Sanctuary anw-3 Read online

  “I think bars might be best for something like that,” he says. “Maybe a set on both sides.”

  “Good idea,” I tell him. “Hopefully they’ll have something like that at the same place where we find the doors.”

  I get the phone book we secured from the weather shop and open it to the yellow pages where I found the security door manufacturer. I take note of the address. The rays from the sun cast a shadow from my finger across a map of the city as I find the location and trace a route. I look up towards the western sky and judge the travel of the sun across the light blue sky. We have quite a few hours of daylight left but it doesn’t feel like it. I look at my watch and see it’s a little after three in the afternoon. I figure we should have enough time to get the doors and be back before Lynn shows up. Providing everything goes well that is. I would like to leave those without training here but don’t want to leave the scant few I have with me behind to guard them. You never know what the circumstances are at the location or what we may run into and I’d like to have every able body with me just in case.

  “Alright everyone, let’s mount up,” I say.

  Slumping into the Jeep seat, the invigoration I felt earlier is beginning to fade, being replaced by an oncoming tiredness. The warmth of the day, although much cooler and less humid than the previous days, is adding to a feeling of lethargy. Oh for a peaceful night of sleep, I think starting the vehicle up. I hear the other vehicles crank up and we backtrack to the Interstate.

  We drive down the black-topped road, take an exit south of town and on subsequent country lanes that eventually lead to a medium-sized metal pre-fabricated building set behind a chain link fence. I come to a stop by the short, dirt and gravel driveway leading in. A wide open dirt-filled yard, with scrap pieces of metal scattered and strewn about, encircles the structure. A couple of rusting trailers sit in one of the corners of the yard and three large panel vans are parked towards the front.

  The gate to the facility is open making it easy to drive up to the entrance. The blue metal building is plain but large. Two windows and a white door adorn the right side of the building with a large roll-type, garage door in the middle. All are shut and the place looks vacated. It has a quiet, desolate feel to it. With our engines shut down, that feeling only intensifies.

  A warm breeze blows through causing the dust to eddy about the abandoned yard, giving it its only life. The dust twirls upwards forming a small funnel and moves across the abandoned yard. The others exit the vehicles after the swirl of dust passes out of the gate like a customer leaving. The air is calm following the short dust storm, settling into the warm summer day once again. The rays beat down from a sun hovering above the top of the trees across the road. For once, time seems to stand still in this little lot. Not a breath of air stirs or sound is made. It’s like we stepped out of the world we were placed in and into a separate piece of reality. Even the degree of tension about the time seems to have ebbed.

  The feeling of separation from the rest of the world suddenly vanishes and we are left just standing in a dusty, litter-strewn lot with an aging, prefabricated metal building in the middle of it. Clumps of brown grass grow among and around where the larger metal parts have been scattered. The others in our group are standing adjacent to their vehicles in much the same manner; perhaps feeling the same way, perhaps lost in other thoughts. I think there are times of great stress when the mind just has to rest itself. Or maybe when it’s about to embark on something of great stress. I certainly remember folding into another world prior to a mission but that was more on a conscious level of focusing the mind; eliminating distractions that may interfere with being centered.

  “Henderson and Denton with me. Robert, you as well. Gonzalez and McCafferty stay with the vehicles,” I say breaking the silence that seems to have stretched for an eternity.

  The others are startled from their trances by the sound of my voice bouncing off the metallic building. As at Cabela’s, Robert and I take the lead with Henderson and Denton behind. I want to do a circuit around the building prior to going in. The aging building is streaked with rust where the sides join the overhanging roof. It’s just another sign of neglect that the lot has already shown. I just hope they did a better job with the security doors they built. Weeds, long dead, are growing against the sides of the structure.

