Dissension

A Secret Revealed

We begin retracing our route back to base with the only caveat that we hold up short of the second road block we encountered on the way in. The scenery and weather remains much the same. The gray skies are low over the treetops and the silver dew drops are heavy on the fir and cedar branches. Close to where we went through the second line of vehicles blockading the road, the Strykers take the lead and we halt.

I switch to the channel we previously had locked that Sam was using. “Sam, this is Captain Walker, how do you read?”

A moment passes in silence. There is just the vibration and rumble of the Humvee. Robert is now in the front seat with McCafferty in the back. Gonzalez is taking her turn on the M-240.

“Sam, I know you’re there. Let’s not play games again,” I say into the radio.

“Go ahead, captain,” I hear him finally respond.

“We’re coming through again. Are we going to have any trouble this time?” I ask.

“No, Captain Walker, if anything’s to be said, it’s that we learned our lesson. I’ll let the lads know you’re coming and to let you pass,” Sam replies.

“Any further thoughts about joining us?”

“I don’t think we really have much of a choice, do we. We’ll be set upon on all sides now if we stay, so, if the offer still stands, I think we might take you up on that,” he answers.

“Have your folks gather what they need and whatever supplies you want to bring. We’ll meet you at the bridge entrance. Make sure everyone knows to keep their itchy trigger fingers under wraps. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen because of one jittery soul,” I say.

“We’ll do that. It’ll take us while to gather everyone and our things.”

“We’ll wait. Just don’t take too long. See you there.”

I radio the conversation to the rest of the teams but warn them to keep alert. With that, we move slowly up the road and park a short distance from the wrecked vehicles still spanning the width of the highway. The bodies have been removed and no one is in sight. We park the Strykers in a triangle pointing outward with the Humvees in the center. I have Lynn call Cabelas to fill them in. With the vehicles idling, we wait.

“I was kind of hoping the SEAL Team would have joined us. It seems we could really use them,” Robert says as we wait.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing and was this close to trying to talk them into it,” I say, holding my pointer finger a hair’s breadth from my thumb. “We really could use their expertise. However, Captain Leonard needs them even more. They are his only combat force with training. They would be a welcome addition, especially seeing the night runners seem to be adapting quickly.”

“Ah, sir, we don’t need ‘em. We have Red Team and we can handle a bunch of sweaty runners,” Gonzalez says poking her head through the opening.

“Please tell me you don’t have a ‘hooah’ coming somewhere,” I plead.

“What would ever give you that indication, sir?” She responds.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” I say.

“Hooah, sir,” she says with a wink and disappears back through the open hatch.

An hour passes and the clouds thin in places showing a hint of sun above. Sam finally radios that they are ready and making their way to us. A line of vehicles, trucks, cars, and moving vans, appear from a side road and enter the highway with Sam’s pickup in the lead. Sam parks, steps out, and walks over to us.

“I hope there are no hard feelings, captain,” he says extending his hand.

“None here and I hope for the same on your end,” I say accepting his shake.

“No. We have one grieving wife that will have to be cared for. She went into hysterics but the doc sedated her,” he states.

“You have a doctor with you?” I ask.

“More of a family doctor, but yeah,” he replies.

“Good to have. We only have medics with us and could certainly use him or her.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to help. So, what would you like for us to do?”

“Just follow along. I’ll have some units behind you in case someone breaks down and for protection. We’re pretty cramped at the moment but we’ll see you situated once we arrive. How many are with you?” I ask.

“I don’t have a firm count, but we have about forty all told,” he answers.

I direct one Stryker and Lynn to bring up the rear of our now larger caravan. We set out across the bridges and south toward home. I can’t believe it’s only early afternoon as it feels like a couple of days have passed. I plan to meet with the group when we return and then settle in for a nap. The day is only partially over. There is a night flight to take and I want us to be rested for another long night of work. Each step we take brings us closer to an eventual safe haven. If something like that can even exist.

We snake south down I-5 and through the gates. I have McCafferty and Gonzalez exit on our entrance to the parking lots to direct the vehicles following into a farther lot. I pull into the lot where the other Humvees are parked. The Strykers park adjacent. The large maintenance and vehicle storage garage Bannerman had started is near completion and we’ll soon park our vehicles under cover. We’ll then bring down additional vehicles from Fort Lewis and store them here. Those will be in addition to the ones we now have in the hangars and maintenance buildings up north.

