Takedown anw-7 Read online

  Inside of her throbbing head, the memories of her last moments surface. With a panicked feeling, she runs her hands along her body performing a quick check. Her uniform is stiff in places from dried blood but nothing feels out of place. Putting her hands on the hard, cold surface beneath her, she begins to push herself up. A growl comes from nearby causing her to instantly freeze. A jolt of electricity runs through her body. She’s heard that growl before and, sitting here in the almost complete darkness, the sound fills her with fear.

  The musky scent of body odor fills the area. Expecting to be immediately attacked, she launches into action. Rising quickly, she turns toward the growl. She grabs for her M-4 but finds nothing. Reaching to her hip, she finds that her sidearm is also missing. With mounting fear, she gropes for her knives. They too are gone. The low growl becomes more menacing — if that is even possible. She’s in a darkened building after being attacked by night runners and there is no more threatening sound than that of one close by.

  Ahead of her, a thin line near the ground is just a shade lighter than the surrounding gloom. She notes the door as she braces for an attack. Within the deep gray of the room, she sees five darker shadows near the door.

  Night runners, she thinks, not moving but poised for action. Whatever happens, I’ll go down fighting.

  The shadowy figures don’t move. Time seems to stop. Lynn and the night runners face each other, neither knowing what the other will do. The fact that they don’t launch at her is perplexing. She’s never faced any night runners when they didn’t immediately attack with whatever number they had. Surely the five of them aren’t afraid of her. Ordinarily, five would attack even if she had all of the teams here. Comprehension dawns that they were in the room with her when she was out. If they meant to harm her, they wouldn’t have hesitated just because she was unconscious. The sheer fact that she is still alive baffles her even more.

  The thought of the teams brings back the memories of the night runners breaking in and attacking Cabela’s. She can’t piece together her last visions of night runners overrunning her position and her being here now. She feels that she should be able to span the gulf between her memories and the present situation but she isn’t able to. Another growl interrupts her thoughts. She tenses, anticipating an attack but the night runners maintain their position by the door. She takes a step toward them. All five give a low, warning growl.

  Okay, that didn’t work. I guess I’m not going to just walk out of here.

  Lynn takes a step back and the growls cease. It’s apparent to her that she isn’t going to be attacked so she relaxes a little. Confused, sore, and tired, Lynn sits back in her original position, her mind cycling through a million thoughts.

  Are they alright? she thinks, regarding those within the sanctuary. Did they manage to fight the night runners off, or did they fall as she did? Are there any others captured? How, and why, am I still alive? What in the fuck happened?

  It’s apparent that she is a prisoner and the night runners stationed at the door are guarding her. For the life of her, she can’t figure out why in the hell she is captured. Just a few moments ago, she would have thought the very idea of capture would be far beyond the thought processes of any night runner. The fact that she is being held by night runners doesn’t alleviate her tension. If anything, it multiplies it. She’s alone, doesn’t know where she is — only that she is in a darkened room surrounded by night runners, and she doesn’t know if anyone else made it out alive. Her heart sinks and a tear creates a muddy streak down her cheek.

  At least Jack wasn’t there and is therefore alive, she thinks.

  The thought of Jack and not knowing if she will ever see him again makes her heart sink even more. At this particular moment in time, she feels very lonely and frightened.

  * * *

  Arriving at the 130 in the late afternoon, I watch as Robert goes over the coordinates for the next leg of our flight. Our next stop is McConnell AFB, Kansas. The very thought of the base reminds me of Lynn. I miss her. I’m glad this will be my last trip out. I don’t like being away from her. I know my constant journeying doesn’t sit well and I don’t blame her. I wasn’t such a fan of her deployments either. Although, that was her job and these are, well, more voluntary. I just have a hard time not being there if others are putting themselves at risk. Of course, this puts me into a quandary as I don’t like constantly leaving Lynn. I honestly don’t know why she puts up with me, but I’m happy she does. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

  I’ve thought about putting aside the leadership role many times and perhaps it’s time I did. I’ve noticed my constant tiredness and wonder if I’ve lost my edge. Maybe it’s just the weird day. I don’t know. Not so long ago, I would have laughed at the kid and walked away rather than engage in a pissing contest with a fourteen-year-old. Of course, my sweet Nic was alive then and the world, as shitty as it was sometimes, was a better place. As much as I want to look for the families of the soldiers, I want to be back to what I consider home equally as much.

