Takedown

Dead Lands

The night is filled with uneasiness and tension that can be physically felt. People flinch with each building creak. Every noise causes all eyes to dart to the entrances expecting a renewal of the night runner assault. The stench of the night runners dead on the floor below mingles with the lingering smell of gunpowder. Everyone waits with bated breath for the sun’s arrival. The evening passes with little or no rest.

With each minute seeming like an hour, the glow of dawn finally bleaches the eastern sky. A collective sigh passes through the survivors huddled within the sanctuary — although the term sanctuary feels like a misnomer at this point. The shrieks that inundated the interior just a few hours ago seem like a hellish nightmare and the fact that they are still alive seems rather surreal. Snapshots of the evening’s events flash through every mind as they relive the horror of the night.

With the first rays of dawn streaming upon the scared group of survivors, Drescoll begins the cleanup operations. He directs the teams to clear the bodies, load them into transports, and take them to a nearby field where they are burned. He wants to get the command group together to organize their efforts for the day but feels a pressing need to be out with the first light to search for Lynn. Every minute they wait is another minute the trail will get cold. It’s been a few hours already and he wants to be searching for his friend. He notifies Bannerman and Frank that he’s taking Green Team out and leaves the tasks to them for the time being.

Gathering his team together, they pile into a couple of Humvees and head to the main gate. That was the last place he saw her on the video feeds so he will start from there. From the gate, it’s not hard to find the path of the night runners. The thousands of them that left the compound trampled the grass leaving a clear trail. Drescoll jumps out of his vehicle and walks the wide swath with the Humvees creeping alongside. He scrutinizes the churned up ground for any clue. Filled with dread, he half-expects to find Lynn’s body left behind in the wake of the night runner exodus.

The path leads towards the rubble of the demolished buildings. Dirt clods from the thousands of passing feet litter the roadway for a distance before fading out. The sides of the road show signs of passage and he follows the trail with only the sound of the idling Humvees, drifting along behind him, keeping him company. He feels a little relieved that he hasn’t found any sign of Lynn, but this also adds to his apprehension. That means she could be anywhere. He’ll have teams search the area with more thoroughness if it ends up that he can’t find any sign of her.

It’s slow walking the entire distance, but he doesn’t want to miss anything — a dropped piece of clothing, her watch, anything. At least he knows that, with the daylight, the large pack he is following won’t get any farther away. His concern is that he will lose the trail once he reaches the rubble and city streets. He calls back to base to have Roger, the pilot they picked up from Sam’s group, get aloft and see if he can pick up any sign.

The trail fades quickly as Drescoll crosses over the bridge passing over the interstate. He has now stepped into the concrete and asphalt jungle of the city. Mounds of rubble and debris litter where buildings once stood. He is still able to discern the path the night runners took by several blood trails — large splotches here and there mixed with a splattering of droplets. These are fairly numerous in places, but elsewhere, they appear far apart from each other. He comes across a few bodies of night runners who finally succumbed to their wounds, their cloudy eyes staring at the light of day that they feared so much. The light streaming down has already made its mark on their exposed skin in the form of redness looking much like a severe sunburn. There are times when he loses the trail and has to move about in a search pattern to find the next sign.

At the edge of the rubble-strewn streets, he loses the trail completely. Filled with fear, he crisscrosses the many streets searching — looking for anything that would indicate the passage of the pack. Going back to the last sign, he starts in an ever-widening circle looking for something he missed. Nothing. Climbing into one of the Humvees, he directs his team to patrol the streets in a search for something…anything.

After a fruitless search, Roger calls informing Drescoll that he is overhead. The shadow of the single engine aircraft flashes across the hood of the Humvee. Driving back to the last know sign of the night runner trail, Drescoll has Roger begin an aerial search for any sign. Minutes pass. The radio call Drescoll was dreading arrives, telling him that Roger can’t see anything that would indicate where the night runners went.

Drescoll splits his team and has Roger expand his search. Directing the other Humvee to head east, he goes south. He’ll search the entire town if he has to. There must be something that would indicate the passage of a pack of the size that attacked the sanctuary. The streets begin to look the same as he crosses back and forth, going ever farther from where the trail petered out. Although there are signs everywhere of night runner activity — dead animals lying on the sidewalks and in streets, their flesh stripped clean — there is nothing that clearly points to the specific path that the pack took. The fact that he hasn’t found a trace of Lynn fills him with anxiety yet gives him hope at the same time. As long as her body isn’t found, hope that she’s still alive remains. With the sun fading into late afternoon, Drescoll takes a last look down a tree-lined neighborhood street and, feeling low, calls off the search.

The sun sits above the treetops as Drescoll pulls back into the compound. In the distance, seen above the walls, a column of smoke from the burning night runner bodies drifts lazily upward in the calm, chilly air. Crews work on the walls and towers with a renewed energy, eager to get them up as soon as possible. The presence of another barrier against the night runners will go a long ways towards their feeling safe once again. He watches as several workers eye the lowering sun, dreading the time of its setting. They were feeling safe for a little while but last night’s attack brought the fear of darkness back. It’s not really the darkness they fear so much as what it means — darkness means night runners. No one wants a repeat of last night and the sanctuary of Cabela’s doesn’t hold the feeling of security it did less than twenty-four hours ago.

Gathering the command group together, Drescoll briefs them on his search. Although he kept in radio contact, he wants to make sure everyone is up to speed. The discussion turns to why the night runners departed after capturing Lynn. Theories abound within the group and there is a lot of conjecturing but, in the end, no one can come up with an explanation that sounds even remotely plausible.

“I hate to bring this up, but I think we need to voice it. What do you think the chances of Lynn surviving the night are?” Bannerman asks.

With a heavy sigh, Drescoll answers, “I’m not sure. We haven’t found her body, so there is that hope at least. We’ll have a team designated to search every day until we find something.”

“Again, this may not be the right time to bring this up, but what about a memorial service?” Bannerman says. An awkward silence descends upon the group.

“No, I think it’s too soon. We need to wait until we know for sure…or until a longer period of time has elapsed,” Drescoll says, finally breaking the silence.

“I agree,” Taylor states adamantly.

“How long should we wait?” Bannerman asks.

“How in the fuck would I know?!” Drescoll replies heatedly, standing.

Another moment of awkward silence follows. Drescoll remains standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at each group member in turn.

His glare vanishes and his face falls. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about her,” Drescoll says, sitting once again.

“That’s perfectly understandable. We know you were her friend. We all were,” Frank says. Drescoll looks up sharply at the last statement.