The new group gathers just outside in the chilly, damp weather. With Frank’s assistance, Bannerman makes his way to orient them and assign them places. I know I’m going to hear about the overcrowding and barracks at our meeting. And, to be honest, with the new additions, it’s time we address it. With the winter and shorter days coming, meaning longer periods crowded indoors, tempers will flare. Bannerman was right to bring this up early on. It just seemed like there was always something else to do. There still is and I don’t see how we are going to be able to do this with everything else, but we also have more hands to help. And, we now have a doctor and another pilot. Not that the pilot aspect will be useful for much longer but we can rig speakers up to a light aircraft and cover more ground in our search for other survivors.

With Sam’s group, we are now around two hundred and fifty people. I’m not sure of the exact number on a sub, but if Captain Leonard joins us after his trip, that number could reach four hundred. That’s enough to do some serious work in a hurry. I almost wish that Leonard wasn’t heading back out. Although it would be nice to have more intelligence on what is going on in other places, he has a crew trained in a variety of useful areas. It will be nice when he returns. Hopefully he will see for himself what is going on and relax some on the rank thing. I once again wish there was someone with qualifications to take over. I’d like to just take a backseat for a while on the other hand, I also know that isn’t in my mentality. No, we push on, build a secure place around us, make it survivable in the long-term, and then I’m grabbing my fishing pole. Yep, with a hammock and a cooler at my side. I sigh at the pleasant thought knowing that’s what it is — just a daydream of things that will never be. I close my door and head inside with Robert.

Captain Raymond Leonard watches as the Strykers and Humvees carrying Captain Walker’s troops drive up the paved street and vanish over the ridge. The sounds of the vehicles gradually fade until only the sounds of the lapping waves are heard. He thinks over the interesting morning and conversation. Interesting is putting it mildly. He lost seven crew members today because of his decision. He realizes now that he dove beneath the waves off the Philippine shore and rose to a completely different world, one he would never have imagined possible and doesn’t quite understand. The world he once knew and loved being a part of has disappeared to become an alien one. He has a fleeting thought of staying until he understands better what they are facing but he needs to see it for himself, and not just this little corner. His mind still can’t wrap around the idea that this is world-wide.

“Come on, chief, let’s get below,” he says, turning toward the gangway.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Krandle replies, turning with him.

Back on the bridge, Leonard watches as the crew leaves the deck to the stations or quarters below with the exception of those casting the lines off. Backing slowly away from the docks he has docked at for years, he clears the nets and turns the Santa Fe into the channel. As they make their way across the gentle waves, he briefs his XO on the events. Leonard knows that the scuttlebutt will be making its rounds among the crew about now.

“Are we going to close the nets, sir?” his XO asks.

“No. There’s no real need now,” Leonard states, understanding the finality of his statement. With those words, his mind shifts away from the world he was has known.

“Sir, shall we prepare to dive the boat?” The XO asks.

A melancholic feeling settles within Leonard. “No, XO, we’ll make the run on the surface. I want to see things with my own eyes and feel the fresh breeze for once. It’s not often that we’ve had the chance to do this and I want to enjoy it.”

The sad feeling departs to an extent as he looks over the black hull of his boat making its way into the strait. The pride he has always had with his sub rises as does his love of the sea; his love of all waters. It’s in his bones and he’s loved every minute at sea regardless of the situation or mission. He’s always run a tight ship and it shows. He’s proud of his boat and his crew. They’ve made it through many sticky situations before and they’ll make it through this one. Fresh supplies will be his only problem. Maybe they can keep coming back here and restocking. He’s not sure how many supplies Captain Walker and his soldiers have but they seem confident enough with what they have. He likes the captain but turning over command, his command, to someone else goes against every fiber he has. Maybe that will change, he thinks as the fir-clad shore slides slowly by. They seem to be able to handle themselves well, even if a little on the cocky side, includingthat sergeant he had in charge. He chuckles as he knows that definition applies to him as well.

“I’m going below for a moment to make an announcement. Keep us off the rocks, please,” Leonard says to his XO with a grin.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

In the control room, Captain Raymond Leonard, commander of the fast attack sub, Santa Fe, picks up the mic about to make the strangest announcement of his life. For one of the few times in his life, he feels at a loss of words. There’s so much to say yet so little.

