Sanctuary anw-3 Read online

  Passing the third lane between the shelves, I quickly shine the beam of my light down the aisle picking up a night runner heading my way. My M-4 is already pointed in that direction by my keeping the barrel in line with my eyes. I fire a short burst into the creature launching toward me. My first round impacts on the left side of its chest, the bullet catching a rib and shattering it, spreading the pieces of bone along with the now fragmented round into the chest cavity. The bone and metal tear through the vessels and lung. The light blue, denim overalls absorb the blood flowing from the entry wound creating a splotch of blood. The second round hits just below the left clavicle, destroying the bone before exiting out of the back. A third round hits the night runner square in the throat and sprays blood in all directions. I feel the splash of it hit on my cheeks and forehead.

  The momentum carries it on towards me. I side step to the right bringing the stock of my carbine around hitting the back of its head with a hard whack as it passes by me. It tumbles to the floor beside me. I stomp my boot down solidly against its neck as it hits the floor feeling the neck break and shatter beneath my heel. It spasms twice before falling limp. I wheel around quickly checking the lane again only to find it empty.

  We reach the far door without encountering any more night runners and I have Red Team form a semi-circle around the closed door. Their lights pan around the room like mini spotlights shining from an event as I undo the latches on the side of the door. I move the night runner’s body to the side and raise the door, blinking with the increase of light from the afternoon sun that pours into the shop. The interior is now fully lit with the lanes only shades of gray. We head back down the interior in the same formation ensuring the shop is indeed clear.

  * * *

  Robert stands behind his dad with the olive drab canister in his hand, waiting for the word to toss the flash bang. He hopes for a good toss as he doesn’t want to screw up as he has been given the chance to become part of the team. He feels tense with nervousness and moves the canister up and down, testing its weight to coordinate his mind with the physical aspect in order to make a good toss inside. The past few days have been a roller-coaster of feelings, emotions, and dealing with the feeling as if this is all a dream – both good and bad. The bad is obvious but there is a part of him that has wanted to be able to test himself in a stressful situation. To prove himself as it were. Doesn’t get any more stressful than this, he thinks looking at the entrance and waiting.

  “Ready ladies and gents?” We’re in on the flash,” He hears his dad say by his side and Robert nods his answer. He then edges to the right, directly beside his dad, so he can get into a good position.

  “Let’s do this,” his dad says. He pulls pin and tosses the canister inside, quickly pulling back alongside the outside wall.

  He hears the cans bounce across the concrete floor and tenses, anticipating the explosion of light and sound. He has never seen a real flash bang go off, other than the movie renditions, so doesn’t know what to expect. So far, a lot of things that have happened have been so different than he imagined. The detail necessary to survive along with the fear, nervousness, and sheer adrenaline rush of actually being in combat. Some things just taking over naturally. That is the greatest surprise of all, the automatic responses coming regardless of the fear. Standing ready, anticipating the coming explosion and subsequent entry, he feels a deep thankfulness for all of the time he spent with his dad.

  Light flashes out of the open entrance accompanied with a thunderous roar. Now, that’s like the movies, he thinks as he sees his dad rise and rush in. Robert follows directly beside him with his M-4 up and ready. His light pans around the front and to the side catching only shelves and equipment. Walking further into the building, gunfire erupts directly off to his right and behind him. The sudden noise startles him and he turns quickly to his immediate right and catches a night runner falling to the floor with a heavy thump. Denton stands in his peripheral with his carbine raised.

  “Keep moving,” his dad says and Robert focuses on his area once again.

  He walks beside his dad and it feels like the old times when they were out in the woods playing airsoft, stalking behind the opposing team lines together. He feels a quiet confidence come over him. The times with his dad, whether adventuring into the woods together hiking and biking, camping, or airsofting, has given him a solid and deep confidence in his abilities. He carries a certain calm inside that comes from this. The only break in this solid feeling is his wanting to prove himself. He doesn’t want to let anyone down.

  A sudden movement to his front; a shape detaches itself from the shadowy depths and catches his attention. The shape transforms itself into a night runner as it runs into the light cast by the Humvee headlights. He quickly raises his M-4 and begins firing at the quickly moving creature. The carbine kicks against his shoulder and he sees pinpoints of light materialize just behind the fleet night runner. He instantly knows these are his round drilling through the wall and he hasn’t put enough lead on the darting shape. With his finger still pressed down on the trigger, he moves his barrel to his left, walking his rounds quickly towards the night runner. He sees the small points of light catch up and the sound of his impacting rounds changes from a metallic pinking to the more solid thuds of steel hitting flesh. The night runner is thrown to the side against the metal door and slides downward. He thinks he sees it still move and puts another burst into the slumped body.

  Robert looks from the still body to his dad who nods at him with the affirmation of a good job. He feels the self-confidence in himself solidify even more from that nod and the realization that he acted in a quick and decisive manner; keeping in mind that he needs to lead his target a little more and throws that knowledge into his bag of tricks. His dad steps forward again and he walks to keep in line. Another shriek penetrates the still and hot interior followed by a subsequent burst of gunfire from his dad.

