I’m spent and it’s all I can do to keep my panting breath from giving me away. Behind what used to be a customer service desk in a store I can’t remember, I hide behind the partition peeking out through a narrow gap. Eleven night runners that rushed in only moments before hard on my heels stand only a few scant feet away. They stand with their noses in the air trying to catch a scent. I hear their low growls deep in their throats and smell the strong, acrid odor of their unwashed bodies. My choice of hiding spots is iffy at best and I’m surprised I allowed myself to choose it. My only way out is through the night runners.
I slowly glance to my side and see Lynn hugging the cabinets below the counter. Her wide eyes tell of our situation. Somewhere along the way, she lost her NVGs. She’s been relying on me and, when outside, the half-moon to guide her way. I turn gradually back to the milling night runners while fingering the M-4 trigger guard. Four rounds, eleven night runners. Not the greatest of odds. I wish Lynn had a few left but her ammo was spent during our busy night of eluding numerous packs. Close calls and endless running has marked out progress toward shelter. We’re close but this looks like it’s as close as we’re going to get. We might as well be a hundred miles away.
With my heart beating hard in my chest, I’m out of ideas. It’s sit and wait for them to pass hoping they don’t detect us, or launch at them. Lynn is in the dark so it will be up to me. If I do manage to take them out in a quick, surprise attack, and the odds are against that, then the noise will surely bring others. It might gain us time however and allow us to get near our elusive sanctuary. I feel Lynn’s hand on my shoulder and she begins to shake me. Gently at first but with ever increasing strength. “Jack,” she says. I can’t believe she is putting us at risk by moving and talking out loud. I shift to remove her hand and try to silence her. “Jack.” The night runners turn and shriek. “Jack, it’s time.” I jerk awake and come close head-butting Lynn as I sit bolt upright. My heart is hammering in my chest and I break out in a cold sweat.
“Jesus, Jack, what the fuck?” Lynn says, rocking back to avoid my sudden movement.
“What? Fuck,” I say, momentarily confused as to where I am or what’s going on.
“Jack. Jack, it’s okay,” she says, putting a hand on my shoulder. I feel my heart rate begin to decrease as I become aware that I had a nightmare and am sitting safely on my cot in our little cubicle.
“Sorry. Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. The question is, are you?” She asks in return.
“Yeah. Just a fucking nightmare. I’m guessing it’s time to get up,” I say.
“Well, it is, but do you think you should venture out tonight? Maybe you should rest and give it a go tomorrow night.”
“I’m good. It was just a dream and I’d rather not head back there so quickly, thanks.” I reply.
“Sometimes I’m not sure which is worse. The nightmare outside or the ones in our head,” Lynn says, understanding.
The Rain Cometh
We’ve all had the nightmares that follow extensive time in combat or nerve-wracking environments. The realness of them seems to sometimes match the reality of the waking world. The intensity of them leaves one feeling more tired than when you went to sleep. With my racing heart calmed to almost normal and the adrenaline fading, I rise, slip on my boots, lean over to give Lynn a kiss, and make my way down to the first floor.
Robert and Craig meet me at one of the wooden tables to go over our plan for the evening’s flight. Our main goal is to knock down more of the structures in the area. We’ll keep a sharp lookout for any night runners on the prowl. If we find any, we’ll break off from clearing the buildings to pursue them. Frank has circled the service stations and libraries. We’ll need those resources intact. The one fear I have of leaving those structures standing is that any night runners in the area will certainly use them as lairs so that we can be pretty assured of encountering them when we decide to enter. The service stations are small for the most part and easily cleared. The two major libraries in the area are a different story altogether.
With our maps marked, Robert briefs Red Team and the others assisting with reloading on the operations for the evening. He will be directing the fire control again tonight. We gather our gear and head out to begin the drive north. The breaks in the clouds I noticed earlier have disappeared but the overcast has lifted. We’ll have to keep an eye out for that. Although we can operate in any weather and see through the clouds, I do not want to land in bad weather without runway lighting. We can navigate just fine and set our own approaches but it’s the lights that allow us to find the runway with low ceilings. I don’t mind shooting an approach to get to a lower altitude but I don’t want to have to fly it down to minimums. It could make for a short evening.
A very light breeze has sprung up which will make the formation of fog more difficult. If we had the calm winds we experienced earlier in the day, I would most likely call off tonight’s flight. As autumn sets in, we’ll have more of this type of weather which will limit our ability to fly. The gray is a darker shade as the day begins its wind down toward dusk. We could just take out the buildings during the day and make it easier but I want to catch as many night runners as we can and that means flying at night. It may also give us more information as to where they are located, where they hunt, and possibly the numbers we are facing.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask Robert as we pile our gear in one of the Humvees.
“You’re kidding, right?! Of course I am. Not to make light of what we are doing, but I get to direct fire for a howitzer, a 40mm auto-cannon, and a gatling gun. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. You know, it’s funny, I expected something much different but it’s not so different than the games we used to play. More complicated, yes, but really not that much different,” he answers.
“As long as you keep in mind what we’re doing and why,” I say.
“Of course. How could I ever forget? Every day reminds me,” he states.
“How are you doing, Bri?” I ask as she walks up toting her gear.
“I could use more of a nap but I’m ready,” she replies.
I seriously don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing my young daughter, who once tumbled on the mats in her cheerleading outfit, in fatigues and toting an M-4 like it belonged. I once again reach out for a sliver of hope that this won’t always be the case. I hope they won’t have to face this for their entire lives. And, along with that, I hope that their lives are long-lived ones. My hope being that at least they outlive me. No parent should outlive their child. I feel the hole in my heart thinking once more of Nic. Her death seems both so long ago and just yesterday. A sad feeling washes over me. I just want to sit on the pavement and lose myself for a moment. My sweet, sweet girl… gone… forever.
“Dad, are you okay?” Bri asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s load up and head north,” I respond, shaking loose from memories.
The drive north is like every other one we’ve taken, driven mostly in silence as we become lost in our own thoughts and contemplate the night ahead. I keep an eye on the overcast watching for any signs of it lowering. The fog can roll in quickly this close to so much water but with the breeze, we should be okay. Driving through the base that once looked and felt like a ghost town, the melancholic feeling that accompanied such trips is absent. It is replaced by an almost feeling of normalcy. I don’t know if this is a good sign or bad. It is, however, a suggestion that we are adapting mentally to our situation. Now if we can keep PTSD at bay.
Rolling up to the aircraft, we quickly stow our gear and take our stations. Not too many words are exchanged as we all know what we have to do. Going through the pre-flight checks, I hope the aircraft will remain intact and not develop any mechanical issues. We’ve put a few hours on it and lack for any maintenance and it’s a long way to go to get another one. Although we don’t have a long time left for our ability to fly anyway, I don’t want to take the time to fetch another one. The Spooky is the ideal weapon for this environment.