“Attention all hands, this is the captain speaking. I’m sure you have all heard a story or two by now. I would delay this until the stories get really good and run a contest on the best one but I’m sure the one I’m about to tell you tops them all… As you may already know, we lost seven good men today. Men we lived beside, laughed with, and counted on. There will be services held on deck at 15:00. Now, for the rest. At some point during our transit across the pond, the world was stricken by a flu pandemic. The resulting vaccine caused a seventy percent mortality rate world-wide. A further almost thirty percent have met with changes that render them hostile and ferocious. They can apparently only survive at night and live in the left over darkened buildings. A mere one percent of the population has survived. We have met with a surviving military unit and are traveling to be resupplied. Following that, we will sail down the western seaboard to investigate. I know that many of you will be worried about families and we will gather information as we can. Right now, we have to stick together as we always have if we are to survive. We are each other’s family. I know you will each do your duty as you always have. That is all.”

He hangs up the mic knowing that it will be difficult for a lot of them. Most of the crew are young and will have wives, kids, and parents that will weigh on their minds. Some will want to jump ship when they put into ports. He’ll have to post lookouts to prevent that and talk with the chaplain. He can’t have the crew leaving. If too many in critical positions leave, it will leave him and the others stranded. We have to prevent that at all costs, he thinks, climbing back to the bridge. He gives a momentary thought to his own mom and sister so far away in Kansas. He silently sends a prayer aloft for their safety.

The captain’s announcement fades away. Vance Krandle sits with his team in the enlisted mess. They crowd around one table staring at the speaker before glancing at each other. Silence accompanies the end of the speech as each is lost in their own thoughts pondering the implications of what they just heard. CPO Krandle’s thoughts go back to that fateful evening seemingly years ago when he watched Gold Team get taken down. He replays the events and remembers the hordes that easily overwhelmed his teammates.

His memory jumps to seeing the dozens of creatures that Captain Walker and his teams call night runners lying in the warehouse. Knowing what they were facing, the sergeant still went into the warehouse to save the sailors inside. That took a lot of guts and he’s not sure he could have done the same. Well, he knows he would have but he wouldn’t have been comfortable with it. He still has nightmares of that night in the Philippines when he and Gold Team were taken by surprise. He also knows that the captain and his people they met only a short while ago have their act together and know what they are doing. He wonders briefly if he made the right choice in staying. There is a very thin line between loyalty and survival. It’s only the camaraderie of fellow soldiers and the desire to help those in need that keeps the fear at bay. It’s a desire that lies deep within the core of a person. That very thing is why he and his team are sitting where they are. He knows that the submariners will need them.

“Do you think we should have stayed with that Captain Walker and his crew?” His point man says, breaking the silence.

“You know why we’re here and why we’re needed. We’ll join up with them soon enough,” Krandle answers and proceeds to tell the deal he made with Captain Leonard.

“What about our families? Do you think we’ll be able to call them or given time to go see about them?” The point man continues.

“I don’t know. I’m sure the Captain will let us make the attempt if there’s time. And, from what I gather, there isn’t any electricity so that means no calls. But right now, our place is here and we’ll continue to look after each other as we always have,” he answers. They’ve always been tight and all nod at the reply.

“So any clue as to what we’ll be doing?” Krandle’s XO asks.

“My guess is we’ll be reconning ashore wherever the captain decides to investigate,” he responds.

“And the ROE (Rules of engagement)?”

“We’ll define that as we proceed. It’s pretty apparent we don’t want to be ashore at night and there may be civilians to think about. And we are not going into darkened buildings if we can at all help it. You saw the warehouse. If we’re fired upon, that’s an obvious one, but we’ll try to make contact first. However, under no circumstances will we endanger the team. If possible, we pull out if engaged,” Krandle answers.

“So, we’re playing it by ear then?” The XO states.

“Pretty much.”

“That sounds super fun,” the point man says sarcastically. “I hope we brought plenty of ammo.”

“Stow it, Speer. And I’ll be talking with the captain to put in a request for ammo and spare parts.”

Krandle looks around the table at his team. Speer, his point man and their resident joker, grew up hunting in the Ozarks. He can track with the best of them but his attitude and seemingly constant sarcasm grate on Vance at times. However, when on a mission, he keeps that at bay and there isn’t a better point man in the business. He is at home in the outdoors.