“I mean, we all are,” Frank continues.

Drescoll’s expression changes once again to sorrow. “I know, and thank you. This is just…hard.”

“It is, and we’ll send out search teams each day. We’ll also have them broadcast over speakers for Lynn saying that we will find her. I think it’s important that we keep on with the projects we currently have in order to restore a semblance of normalcy,” Frank states.

“Agreed. We need to keep clearing the rubble and trees away from the compound along with completing the inner wall and towers. Mullins, will you take over the training for the Phase One students? I’ll take over Phase Two,” Drescoll says.

“Be happy to,” Mullins responds.

“I think we should keep on with the nightly curfew. We’ll need to pick up additional cameras for the inner doors and outside of the building,” Frank says.

“That means a trip to Bangor. It’s the only place I can think of that would have additional thermal cameras,” Bannerman comments.

“That should be a priority, so let’s arrange a trip when we can spare teams for security,” Drescoll says.

With that, the group breaks and readies to continue with the established projects the next day.

With the sun casting its early morning rays across the deserted base, long shadows reaching from the tall hangars to the west, we depart the ramp on yet another adventure. We skirt by the operations building and several large hangars before entering the base proper. Huge drifts of sand are piled up against their sides and almost completely cover the roads. If it weren’t for the higher drifts along the edges of the streets, it would be difficult to tell them from the surrounding brown fields.

The base itself is only a few blocks long, but the roads are confusing nonetheless. Most of the core of the base is made up of nearly empty, dirt-covered parking lots feeding smaller buildings. I know we have entered a very arid land as there is not the usual greenery that beautifies a majority of bases. Before long, and only having to turn around once, we make it to and through a gate serving the installation. A very tattered flag hangs limply from a flag pole near the visitor’s center.

We find the road indicated by the soldier and, after passing a few housing developments and a school, we emerge into an area of flat brown fields. They stretch far into the distance to the point that I can almost discern the curvature of the earth. There is not much in sight that breaks up the nearly unlimited view. I don’t see a single tree. There are only fences with sand piled up against the posts. Making a turn to the north, we pass a few farm houses and outlying buildings which are soon lost behind. We then enter an even more sparsely populated area. The only greenery, as noted by our assessment from the air, is along the small streams we pass.

As we continue along this lonely stretch, I don’t see any animals. There weren’t people other places we have driven along, but the lack of structures makes it seem lonelier. I ponder the food sources for other survivors and night runners. There isn’t much out this way to feed much of anything. There are some places where water flows but they are far and few between. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t sense any night runners in the base and only a few in the city itself — there just are not enough food sources to sustain them. I wonder how long that will last in the city itself and whether they will migrate to the surrounding hills when it runs out.

We pass through terrain that is a little more rugged with draws and ravines that extend outward from the Black Hills to the east. A series of tree-lined hills lie amongst these earth fractures and it’s there that I think some food may be found. If there is any, it wouldn’t support too many people or night runners. No, the only place really to survive around here is within the Black Hills themselves. The town of Sturgis lies right at the foot of them so there’s hope that we can find some survivors there and the higher hope that we will find the soldier’s family.

Bri jostles to the side as the Stryker navigates one of the many bumps in the road. Looking around, she sees the other soldiers sitting shoulder to shoulder in the cramped quarters, all moving in unison with the bounces. She pays a little attention to the hoses that run through the compartment and the display hanging down just prior to the small entrance of the driver’s compartment. She smells a certain electrical odor mixed in with the aroma of diesel and oil. It’s a tight squeeze for all of them and the seats aren’t comfortable but she doesn’t mind all that much. She’s here with her team and family and that’s all that really matters.

She looks over to Robert sitting across the way with his hands wrapped around the M-4 situated, like hers, between his legs. He is slumped forward staring at the floor lost in his thought. Everyone is sitting in various positions — some with their heads forward like Robert’s and others leaning back — but all have that far away stare of being lost in their own minds.

Looking back at the carbine between her knees, she admires the shape of the plastic and metal. Before, she enjoyed shooting, but a gun was just a gun. Now it is something much more. It is a part of her. She feels anxious if she doesn’t have her M-4 with her or at least nearby. Staring at the suppressor opening, it still amazes her that this is the only thing that has kept them alive when they’ve ventured into the dark buildings that house night runners.

She reaches down to one of her mags and pulls it out. Her gloved fingers grip the hard plastic housing the rounds. The feel also brings a measure of security within her. Turning it over, she eyes the bright rounds set firmly inside. They seem so small to her and the amazed feeling returns; amazed that bullets so small can cause such damage. Returning the mag to her pouch, she thinks, Without this weapon, they would have been run over many times. Or overrun. She is still getting used to the lingo of the soldiers she has become enmeshed with.

She looks at Gonzalez sitting directly across from her and smiles. It appears that Gonzalez is actually napping. Bri knows though that Gonzalez will be instantly alert should anything happen. Even though they are far from home and on a mission to a place they don’t know much about, she feels secure with those around her. The confidence she has been building since this whole thing began has become stronger in the time she has been with Red Team, especially hanging around with Gonzalez.

She knows her dad is nervous about her being out with them and has noticed his worried look whenever she has caught him glancing her way. However, and this amazes her even more, he has allowed her to remain on Red Team and go with them. He has witnessed her in action and perhaps this is why he allows it. Thinking back to the fight in Madigan, she relives what she remembers but most is still a blur. She reacted but really isn’t quite sure what that reaction was. The stories told by the others in Red Team, and in particular Robert and Gonzalez, speak well but, as hard as she tries, she really doesn’t remember anything more than a series of snapshot images. At least it did answer a question that worried her endlessly and that was how she would react. She was so worried that she would freeze and therefore let down the team and her dad.

The increase in Robert’s confidence has also rubbed off on her. He always had that quiet confidence in himself, but she knows that he is constantly second-guessing himself. That’s a trait he inherited from their dad. And she has also noticed that, like their dad, Robert has pushed that second-guessing to the side and reacts with more and more confidence. She wants to become like that but always has these nagging doubts riding around inside of her as to her ability. Deep down, she knows that time and experience will dampen those down some but it’s getting that experience that makes her nervous. Of course, there was that night out on the top of the aircraft. There wasn’t any fear that time, but she also knew that there was little chance the night runners could get to her.

