Takedown

Fear of the Dark

The transition from being out cold to consciousness is abrupt. It’s oblivion one moment and awareness the next. Startled, she opens her eyes. The surrounding darkness is so complete that she isn’t sure that her eyes are open at all. She consciously blinks, feeling her lids contact each other. There isn’t any change in the blackness. For a moment she thinks she is blind but then the darkness resolves itself into dark grays and shadows. Stiff, sore and feeling like a drum corps is playing in her head, focus sharpens. Lynn fully wakes.

Inside of her throbbing head, the memories of her last moments surface. With a panicked feeling, she runs her hands along her body performing a quick check. Her uniform is stiff in places from dried blood but nothing feels out of place. Putting her hands on the hard, cold surface beneath her, she begins to push herself up. A growl comes from nearby causing her to instantly freeze. A jolt of electricity runs through her body. She’s heard that growl before and, sitting here in the almost complete darkness, the sound fills her with fear.

The musky scent of body odor fills the area. Expecting to be immediately attacked, she launches into action. Rising quickly, she turns toward the growl. She grabs for her M-4 but finds nothing. Reaching to her hip, she finds that her sidearm is also missing. With mounting fear, she gropes for her knives. They too are gone. The low growl becomes more menacing — if that is even possible. She’s in a darkened building after being attacked by night runners and there is no more threatening sound than that of one close by.

Ahead of her, a thin line near the ground is just a shade lighter than the surrounding gloom. She notes the door as she braces for an attack. Within the deep gray of the room, she sees five darker shadows near the door.

Night runners, she thinks, not moving but poised for action. Whatever happens, I’ll go down fighting.

The shadowy figures don’t move. Time seems to stop. Lynn and the night runners face each other, neither knowing what the other will do. The fact that they don’t launch at her is perplexing. She’s never faced any night runners when they didn’t immediately attack with whatever number they had. Surely the five of them aren’t afraid of her. Ordinarily, five would attack even if she had all of the teams here. Comprehension dawns that they were in the room with her when she was out. If they meant to harm her, they wouldn’t have hesitated just because she was unconscious. The sheer fact that she is still alive baffles her even more.

The thought of the teams brings back the memories of the night runners breaking in and attacking Cabela’s. She can’t piece together her last visions of night runners overrunning her position and her being here now. She feels that she should be able to span the gulf between her memories and the present situation but she isn’t able to. Another growl interrupts her thoughts. She tenses, anticipating an attack but the night runners maintain their position by the door. She takes a step toward them. All five give a low, warning growl.

Okay, that didn’t work. I guess I’m not going to just walk out of here.

Lynn takes a step back and the growls cease. It’s apparent to her that she isn’t going to be attacked so she relaxes a little. Confused, sore, and tired, Lynn sits back in her original position, her mind cycling through a million thoughts.

Are they alright? she thinks, regarding those within the sanctuary. Did they manage to fight the night runners off, or did they fall as she did? Are there any others captured? How, and why, am I still alive? What in the fuck happened?

It’s apparent that she is a prisoner and the night runners stationed at the door are guarding her. For the life of her, she can’t figure out why in the hell she is captured. Just a few moments ago, she would have thought the very idea of capture would be far beyond the thought processes of any night runner. The fact that she is being held by night runners doesn’t alleviate her tension. If anything, it multiplies it. She’s alone, doesn’t know where she is — only that she is in a darkened room surrounded by night runners, and she doesn’t know if anyone else made it out alive. Her heart sinks and a tear creates a muddy streak down her cheek.

At least Jack wasn’t there and is therefore alive, she thinks.

The thought of Jack and not knowing if she will ever see him again makes her heart sink even more. At this particular moment in time, she feels very lonely and frightened.

Arriving at the 130 in the late afternoon, I watch as Robert goes over the coordinates for the next leg of our flight. Our next stop is McConnell AFB, Kansas. The very thought of the base reminds me of Lynn. I miss her. I’m glad this will be my last trip out. I don’t like being away from her. I know my constant journeying doesn’t sit well and I don’t blame her. I wasn’t such a fan of her deployments either. Although, that was her job and these are, well, more voluntary. I just have a hard time not being there if others are putting themselves at risk. Of course, this puts me into a quandary as I don’t like constantly leaving Lynn. I honestly don’t know why she puts up with me, but I’m happy she does. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

I’ve thought about putting aside the leadership role many times and perhaps it’s time I did. I’ve noticed my constant tiredness and wonder if I’ve lost my edge. Maybe it’s just the weird day. I don’t know. Not so long ago, I would have laughed at the kid and walked away rather than engage in a pissing contest with a fourteen-year-old. Of course, my sweet Nic was alive then and the world, as shitty as it was sometimes, was a better place. As much as I want to look for the families of the soldiers, I want to be back to what I consider home equally as much.

Watching Robert calmly check the figures in the nav computer brings a sensation of pride. I mean, it’s always there, but I guess I’m just feeling emotional. I know, weird, right? He has come so far in this strange new world we find ourselves in and has adapted remarkably well. As has Bri. I think on how diverse the survivor groups are that we’ve encountered - some unraveling at the seams and others maintaining well. Without societal norms guiding us, core aspects are rising up and manifesting themselves in different ways. Yeah, today has put me in a strange mood. Robert finishes and sits back with a sigh.

“All good?” I ask.