Ortiz runs slack (second position) and the little Puerto Rican is the picture of fury incarnate under fire. Perhaps it has something to do with his growing up in the east LA area. It has taken Krandle a while to bring that aspect of him under control but he has been able to tame that to an extent. Krandle walks third in line and likes to carry his own radio.

Blanchard, the designated medic is a skinny, quiet, unassuming kid from south Chicago. That quietness is belied by an internal fortitude. He will, without hesitation, venture into the thickest of combat to help a fellow team mate. Blanchard is also the one mostly on the end of Speer’s barbs to which he will look up and merely shrug. Speer will sometimes go at great lengths to invoke a reaction from Blanchard but has been unsuccessful to date. Of course, their tightness makes these attempts good-natured without causing a fracture within the group.

His XO, Franklin, walks fifth in line and carries the spare radio. The black petty officer from Atlanta is one sharp tack and will make a fine team leader someday. Well, would have. His actions and speech seem slow and he is often thought of that way. That is until he spins circles around those who think this with his logic and thinking.

Bringing up the rear is Miller. A full-blooded Sioux who grew up in South Dakota. He rarely speaks and even then, his replies are only a few words. Krandle is sure there are weeks when Miller’s word count never exceeds double digits. But he is a master at covering their back trail. There were times when they had to backtrack and were unable to do so via any signs of their passage. He is that good.

Together, they make one hell of a fine team. They are fortunate to have been able to work together and be a team for some time. They have fused into a single organism, each knowing the others thoughts and actions; knowing each other’s strengths and weaknesses. If anyone can make it through what they are facing, it’s them, and Krandle feels fortunate to be a part of them.

Downing the last of the sludge the bubbleheads call coffee, Krandle says, “Okay ladies, let’s see if we can go topside and take a look.”

Feeling tired and drained from the busy morning, there’s nothing I want more than to drop down and take a nap. However, I pull the command group together in order catch everyone up on today’s events. Those who went with on our excursion slump wearily into their chairs. There is a clatter of noise as Sam’s group arrives inside and arrangements are made for them. With the new arrivals, it becomes increasingly cramped. Bannerman and Frank arrive and both sit with heavy sighs. I proceed to give an overview of the morning and ask Bannerman to include weapons and ammo in the supplies being readied to deliver to Captain Leonard and his crew.

“We can do that. What would you like sent?” Bannerman asks.

“Radio Leonard and see what he needs. Talk with Krandle and the SEAL Team and see what they’d like,” I answer.

“I’ll see to it. Now, with the new arrivals…” Bannerman starts.

“Let me guess. We’re going to talk quarters,” I say, interrupting.

“Well, it’s way past time. There’s no way we’re going to be able to house everyone in here for the long run,” he replies.

“Okay, I agree. We need to develop a secure, permanent place for us all. I think the base housing is still out of the equation with the night runner adaptations so we need to build something here. Are we going to be able start on those with all that is going on?” I ask.

“That depends. We’ll have the inner wall up in about a week or so. We can focus on the guard towers and have them up shortly or we can disperse our activities between the towers and quarters. I think it’s important to have the quarters up quick or we’re going to start seeing problems crop up,” Bannerman says.

“I agree. We’re going to want them finished before winter. At least in my opinion,” Drescoll adds.

“It seems it’s pretty important to have towers up fairly soon. If what you say is true about the night runners changing, and the fact that they’re going to have more hours of night during the winter, we’ll want our defenses in place,” Robert adds.

“How long until the wall is finished?” Lynn asks.

“About a week or so depending on the weather,” Bannerman answers.

“And how long to get the towers in place if we focus on them?” Lynn further asks.

“That may take another week or two. We’ll have to let the concrete in the upended storage containers set before we can start on the upper levels,” Bannerman replies.

“And the quarters?” Lynn asks.

“Now that will probably take a while. It depends on the design we come up with. I’m thinking we could build them like apartments. Some can support families and others individuals, couples, or roommates,” Bannerman responds.

“So, let’s talk about the design then,” I say.

We spend the next hour discussing a secure design. We come up with building apartment style complexes on top of concrete filled storage containers to have them off the ground. The buildings will have retractable stairs and ramps for entrance. A hoist and pulley system will be incorporated with a garage-like facility for bringing supplies and heavy objects into each building. Retractable ramps will run between the buildings in case we need to pull back into another building with ramps eventually running to the Cabelas roof. This will be our final redoubt in case the apartments become overrun. Overhangs will surround the bottom of the quarters so the night runners can’t scale them from underneath. Steel shutters with firing ports are to be hinged on each of the windows and doors.

