in beside him. “Building looks intact and closed up,” Weaver whispered. “Maybe we should take a look.”
“Not what we’re here for, is it?” Luke said. He looked at the empty parking lot Weaver was staring at. “They probably sent all the civilians home.”
“Or sent them into the doomsday bunker to ride this thing out,” Weaver replied.
Shaking his head no, Luke said, “Nope, no cars, and I doubt they would waste space on some civilian staffers. Typical non-essential workers probably went home to their families. Like I said before, I expect to find this place closed from outer appearances, all locked up tighter than bark on a tree.”
Weaver turned in a circle while keeping his pace beside Luke. He pointed with his jaw to the east, where a large tower reached into the sky. “It looks big enough, you think that’s our target?”
“I do,” Luke said without slowing his pace.
They continued past the steel building then approached another empty lot that paralleled a smaller office building. Farther down the road, they spotted another complex with several structures, but that didn’t take their interest a
s much as a fenced-in field off to the east. Inside the fenced perimeter was not only the base of the tall radio tower, but also several concrete platforms, housing large satellite dishes and radio antennas that orbited the massive tower.
“That’s what we’re looking for,” Luke said. He stopped and put his hands on his hips then turned slowly, taking in the geography around him.
Tucker grunted from behind him. “We don’t have enough bang for all of that.”
Luke nodded in agreement. “We need to be smart, fellas. There has got to be a central control for all of this stuff, power, communications, we take that down and this will go with it.”
“Hell, that could be hundreds of feet below ground,” Weaver exclaimed.
Luke pointed to a small steel building with High Voltage signs painted on the sides. “Or it could be right in front of us.”
They walked along the fence, finding a gate. This time, it was made of heavy steel and designed to slide in and out on heavy rollers. The top of the fence was lined with coiled razor wire. There would be no cutting or climbing in. Luke walked along the sliding gate and found a keypad with a magnetic card reader. Without bothering to touch the pad, he turned and pointed to a small building nearest them connected to the gate by a sidewalk. “Let’s check it out.”
The building was short and narrow. From a distance, it had the appearance of an oversized garage. But on closer inspection, they could see that there were dark tinted windows in the sides and a small parking lot with four vacant spots beside it. Two of the spots were filled with white pickup trucks, the sides filled with toolboxes. Luke moved past the vehicles and found another keypad and card reader at the building’s entrance. He shook his head and continued on, following the building around. He tapped at the dark tinted windows. “Ballistic glass,” he said.
“We could shoot our way in,” Tucker said.
“I just said it’s ballistic glass—as in bullet and blast proof,” Luke grunted.
He kept walking until he saw a large central air conditioning unit. He turned his head sideways then looked back at the others. “It’s running.” He moved closer and put his hand on the unit, feeling the subtle vibrations. As if someone was looking to confirm his assessment, the unit kicked on and a large fan began to turn.
Luke stepped away from the unit and followed the wall to a dumpster. He climbed on top of it then jumped up, grabbing the edge of the roof, and pulled himself to the top. Looking along the roof, he saw a small utility hatch secured by a standard padlock. He looked down at the team on the ground and grinned. “Meet me at the front door.”
Moving to the hatch, he took a knee and examined the hasp. The screws holding it were loosed and stripped. He used his KA-BAR to get under the flat edge then popped the hasp from the aluminum door. The hatch flipped open easily on well-worn hinges. Looking down, he could just make out the shape of a narrow utility room in the soft glow of emergency lighting. He swung his legs in first, his boots hitting the rungs of a narrow roof access ladder. He dropped to the floor and saw the room was lined with full shelves of cleaning supplies. Walking the space, he found an open a door at the end that exited into a long hallway.
Luke stepped out onto a high-gloss polished floor. He paused as the cold air from the air conditioner hit his face then he closed his eyes, listening to the low hum of the building’s mechanics. There was nothing else, no clack of closing doors, no cross talk from a water cooler conversation, no footfalls in the hallway. He turned and looked both directions again, seeing nothing but hallway and glossy floor tile. Certain he was alone, he turned and moved left toward where he thought the entrance should be.
He spotted the main entrance door near the corner of the building, but he hesitated when he saw a small closed-circuit camera monitor mounted high on the wall. The grainy video showed his team waiting just outside on the walkway. He grimaced, suddenly concerned with who else may be monitoring these cameras. It was too late to worry about that now; they were committed.
To the left of the door was a green button mounted to a black plate. Stenciled in red above it was a warning placard: authorized personnel only. As if the placard wasn’t enough, someone had pinned a memo to the wall. Luke attempted to read it in the low light of the hallway. There were a lot of by order of this and under the authority of that, and several threats, but the summary was, “Don’t let anyone in the door if they do not have a badge or authorized escort.”