  He turns quickly to see his dad step to the side as a night runner stumbles into view. He watches his dad deliver a stroke with his M-4 to the back of the night runners head and watches it fall to the floor. His dad then raises his boot and brings it back down on the neck of the fallen body; the crunch and crack of its neck shattering sounds. He watches the night runner twitch before it becomes still and blood begins to surround it on the floor.

  They reach the far end door and he mans a small perimeter with the rest of the Red Team as his dad opens the door, flooding the interior space with light. That light brings a sense of relief. One, because he senses that this particular action is over, and two, because the fear and nervousness he felt regarding whether he would let anyone down has been answered. A certain pride wells up within knowing he acted well and, for the first time, he feels very much a part of the team.

  * * *

  “McCafferty, will you pull the Humvee around to the front,” I say as we reach the end of the building where we started. “Call the others and have them come back.”

  “Yes, sir,” she responds.

  “Gotta lead ‘em huh?” I say chuckling to Robert as we walk back to the front along the outside with the sun in our eyes.

  “Yeah, it startled me and I thought I had enough of a lead,” he answers with a chuckle of his own. “I saw I was hitting behind and just swept over to it.”

  “Well, they’re pretty quick but that’s the way to do it. Just keep in mind not to let the kick lead you up and over it. You got it and that’s what counts. Plus, nice making sure it stayed dead.”

  Gonzalez walks over to Robert and pats him on the back. “Nice job in there. Good shooting,” she says with a nod.

  “Thanks,” Robert says with no small amount of pride surfacing. He is walking a little straighter and I can tell he is beaming.

  The vests add to the heat of the day and, with the sun shining upon us and the after effects of the adrenaline, sweat is streaming down our cheeks and forehead. The others pull up in the vehicles parking in front. I pull the Jeep into the now lit shop,
stopping just shy of the night runner bodies lying on the floor. Several already-made security pull-down doors line the wall to the left.

  “Will you see if there are some that will fit what we need?” I ask Bannerman and point to the doors.

  “You bet,” he answers and heads over to the doors with Frank.

  I see Mom, Nic, Bri, and Michelle with Robert and assume they are seeing if he is okay. He is using his hands while talking and I watch him as he describes the action. Michelle moves closer to him and gives him a hug as he apparently finishes his story. The rest of Red Team squats by the entrance door, taking a rest and talking amongst themselves.

  “We found some that will work,” Bannerman says coming up behind me. “We even found the mounting brackets and hardware.”

  “That’s great. Let’s load them onto the Jeep rack,” I say and motion for Red Team to help.

  “We even found some shutters that should work for the windows,” Bannerman adds.

  “Even better. Will they fit in the Humvees?”

  “They should,” he says.

  “Okay, let’s get loaded up and head back.”

  “Are you okay?” Mom asks walking over from Robert.

  “Yeah, Mom, I’m fine thanks,” I say.

  “I was worried when we pulled up and I saw blood on your face,” she says staring at my forehead.

  “Oh,” I say wiping an arm across my face but only manage to smear it more because of the sweat already there.

  We finish loading the doors on the Jeep and the shutters in the Humvee, tying the doors down with 550 cord. Piling back into the vehicles, we caravan back to Cabela’s, arriving just before 1630. The sun is wending its way across the sky quickly and I’m thankful for the summer days allowing us longer periods of daylight. This would have been impossible if all of this happened in the winter. I am still worried about getting finished here and being able to get down to Portland to help Kelly. So much to do and seemingly so little time. The night will come, whether I want it to or not, and with it, the night runners. If we don’t have a secure place by the time the sun goes down, we’ll be screwed. We can head back and stay another night in the 130 but I’d rather not.

  The Rat’s Nest

  I’m a little concerned that Lynn hasn’t shown up yet. We’ll have to clear this building or at least see if it can be cleared. We have enough people to do this but the inside doesn’t really support a section by section clearing. The open interior and the fact that a second floor overlooks the main floor won’t be an easy task if a multitude of night runners are housed within as the footprints seem to indicate.

  I turn my phone back on and check on Kelly’s text. She wanted to know if I was on my way so I text back “soon.” While the others offload the equipment and lay them on the ground, I lean against the Jeep staring at the structure waiting for an answer or plan to spring forth. The only thing I know at this point is that it will be dark inside so the NVG’s and gear we picked up from the armory will be extremely useful. All of the nooks and crannies created by the rack of clothes and shelves of equipment scattered throughout the facility will make it very dicey to keep all angles covered. I wish I could tell better just how many are inside by the tracks near the door but that just isn’t possible. If they were made in the dirt or some other soft substance, then yes, but the fact that they’re all over each other and made with dried blood makes it a difficult task. I’m rather hoping they aren’t in the numbers they were in the CDC. If they are, then we are in trouble and might have to find another place. I was really hoping this would be easier.