“That’s going to take some time to put up,” Bannerman says after we complete the design phase.

“Like, how long?” I ask.

“I couldn’t even hazard a guess. A lot of our projects are nearing completion so we should be able to put a lot of hands to work on it, but as far as how long it will take to complete enough buildings to house everyone, I have no idea,” Bannerman replies.

“If you want my opinion, I think the towers have to do with the safety of the group and the quarters are, while not really a nicety, they don’t match up with providing for our security,” Greg says.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “Anyone else have different ideas?”

The opinions are mixed among us as we ponder different ramifications of each. We eventually arrive at completing the towers and have some people assigned to begin filling the containers with concrete and laying them in place. I also mention Roger, the pilot who was with Sam and his group, and my thoughts of rigging up loudspeakers to a light engine aircraft to help out with the search for additional survivors in the area. Frank comments that he’ll talk with him and incorporate him into the search.

“You know, I have to say that standing at the narrows today gave me an idea about putting a moat around the compound,” Frank adds as the conversation subsides.

“A moat? Really? I’m not sure having stagnant water like that is a good idea. That will breed all sorts of bacteria,” Lynn says.

“True, we don’t have to fill it, but if we dig a ditch, say twenty feet wide and twenty feet deep, it could trap any night runners who try to get close to the walls. We could put a drawbridge at the front entrance and that would seal us away,” Frank replies.

“Wouldn’t that fill up with water during the winter months?” Drescoll asks.

“We could line it with concrete and put sump pumps to drain it,” Robert adds.

“Okay, but I don’t think that’s a very viable option. I mean, building a ditch like that all of the way around the compound isn’t a very plausible solution. That’s four miles of ditch you’re talking about,” Greg comments.

“What about just around the inner walls? We could run the ditch under the existing walls and just encircle the inner compound,” Franks says.

“I suppose that might be viable and we could build a drain field and pump the water into it,” Bannerman states.

“We have the mine field we’ve put up. Do you really think that’s necessary?” Drescoll asks.

“My thinking is that they could push through and once they make a path through the mine field, then they could reach the walls. The night runners have shown themselves to be relentless regardless of the numbers they lose,” Franks says.

“The night runners could come up with a way to build a bridge across it,” I comment.

“Really?! Do you think they could do that?” Drescoll asks, incredulously.

“Who knows? They’ve been pretty innovative in the past. Just look at the hospital. Each of our innovations seems to spur their own. We are, in effect, sponsoring their adaptability by the very nature of trying to keep them out. It’s a cycle. We need to stay at least two steps ahead and think of their possible adaptations,” I answer.

“Are you saying we don’t build something because of what it may spur on the night runner side?” Drescoll asks.

“No. I’m not saying we stop coming up with and adopting solutions, we just need to think ahead to any possible night runner reaction, regardless of how far-fetched it might seem,” I reply. “I think our best solution lies with clearing them out.”

“Well, that’s true and I completely agree with that. So, what do we do about the ditch?” Drescoll says.

“I don’t think we have the resources right now to do that, the towers, and build the quarters,” Bannerman chimes in. “I think we need to concentrate on the towers and quarters.”

“I agree but I don’t want to completely drop Frank’s notion of a moat. I think it’s a great idea and not only because of the night runners. If Leonard is truly going to let others he encounters know about our location, we may experience trouble at some point from a large group of marauders. We need to prepare ourselves for that eventuality. And that’s regardless of who Leonard meets. I think someone, at some point, is going to find us and decide they’d like our little garden for themselves,” I say.

“That’s true. I’ve thought about that myself. We might want to bring more Strykers down,” Frank says.

“We’re close to being finished with the vehicle storage building and can bring them down and store them when it’s complete,” Bannerman replies.

We begin to wind down our meeting when Horace speaks up. “Sir, I’m just curious, how did you know there were night runners inside of the warehouse?”

And, there’s the bomb! It goes off with little sound but she may as well have tossed a grenade in our midst. I feel my heart beat increase more than it would if I was inside of a night runner-infested building. My initial thought is to scream shrilly and run from the building. My second thought is to suddenly go deaf but Lynn knows that one. I’ve tried that one in the past with little success. I was thinking of telling them anyway but the worry of their reaction has kept my lips sealed.