Luke grinned before he reached up and snatched the memo off the wall. He wadded it and tossed it down the hallway then pressed the button with a stiff middle finger. There was a buzz and a click. Soon after, the outer door opened, letting in the blinding sunlight. He squinted and watched his team enter the building then close the doors behind them, all of them now basking in the cool air.
With his team inside, he moved into a small alcove on the far side of the door that he hadn’t noticed before. Nothing close to a lobby, it was just enough space for a pair of chairs and coat racks. On the back wall behind the chairs were wooden cubbyholes. He randomly scanned a few of them, finding nothing. To the right of the cubbies was another instruction placard informing the building’s visitors to power off all electronic devices and to leave them there while in the building. Luke pointed at the sign.
“Any of you all got cell phones?” he said sarcastically.
All the men laughed except Tucker, who pulled a phone from his pocket. “I ain’t leaving my phone, got pictures of my girls on here,” he said adamantly.
“Girls, as in plural?” Luke asked.
Tucker began to answer, but before he could, Luke raised his hand. “No, no, never mind. I really don’t want to know.” This caused more laughter from the group. “Just put that shit back in your pocket, Tucker.” He shook his head again at the sign and dropped his pack.
“Let’s unload our gear here while we clear the building,” he said.
The others followed his action, and soon they were all out of their heavy packs, except Kate, who refused to let go of her tiny backpack. Luke looked at her and nodded, then said, “Let’s break into two teams and clear the building. Tucker, you and Kate are with me. Sergeant Weaver, you have the rest of the guys.” He turned and pointed down the hall “Listen, if a door is locked, then leave it like you found it. I don’t want to break anything and trigger any alarms. People or no people, we don’t need the noise. Let’s take a simple stroll, look for anything out of place, and meet back here to plan.”
The men replied with nods, unslinging rifles and taking them at the low ready. Enough light was already coming in the windows that they didn’t need lights or night vision goggles. Luke watched Weaver pull his group aside and go over his and their equipment. Watching them work, Luke finally realized he had somehow taken command of this small team. He cursed himself; leadership over the group was the last thing he wanted. This was something he’d been running away from since he’d left the Marine Corps, but still, it always managed to come back and bite him in the ass.
Leading the group or not, stepping on the soldiers’ feet was something he needed to be conscious of. He swore to himself silently and thought he needed to work on putting Weaver back in the driver’s seat. Still, he was thankful Weaver hadn’t done anything to shake up the dynamic.
The sergeant could have easily refused the instructions or, worse yet, caused a split in the group dynamic over small details. He waited for Weaver to turn back and flash him a thumbs up that they were ready to step off. He returned the gesture and watched the sergeant move down the hallway toward the utility room with Scott and O’Riley following close behind.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” he heard Kate say, waking him from his stupor of deep thoughts.
Luke looked down at the girl and grinned then glanced over at Tucker, who was adjusting the sling on his rifle. He dipped his chin at the soldier and stepped to the left, toward the front of the building. Moving down the path, they found that the hallway followed along the outer edge of the structure
like a perimeter road, one narrow rectangle outlining a rectangular box. The building’s design was more utility than creative.
The outer wall to their right was filled with tall, floor-to-ceiling windows covered in dark tint that still allowed in enough sunlight that the overhead fluorescent bulbs remained off. The rooms were all on the interior side of the hallway on their left and windowless, each having a solid, white steel door. They passed one of the locked doors every ten to fifteen feet, each marked only with numbers on the top center.
When they’d gone what Luke estimated was halfway around the building, he could see Weaver’s team approaching him. He looked to the rear then back to the front and could see that they’d circled the entire building, finding every door locked. He was rethinking his original impression that this was office space. As Luke watched Weaver approach, the soldiers stopped to check doors. He observed the sergeant stop to turn a knob then pause and back away from the door.
Weaver pointed to Luke then to the door and grinned, showing his white teeth. He shot Luke a thumbs up and motioned for the others to join him. Luke moved quickly down the hall to Weaver’s position. Unlike the other doors with random numbers, this room was tagged System and Network Administration.
“Every room up to this point was locked up tight. All of them have weird numbers on the door with codes,” Weaver whispered. “This one is different.”
“Open it up then, let’s give it a look,” Luke said.
He nodded to Weaver, who turned the knob the rest of the way and pushed the door in. Lights clicked and popped to life, sensing the motion of the door. Luke swept in and to the left with the others filing in behind him, covering their own segments of the room. The space was brightly lit from the overhead lights and, like the other areas of the building, cool from the air conditioner. It was filled with a long and narrow, high-walled cubicle farm.
The open spaces were decorated with typical office furniture and government motivational posters. On a table was a half pot of coffee with a bloom of fuzzy mold floating on the surface of the dark liquid. Each cube held similar contents—computer monitors and paperwork covering cluttered workspaces, while desk calendars, framed photos, and fake plants personalized the spaces. Luke moved by them, knowing they could be searched for more details later. He held his rifle at the low ready and moved down the center aisle, peeking into cubicles as he passed.