  A plan for the inside begins to form in my mind just as I hear the sound of approaching vehicles. Turning around, I see the nose of a Humvee cresting the hill on the long driveway. This is followed by a host of other vehicles behind. Lynn has arrived. I notice the transport trucks piled high with equipment as the convoy pulls up and parks in the large lot by the other vehicles. Doors opening and closing resound across the lot.

  Lynn steps up and tilts her head to the side quizzically looking at me.

  “You have blood on you. Did you go in anyway?” She asks referring to my promise not to go into Cabela’s without the rest of the teams.

  “Nope,” I answer wiping my face with my arm once again. “Better?”

  “Yeah,” she says and looks over at the doors by the Jeep. “I take it the building where you obtained those was occupied.”

  “No, um, yeah,” I answer.

  Lynn gives a soft sigh before saying, “Jack!? I can tell I’m going to have to be very specific in getting those promises.”

  “Well, we needed the doors and really couldn’t wait,” I say. “Any word from Craig?”

  She hangs her head and shakes it. “No, but I left a note by the aircraft before we left,” she says. I don’t say anything since there isn’t really much to say.

  We stand in the afternoon sun briefing each other on the different events that occurred during the day. The search teams found five soldiers and six civilians holding out in various locations on the military installations. Lynn tells me they were all found individually in different places. That leads me to believe that some people are just holing up and trying to survive as best they can; not trying to go out and band together. I’m sure some are grouping together as was evidenced by the marauders at Brunswick but it also seems like others are not venturing out. We’ll have to search everywhere to find whatever survivors might be left. The night runners have strength in their numbers and I feel that will be a large part of our strength as well.

  “What do you say we put the additional soldiers you found in a team with Greg leading them?” I ask Lynn after introductions with the newcomers are made.

  “Yeah, I already thought about that but wanted to clear it with you first,” she answers.

  “I guess we’ll keep with the phonetic designations as we seem to have run out of colors. I mean, I don’t really want to say magenta or lavender team over the radio. I’ll just flat out forget,” I say.

  “Roger that. I think we’re up to Echo. What’s the plan?” Lynn asks.

  “Well, there are obviously night runners that we’ll have to clear out of here,” I respond having told her of the tracks by the door. “Let’s get the team leaders together and talk over a plan.”

  “Okay folks, this isn’t going to be a walk in the park especially if there are night runners in abundance inside,” I say to the group once the team leaders are gathered. “The inside is cluttered with small shelves and aisles scattered throughout along with clothes racks. This will make visibility limited in many areas and prevent clear lanes of fire for any distances. We’re going in with all of the teams and it’s important to listen up on the radios and keep the communication short. We need to keep the channel clear.”

  Everyone nods their heads and I continue, “We’ll be going in with goggles on so that means all flashlights off. There are two floors with the second floor overlooking the first floor in the middle. There is also a large centerpiece on the first floor that prevents any vision to the rear of the store.”

  I walk over and grab a notebook out of the Jeep. I notice Robert hadn’t joined us for the brief and isn’t with Red Team and wave him over to me. I am still not certain about taking him in but he has shown himself to be quite capable and I did promise him that he would be a part of Red Team. I want him to at least be at the briefing so he can learn. Centering on the group once again as we both arrive, I draw the basic layout of the store.

  “Alright, the structure is rectangular with bathrooms to the immediate left and a small, enclosed snack shop against the right wall. Echo Team will enter first and cover the immediate front just inside the interior doors. Red and Charlie Teams will enter on your heels; Red covering the immediate left and Charlie covering right. I haven’t checked to see if the front doors are unlocked as yet. I know the side doors are. Cressman, would you go quickly check and see if they are unlocked?” I ask.

  She stands and trots over to the fro
nt. I see the doors swing open as she pulls on each set. She then disappears quickly inside and emerges a few seconds later.

  “Both the outside and inside sets are unlocked,” she reports on returning to our group.

  “That’ll make it easier then. Echo, enter through the left doors and Charlie through the right. Red will enter on Echo’s heels. Alpha and Bravo Teams will then enter, Alpha through the left doors and Bravo through the right. Move past Echo and take positions in the middle to the left and right respectively. There is a large set of stairs leading upward to the second floor balcony to the left by the centerpiece. In addition, there is an escalator on the far left side that also leads to the second floor balcony. Don’t go past the second floor overhang on the entry side. Alpha, you cover the left side balcony and far side escalator. Bravo, you cover the right and far side balcony. Any questions so far?” I ask drawing the annotations and positions on the paper.

  “No, sir,” everyone responds. I notice Watkins’ salutation. Perhaps him resorting back to habit in the tension of what we are about to embark upon.

  “Okay. Blue Team, you’ll follow behind Alpha and take position at the foot of the first set of stairs and cover them. Delta, I want you to follow Bravo through the right, link up with Charlie and then you both move out to the right covering the right side under the overhang. Black and Green Teams, you’ll then move in and do the same for the left side. Once everyone is in position, Echo, move up to the centerpiece and cover the near-side balcony. Are we clear so far?” I ask pointing to the various positions and entry sequence on the drawn map.