She has watched and absorbed every bit of knowledge she can, immersing herself in the training. Bri knows that she is like her dad in that you never know what will be helpful down the road, so she continues to soak up everything she can. Her dad has brought her with him when dealing with others in order that she might gain experience by watching. She had been allowed to sit in on the group meetings for the same reason. Sifting through her limited knowledge base continually, she runs scenario after scenario in her mind just as her dad instructed her to. She is eager to learn and can’t seem to get enough training. To her, the runs and team training in the mornings seem to end far too quickly. Her fear remains that she’ll let the others down. She knows in her heart that she can handle herself well but also knows that the feeling is based on a very limited amount of experience.

Her thoughts drift from image to image as she relives moments from the past. Memories from her cheerleading days and the events she attended flash through her mind. She recalls times with her school friends, chuckling silently at some; but with those, a sadness forms that she won’t see them again. The recollections make her realize just how far she has come in the last few months and how different she is now — the changes in her priorities and how she thinks. Changes that are continuing to evolve.

She thinks about the first day when her dad came to get her and the sadness that enveloped her whole mind, body, and soul, thinking that she had lost her mom. And the overwhelming joy at finding her again, even in such a dismal place as they were. With that, an image of Nic surfaces. It’s not so much an image but a feeling. She feels a hole in her heart and again feels the tearing pain that she felt on the day Nic died. Distress comes that she can’t remember a perfect image of Nic’s face. She doesn’t want to forget what Nic looked like even though she knows she’ll never forget her spirit. She misses Nic so much. The hurt she feels every time she remembers hasn’t eased with time like the saying goes. The only thing that has changed is Bri’s resolve to keep Nic’s memory alive and to avenge her whenever she has the chance. A perfect image of Nic’s smile does come, and with it, tears well in Bri’s eyes.

She is thrown to the side as the Stryker lurches to a stop with a squeal of brakes.

Robert rocks from side to side as the Stryker rolls across the bumpy road. The M-4 held between his legs and the movement is barely noticed as he is locked in his own thoughts. The world before, the one where he went to his classes and hung out with his friends, seems like the dreamlike one rather than the strange one he finds himself in now. He’s become used to the way things are, although even that seems to be changing.

They haven’t had to fight night runners, at least as far as in darkened buildings in a while. The times he’s been in firefights within those buildings were tension-filled ones and he’d rather not have to do that again. Although, he has to admit to himself that, after the fact, there was kind of a rush. No, the times are now about engagements with marauders and others like them. Truth be told, he’d rather face the night runners.

No, strike that, he thinks, remembering several terrifying moments. That’s not true at all.

He’s not as nervous about being in those types of situations, although there is still plenty of fear. His confidence has grown from being around the others with more experience and he’s proud to be a member of Red Team. Each and every one of them carries an aura of self-assuredness. It’s like a cloak they all wear when together. Just being around them inspires confidence.

Part of his feeling more confident comes from his dad letting up on him a little. He understands the why of it but is thankful nonetheless — as he is thankful for the extra training both he and Bri have had with him. He knows his dad includes both of them in their briefings and dealings with other groups so that they’ll learn from the interaction. He doesn’t agree with everything his dad says or does though, and would have done some things differently.

For instance, he thinks, he wouldn’t be as trusting of the group they ran into at the bridge. There are surely some in that group that harbor grudges over what happened. He would not just merrily have accepted them into their group.

Sometimes dad is just a little too trusting, he thinks as they bounce over another bump in the road. Not often, but sometimes.

He looks around at the others crammed in the tight compartment. Bri is examining one of her mags and the others are lost in their own thoughts. Gonzalez, sitting next to him, appears to be sleeping. He smiles and wishes he could do that. He returns to the thoughts circling in his head.

Thoughts of being captured and finding his mom float to the surface — the joy of seeing her when Bri pointed her out at the lunch tables. He is curious as to how she changed back as he is quite sure that she was the night runner who had trapped them in the basement. That’s another thing he disagrees with his dad about. Well, disagree isn’t the right word but more of a different priority. How did she change back? He knows they don’t have a lab or any physicist to look at that but, as far as he knows, they haven’t even talked about it. It’s not like he wants to use his mom as a guinea pig, but surely an answer lies there somewhere. He thinks that they should explore the research labs in the University of Washington. Seattle isn’t the best place to go with their limited numbers, but perhaps they could find something there that would be helpful.

He’s thought about that a lot and pondered long into the night about how the night runners were changed — running scenario after scenario through his mind as to the specifics of how that could come about. And, how to change it back. It’s obvious that it can happen. His mom and that other guy they found at the gate prove that. He’s thought of finding the cure and then using dart guns at the zoos and other places like the Department of Natural Resources to administer it. Even aerial spraying has come to mind. Everyone just seems to accept that the night runners are what they are and that’s it.

And maybe that’s so, he thinks.

He also knows that, even if they can change the night runners back, the world would not be what it once was. No, it won’t be the same but it will at least eliminate a certain threat. The thought of actually conducting such a research project is overwhelming but that doesn’t stop him from pondering it from time to time. He’ll bring it up with his dad at some point.

Leaving those thoughts behind, he looks over at his dad standing with Greg by the open cupola. They have a map spread between them and are conversing with a lot of pointing. Of course, when those two get together, there is a lot of smiling as they constantly seem to be poking at one another. All in good fun of course. Robert is still amazed that his dad has been able to bring the group together and lead them. Then again, maybe he’s not. He knows his dad doesn’t really want to be the overall leader — that his dad would rather just take a team and be content with that.

“Too much headache,” his dad would say. “It’s easier just being the leader of your own little part of the situation.” Of course, he also knows his dad feels responsible for the survivors and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Here they are about to head into an unknown and the both of them, Greg and his dad, are standing near the front with a map in hand, laughing. He wishes he could develop that kind of casual attitude. For him, although he feels confident, there is also a nervous tension inside. He just wants to perform well and not let anyone down. His worst fear is that he will mess up and endanger the team. He wants to learn and gain experience so he’ll know instinctively what to do at the right moment. That’s one of the things that has caused the few arguments between him and Michelle — his going out with the teams constantly. She wants him to stay at the base with her and not, as she so delicately put it, “go gallivanting off with your dad all the time.”

He wrestles with that to a certain extent. He wants to stay with her but feels the need to be able to protect her. The only way he is going to be able to do that is to gain experience. Plus, he feels a bond with Red Team as well and feels he would be letting them down if he didn’t go with them. After all, someone has to go out and why should someone take his place. If he stayed at the compound, someone else would be put in danger because of his decision and he doesn’t want that.

He and Michelle have talked about raising a family. They were just boyfriend and girlfriend before all of this went down, but that has grown into something much more. They share quarters and are, for all intents and purposes, living together. He’s only seventeen, but that number seems meaningless to him now. The events of the last few months have aged him beyond his short number of years. Although, the thought of raising a family scares him even more than a building full of night runners.

