Her thoughts wander to what that time would be like and the times they’ve had in the past. Lying here, it feels like the world outside of the wooden walls of their cubicle is just a bad dream and they’ll wake from it soon. She wonders if a time of peace will actually happen or is this the best it will get. Their daily life is one of constantly striving to survive another day and pushing for peace and security. As optimistic as she sounded to Jack earlier, she wonders if that will actually occur. She wishes she could wave her hand and make it all go away. Even if she could only remove the threat of the night runners, she would be okay with just that much. They would deal with the aftermath of surviving but they would at least be safe. Well, moderately so, she thinks.
Worry creeps into her mind thinking about the transformations in Jack. The physical ones. How will they affect him and are the changes complete? She hasn’t noticed any alterations recently nor has he shown any signs of the once usual headaches. Thoughts wander. She envisions a time in the future when they are safe from the night runners. Where they can rebuild. Where she and Jack can live out their lives in peace and contentment. Build their place of safety and eradicate the threats. Let others run things and the two of them can just exist together. The gap between those thoughts and the reality around them seems so big.
She hears a small rap on the wooden frame of their doorway covered by a blanket. Well, speaking of reality, she thinks, gently removing her arm wrapped around Jack. She removes her covers and rises trying to not wake him. Peeling the cover back from the doorway, she sees Watkins standing in the soft glow of the interior lighting. She holds a finger to her lips and nods toward the inside of her room asking Watkins to keep his voice low so as to not wake Jack.
“Sorry to bother you but we have activity on the cameras,” Watkins says in a whisper.
“I’ll be with you in a sec,” Lynn says.
She slips on her boots, makes her way out of the small room, and follows Watkins down to their little control room housing the radios and monitors. Watkins points to one of the monitors and Lynn sees a thermal image of several night runners gathered a short distance away from the northeastern corner of the wall.
“They arrived just a few minutes ago,” Watkins says. “So far, they haven’t moved much. They’ve just been standing there looking at the wall.”
Lynn watches as the small group runs off to the side by the corner and stops once again. The night runner’s movement vanishes from one monitor and appears on another. The fact that they appear to be looking at the wall in a calculated manner sends shivers up her spine. She sees one of the night runners, which appears to be a female although it’s hard to tell on the thermal image, look down the wall one way and then the next. This heightens Lynn’s worry and she feels goose bumps form on her arms.
“That’s kind of creepy,” Watkins says, standing just behind her shoulder.
“You’re not fucking kidding,” Lynn replies.
They both look on as one night runner begins running at the wall. The screen almost whites out completely and there is a muted roar from outside. The ground beneath her boots trembles ever so slightly. The screen clears and Lynn sees a hole that shows up warmer than the surrounding area. Small wisps of warmer smoke drift slowly upward. The image reveals the small pack of night runners lying on the ground. She sees a softer image of one night runner near the hole. Continuing to watch, Lynn sees the other night runners shakily pick themselves up. They soon turn and run off into the night.
“That’ll teach ‘em,” Watkins says as they vanish beyond sight.
“I hope so. I really hope so,” Lynn agrees. “Keep watch and wake me if you see anything else.”
“Will do,” Watkins responds.
Lynn glances at Watkins quickly before leaving to head back to her room. She ponders how Watkins will sometimes use titles and sometimes not. She’s noticed that he will use them when they are gearing up for action or in it but not when they are standing down. In the past, she would be correcting him, but, well, that’s in the past she thinks shrugging. She enters her cubicle and quietly removes her boots. The chill of the night runner’s actions still remain with her as she lies down. The images on the screen stay with her until she drifts off to sleep.
Sandra returns to her pack and they feed on the small, furry ones that are in mass throughout the rubble of the structures. Seeing the sky above her lighten a degree, she gathers her pack and runs south to their new lair. They have eaten well and have found a significant source of food even if it is hard to catch. For a short time, she had her pack stand off a distance waiting for the prey to come out. Once the food became abundant and in the open once again, she and her pack pounced. She is one of the last packs to return and they enter the lair.
She sees Michael standing just inside the entry to the interior and senses his anger. She sees the image he sends her to join him. Directing her pack to find a place on the floor, she walks over to Michael. He glares at her as she makes her way to him.
In the vocal language, he asks, “Why did you take your pack close to the two-legged lair when I specifically told you not to?”
“There was food in that direction. I followed the scent there,” she answers.
Her voice still sounds harsh and comes out in a croak. Some words break like a child coming into puberty. Communicating in this manner makes her throat sore and feel raw.
“You are not to go there again unless I say so. Especially if there is the noise in the sky. We need to preserve the pack,” Michael says in a hushed but firm tone.
“Then why not destroy them before they do the same to us?” Sandra asks, knowing if that happens then her intent will be to locate and capture the two-legged one that haunts her thoughts. After killing the female, she adds to herself.
“We will, but for now, we will pull back and establish our hunting grounds. We will keep the pack safe and whole. You know that the two-legged ones are dangerous,” Michael growls.
“That’s exactly why we need to destroy them,” Sandra snarls.
Sandra feels the tension between them build. She knows what she wants but also knows her pack is much smaller than the gathering Michael has brought together. And knows that Michael can and will call her pack away from her if he needs to. That will leave her helpless with her young one and will ruin her plans of the two-legged one. Sandra also knows that Michael would have no problem killing her if she wasn’t carrying her young one.
“That will happen when we figure out how. And when I say. Now is the time to pull back, preserve the pack, hunt, and plan. We have a safe place and we will keep it that way,” Michael says with another growl.
Grunting her displeasure, Sandra agrees but knows she will plan on her own. For now, she will watch and wait.
* * * * * *
I wake early feeling Lynn sleeping close behind me. The usual morning stupor I usually find myself in when waking vanishes in a moment as my mind registers what the day will bring. I ease up leaving the warmth of the covers for the chill of the interior. My head aches and feels foggy as if it is filled with cotton. I’ve felt this before in confined places with people sleeping. I’ll have to check with Bannerman to see that we are airing this place out during the day and that the ventilation works. Of course, he has a million things on his plate as well. I make a note to see if he needs more help.
Rising so I don’t wake Lynn, I slide on my boots, part the doorway curtain, and step into the building proper. Walking to and leaning on the metal pipe railing that circles the second story, I look over the quiet interior. I nod at Watkins standing across from me. The others of Alpha Team on watch are stationed on both the first and second floor. There aren’t many others up and about this early.