  Watching Robert calmly check the figures in the nav computer brings a sensation of pride. I mean, it’s always there, but I guess I’m just feeling emotional. I know, weird, right? He has come so far in this strange new world we find ourselves in and has adapted remarkably well. As has Bri. I think on how diverse the survivor groups are that we’ve encountered - some unraveling at the seams and others maintaining well. Without societal norms guiding us, core aspects are rising up and manifesting themselves in different ways. Yeah, today has put me in a strange mood. Robert finishes and sits back with a sigh.

  “All good?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I think so. I’ll check again in the morning before we leave. I’m a little tired and the numbers are running together and starting to not make any sense. I stare at them as if they’re alien glyphs and I’m trying to see into their strange coding,” he answers.

  “We’re at least heading to the southeast, right?”

  “As far as I can tell. That or Canada. If the sun’s on our right en route in the morning, if there is a sun in the morning,” he says, looking outside at the overcast, “then we know we’ll have to turn around.”

  “Or if we start seeing any mountains. I’m not sure, but I think the highest point in Kansas is the top of a speed bump.”

  “True,” he says, chuckling.

  “Whatcha doing, guys?” Bri asks, climbing into the cockpit.

  “Apparently inputting random numbers into the computer and seeing where it takes us,” I answer.

  “Cool. I’m up for an adventure. Like today wasn’t though, right?!” she replies.

  “You have that right,” Robert responds. “Dad, what was that whole radio station thing about? I mean… I get that they wanted to be left alone but why even have it on?”

  “I don’t know. I guess they wanted to listen to music,” I answer.

  “Do you think there were any adults around, or were they all just kids?” Bri asks.

  “I’m thinking there were only the kids,” I say.

  “And what about the bones at the bottom of the mine?” Robert asks.

  “I really don’t want to know the answer to that,” I answer.

  “Yeah. I’m kinda thinking they were the adults as well,” Robert states, saying what I really didn’t want to.

  “That’s messed up,” Bri says. “It’s just as well they aren’t coming with us then.”

  “It may be something completely different though. We’re just assuming something and it may not be true,” I say.

  “I don’t get that feel. I think they saw the chance to do away with adult supervision and took it,” Robert states.

  “It could be. It could also be that the adults died or turned into night runners and they burned them all fearing contamination. I guess that’s a story we’ll never know for sure.”

  “Why didn’t they come with us then?” Bri asks.

  “They really didn’t seem all that interested in us staying around,
let alone coming with us,” I answer. “However, to be perfectly honest, I really didn’t extend an offer either.”

  “That’s understandable under the circumstances. Dad, why didn’t you let me come up the path with you?” Robert asks.

  “You know the answer to that,” I respond.

  “This whole world is one strange place. Admittedly that place was a little more off, but there isn’t a place we’re going to see that isn’t going to have some weirdness attached to it.”

  I sigh. Robert and Bri stare at me waiting for my answer. “I know. I train you and try to give you the skills to survive in this world but don’t give you the opportunities to practice them. It’s just… well, it’s just hard letting you be placed in situations that are dangerous.”

  “Why even bring us out if that’s the case?” Bri asks.

  “I don’t have to, you know.”

  “Ha-ha…funny,” Bri says.

  “This isn’t easy and won’t be however much I try. I’m trying to let go so you gain the experiences that you’ll need in the long run. I just need to figure out how to let that happen while duct-taping pillows around you.”