Glancing quickly over at Bri, who has tears forming, he knows she is thinking about Nic. There isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t think about Nic and is saddened by the memory of her. They may not have been as close as Bri and her, but they were close. He misses Nic a lot and her memory is a constant reminder that anything can happen in this new world. His wish is that he had been there that night. He feels that if he was, he could have changed the outcome.

He is tossed to the side as the Stryker slows and stops.

Gonzalez opens her eyes as the Stryker slows to a halt. She still lives by the axiom she grew up in the Army with — get whatever rest you can when you can as you don’t know when you’ll be able to again. That’s something she’s learned in her many years and deployments. Whenever they had some down time, whether being transported or during the many hurry up and wait moments, that’s what she did. She could always be found by her ruck with her eyes closed. That didn’t mean she was asleep or any less alert, she was just resting.

The stop interrupted her thoughts of her family. Joy filled her as she thought of her sister being found alive, but she was also deeply saddened by the loss of her parents — her dad in particular. She so wanted to be able to fulfill his dreams…well, her dream if truth be known, of getting out of that neighborhood. Knowing the feelings of sorrow over losing one’s family members, she wants to be a part of finding the other soldiers’ families and is glad they are out searching for them. She and McCafferty have talked at length over how finding even one family member alive can ease the mental strain of the constant stress. It gives them something to live and fight for. Within the team, they have relied on each other and would lay down their lives for each other, but having a family member around makes it easier to cope. For the soldiers whose families they have searched for and haven’t found, there is at least some comfort in having that knowledge. Even though painful, it’s easier than not knowing.

She appreciates her position and, while not liking this new world one bit, she is thankful she has a good team around her. There is no one she would rather be with at a time like this. They have bonded tightly and she is convinced that if anyone can see it through this disaster of a world, it’s them. Once again, Jack enters her mind and her gratitude extends to him as well. He is one of those commanders that actually cares for those around them and is a part of the team. She’s had a few of those types in the past and can recognize them immediately. He’s one of the team and, in talking with the others of Red Team, she knows they will follow him anywhere. Even if his antics are, well, rather amusing. He’s their commander and she enjoys ribbing him, but he can also sit down with any of them, soldier to soldier, and talk as if there isn’t any rank between them.

Unlike many of the others, she really doesn’t mind being on the road. It’s the close camaraderie of being in the field with her team mates that she enjoys. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate warm meals and a comfy bed to sleep in, but there is a freedom associated with being out.

She’s good at what she does. That doesn’t mean she likes shooting at others, the adrenaline rush, or any of the other facets of being in action. To her, it’s more a matter of being there for her comrades. If her actions can save or help any of her team mates, that’s what she is there for. Although a cliché, she’d take a bullet for any one of them. Her preference though, is to put a round in those against them first.

She’s never been terribly afraid after the first few times she saw combat. Having grown up in the gang-controlled streets, she became used to gunshots at an early age. It’s not that she doesn’t feel nervous or fearful, it’s just that she isn’t afraid to die. That fear left a long time ago, and overcoming it is freeing. It doesn’t make her reckless or that the lack of fear is replaced with stupidity — she’s seen that one a lot in her career — it just means that she isn’t stymied in her actions by that fear. She is more afraid for her teammates than she is for herself.

Her thoughts wander around to her team. She and McCafferty have bonded well, they are sisters-in-arms. They’ve talked at length about a myriad of things, sharing a few secrets here and there, and have become very close. At first glance, McCafferty seems like one of those sweet girls who are most comfortable as the princess of a fair or giggling with friends over boys. Her cute looks and diminutive stature belie the toughness within. Her hundred and ten pounds soaking-wet-weight houses the heart of a lion. Gonzalez has seen her in combat many times fighting off hordes of night runners; holding her own and fearless, without a hint of fleeing. Yeah, Gonzalez trusts her implicitly and knows that McCafferty has her back at any time.

Henderson and Denton are both the quiet types. They hang with the rest of the team but don’t really say much. Henderson is the boy next door type, neither handsome nor ugly. He is a little more vocal and jokes around when it’s just the team together but is silent when others are around. The silence has nothing to do with his competency though and Gonzalez is glad to have him on the team. Both he and Denton are sharp shots with the M-110, to the point that she almost feels sorry for anyone that happens to fall in their crosshairs.

Why is it that the silent ones always seem to be the best shots?

Denton is more like the surfer type, but without the outgoing aspect. He’s laid back and easy going with a ready smile when someone cracks a joke but doesn’t speak up much. He seems content to just be part of the group. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t take it all in though. He and Henderson seem to have hit it off pretty well and maybe it’s different when it’s just the two of them. Many times when they are hanging out as a team, Denton is usually taking his M-4 or M-110 apart and cleaning them. Not in a spooky or sinister way, but Gonzalez gets the impression that he’s a perfectionist.

Robert is a chip off of Jack. She sees the gears always turning in his head and knows he is a natural leader if he can only gain the confidence. He has matured a lot in the past few months but he second-guesses himself too much. His fear is that he will make the wrong decision and let the others down. Once he has confidence in his decision-making ability, he will be one of those that others follow. He just needs experience. Of his courage, there is no doubt. He has been in some of the fiercest firefights Gonzalez has ever seen and, with little to no training, he’s stayed right in there. And being able to fly an aircraft at his age? Yeah, he has a lot of abilities.

And then there’s Bri. She really likes Bri and thinks of her as another sister; although her feeling goes beyond that. Gonzalez feels a strong bond between them. Taking Bri under her wing was a natural thing to do. Perhaps it’s because Bri reminds her of herself at an earlier age. There is an inner toughness and she is always watching and learning. Gonzalez can see that there isn’t much that gets by Bri. Gonzalez relishes in teaching her and wants to pass on what others have taught her — teach her to be a soldier…to be tough yet keep her femininity intact…be strong yet supple enough to react…be flexible to a changing environment…teach her that she can be tough yet retain her humanity. Too often the toughness that soldiers in combat attain brings a coldness that they deem necessary in order to survive mentally. That means a repression of their humanity. Gonzalez knows now, through many trials by fire, that both can be achieved. The most important thing is to keep your humor and know what things to let slide off and what things to keep inside. Bri is a tough little warrior and Gonzalez intends to impart what knowledge she has to Bri.

Rays of natural light flood into the compartment as the ramp is lowered and hits the ground with a clang. There is the shuffle of feet as soldiers rise to empty out into the daylight.