  Gravel fills some of the larger potholes, crunching under our boots as we make our way along the longer-than-it-seemed side of the building. My toe catches one of the stones and sends it skipping across the dirt lot, kicking up small puffs of dust where it hits. I feel the heat radiating off the sheet metal as we continue toward the rear. Rounding the corner, the back end of the structure looks similar to the front but without the windows or door. A large, roll-type door, identical to the one in front, is open revealing a concrete floor with dust swirled across it. With this side of the building in the shade, the light isn’t penetrating far inside. I wave Robert and the others behind me, sidling against the outside wall until I come to the opening without revealing myself.

  I stand for a moment listening. The fact that the door is open alerts me to the possibility that night runners could be lurking inside. The additional fact that we are out of the city a little ways may mean there aren’t many night runners around, although I’m sure they will expand out into the country as the food within the cities begins to disappear. I don’t hear any sounds coming from inside except for the occasional pop of metal heating up and expanding. None of the panting I heard in the hospital is present. I look to the ground in front of the door looking for tracks but the breeze and dust has rendered the ground smooth, effectively removing any tracks if there were any there to begin with. I don’t see any tracks in the dust on the floor either.

  I kneel and poke my head around the corner looking into the building proper. I don’t like being backlit by the daylight but there isn’t really an option if I want a glimpse inside. The light at the door fades into a deeper gray and then darkness further into the interior. The sides are covered with that same inky black. The only exception is a thin line of light showing on the other side at ground level from the opposite door. Nothing stirs.

  I’d go in now with those with me but I’m not comfortable with how the rest of our small group is still sitting at the front. If something were to happen, they would be in the line of fire ahead of us and our rounds would easily go through the sheet metal sides. Pulling back from the open door, we retrace our steps to the front and describe what we saw upon arriving.

  “I’ll be taking Red Team and Robert in with me. Frank, will you take everyone and the vehicles back up the road a little ways. Leave one the Humvees here. If something does happen inside, I don’t want anyone to be in the line of fire or in a position to catch a ricochet. Those walls won’t stop a bullet,” I say.

  “Sure, no problem, Jack,” he answers.

  Mom catches my eye and I know she has something she wants to say by her look. I nod my head and we step aside from the rest.

  “Are you sure about taking Robert in?” She asks in a hushed voice.

  “Yeah, Mom. He went in with me at the BX in the Azores and did a great job in a hellish environment. He has to learn and he’ll be okay,” I reply.

  “Okay, you know what’s best. I don’t know about Bri and Nic carrying weapons though,” she says.

  “I know. Me neither really but they have to learn too, Mom. The luxury of having that kind of choice has gone,” I respond.

  “Okay, but know that their minds are still developing and things can be taken to an extreme at their age.”

  “I know. I wish it were different,” I say and we return to the others.

  Why do kids always say “I know” to their parents no matter what age they are? I think watching the others load into the Humvees and Jeep. They drive through the open gate and onto the country road, disappearing quickly behind large blackberry vines that edge the road. I hear the squeal of brakes shortly after and then the muted sound of engines idling
a short distance away. The remaining Humvee looks lonely sitting in the dusty yard after being surrounded by other vehicles only moments ago.

  “Alright, McCafferty, take the Humvee around and park so that the interior is lit up by the headlights as best as you can. We’ll meet you there and formulate a plan based upon what we see,” I say.

  The rest of us start walking to the rear entrance, reaching the side as McCafferty climbs in and shuts the door. The loud shutting door is followed by the sound of something metallic hitting the floor and bouncing a couple of times inside the building. What was that? Did something just fall off a shelf or is something in there? Or is it occupied? And if so, why didn’t it happen before? I think knowing we made a lot of noise on our arrival and since. Everyone freezes from the sound that was emitted dully from the other side of the wall.

  “Well, we have to assume there’s company in there,” I say.

  “McCafferty, we may have company inside. Wait for us before pulling into position,” I say over the radio. She drives the Humvee alongside and keeps pace with us.

  I round the corner and stand by the opening again. McCafferty parks just off to the side and behind us. I call out to see if anyone is inside. It’s pretty obvious that if anything is there, they or it already know we are here so I feel comfortable calling out. It’s not like we were being sneaky. There’s no reply.