“Yeah. I think so. I’ll check again in the morning before we leave. I’m a little tired and the numbers are running together and starting to not make any sense. I stare at them as if they’re alien glyphs and I’m trying to see into their strange coding,” he answers.

“We’re at least heading to the southeast, right?”

“As far as I can tell. That or Canada. If the sun’s on our right en route in the morning, if there is a sun in the morning,” he says, looking outside at the overcast, “then we know we’ll have to turn around.”

“Or if we start seeing any mountains. I’m not sure, but I think the highest point in Kansas is the top of a speed bump.”

“True,” he says, chuckling.

“Whatcha doing, guys?” Bri asks, climbing into the cockpit.

“Apparently inputting random numbers into the computer and seeing where it takes us,” I answer.

“Cool. I’m up for an adventure. Like today wasn’t though, right?!” she replies.

“You have that right,” Robert responds. “Dad, what was that whole radio station thing about? I mean… I get that they wanted to be left alone but why even have it on?”

“I don’t know. I guess they wanted to listen to music,” I answer.

“Do you think there were any adults around, or were they all just kids?” Bri asks.

“I’m thinking there were only the kids,” I say.

“And what about the bones at the bottom of the mine?” Robert asks.

“I really don’t want to know the answer to that,” I answer.

“Yeah. I’m kinda thinking they were the adults as well,” Robert states, saying what I really didn’t want to.

“That’s messed up,” Bri says. “It’s just as well they aren’t coming with us then.”

“It may be something completely different though. We’re just assuming something and it may not be true,” I say.

“I don’t get that feel. I think they saw the chance to do away with adult supervision and took it,” Robert states.

“It could be. It could also be that the adults died or turned into night runners and they burned them all fearing contamination. I guess that’s a story we’ll never know for sure.”

“Why didn’t they come with us then?” Bri asks.

“They really didn’t seem all that interested in us staying around, let alone coming with us,” I answer. “However, to be perfectly honest, I really didn’t extend an offer either.”

“That’s understandable under the circumstances. Dad, why didn’t you let me come up the path with you?” Robert asks.

“You know the answer to that,” I respond.

“This whole world is one strange place. Admittedly that place was a little more off, but there isn’t a place we’re going to see that isn’t going to have some weirdness attached to it.”

I sigh. Robert and Bri stare at me waiting for my answer. “I know. I train you and try to give you the skills to survive in this world but don’t give you the opportunities to practice them. It’s just… well, it’s just hard letting you be placed in situations that are dangerous.”

“Why even bring us out if that’s the case?” Bri asks.

“I don’t have to, you know.”

“Ha-ha…funny,” Bri says.

“This isn’t easy and won’t be however much I try. I’m trying to let go so you gain the experiences that you’ll need in the long run. I just need to figure out how to let that happen while duct-taping pillows around you.”

“You’re just a riot today, aren’t you, Dad,” Bri says.

“Look. I just don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. Losing Nic was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. That pain sits with me every minute of every day.” At the mention of Nic, Robert and Bri solemnly hang their heads.

“Dad,” Robert says after a moment of silence. “Losing Nic was hard for all of us. Have you ever thought that maybe the experience we gather can actually prevent something like that from happening? There could be that one bit of knowledge we gain that will save us in a split-second scenario.”

“It’s a two-sided coin. I could lose you as you gain that experience yet lose you for you not having it. How about this? I’ll keep trying to let go and you remind me. However, I still have the final say.”

“Works for me,” Robert says.

“Me too,” Bri replies.

The sound of the Stryker starting enters the cockpit interrupting any further conversation.

“Take another look at the numbers. I’m not all that interested in playing ‘guess where we are’ tomorrow. I’m going in back to make sure they don’t try to sledgehammer the vehicle in,” I say.

“Alright, Dad, but I don’t think the figures are going to make any more sense than they did a few minutes ago,” Robert replies.

“Just try to keep us somewhere between the two great bodies of water lying to the east and west.”

With the fading day, I send Red Team out to find a fuel truck. We have plenty of fuel onboard, but it’s always nice to have full tanks. As they are searching, Greg’s team attempts to get the large armored vehicle in without creating dents in my pretty aircraft. The 130 can handle a lot, but it tends to fly a little funny when rammed by a Stryker.

Red Team returns without finding a fuel truck of any kind. I think about transferring fuel from the bombers with the hand crank, but that will take a lot of time and we have enough fuel onboard to complete our whole trip if necessary. With this strange day winding down, we seal up the aircraft and enjoy another quiet, peaceful night of rest.

Captain Leonard steams away, retracing his route up the channel. He’s happy to be resupplied and thinks he may have been a little hasty with Captain Walker. While they may have started off on the wrong foot, it seems to have ended well. He understands Walker’s desire to keep his command together and his wariness of outside influences. After all, that’s the same perspective he has. It was a matter of two strong minds meeting. They both care about the people under their command and work from that standpoint. At least they seem to be working together now, and he’s sure they’ll come to an understanding as a basis to continue that relationship.

Leonard would have just parked his boat and joined the group but this has all been a lot to come to grips with. It still seems surreal — submerging in one world and surfacing in an entirely new and different one. The forested hills slide by as they make their way to the open ocean. He has a hard time believing the rest of the world is like this and needs to see for himself. Although he knows that Walker has flown to some parts of the country and encountered the same wherever he went, there’s just something about seeing it for himself. Deep down, he knows what he’ll find given the absence of radio traffic. If there was a viable force still in operation, they would have been broadcasting for surviving forces.