My cheeks puff out as I forcefully blow air through my pursed lips. “I suppose it’s time I tell you a story. Grab some popcorn and make yourselves comfortable as I have a bit of a story to tell,” I answer

I proceed to tell them the changes I seem to have undergone. I can’t tell them too much really as I really don’t understand it myself. Jaws hit the ground and disbelief crowds everyone’s eyes as I spin my tale. The silence within the group is complete as I finish. The sounds of people shuffling and arranging their belongings within the building rise in stark detail but are unheard in our little circle. Telling what happened and the changes that occurred makes it sound like quite the fabrication. I hear myself as the words come reluctantly from my mouth and I don’t believe it. I wait for the first burst of laughter or “that’s a good one, Jack” but am only met with stares as the thoughts churn inside each head. I worry about their reaction.

“So, wait a minute. First of all, you mean to tell us that the night runners communicate amongst themselves in some sort of telepathic manner? And that you can sense and ‘hear’ them?” Drescoll asks, breaking the tense silence.

“It appears so,” I say.

“Then we can use that,” Drescoll states.

“To some degree, however, they can sense and ‘hear’ me when I open up like that. It’s not as great a tool as you might think,” I reply.

“But still. You know if night runners are in a building before we go in,” he comments.

“It’s not as accurate as that. I didn’t sense anything in the building when we picked up our chutes but they were in there. For whatever reason, it seems to be a hit or miss kind of thing and I don’t want to rely on it being definitive,” I respond.

“Fair enough but why didn’t you tell us this before?” Franks asks.

“Because I don’t really understand it myself and wanted to know more about it before bringing it up. Plus, in all honesty, I didn’t know what your reaction would be. And I still don’t,” I answer.

“You have to know we’re not going to think any ill of you, Jack. We’re a team and that goes no matter what. We may not agree on everything but we still need to operate as a single entity and, honestly, I don’t think we’d be here if it wasn’t for the experience you bring. That goes for the expertise we all bring. I think I speak for everyone here,” Frank states. I look at each to see them nod in agreement.

“Thanks, everyone. I appreciate that and apologize for keeping that from you. It’s just strange coming to terms with not only that, but everything around us as well,” I reply.

“Completely understandable,” Drescoll says. “So, I have another question.”

“Go ahead,” I say with some trepidation.

“You say you can hear better and see in the dark like the night runners. Do you have their strength and agility as well?”

“First, I’m not sure the extent the night runners can hear, see, or smell so I can’t really talk to any comparison. It does seem they are still more advanced in those areas though. I don’t think I could sniff out a single person in a building. So, I’d have to apply that to other areas as well. Why do you ask?” I answer.

“Well, I was thinking if you had the same abilities, we could test them and therefore know what abilities and limitations the night runners have,” Drescoll says.

The big “duh” goes off in my head. How did I not think of something so plain and simple as that before? However, I’ve seen what the night runners can do and I seriously doubt I am able to do what they can do. It is worth looking at though. I almost wish I had their exact abilities and knew how to use them. Then we could test out our defenses, to see if the walls are the right height and if other defensive measure we take will keep the night runners at bay.

“That’s an excellent point and I’ll be honest that I never thought of doing that before. We’ll keep it in mind in the future, but remember, I don’t think anything I have measures up to what the night runners have,” I respond.

I look at Robert and Bri who continue to stare at me as if I’d just sprouted wings. I can’t say as I blame them, or anyone else’s reaction for that matter. I’m sure it was a shock but am glad for the understanding. I’ll talk with them later about it but right now, with the meeting breaking up, Robert and I need to get with Frank, plot out the targets for the night, and get some rest.

Night runners streak in through the broken door. The chase has been a long one playing cat and mouse with this particular pack. I’ve tried to keep the sprints to minimum to lessen the sweating. I know their ability to find me via scent and have used everything at my disposal to keep ahead of them. Pack after pack have found me throughout the night as I try to make my way to a secure shelter. I wrack my mind to figure out why I’m out here at night but I fail to remember why. All I know is that I’m close to being spent and only have a partial mag left in my M-4. If my count is close to being correct, there are only four rounds remaining. After that, the knives at my side are all I have.

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.