  “We’ll form a line in front of the door fifteen feet back and have the Humvee come between us. Henderson, Denton, and Gonzalez on the right. Robert on the left with me,” I say and relay our plan over the radio.

  The Humvee pulls between us shining its lights into the interior. A shriek answers the glare of the headlights on the concrete floor, which is otherwise bare and empty in the middle. I catch a fleeting glimpse of a shadow moving off into the darker recesses of the interior. We stand with weapons at the ready scanning the inside fully ready for anything that might sweep out towards us. Nothing comes and I don’t see any additional movement. The one shriek is that’s heard. The inside falls back into its silent state.

  McCafferty exits the Humvee, the sound of the door shutting echoes across the dusty lot, and she stands next to Robert. I walk over and lean against the front of the vehicle, both feeling and hearing the idling engine behind me. God, I hate this urban stuff, I think scanning the interior. Tall shelves, reaching almost to the ceiling are filled with miscellaneous materials. They extend away into darkness on the left and right; their edges lit from the glow of the headlights but fading quickly into the obscurity of the dark.

  I would just leave as the building is obviously occupied but we need these doors. Just how occupied still remains in question. My phone vibrates. I take it out and see it’s a text from Kelly. I turn it off and snap the cover shut without responding and return it to my pocket, focusing back on the building. I don’t want any interruptions and can’t afford to make any mistakes. My thought process has to be on the here and now.

  Standing from my leaning position, I turn on my flashlight and turn the beam on the rafters above. My light immediately catches a night runner poised on one of the steel girders spanning the width of the building. It’s squatting there with one hand on a support beam, glaring at us. It gives a piercing yell as my light centers on it.

  “Oh hell no you don’t! I know that trick,” I say bringing my M-4 to my shoulder and fire a short burst.

  The noise of my sudden firing jars the still air. My rounds impact into its chest and shoulder propelling it backward and off the girder. The night runner shrieks as it falls through the lit part of the interior and hits the concrete floor with a loud thump; silencing its scream. The once bare concrete turns red around the still body as blood begins to slowly pool around it. Another shriek and scuffling is heard from the left further back in the shop. My light pans to the source of the noise but the shelves and the items on them prevent me from seeing what lies in the lanes between.

  “Well, we know there’s at least one more in there,” I say to the others around.

  “Yeah, and I thought I heard something off to the right but I’m not sure,” Henderson states.

  “Well, we can’t assume anything. Why is it that every building I want to go in seems to be occupied with night runners?” I ask rhetorically. “I’m beginning to think it’s some sort of conspiracy.”

  “Not sure but it certainly seems that way. Maybe you’re just unlucky,” Gonzalez answers with a grin on her face.

  “Yeah. Maybe we should ask for a transfer,” McCafferty says grinning as well.

  “I guess I know who the first two in are,” I respond to their good-natured ribbing.

  Talking and joking like this brings back the memories of prepping for missions and the bantering just before jumping off. It seemed to bring back a certain amount of humanity into what we were about to embark on and to cover some of the nerves. That is exactly what this little bit of joking does. It calms all of us and seems to reassure us that all will be fine.

  I continue to stand at the entrance debating on whether to use the night vision goggles or not. If we do use them, we’ll have to turn the headlights off and the glow of the day’s light through the entrance may interfere with their functionality. I decide to go in with flashlights rather than risk a chance of being blinded if we have to face towards the open door.

  “McCafferty, did we bring any of those flash bangs with us?” I ask.

  “Yes, sir. I believe we have a few in the back,” she answers.

  “Okay, the interior is not that large so this is going to go by fast. Henderson and Denton, you’ll have the right. Henderson, take the lanes as we come to them and Denton watch overhead. Gonzalez and McCafferty, the left. Gonzalez the lanes and McCafferty up top,” I say.

  “Hooah, sir,” they respond.