Nothing has changed since his passage south — the windows from the lonely settlements along the shore wink back at his passage. He imagines night runners holed up behind every window waiting for the night. Although it’s hard to actually fathom, he knows that the night belongs to them and the day to the few remaining survivors of humanity.

His plan is to journey down the Western Seaboard to San Diego, checking out the communities and harbors along the way. After that, he’ll make a decision about whether to travel to Hawaii or return to Walker’s group. The boat is well stocked with supplies, and, thanks to Walker, weapons and ammo. He may have to make some forays into towns along the way to restock on perishables but he’ll limit those to daylight. They’ll more than likely have to go into buildings for those — darkened buildings — so he’ll limit those excursions to only essential ones. He’s learned his lesson. He doesn’t see how he can avoid it altogether but he’s at least aware of what perils await those who venture inside.

The other worry he has is the crew itself. There is the very real prospect of deserters. He’ll run submerged for the most part although this will take more time — years of playing hide-and-seek has ingrained that into his core. At times, he’ll surface and give the crew a chance to get outside. The pressure of being cooped up for long periods at a time, along with the added stress of the situation, will make this a necessity. They’ve already been on patrol and under the waves for a while. Having time ashore is a luxury that isn’t in the cards this time around. He’ll keep a watch topside whenever they are surfaced to guard against anyone trying to jump. This is especially true when they draw close to shore. At those times, he’ll stay submerged to the greatest extent possible. The sub runs with a limited crew as it is and anyone lost will affect operations. For now, however, he’ll run on the surface and enjoy the breeze against his cheeks.

The run through the channels and straits takes most of the day. He’s seen all that he wants of the surrounding area on their passage down so Leonard keeps his boat directed to the open waters of the Pacific. The waves glitter under the sun settling, throwing off a myriad of prisms, as the USS Santa Fe passes Neah Bay on the left and enters the ocean proper. Dropping down the narrow hatchway, Leonard issues the order to submerge.

“What course, sir?” his XO asks.

“Set a course to the mouth of the Columbia River,” he answers.

“How far off shore?”

“Keep us close in.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

The roll of the ocean swells cease as they submerge beneath the waves, becoming a creature of the depths once again. The XO has the sub turned to the south once they reach a depth where it’s hard to be detected using MAD (Magnetic Anomaly Detection) systems. Leonard sits in his chair with a thousand thoughts careening through his mind — none staying too long. At times, he has the sub brought to periscope depth and watches the shore of the Washington coastline pass by. The moon’s rays reflect off of the waves crashing on shore.

After time, he rises. “I’ll be in my cabin. Bring us up to periscope depth where towns are marked and have the night watch look for lights. Wake me if you find anything.”

Mechanically ducking through hatches, he makes his way to his room. He kicks off his shoes and settles onto his bunk. Thoughts continue to race through his mind as he settles into a restless sleep.

Morning finds the Santa Fe sitting off the headlands protecting the Columbia River entrance. Leonard rises and splashes water on his face. Attempting to wipe the sleep away, he dons his shoes and heads to the control room.

“Anything?” he asks, standing near the periscope.

“There are a few ships sitting off the channel but no engine noises. It’s been quiet, sir.”

Leonard raises the periscope and looks over the world above their heads. Indeed, several ships tug on the end of their anchor chains against the incoming tide. They sit waiting for pilot vessels that will never arrive. The crew that once manned the rusting vessels has left in one fashion or another. The ships will now sit until their chains break and they are cast free, either to run ashore or be swept out to sea with the tide. Those that don’t run aground will eventually rust through and sink to the depths.

He briefly thinks of searching the ships for supplies — medical and edible — but pushes that thought away. There is little chance that any night runners could still be alive aboard the vessels. Any food and water they might have had would be long gone but the thought of a single SEAL Team searching the darkened corridors of an unknown ship, with even the possibility that there might be night runners onboard, sends shivers down his spine. They could stay and watch the decks for any emergence of night runners but he decides against it. Anything they might find would be unsubstantial compared to the risks.

The periscope slides down. “Prepare to surface,” Leonard orders.

The Santa Fe slides upward, breaching the surface. Water hisses down the black anechoic covered decks. The top watch scrambles up the ladder as soon as the conning tower clears the surface. Leonard and his XO join them shortly after the sub becomes stabilized. The sun has crested the far mountains, climbing into a blue sky. A coastal breeze brings a chill and a tangy odor from the cities lying just inside the channel.

“Bring us just inside the strait. Just far enough so we can get a look at Astoria. Slow and steady,” Leonard says.

He knows these waters are tricky. Not only are the currents difficult but the sands shift within the waterway and have to be continually dredged. No captain would bring his vessel into these waters without the skillful guidance of the river pilots. The engine kicks in and the sub slowly advances on the twin headlands. Riding the ocean swells, they pass the eerie, silent ships moored at the entrance. Entering the channel, they sweep by sandy beaches to either side.

The long motorway across the river, connecting Washington and Oregon, comes into view little by little until it begins its arch up to the tall bridge leading into the heart of Astoria. Leonard brings his binoculars up. The center span is missing. Looking at the channel beneath the bridge, he makes out parts of the superstructure poking above the water in places. The dropped bridge will make any further progress up the river impossible.

The docks and buildings of the small port come into view. Glassing the area, he sees nothing that looks amiss with the exception that another span of a bridge to the west has also been dropped into the chill waters below.