“After you, little warrior,” Gonzalez says to Bri when it’s their turn to exit.

Bri smiles in return and runs down the ramp. Gonzalez follows and slides to her knee next to Bri on the sandy soil. Robert slides down a short distance away as the team forms a perimeter around the Stryker.

The remote, barren plains pass by. It’s apparent that the area was once a great basin for agriculture. The fenced-in fields are indicative of that, as is the farming equipment sitting abandoned in several of the fields. Heading west toward Sturgis, we pass an airport with a runway that looks long enough for the 130. It has a small ramp and looks like it serves the town. I imagine the airport is busy when the motorcycle rally comes to town, but I seriously doubt the runway itself will handle the weight of our aircraft.

The road begins a gentle climb. We pass a complex of buildings which the faded signs by the side of the road indicate to be Fort Meade. Just beyond the fort, we drive along the base of tree-lined hills, the only greenery for miles around. Rounding a corner in the highway, the area opens up and the town of Sturgis comes into view. Still on a significant rise, most of the town spreads out before us. I have the Stryker halted so we can get a better look before proceeding.

The ramp is lowered and the sound of boots pound down the metal surface, breaking the stillness of the area. The two teams quickly form a small perimeter at the edges of the road around the Stryker. I marvel at how tight we have become in just a few months. No shouts of command are necessary. Everyone knows what has to be done and does it like a well-oiled machine. That’s what we need if we are going to survive. The major hesitation I had when encountering Captain Leonard was that the inclusion of another command might disrupt the tightness we have. That is always a possibility as we include more and more people into our group but, for now, we are running smoothly.

The other thing that worries me is the constant stress. At some point, that will come to a head and we will see this smoothness falter. We’re going to have to begin incorporating some downtime for the teams into the schedule. We have been going full bore since we began setting up our sanctuary and that pace can’t continue. When we get more people through the training and see an increase in the number of teams, we’ll be able to put aside time to relax. Right now, though, we barely have enough to keep up with what we have going.

With binoculars in hand, I climb onto the Stryker. The air is still and only the sound of the idling Stryker can be heard. I feel the vibrations under my feet and have to sit in order to see clearly, steadying the glasses on my knees. It really doesn’t help that much though. Looking through the field glasses, a magnified view of the city unfolds. Directly below us is a cemetery.

I hope that doesn’t bode ill.

Several partially dug graves lie on once well-tended lawns, now brown and overgrown. Looking farther into town, the main highway transits the north end. The central part of ‘downtown’ is a block south of the main highway. It looks like most other small towns — a wide street with commercial type buildings situated along the main thoroughfare. The main residential areas stretch to the south, east, and west sides. Most of the roads are covered in brown dirt with only a little light-colored gray asphalt or concrete showing through in places.

As with the base, drifts of sand and debris are piled up against the buildings, houses, fences, and cars. As I look over the rest of the town, I don’t see any signs that someone is around. It looks like one of the old west ghost towns. The only thing missing are tumbleweeds blowing down the streets and barroom doors swinging in the wind.

Without seeing an indication that anything has been there in some time, we pile back in the vehicle and make our way down. We drive over the sand-blown roads into the heart of the town. The central area is only four or five blocks long. Along Main Street are several banks, restaurants, gift shops, bars, real estate offices, a laundry, a center for the arts, a casino, and a small building named ‘Sturgis Motorcycle Museum & Hall of Fame’.

Stopping along the street and disembarking the teams, I see firsthand what I saw from afar. Sand covers the roads and is piled in deep drifts in the storefront doorways. Several parked cars along the street are almost covered with it. I had expected Sturgis to actually be filled with Harleys but nary a one is in sight. I don’t see any tracks in the sand-covered streets or sidewalks. That is both a good and bad sign. Good in that there aren’t likely any night runners inhabiting the buildings and bad in that no one else has been here either.

I open up to see if I can sense any night runners about. Nothing. Any sense of them is as quiet as the town. I notice Gonzalez looking at me quizzically as if asking if I felt anything. I shake my head negatively. She nods and trots off with the rest of Red Team as they take a position at the corners at one end of the block. With Greg remaining with me, the members of his team heads off in the other direction to establish themselves at the other corners.

Seeing Robert and Bri heading off with the rest of Red Team, I call them to my side noting the look of disappointment on their faces. I know they want to be with their team and think I’m calling them back because I’m being ‘parental’ and want them close. While I still have that quandary every moment we trek through unknown territory, this time I called them because I want them to watch and learn.

As they gather with Greg and me, I take a closer look at our surroundings. Most of the shop windows are broken. Overturned tables and chairs lie within and the floors are covered with grit and debris. A skeletal arm sticks out from one of the drifts piled up against a vehicle nearby. Walking over, I kick some of the sand away. The flesh has been picked clean. There’s not a shred of tissue left.

Keeping my M-4 at the ready, I head over to one of the shops to get a closer look inside. The restaurant has been ransacked and it looks like a tornado swept through. Scattered among the dirt are broken plates and a large overturned coffee urn. Several unopened water bottles lie amongst the wreckage. A few more skeletal remains lie on the floor of the café. There are dark stains where the floor shows through the sand, in spray patterns on the walls and counters, and on the broken windows beneath the grime. The only tracks in the deep dust are those of smaller creatures — I’m guessing the rat population still thrives. The other shops tell the same story; one of being ransacked or of last stands. If anything other than rats is here, it hasn’t been recently — within weeks I’d say at first glance. Sturgis, at least this part of it, is a dead city.

“What’s your first impression here?” I ask Robert and Bri.

“There’s no one here. It’s dead,” Bri answers.

“Why do you say that?”

“It just feels that way,” she replies.

“Okay, I’ll take that, but you have to be careful about relying on feelings alone,” I state. “Robert, what about you?”

He glances around, staring for moments at one place and then another. The gears turn and he tilts his head to the side quizzically. Knowing him as I do, I recognize that he sees something but can’t quite put a finger to it. Then, a light enters his eyes.

“There aren’t any tracks. The sand is smooth without any tracks in them. That means there aren’t any night runners in this area. They would leave tracks if they laired or hunted here,” he says.

“What else?”

“Well…” he starts off, looking to the other buildings, “this is where supplies would be. If there were survivors nearby, you’d think they would be looking for provisions here. So, no tracks, no survivors nearby.”

“Good. Does that really mean no survivors, though? What if they already plundered this area and are using other places for their supplies?” I ask.

“They could be, I guess,” he responds. “If they became self-sufficient, they wouldn’t need to scavenge.”