  “You’re just a riot today, aren’t you, Dad,” Bri says.

  “Look. I just don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. Losing Nic was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. That pain sits with me every minute of every day.” At the mention of Nic, Robert and Bri solemnly hang their heads.

  “Dad,” Robert says after a moment of silence. “Losing Nic was hard for all of us. Have you ever thought that maybe the experience we gather can actually prevent something like that from happening? There could be that one bit of knowledge we gain that will save us in a split-second scenario.”

  “It’s a two-sided coin. I could lose you as you gain that experience yet lose you for you not having it. How about this? I’ll keep trying to let go and you remind me. However, I still have the final say.”

  “Works for me,” Robert says.

  “Me too,” Bri replies.

  The sound of the Stryker starting enters the cockpit interrupting any further conversation.

  “Take another look at the numbers. I’m not all that interested in playing ‘guess where we are’ tomorrow. I’m going in back to make sure they don’t try to sledgehammer the vehicle in,” I say.

  “Alright, Dad, but I don’t think the figures are going to make any more sense than they did a few minutes ago,” Robert replies.

  “Just try to keep us somewhere between the two great bodies of water lying to the east and west.”

  With the fading day, I send Red Team out to find a fuel truck. We have plenty of fuel onboard, but it’s always nice to have full tanks. As they are searching, Greg’s team attempts to get the large armored vehicle in without creating dents in my pretty aircraft. The 130 can handle a lot, but it tends to fly a little funny when rammed by a Stryker.

  Red Team returns without finding a fuel truck of any kind. I think about transferring fuel from the bombers with the hand crank, but that will take a lot of time and we have enough fuel onboard to complete our whole trip if necessary. With this strange day winding down, we seal up the aircraft and enjoy another quiet, peaceful night of rest.

  * * *

  Captain Leonard steams away, retracing his route up the channel. He’s happy to be resupplied and thinks he may have been a little hasty with Captain Walker. While they may have started off on the wrong foot, it seems to have ended well. He understands Walker’s desire to keep his command together and his wariness of outside influences. After all, that’s the same perspective he has. It was a matter of two strong minds meeting. They both care about the people under their command and work from that standpoint. At least they seem to be working together now, and he’s sure they’ll come to an understanding as a basis to continue that relationship.

  Leonard would have just parked his boat and joined the group but this has all been a lot to come to grips with. It still seems surreal — submerging in one world and surfacing in an entirely new and different one. The forested hills slide by as they make their way to the open ocean. He has a hard time believing the rest of the world is like this and needs to see for himself. Although he knows that Walker has flown to some parts of the country and encountered the same wherever he went, there’s just something about seeing it for himself. Deep down, he knows what he’ll find given the absence of radio traffic. If there was a viable force still in operation, they would have been broadcasting for surviving forces.

  Nothing has changed since his passage south — the windows from the lonely settlements along the shore wink back at his passage. He imagines night runners holed up behind every window waiting for the night. Although it’s hard to actually fathom, he knows that the night belongs to them and the day to the few remaining survivors of humanity.

  His plan is to journey down the Western Seaboard to San Diego, checking out the communities and harbors along the way. After that, he’ll make a decision about whether to travel to Hawaii or return to Walker’s group. The boat is well stocked with supplies, and, thanks to Walker, weapons and ammo. He may have to make some forays into towns along the way to restock on perishables but he’ll limit those to daylight. They’ll more than likely have to go into buildings for those — darkened buildings — so he’ll limit those excursions to only essential ones. He’s learned his lesson. He doesn’t see how he can avoid it altogether but he’s at least aware of what perils await those who venture inside.