“Park us here in the channel and blow the foghorn.”

The loud, low-pitched sound of the foghorn resonates from the hills and sweeps across a town mostly hidden by trees and rising terrain. Leonard keeps his eye on the docks and streets for any movement. There is no doubt that anyone here would hear the low, mournful cry of the signal. Like the towns he saw lining the shores of Puget Sound, the streets remain empty. He has the horn blown again and they wait for an hour. Nothing.

“Turn us around and take us out of here. Set a course for Seaside,” Leonard says and climbs down the long ladder leading into the control room.

Sitting in his chair, he feels the heel of his boat turning. Looking at a chart of the seaboard, he notices that there are few towns they will actually be able to see. Most reside in ports and bays which aren’t visible from the sea. The ports themselves are mostly fishing ports with entrances between rocky breakwater jetties. There is no way he’s bringing his boat into those. They just won’t fit, and the currents there are even trickier than the Columbia River entrance. Seaside, as its name implies, is one of the few towns residing right on the shore.

If things look okay when they arrive, he’ll send Chief Krandle in with his team to have a look around. His concern about his crew deserting extends to Krandle and his team as well. He’ll just have to take his chances with them though as he’ll need them to go ashore at times. He admits he had some reservations about Krandle upon his return from the mission in the Philippines. The story he told upon returning was a wild one and caused some disbelief because it was so far-fetched. However, events have since proved him right and he feels he can trust him. He’s glad the chief decided to stay with him instead of going with Walker. Leonard isn’t sure he could continue with his plans if the chief and his team weren’t aboard. He knows his regular crew isn’t prepared to handle themselves if they have to go ashore. They don’t have that kind of training.

He rises and leaves control of the sub to the XO. His destination is the crew mess where he knows that Krandle and his team usually hang out. Sure enough, they are gathered around one of the small tables sipping coffee and no doubt talking about what a fucked up situation the captain has forced them into. That’s usual when sailors or soldiers gather. Leonard would rather have them bitching. It’s when they stop bitching that any commander should start to worry.

The room is empty except for the six of them. They rise at his entrance. He waves them back into place and joins them. With the exception of Krandle, their discomfort is easy to see — their fidgeting and their eyes wandering off; their minds searching for any plausible reason to not be here. Leonard has seen them all, with having to use the head being the most popular. He wonders just how many of them are thinking that at this very moment. It’s funny how these men can face the dangers they do yet get nervous about sitting with a commanding officer.

I guess that makes me scarier than a camp full of terrorists, he thinks, watching as one of the men places his hands on the table and makes to rise.

“Sit your ass down, Speer. You don’t have to go to the head and you know it. The captain has graced us with his presence and you’ll sit through every minute of it…and enjoy it,” Krandle says, still looking at Leonard but with a smile in his eyes.

With a sigh, the man named Speer eases back down.

“I won’t make you cringe in terror too long,” Leonard says, looking at Speer. “I came to talk with you for two reasons. The first is that I owe you all an apology. I didn’t believe your story when you returned from the Philippines.”

“That’s understandable, sir. It was a rather wild one,” Krandle states.

“It’s both understandable and not. Regardless, events proved you correct so I apologize. The second is that we are heading down to the town of Seaside. I would like for you to take your team ashore and scout the area. It’s one of the few towns with which we’ll have the opportunity to do so.”

“When will we be arriving, sir?” Krandle asks.

“In about an hour.”

“So a daylight infiltration then?”

“Yes, chief. We won’t be doing any night operations if we can at all help it,” Leonard answers. “I’m sorry but I don’t have any information on the town other than it butts right up against the beach itself. If something comes up, get out and we’ll pick you up. We’re only going in for a look so don’t take unnecessary risks. As agreed to in Bangor, you have the right to decline.”

“Let us look over the town when we arrive. For now, you can count on us going, sir. We’ll make a final determination when we get a chance to see it.”

“Thank you, chief… gentlemen,” Leonard says. He rises and exits.

The captain rises and leaves the crew mess. The captain’s coming here rather than calling for him impresses Krandle. It is something he would never have expected. He knows they didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye before but also knew Leonard was a professional like him. They could work within those guidelines if nothing else. Personalizing the meeting was a long step for them to begin working as a team. Krandle feels better about his decision to stay onboard. He still hates subs but his dislike is less.

“Wait… did he just apologize?” Speer asks after making sure the captain wasn’t going to make another sudden appearance.

“That he did,” Krandle answers.

“About time,” Speer responds.

“Okay, guys, we don’t have a lot of time. Game faces on. We’ll treat this like any other infil. We’re not going in weapons free but watch your corners and each other. Any fire, we respond in kind and disengage,” Krandle says.

“I can’t believe we are going in during the day. We might as well toot horns and wave sparklers,” Speer says.

“You’d rather go in at night, Speer?” Franklin asks.

“Well, no. I’m just saying.”

“You guys done? I can go grab another coffee if you’d like to finish,” Krandle states.

“I’m good. Unless South Side of Chicago here wants to add any of his expertise or deep wisdom,” Speer says. Blanchard just looks at Speer and shrugs.