“Dad? But wouldn’t someone grab those water bottles?” Bri asks, pointing to the several unopened ones scattered across the gritty floor.

“That’s the kind of detail to look for. The lack of tracks in the area and supplies that could be readily had but aren’t. Although not a surety, it at least gives a pretty good indication that there isn’t anyone around. At least not nearby anyway. But, I’ll leave you with this. Be careful about relying entirely on guesses and indications like this. There could be a very plausible reason for some other explanation, and our conclusions could be wrong. Look for indications, but be ready for anything. Don’t ever let assumptions allow you to relax your guard,” I reply.

“What do you think happened here?” Bri asks.

“That’s hard to say. I guess there are several ways that it could have gone down. People could have been out looking for supplies at the outset and been caught by others or by an initial wave of night runners. They could have tried holding out in the stores initially, staking claims to supply places, and then been overrun. I’m guessing that those we see here were taken down by night runners,” I answer. “Whatever occurred here happened quickly and a while ago.”

“Why do you say that?” Robert asks.

“Well. For one, the spray patterns inside the buildings indicate being torn apart rather than shot. The large amount of blood is also more than I would expect from gunshots. The remains outside are under the drifts indicating that it happened before it began piling up.”

“What happened to the night runners then?” Bri asks.

“I would say that they moved on or starved when their food supply ran out. These bodies have been eaten to the bone.”

“Wouldn’t the rats do that?” Robert asks.

“Possibly, but look here,” I say, kneeling by one of the bodies. “If it was rats, there would be tiny gnaw marks on the bone.” Pointing at the exposed arm bones, I continue, “Here you can see larger drag marks along the bone which are consistent with a much larger animal.”

“Could it have been dogs?” Bri asks.

“No, wrong pattern. Look how the marks are more flat. A dog’s would dig in and the mark would be more furrowed,” I answer.

“So, essentially you’re saying that there were survivors here that were taken down by night runners. The night runners fed on their remains and whatever else they could find, and then starved,” Roberts states.

“Or moved on somewhere else, but that’s about the gist of it. At least from what I can tell,” I reply.

“That must have been a scary time for whoever was here,” Bri says, staring at the remains on the floor.

“I can’t imagine it was very fun.”

Looking at the scene along Main Street, I can picture the tension and fear that must have been rampant. If night runners were involved, it must have happened at night. The survivors holed up in the stores, trapped and not truly aware of what was going on. The outside perhaps only lit by the occasional street light and emergency lights inside casting faint glows over the doorways. People caught up by the speed of everything happening so quickly…the sicknesses and deaths. Small groups or families huddled together in the darkness listening to the shrieks of night runners outside, the screams of fear from those that were found echoing down the dark streets, their cries changing from terror to agony as they were torn apart.

The sheer horror felt by those hiding, just waiting to be found and knowing that they most likely would be. Some huddled and trembling in fear, trying to be quiet yet the sound of whimpering escaping as the screeches of night runners resound off of the walls as they race down the streets searching for prey. Seeing shadows running by the windows throughout the night and, amidst the screaming, the fear of being found. Pale faces suddenly appearing, shrieking outside…pounding on the windows, the glow from their eyes penetrating inside. The alarm felt at the cracking sound of the pane glass windows fracturing under the night runner onslaught. The tinkling of the glass on the floor as it shatters, the shrieks suddenly escalated as they are directly exposed. Heart beats increasing and the sheer terror as they watch the night runners pour in through the opening, leaping through the broken glass. Then, the absolute horror of watching their loved ones torn apart in front of them. Yeah, that must have been a nightmare. I can’t even imagine the terror that must have prevailed in their final moments.

There’s no way anyone could ever be prepared for this shit, McCafferty thinks as she looks inside of the shops at the wreckage.

Waiting for Gonzalez and the rest of Red Team, she glances over at Jack standing with Greg. Jack, shading his eyes from the sun’s glare off the broken windows, stares at the buildings in a trance-like way. She’s seen him do that a lot and knows what it means. He recovers with a shake of his head. Gonzalez is looking at him questioningly. McCafferty knows what that question is — are there any night runners about? Jack gives Gonzalez a shake of his head replying in the negative.

Good, she thinks as Gonzalez catches up and they deploy to a street corner. I can’t friggin’ stand night runners.

She doesn’t know if she can handle any more of them. Like everyone else, dark buildings scare the shit out of her. She really wishes she had Gonzalez’ courage. Nothing ever seems to faze her. No matter what happens, she always has a ready smile and a joke. They’ve drawn closer over the past few weeks and shared a lot of their feelings and thoughts. That’s helped some. As glad as she is about finding her dad, the loss of her mom still sits heavy within her.

Growing up just outside of Lubbock wasn’t exactly conducive to her being prepared for this situation. Sure, it was Texas, so she was used to guns and started shooting at an early age. However, nothing much happened out her way nor was she really introduced to much. It’s not that her parents were overly protective, it’s just that there weren’t as many opportunities as there were in the city. She mostly hung with her parents and was content to do so. She did ride her bike, and later drove, to her friends and hung out with them, but her life was sedate for the most part. However, she did have her wild moments.

Her life growing up was like any other teen girl. There was the interest in boys and getting together with her friends. She had her crushes through school, but they came and went like the thunderstorms that rolled through. It wasn’t easier or harder than anyone else’s life. The hardest part for her was her height. She was diminutive and grew to a whopping five feet, four inches which always made her shorter than her friends and classmates. She had the weight to match her height. As her friends always teased when the strong winds gusted across the plains, she frequently felt as if she’d blow away.

The crossroads for her came toward the end of her senior year in high school. She ran cross-country through high school. She placed third in the state cross-country meet that year and had a running scholarship to the University of Texas. The problem was that she didn’t want to run anymore. Not competitively at any rate. The training wore her out and she was simply tired. She knew she would run for the rest of her life; but not competitively. Her parents couldn’t afford to send her to college and the scholarship was her only ticket. Running at the collegiate level was more competitive and therefore the training would be more intensive. She wasn’t one to shy away from hard work, but she just didn’t want to work at that anymore.

That left limited options. She could go to the junior college and transfer later but there wasn’t any guarantee that she could afford it in two years. It’s not like some magical money tree was going to spring up. That left a job in the city, vocational school, and, heaven forbid, marrying one of the high school boys. It’s not that they were bad, but she wasn’t interested in any of them. That’s when the Army recruiter showed up at her school. It was like a veil was lifted and she saw her chance. She could get out of this place and earn money for college. It seemed like the perfect opportunity. However, as time and deployments went on, she discovered that she had found a second home. She enjoyed the camaraderie, and it was people like Gonzalez that made her stay.