  The other worry he has is the crew itself. There is the very real prospect of deserters. He’ll run submerged for the most part although this will take more time — years of playing hide-and-seek has ingrained that into his core. At times, he’ll surface and give the crew a chance to get outside. The pressure of being cooped up for long periods at a time, along with the added stress of the situation, will make this a necessity. They’ve already been on patrol and under the waves for a while. Having time ashore is a luxury that isn’t in the cards this time around. He’ll keep a watch topside whenever they are surfaced to guard against anyone trying to jump. This is especially true when they draw close to shore. At those times, he’ll stay submerged to the greatest extent possible. The sub runs with a limited crew as it is and anyone lost will affect operations. For now, however, he’ll run on the surface and enjoy the breeze against his cheeks.

  The run through the channels and straits takes most of the day. He’s seen all that he wants of the surrounding area on their passage down so Leonard keeps his boat directed to the open waters of the Pacific. The waves glitter under the sun settling, throwing off a myriad of prisms, as the USS Santa Fe passes Neah Bay on the left and enters the ocean proper. Dropping down the narrow hatchway, Leonard issues the order to submerge.

  “What course, sir?” his XO asks.

  “Set a course to the mouth of the Columbia River,” he answers.

  “How far off shore?”

  “Keep us close in.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  The roll of the ocean swells cease as they submerge beneath the waves, becoming a creature of the depths once again. The XO has the sub turned to the south once they reach a depth where it’s hard to be detected using MAD (Magnetic Anomaly Detection) systems. Leonard sits in his chair with a thousand thoughts careening through his mind — none staying too long. At times, he has the sub brought to periscope depth and watches the shore of the Washington coastline pass by. The moon’s rays reflect off of the waves crashing on shore.

  After time, he rises. “I’ll be in my cabin. Bring us up to periscope depth where towns are marked and have the night watch look for lights. Wake me if you find anything.”

  Mechanically ducking through hatches, he makes his way to his room. He kicks off his shoes and settles onto his bunk. Thoughts continue to race through his mind as he settles into a restless sleep.

  Morning finds the Santa Fe sitting off the headlands protecting the Columbia River entrance. Leonard rises and splashes wat
er on his face. Attempting to wipe the sleep away, he dons his shoes and heads to the control room.

  “Anything?” he asks, standing near the periscope.

  “There are a few ships sitting off the channel but no engine noises. It’s been quiet, sir.”

  Leonard raises the periscope and looks over the world above their heads. Indeed, several ships tug on the end of their anchor chains against the incoming tide. They sit waiting for pilot vessels that will never arrive. The crew that once manned the rusting vessels has left in one fashion or another. The ships will now sit until their chains break and they are cast free, either to run ashore or be swept out to sea with the tide. Those that don’t run aground will eventually rust through and sink to the depths.

  He briefly thinks of searching the ships for supplies — medical and edible — but pushes that thought away. There is little chance that any night runners could still be alive aboard the vessels. Any food and water they might have had would be long gone but the thought of a single SEAL Team searching the darkened corridors of an unknown ship, with even the possibility that there might be night runners onboard, sends shivers down his spine. They could stay and watch the decks for any emergence of night runners but he decides against it. Anything they might find would be unsubstantial compared to the risks.

  The periscope slides down. “Prepare to surface,” Leonard orders.

  The Santa Fe slides upward, breaching the surface. Water hisses down the black anechoic covered decks. The top watch scrambles up the ladder as soon as the conning tower clears the surface. Leonard and his XO join them shortly after the sub becomes stabilized. The sun has crested the far mountains, climbing into a blue sky. A coastal breeze brings a chill and a tangy odor from the cities lying just inside the channel.

  “Bring us just inside the strait. Just far enough so we can get a look at Astoria. Slow and steady,” Leonard says.

  He knows these waters are tricky. Not only are the currents difficult but the sands shift within the waterway and have to be continually dredged. No captain would bring his vessel into these waters without the skillful guidance of the river pilots. The engine kicks in and the sub slowly advances on the twin headlands. Riding the ocean swells, they pass the eerie, silent ships moored at the entrance. Entering the channel, they sweep by sandy beaches to either side.