“Okay. We’ll pick a place to land when we see the town and ride the zodiac in. We don’t know the layout so we’ll check out the main places in town. It’s been a while since this went down so we’ll be looking for tracks or other evidence of survivors. This isn’t a search and rescue so we won’t be going into buildings. If no one comes out, we don’t go in looking. We’ve all seen what happens in them. We stay together. We’ll determine rally points when we glass the area. No matter what happens, we’re exfilling two hours prior to sunset. We’ll stay on button three and use channel four as our zero button. Now, I said we weren’t weapons free but if something is an obvious threat, we don’t hesitate. Apologize later. We all come back. Any questions?” Krandle briefs. There aren’t any.

“Okay, gear up and meet in the equipment room in forty. I’ll go topside to take a look with Franklin and meet the rest of you down there.”

Grabbing his gear from his bunk and locker, Krandle ventures with Franklin into the control room to wait for their arrival at the town of Seaside. The wait is short and they are soon following the watch crew up the ladder. The quarters are tight on top with everyone up but, by allowing only one person to breath at a time, they manage. Krandle looks across the expanse of water at the town abutting the shoreline.

“Seaside, eh? Original name for a coastal city. The town’s founders weren’t very unique,” Franklin comments as he too looks at a magnified view.

“No, but it looks like a nice vacation spot,” Krandle replies.

The city itself is right up against a pristine beach and stretches along the entirety of it. To the north, a waterway empties into the sea. Krandle notices a murky line of sandy water extending out to sea from the entrance indicating a strong current. Across the river, the beach continues on with residential houses set back a distance from the nearly white sands. The city looks to be mostly residential with cabins and smaller houses occupying most of the waterfront. He spots only two high-rises in the entirety of the town. They are two larger hotels next to each other bordering the long strip of sand. A dark line of wet sand shows near the small, cresting waves, indicative of a low or receding tide. This confirms the tide table information that Krandle looked at prior to climbing the steep ladder.

“What do you think?” Krandle asks, lowering his binoculars.

“Well, I would pick next to the river as that is the least populated, but that’s out due to the strong current. The shoreline north of the river looks unpopulated, but who knows how long it will take to navigate around the river into town. Same reasoning for the south shore,” Franklin answers.

“So, right up the middle?”

“As much as I hate to say it, yes. We just won’t have time to land to either side and get into town for a look-see.”

“That’s my thinking. The guys aren’t going to like it much. Hell, I don’t like it much,” Krandle says.

“We could always say no.”

“I know. It doesn’t look that bad. We haven’t been ashore since all of this went down and I’d like to have a closer look for myself.”

“Curiosity and the cat you know,” Franklin comments.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Good thing I’ve only used five lives so far. Plenty to go with some to hand out if needed.”

Turning to one of the watch crew, Krandle asks him to inform the captain that they are a go.

“Up the middle? Are you insane?” Speer says upon hearing the plan. “We might as well toot horns now.”

The ship’s foghorn reverberates through the hull. For a moment, the team stands silent and then all break into fits of laughter. Well, all but Speer. He just stands staring at the hatch above.

“I was only fucking kidding,” he says.

Gaining enough breath to speak, Krandle tells the team that the captain wanted to sound the horn to see if anyone responded.

“It’s not like they wouldn’t see us coming anyway,” Krandle ends.

“Why didn’t we stay with the captain guy in Bangor? I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have launched us at the middle of an unknown town,” Speer says, readying his gear for the climb up.

“This was my call for the landing zone and you know it,” Krandle states.

“Yeah, sure… whatever.”

Krandle is used to this from Speer and takes it in stride. Speer’s sarcasm is usually directed at Blanchard so Krandle is happy it’s just Speer bitching. He knows once they are underway, this attitude will vanish and it will be all business. This is just Speer’s way of dispelling anxiety. Everyone has their own. Some teams joke around, tease, tell lies about their own sexual prowess and/or their teammates lack thereof. With this team, it’s everyone listening to Speer complain about one thing or another.

Speer isn’t too picky about his grumbling. One time he went on and on about how sea crabs were going to give them all away. Apparently, Speer believed the beach they were going in on was a breeding ground for a particular type of crab. He swore that command knew this and was out to get them because they picked that spot for landing. He came up with all sorts of facts and figures putting the number of crabs there at enough to completely cover the beach. Speer was certain that them having to walk over the crabs was going to make enough noise to give them away. Upon landing, not a crab was seen.

In an absolute episode of chattiness during a break, Miller commented, “Crabs damn near ate me alive. We were lucky to get off that beach.”

“Fuck you, Miller. They don’t come out at night,” Speer replied. It was unknown to any of them whether Speer actually realized he defeated his own previous argument that the beach was going to be full of them upon their landing.

“The only crabs you know about are in your pants,” Ortiz said, chuckling.

“Got ‘em from your sister,” Speer said.

“Hope you had fun with that, amigo. She weighs almost three hundred pounds.”

Krandle smiles at the memory. They finish getting their gear ready — waterproofing their radios, mags, and sealing plastic bags over the suppressors and barrels. Making their way topside, the team opens the storage locker on deck, removing the zodiac and readying it. They are soon in the water zipping their way toward shore.

Crouched low on the gunwales, they ride the ocean swells. The rubber craft, with its silent engine propelling it, rides up the back of each wave, crests, and then angles downward to the valley, sending small sprays of salt water outward. Krandle sees the shore ahead as they rise up on top, losing sight of it as they descend the slopes. The tall structure of the hotel in the middle of a stretch of houses appears in the center of his vision each time. And, at the summit of each ridge of water, it grows larger.

Feeling his M-4 against his chest with each bounce and smelling the tang of the sea, Krandle sees the small breakers loom ahead. He feels his heartbeat as his body is keyed up on adrenaline.