Lately, she also had a little something extra to live for. She and Drescoll recently began to hit it off. It started with little talks here and there. They found they had a lot in common and had many of the same interests. Of course, it’s not like they could partake in a lot of those interests now. There just wasn’t any time in the daylight hours nowadays to go kayaking or hiking in the wilderness. Perhaps later but for now, they just share stories of their adventures. They’ve kept it quiet so far and she’s only told Gonzalez about it. It’s not that they are ashamed or even worried but more that they are both private about their personal lives. She’s sure it will become obvious to everyone at some point. She just hopes that it isn’t the stress that is bringing them together as she really does like him. She’s seen a lot of the battlefield romances occur that drifted apart when they were deployed back stateside. Of course, it isn’t like they are going to be relieved of stress anytime soon from what she can see. Looking into the abandoned buildings as she passes them on the way to her position attests to that.

Something catches her eye in one of the small shops that she and Gonzalez pass. Henderson and Denton are making their way parallel to them on the other side of the street. Jack had Robert and Bri stay with him rather than deploy with the rest of Red Team. She doesn’t blame him for wanting to keep them out of harm’s way. It’s odd that he would do that now, though, as he seemed to have let them go with them more as of late. They are actually a welcome addition to the team even if they are a little green. Time and experience will take care of that. And in this new world, gaining experience quickly will not be a problem. With a slight shrug, she nudges Gonzalez to get her attention.

“What?” Gonzalez whispers, looking sideways at her while keeping an eye on the area.

“Look,” McCafferty says, pointing to an object sitting on one of the counters. It’s covered in dust but the side is still readable.

“Holy shit! Are those Twinkies?” Gonzalez incredulously yet quietly says.

“Looks like it. What do you think?”

Gonzalez takes a quick look around and sees that everyone is otherwise preoccupied. She trots across the street to Henderson and Denton.

“Hold up here and keep us covered. We’re going into that building to investigate something. We’ll be right back out,” Gonzalez says.

“Whatcha got?” Henderson asks.

“Never mind. Just keep us covered,” she answers with a small, mischievous grin.

Gonzalez returns and nods inside. McCafferty grins and quickly climbs over the sill partially filled with pieces of broken, grime-covered glass. She feels the crunch of glass under her boots as she makes her way around the tables and chairs strewn about the room. Avoiding the remains of several bodies, she reaches the counter and blows off the dust covering the top of the box. Sure enough, the box is sealed and she quickly grabs it, heading back to the sidewalk. Henderson and Denton look across the street questioningly. McCafferty shakes her head at them and grins, stuffing the box inside of her vest.

“Remember when these became an endangered item?” She asks Gonzalez.

“Yeah. Kind of like all of humankind is now,” Gonzalez replies.

“Only, humankind didn’t go on strike. They were fired,” McCafferty says.

And with that statement left hanging between the two of them, they proceed to the corner to keep watch on the perimeter.

Gathering at the Stryker a short time later, McCafferty sees the soldier whose family they’ve come to find. His face exhibits wonderment mixed with sorrow as he looks on his home town. She knows he must be eager to find his family but, upon seeing what kind of shape this place is in, she notes that his shoulders are sagging in defeat. She knows how he must feel as she had thought she was going to have to deal with the fact that her parents were gone. The nervous energy of wanting to know and the fear of what that answer might be is one she knows well.

The soldier shows the exact location of his family’s house and they are soon piling into the Stryker. It’s not far and they soon arrive. Exiting, McCafferty notes that the condition of the residential area is not much different from the downtown area — drifts piled where the wind has driven them. She observes that there aren’t many cars parked along the street and that there are very few driveways.

Perhaps there are alleyways and they park in the back, she thinks, looking along the lonely street. There are a few trees still holding onto their greenery but the rest of the yards are overgrown and brown.

They are in front of a white, single-story house with green trim. The walkway leading to the front porch is barely visible due to the long brown stalks of grass lying across it. Dead bushes, that once must have had colorful blossoms, line the front of the house. She watches as Jack stares at the house and gives Gonzalez another shake of his head before engaging in conversation with Greg. She isn’t able to hear what they say but, by their hand motions, it seems they are talking about how to enter the house. After a few minutes, Jack sends Greg’s team to the corners for security and gathers Red Team.

“Gonzalez. I want you to take Red Team in and conduct the search. I don’t sense any night runners inside, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any,” Jack says.

“Okay, sir. Is the soldier going with us?” Gonzalez asks.

“No. Given what we’ve seen so far, I think it’s best that he isn’t inside. He’s still a little shocked by what he saw downtown. I think he might have seen someone he recognized. I don’t know how, but I’ve spoken with him and he just gave a tired nod. He did manage to give us some details on the interior,” Jack says, handing Gonzalez a hand drawn diagram.

“Okay, sir. We’ll be out in a jiff.”

“Keep in mind that there may be someone inside, night runner or survivors, so stay alert and watch for itchy trigger fingers,” Jack says.

“Hooah, sir,” Red Team responds.

Jack just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Get going.”

McCafferty follows Gonzalez to the porch. The front door is open and, from the wood splintered by the latch, it appears to have been forced. Gonzalez directs Henderson and Denton to the front window to see if they can get a look inside while McCafferty stacks next to the partially open door opposite Gonzalez. Robert and Bri, who Jack has allowed to come with them, are behind McCafferty against the wall.

As with almost everything else, the partly open doorway has a heaped pile of dirt that extends inside. The open door itself is a warning sign to her as she remembers having to enter another house like this one — Gonzalez’. She is about to enter into yet another darkened structure with the possibility of night runners inside.

Fuck I hate this, she thinks, feeling her heart rate increase.

The last time they did this, she had to shoot Gonzalez’ dad. She doesn’t want to have to do anything even remotely like that again. That had to be the single most horrible thing she has ever had to do. The only positive thing she sees looking at the front door is that there aren’t any visible tracks in the sand.

At least there’s that. This still sucks though.

Henderson peeks in the side of the front window quickly and then, when nothing erupts, takes a longer look. He turns to them, stacked and ready to enter, and gives an indication that he can’t see inside.

Gonzalez hefts her M-4 and looks McCafferty in the eyes, “You ready for this?”

“Hell no, but let’s do it.”

With a nod from Gonzalez, she throws the door open the rest of the way. Gonzalez lowers her NVGs and rushes in. McCafferty lowers hers and follows.

