We drive through most of the town without seeing a soul. If there is anyone about, I would think they would have ventured out to the base upon hearing our arrival or come out with the sound of our vehicles crawling through town. The sound of our vehicles echoes off the walls and darkened windows of the structures. There should be some people out foraging unless they’re hiding from us, I think watching the town slowly pass as we progress further east.
Gonzalez’ head is on a swivel looking around her home town. Tension is very apparent around her eyes. She points to the left off the main street and we enter a residential district. Another turn and we find ourselves on a narrow street partially covered with sand blown in from the outlying fields. The houses lining the street are in need of fresh coats of paint. The yards are bare of any vegetation with the occasional house having a chain link fence encircling it. Cars line the streets, are parked in driveways, and in open air garages. Toys and bits of junk are scattered in the bare front yards. Several screen doors swing open and closed as the blasts of air blow through. One screen door hangs only by its bottom hinge. It won’t be long before a flurry of wind tears it off and carries it to join the other debris in the yard.
“Bring it up a little and stay alert,” I say to Horace.
Our engines and the banging screens are the only sounds in the neighborhood. We drive slowly up the crowded street. Looking closer at the houses, I see that some have their doors fully open or slightly ajar. That’s not a good sign, I think associating any open door with night runners.
“That’s it right there,” Gonzalez says pointing to a rundown house with peeling white paint. My heart tightens noticing it’s one of the houses with its door ajar.
I pull up front and park the Humvee at an angle blocking the street but still able to drive away quickly if we need. I see Horace park in the same manner behind us. We stay in the running vehicles a moment longer to see if we’ve drawn any attention. Nothing but screens slamming against walls or door frames. The brown fields in the far distance, beyond where the street ends, blur and sharpen as heat thermals rise from the ground and are blown away.
I shut the Humvee down and step outside. The heat and humidity become more intense as the day warms. Looking skyward, the billowing clouds continue their slow build. It looks like there will definitely be thunderstorms in the area by mid-afternoon. The wind feels good as it occasionally sweeps through, wicking the quickly accumulating beads of sweat away, but begins to die down meaning the heat will increase and lend its energy to the overhead cumulus clouds. The slamming of vehicle doors behind me brings my attention back to the teams emerging into the sandy street. With the guns manned, the remaining team members gather around me.
“Horace, I want Blue Team outside in a perimeter. Make sure both guns are manned. Red Team will go inside and search,” I say.
“You got it, sir,” she replies. She orders her team into covered positions directing two onto the top guns.
“Gonzalez, this is your show. You know the house,” I say.
“Okay, sir,” she responds and describes the interior of the house.
“Everyone stay alert but watch itchy trigger fingers. Remember, there might be Gonzalez’ parents and sister inside. Make sure of your targets before you fire. We’ll call out once inside. One last thing, the door is ajar and I don’t have to tell you what that possibly means. I’m sorry to have to mention that,” I say patting Gonzalez on the shoulder, “but we have to keep ourselves safe and alive.”
“I understand, sir,” Gonzalez says with a sigh and an increased tightness in her eyes.
We arrange our gear and grab NVG’s from the Humvee before heading up the concrete steps leading to the front porch. The overhanging eave shelters us to a degree from the sun. The clouds, although building, haven’t blocked the sunlight that is creating a furnace. Standing before the slightly open door, I feel a tickle in my mind.
I open a touch and the tickle becomes a series of confused images. Not that the images are confusing but that the source appears confused. With Henderson and Denton on each side of the door and McCafferty behind her, Gonzalez reaches for the door handle. Forcing the tickle into the depths of my mind once again, I reach out to Gonzalez’ shoulders. She turns.
“There’s at least one night runner inside,” I say feeling bad for what that may mean. What I don’t tell her is that I think I’ve woken it, or them.
Settling into the passenger seat of the Humvee, Gonzalez feels the apprehension of what they are about to do. She is very anxious about what she will find but holds a sliver of hope that her parents and sister are still alive. The nervousness makes her want to turn around and head back. It might be better if she doesn’t know and she can keep the image that they are okay a reality. The smells bring back memories of her time growing up in the area along with the feel of the heat and humidity. It brings the comfort of being home.
They journey along the remembered fields and vast openness of the area. The green circles of the watered crops are no longer a part of the landscape but replaced by an endless brown. The highway she travelled many times in the past rolls by. Her stomach clinches as the welcome sign and the first houses of Clovis come into view. She feels like time and the surroundings are passing in an out-of-control fashion. On one hand, she wants it to slow down so she can assimilate it. On the other, she wants this to be done one way or the other. The unknown and what she may find is eating her up. Their coming into the city and nearing her parents’ house feels like an onrushing freight train and she isn’t able to get out of the way.
She directs Jack off the main street and onto a connecting road, turning onto her street shortly thereafter. Looking at the long, sand strewn street that ends near one of the fields surrounding Clovis brings back memories of her childhood days; some good and others bad. These streets hold a lot of stories, she thinks as they progress slowly along them. The houses and yards in front of them haven’t changed much. It still represents an area without much money; rife with gangs and drugs where some try to live out their existence as peacefully as the streets will allow.
She looks to one the neighbor houses noticing tape across a front window. She remembers the time when gunfire interrupted the night, as it did at times, and a stray round found its way through that window. The police and ambulances arrived a short time later, although it always seemed like they took longer responding to her neighborhood. She gets why now as they wouldn’t want to barrel into her neighborhood without plenty of backup, especially after an exchange of gunfire.
Exiting the Humvee, her old neighborhood presses in on her yet there is a feeling of elation as well. If it wasn’t for the life and death reason they are here, she might feel like the returning conqueror. Gonzalez turns to her parents’ house. The rundown condition is counter to her father’s determined effort to make the best home possible for her and her sister. She knows how much her brother running off with the gangs weighed on him and her mother.
“I understand, sir,” Gonzalez says with a sigh, feeling tension gather in her gut at the implication of Jack’s words.
She checks her gear with the others but her eyes never leave the house for long. Each moment outside without someone emerging lessens the odds of her parents and sister being here. She knows her dad would have come out when the Humvees arrived. With the rest of Red Team behind her, she climbs the all-too-familiar steps to the porch. The weather-beaten boards creak beneath her boots. The sound of the rotting wood, moaning with the weight, reminds her of her dad and his intention to replace the porch. Each time he would finally get around to it, other bills or something else would erode the money he saved. The memory adds to her sadness as she now feels this search may be for naught. They have some time to look around the city and she holds onto the small hope that they are safe somewhere nearby. First though, she knows she has to enter the home of her childhood.