No matter how many times I’ve done this, it never gets any easier, he thinks as they approach the breaking waves.

In some ways it does get easier but in others, more difficult. Each and every time, he knows he is bucking the odds. He also knows that he would be keyed up even if it was only training.

Hell, who wouldn’t, it’s just fun zipping through the water like this, he thinks, listening to the hiss of the boat riding the open water before focusing back on the upcoming landing.

Each time the town comes into view, Krandle looks for movement or winking lights that would indicate someone doesn’t want their company. They reach the first of the cresting waves. The rubber craft slews side to side as they enter the rougher water. Krandle feels a lurch as the propeller has a hard time gaining purchase in the turmoil of a wave, but they are soon through it and riding up the next one.

The motor is cut and raised just prior to hitting the sandy beach and the craft glides up on the sand. The team instantly slides to the sides. Speer and Ortiz rush to the front to provide cover. Blanchard and Miller grab the front handles and, with him and Franklin providing cover to the sides, they rush up the beach with the zodiac in tow.

They rush past sand volleyball courts set up in front of the large hotel and make for a concrete wall with steps on either side leading upward. Krandle hears only the sound of the team’s boots digging into the soft sand, the hiss of the zodiac as it is dragged across the expanse of beach, and his own heavy breathing. Reaching the tall wall, they drop the rubber craft and stack against the retaining wall.

There’s little sound as the team removes the wrappers from their weapons and mags. In an instant, they are ready. It’s all quiet except for the soft rush of small waves rolling up on the wet sand and an occasional cry of a gull as it soars lazily, riding the light breeze. Paper rustles at his feet as wind blows through debris piled against the retaining wall. Feeling the heat radiate from the wall with his shoulder pressed against it, he crouches in the silence, listening. There aren’t any shouts of discovery, footsteps pounding on the hard surface over their heads, and better yet, there aren’t any gunshots aimed in their general vicinity.

“You know, chief, we could just leave. Grab a vehicle and head inland to look for our families,” Speer suggests.

“That’ll be enough of that kind of talk, Speer,” Krandle replies.

“I’m just saying, the longer we wait to go look, the less chance we have of finding them.”

“We may get that chance later, but for now, we’re staying, so stow it,” Krandle says.

“Okay. I gotcha. Know that I’m with you regardless. We’re all thinking it and it had to be said,” Speer comments.

“Well, it’s said and now you can drop it,” Krandle responds.

The very same thought has passed through Krandle’s mind a time or two. Thoughts of his family have surfaced several times and he hopes they are okay. That’s one of the major reasons he is now crouched on this forlorn beach — the desire to see firsthand just how bad things are. Even though he and his dad haven’t seen eye-to-eye on occasion, and haven’t really talked in some time, he would like to know that the old man is okay. His mom passed away some time ago from cancer; so it’s just the old man and him. He knows he won’t set off to look for him, though, as he feels a responsibility toward his men and those of the sub. He’s never shirked his duty and won’t now.

“What now?” Franklin asks after they wait several minutes to see if there is any response to their landing.

It isn’t like anyone with a view of the beach doesn’t know that they are there. Anyone in town would know the sub is here after the captain blew the foghorn. This isn’t like their other missions where they would hole up in hiding to see if they had been discovered during their infiltration. In those times, they would fold into the densest growth they could find and wait twenty minutes to see if they had been discovered. When the normal sounds of the area began again, they would relax, release the aerial support, and continue.

“We need a map of the area. I’d like to check out the hotel, police station, and any hospital that might be in the area. Those are places people would most likely hole up,” Krandle answers.

“You know, chief, hotels normally have maps of the area in those little wire racks. You know, the ones that hold those tourist brochures and stuff,” Blanchard states.

“Good idea. Okay, the first stop is the hotel to see if we can find a map. Watch your corners and windows. Speer, lead us out.”

“I thought we weren’t going into buildings,” Speer says, rising.

“The racks are usually just inside the lobby,” Blanchard says.

“They better be, answer-man,” Speer replies, walking slowly along the wall toward the steps.

“Relax, Speer, we won’t be going inside that far,” Krandle says.

“That’s comforting.”

Hugging the wall while climbing up the stairs, they reach the top. A paved promenade extends along the beachfront. A wide road adjacent to the hotel leads from the walkway into the town. Speer takes a quick look and darts across to the corner of the hotel. With a thumbs-up from Speer, the rest of the team follows. Spaced apart, they then start up a sidewalk with weapons aimed outward at the neighboring buildings and up covering the windows of the hotel above; each covering an assigned sector based on their position in the line.

Approaching the front of the large hotel, Speer turns. “Do you smell that?”

Krandle noticed it as the offshore breeze swept down the street. He’s smelled it a few times in the past and it never boded well. It was the stink of death. The moisture of this coastal area would have made for a prolonged decaying process. If he understood the timeline Captain Walker described, any who died here would have died months ago.

If it’s like this now, I can’t imagine what it would have smelled like before, he thinks as they round the hotel to the front.

“Keep moving,” he says.

They come to an alleyway-like passage between the resort and a multi-story parking structure. The temperature drops as they enter into shadows cast by the garage. All is quiet in the confined space except for their footfalls echoing faintly off the concrete walls to both sides. It’s eerie walking through the shaded avenue of a seemingly abandoned town. Krandle can almost hear the sounds of what it should have been like — the hum of people talking as they strolled down the sunlit sidewalks to the beach with souvenir bags swinging at their sides, the sound of cars passing on cross streets, the high-pitched laughter of kids rising momentarily, a dog barking on the beach as it waited with tail-wagging enthusiasm for a Frisbee to be thrown. The contrast between what it should have been like and what it is now gives the place a more eerie presence.