Gonzalez darts to the right along the front wall while McCafferty goes in along the left one. Robert follows, taking station by the front door while Bri tracks along behind Gonzalez. They enter like a fast moving mist — quickly and quietly. The thin beams of light from their IR lasers sweep inside looking for movement — either targets or survivors. There is nothing but the dark, cool interior cast in a greenish glow. She hears Henderson and Denton enter behind her and take up positions.

They find themselves in a great room with an open kitchen and dining room near the back of the house. A hallway opens to the left extending to three back bedrooms and a bathroom. It’s much the same setup as in Gonzalez’ house. The continued similarity sends a chill up McCafferty’s spine. Large amounts of dust covers the furniture. The dining room table has plates, silverware scattered across the top with a couple of overturned glasses. Pieces of a broken plate and more silverware lie on the gritty floor beside the table. Two of the four dining chairs are scooted away from the table and a third lies on its side. A single pot sits on the stove. The whole scene gives the impression that something happened quickly while those living here were sitting down at a meal.

“Robert, McCafferty, cover the hallway,” McCafferty hears Gonzalez say over the radio.

Robert slides up beside her and they peek down the hall. She feels the thudding of her heart in her chest from both being inside another shadowy interior and from the remembrance of another hallway. What she sees increases it even more. Four bodies, stretching down the length of the hall, lie motionless — prone or slumped in various positions. One of the doors at the end of the hall is open. She listens for any sound, but it remains eerily quiet except for hers and Robert’s breathing.

Not wanting to broadcast the find over the radio because of the soldier waiting for news outside, she waves Gonzalez over and points to the bodies and the open door. One other door lies halfway open down the hall with another closed across from it. A third door is closed adjacent to the open one at the end of the corridor.

“Check out the rooms and make sure those bodies are indeed visiting the afterlife. Bri and I will be behind you to provide backup if needed,” Gonzalez whispers with a hand on her shoulder.

McCafferty nods and rises. With Robert beside her, she edges into the hall. She’s hyper-alert and half expects a night runner to charge from the opening to the side and just in front of her. With Robert covering the hall, she pushes the partially open door. Ready for anything, she quickly peers inside. An empty bathroom.

“Empty,” she calls softly.

“Move to the back rooms. Bri and I have the side door,” Gonzalez replies.

McCafferty pokes the first body before stepping over it to ensure it isn’t going to rise unexpectedly. Its head is turned to the side and, as she passes it, she sees that the skin is shrunken against the skull giving it a mummified appearance. A small hole is visible just above the left eye. Stepping around the remaining bodies, the last which lies near the open door, she sees the same thing — mummified bodies with various injuries.

“Don’t shoot. We’re coming in,” McCafferty hears Gonzalez softly call out behind her.

She and Robert reach the open door leading to bedroom. The room is in total disarray. Blankets and sheets cover the floor. A table lamp is knocked over and lies on the floor by the bed. Telling an even more horrendous tale are the dark stains on the sheet covering the bed and splashed on the wall. A couple more of the mummified bodies lie just inside the door. Two skeletal remains lie on the floor near the bed — one at the side and the other at the foot — with a third on the bed itself.

“Fuck me!” Robert breathes beside her.

“You aren’t shitting,” she responds.

Gonzalez and Bri join them after checking the side room and finding it empty. Checking the adjacent room, they find that one empty as well. They all step in. Several shell casings are scattered in the debris. By looking at the scene it’s pretty apparent what happened. They were eating dinner when night runners attacked so they quickly folded into this back bedroom, making a last stand.

She can’t imagine the fear they must have felt in those last few minutes. The shrieking outside following by pounding on the door; seeing it burst open and night runners rush inside. Fleeing down the hallway…the screams of terror folding in with the loud screeches of the night runners filling the house. Adrenaline filling their bodies, fear for their loved ones and knowing death is closing in. Grabbing a gun and firing at those charging down the hall. Hearing the terrified screams or sobbing of your wife and daughter huddled in terror on the bed…hearing their cries of pain as the night runners tore into the room. The heart-break of knowing all is lost. This same story told in millions of homes across the world. Yeah, she’s glad to be alive but hopes she doesn’t have to come across any more scenes like this one. It’s just too wrenching to imagine the last moments of those that were here.

Looking on, McCafferty feels like she’s intruding at the final moments of the ones who were here. In a semblance of shock and pity, they all stare at the carnage for several minutes; each lost in their own thoughts.

“Let’s get out of here,” Gonzalez finally says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Bri says, continuing to stare into the room.

They gather Henderson and Denton and exit the house feeling sad and a little depressed. McCafferty feels bad for the soldier as his eager anticipation is going to be met with sad news. She knows the loss of a loved one and the heartbreak. That’s something that never leaves. They meet with Jack and Greg and relay what they saw. Their heads drop with Jack shaking his head slowly side-to-side.

“Thanks,” he says after a moment. “If you wouldn’t mind going inside and finding something to wrap them in, I’d appreciate it. We owe them a decent burial at the very least.”

“Will do, sir,” Gonzalez responds.

“Sir, I’d like to stay when you talk to him,” McCafferty says, to which Jack nods. He then calls the soldier to him.

The soldier arrives and immediately knows the answer from the look in their eyes and from the fact that there isn’t any of his family there. He drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands, sobbing.

Jack lays a hand on his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry, son.”

McCafferty kneels down beside the soldier and puts her arm around him. After a while, he rises and wants to go inside to see what’s left of his family.

“That’s not a very good idea,” she says.

“I just… I just need to see for myself,” he says, sniffling.

“No. Just remember them as they were.”

“Were they… did night runners get them?” he asks.

They lock eyes. Looking into his wet, red eyes, she nods. He begins crying again and she holds him against her.

Red Team recovers the bodies of the family, folding them into the drapery removed from the windows. They take the rest of the afternoon to bury them in the cemetery. There isn’t a person there that isn’t affected. Some have lost loved ones; others wait to find out about theirs.

With the sun wending its way across the late afternoon sky that is becoming increasingly cloudy, we shovel the last bit of dirt over the soldier’s family and, with heavy hearts, load up. We haven’t heard another sound except for our own, making the town seem like a very lonely place. It could be that the energy that was exuded by those that lived here, and in the way that energy was lost, the area could be leaving an energy hole as it were and that’s what we are feeling. That coupled with the loss of the family of one of our own. We don’t seem to have a very high success rate and it’s my fear that we may have waited too long.

We reverse our route and leave the dead town of Sturgis behind. As we climb the hill to the east of the city, the town slowly vanishes behind the hills. It won’t be too long before nature claims this place that was once a Harley mecca.