  “Robert and I will be out front in the middle. Make sure you all stay a little behind us to give us clear lanes of fire. Robert, take the right front and I’ll take the left front. Watch the shelves above and keep an eye out on the rafters. We’ll toss a couple of flash bangs inside just prior to going in and move at a quick walking pace. Any questions?”

  “No, sir,” Henderson, Denton, and McCafferty answer.

  “Good to go, sir,” Gonzalez replies.

  “Okay, Dad,” Robert says.

  McCafferty gathers two flash bangs from the rear of the Humvee as I make sure the rafters are clear of any night runners. I still don’t detect any further movement from inside. There are six of the large shelves to each side. Each shelf is piled with gear and boxes blocking any view of the lanes themselves. Work benches line the far wall adjacent to the closed roller door on the other end of the shop and run the width as far as I can tell.

  McCafferty returns. I take one of the flash bangs and hand the other to Robert, showing him the pin to pull. Henderson and Denton walk over and hug the wall on the right just outside of the entrance. The rest of us crouch against the outside wall on the left with Robert and I in front.

  “Toss yours about mid-way by the shelves to the right. I’ll put mine in the same place on the left,” I say to Robert over my shoulder.

  “Okay,” he replies.

  “Ready ladies and gents?” We’re in on the flash,” I ask getting nods for answers. Robert edges to my right so he can get into a good position.

  “Let’s do this,” I say. We pull the pins and toss the canisters inside and quickly pull back alongside the outside wall.

  The metallic clinking of the cans bouncing across the concrete seems to slow time; a prelude to the explosion and activity to follow. Clink…….clink…….clink….. The canisters roll on the hard floor before two simultaneous flashes of light exit the opening accompanied by thunderous bangs. The building walls shake from the explosion of light and noise. Robert and I roll immediately around the corner and into the building taking our places in the middle. Henderson and Denton roll in immediately after us with Gonzalez and McCafferty on our heels. Our lights pan over the rafters, top of the shelves and along
the sides of the interior.

  Seeing nothing, Robert and I proceed up the middle at a quick walk checking our front and sides. The noise of something sliding along a shelf to my immediate right is followed by a scream. A burst of gunfire comes from my right rear. I turn to see Denton with his carbine pointed upward to the shelf immediately to the right. Looking upward, I see the last vestiges of blood spraying the air as a night runner tumbles off the top of the shelf, hitting the shelf across the lane before continuing its fall and slamming into the aisle floor.

  “Keep moving,” I say with the night runner remaining motionless on the concrete.

  The interior is hot, stifling, and stuffy from the sun hitting the metal walls all day turning the inside into a sauna. This is barely noticed as the moment fully occupies my mind. Reaching the dead night runner that had fallen from the rafters, a flash of movement appears in my peripheral to the right front. A night runner darts from a darkened corner and runs into the semi-glow emitting from the headlights. Our long shadows on the floor from the light blends with the shadow of the night runner.

  Robert’s light catches it full on and his M-4 barks on full automatic. His rounds stitch across the metal wall to our front, going through the thin sheet metal. Pin points of light show where his bullets encounter the metal and punch through. The points of light catch up and merge with the fleeing night runner, hitting it on the arm, shoulder and then head. The night runner is thrown sideways into the far end door with a loud, clanging thump. It hangs there a moment before collapsing to the ground against the door. Another quick burst issues from his M-4 and the rounds streak for the slumped night runner. The steel impacts the flesh with solid thuds spraying blood in patterns on the door, both above and to the sides of the now very dead night runner. There are small tinks of metal on metal as some of his rounds pass through the body and hit the door itself.

  Thin rays of light, picking up small motes of dust, shine into the building from the bullet holes where Robert chased the night runner with his rounds. I’m thankful I didn’t decide to use the NVG’s as all of the light differentials in here would most likely have rendered them ineffective and actually could have been a hindrance. I step over the dead night runner at my feet and continue further into the shop. I want to clear the building before any disoriented night runners that may be remaining can gain their composure and assault us. Any advantage the flash bang gave us will be wearing off quickly if it hasn’t already.