Stacking next to the entrance, they notice that a large pane of one of the entrance doors is broken, contrasting sharply with the other grime-covered glass doors. Very few of the glass shards are outside with most extending into the dim interior. The overhang above the entrance and the adjacent garage prevents much reflected light from entering inside. Residual light extends only a few feet in before it fading quickly into an inky darkness.

Krandle peeks inside and spots a wooden rack next to the reception desk. Light colored brochures sit upright in their slots, barely visible in the gloom.

“Speer, you and I are going in. The rest set up a perimeter around the door,” Krandle says.

Speer nods as the others face outward, quietly setting up in a semi-circle around the entrance. Krandle nods and Speer darts inside going immediately to the left. Krandle follows on his heels going right, feeling the increased chill as he flows into the dim interior. They move along the walls sweeping the area with the barrels of their M-4s. Speer whispers ‘clear’ before penetrating too far and being swallowed up by the darkness. Krandle ensures his area is clear and joins with Speer.

“I don’t mind telling you, this place creeps me out,” Speer whispers.

“For once I’m with you.”

The interior has the kind of stillness you seldom encounter. It’s like being inside of a vacuum — all sounds removed. No, not the clean your floors kind of vacuum…but the deep space kind. The darkness feels like it has substance. Their whispers seem to travel only inches before meeting resistance and dying away. Krandle has the feeling that if he started walking into the utter blackness beyond, he would find it increasingly difficult to move until the gloom became unyielding and he couldn’t take another step forward. The darkness would completely envelop him.

Afraid to utter a single sound, Krandle puts his fingers to his lips and points to the stand a few feet away at the edge of the shadows. Speer nods and slowly edges that way, checking his foot placement before taking the next. Krandle feels his heart racing as they inch across the linoleum, each step taking them deeper into the interior. Keeping his barrel aimed at the impenetrable shadows, he creeps alongside Speer, expecting something to suddenly emerge from the ink as if the darkness released its hold. That’s just the feel the place has. He’s been in hundreds of abandoned buildings before and he’s never encountered something that’s even come close to this feeling. Of course, humanity hadn’t died off and been replaced by cannibalistic creatures either.

Time seems stretched — the seconds becoming minutes and the minutes, hours. They’ve only been inside for a couple of minutes but he feels like hours have passed. Each step should be bringing them closer to the stand hosting the local attraction brochures but it still seems the same distance away.

Get a hold of yourself, Vance, he thinks with a small shake of his head. You’re letting your imagination run away. This is just an unlit building.

A faint, slithering sound comes from the murk ahead; so faint it is barely audible and so quick that Krandle isn’t sure he even heard it. However, he’s been in enough situations to know that ‘something’ makes all sounds and to never discount one just because it stops. Something made this one and therefore something is here.

“What the fuck was that?” Speer whispers, being just as quiet as the sound. Krandle shakes his head slightly and points once again to the stand.

“I’m telling you, man, something is in here with us. I can feel it,” Speer breathes, taking another step.

The tension matches the thickness of the darkness as they sidle up to the rack. Krandle understands the warning the captain gave them about going into buildings. The sound of bare feet slapping on the linoleum from within the gloom is sudden, startling both him and Speer. Krandle tracks the sound heading quickly from left to right. A loud, high-pitched shriek erupts, breaking the stillness and filling the interior with its intensity. More shrill screams join in from other parts of the hotel but, as yet, nothing has become visible.

“That sounds exactly like those motherfuckers in the Philippines,” Speer says.

“They are. Grab as many as you can and let’s get the fuck out of here,” Krandle shouts, hearing more footfalls heading their way. His barrel waves in the air toward sounds that are still swallowed up in shadows.

That will change very soon, he thinks, listening to the sounds drawing quickly closer.

His finger is on the trigger waiting for something to appear. The steps are becoming increasingly louder and coming from all parts of the interior. Shrieks continue to beat against his ears, seeming to shake the very walls.

Krandle’s radio crackles. “Are you guys okay?” Franklin asks.

“We’re coming out on the run,” he replies.

Krandle looks at Speer who is grabbing handfuls of brochures one-handed, stuffing them into his pockets while keeping his eyes and weapon on the unseen sounds. Many of the pieces of paper fall through his grasp to land on the floor, some gliding away riding on a cushion of air.

“That’s enough. Go, go, go!” he shouts.

Speer takes off like he was launched from a slingshot. Krandle backs away quickly keeping his M-4 trained on the interior. A ghostly face flashes at the edge of the darkness and vanishes. As the seconds tick by, the room increasingly fills with screams.

“You’re at the door,” he hears Franklin say behind him.

The crunch of glass underfoot is barely audible above the screams filling the hotel. He feels more than hears it and is relieved when his feet contact the concrete walkway outside. The shrieks still ring loudly in his ears but become more subdued as he steps completely outside.

“To the street,” he says to the waiting team.

He and the rest of the team streak down the alley, their boots ringing off the walls. Krandle knows Walker mentioned that the night runners couldn’t come out in the daylight, but he didn’t exactly describe what he meant by “daylight”. Krandle isn’t going to take the chance that shade is fair game for the night runners to venture into. He wasn’t going to stop until he reaches actual sunlight. Their journey out of the alley is significantly shorter than their one into it.

Reaching the road at the other end of the shaded avenue, they halt and turn, half expecting night runners to be on their tail or at the entrance, Krandle doesn’t see a soul. The only thing in the alley is a piece of paper tumbling end over end by a breeze along with several brochures that fell from Speer’s pockets. Even the shrieks have ceased. A blanket of silence descends once more.

“How the fuck did they know we were in there? We were like ghosts, man,” Speer says once they ascertain they aren’t about to be assaulted.

“Captain Walker mentioned something about their ability to smell things out,” Krandle answers, remembering the ghostly image of the face, a picture that will haunt him forever.

“That’s just not right,” Speer comments, fumbling in his pockets and withdrawing a handful of brochures.

“So, one of you two want to tell us what happened?” Franklin asks. Krandle relates what happened from his perspective.

“I guess that means no more going into buildings,” Franklin states as the others shake their heads in disbelief.

“I know you won’t find me going into any more. That was freaky as fuck,” Speer says.

“We’ll evaluate each situation as we come to it, but yes, I’m inclined to adopt that strategy,” Krandle replies.

With the rest of them maintaining a watch and with eyes stealing to the hotel entrance periodically, Speer begins looking through the papers he retrieved.

“Okay, boys and girls, there’s a lot to see and do, but we have to choose carefully as we won’t have enough time to see them all. We can walk the historic promenade and see a statue of Lewis and Clark, go to the arcade or aquarium, or take in the many shopping venues. Oh wait, there’s also the historical museum or we can have a romantic getaway. They all sound so appealing that I’m having a hard time deciding. Hmmm…there’s a Hood-to-Coast thing hosted here, whatever that is. I don’t know. What do you think we should do first, Dad?” Speer says, rifling through the cards as if on vacation. Quiet chuckles emit from the team.

“Go fly a kite, Speer,” Krandle says, knowing exactly what is coming next.

“Oh, it says we can do that here,” Speer replies, handing a brochure over.

“Just find one with a decent map on it,” Krandle says, looking warily down the alley.

His heart is only now slowing to the point that it feels like it’s actually a beat rather than an electric Gatling gun spitting out thousands of rounds per minute. Speer unfolds one that has all of the town’s attractions on a map that encompasses the entire inside of the tri-fold pamphlet.

“I think we can rule the hotels out,” Krandle says, looking at the map. “That leaves the police station and hospital to check.”

They creep through the silent, downtown streets. There are some cars parked along the side of the roads, all of which have sand piles built up against the tires. That and the dirty windows indicate they’ve been there for a while. Several of the shops, mostly of the touristy variety, have their windows broken out. The rest look like they haven’t been acquainted with Windex in some time rendering them opaque.

Speer is on point with the rest of the team spread at intervals. They alertly and warily proceed down the wind swept streets. Speer gets Krandle’s attention, pointing to a vehicle in the middle of the road ahead. It appears to have slammed into the side of a motor home. A body lies spread in the road adjacent to a car with the windows broken out.

Signaling the rest of the team to hold, Krandle walks ahead and crosses the street. Drawing nearer to the body, he sees that it has been there for a while by the small drifts of sand piled up against it. Something doesn’t look exactly right and, as he approaches, he sees what is wrong. Almost the entire body is skeletal with most of the skin and tissue missing. Hair clings to parts of the skull and the bones are only held together by strips of dried ligaments. The legs of the jeans have been shredded, leaving them looking like a deeply stained pair of shorts which are loosely wrapped around the waist. Shoes and socks barely adhere to the stripped clean body. Pieces of decayed internals lie in the rib cage mixed with sand and other small pieces of debris.

Looking to the vehicle, he notices the shredded remains of a red t-shirt wrapped around the rear wheel and partially covered with sand. Disgusted, Krandle steps up to the car and peers inside. Glass litters the floorboards and the front seat and rear seats. Another body in the same condition as the first lies stretched across the center console from the passenger to the rear seat. The longer, brown hair lies in a tangled mess across the rear seat. Lying along the rear seat, partially hidden under the dirty mop of hair, is a smaller body — obviously that of a child. The stained, torn, and shredded remains of a summer dress lies in a heap on the rear floorboard.

Krandle envisions what the final, terror-filled moments of this family must have been like. It must have been at night if they were indeed attacked by night runners as it appears they were. They may have been fleeing from the chaos around — a night filled with the horror of night runners attacking. Running down the hallway of the hotel, hearing the shrieks of night runners and the high-pitched, terror and pain-filled screams of others. No one understanding what is truly going but chaos reigning everywhere. The parents racing down the stairs to escape, fearful for their daughter. Making it outside into the darkness of the night where only hours before they were enjoying a vacation at the beach. The run to their car with the images and sounds of others as they flee through the streets. Jumping inside the car and perhaps feeling a margin of safety thinking they might actually escape the madness, only to be brought up short here in the road. The sudden appearance of the motor home and hitting it. Quickly surrounded — screams filling the car from both outside and inside, fists pounding on the windows, the absolute terror for your family and not able to move the car. The horrifying sound of the glass cracking and giving way. The knowledge that there isn’t a damn thing you can do but still fighting to the end. Being pulled from the car with your family inside shrieking in terror. The pain of the night runners tearing into flesh. The mom’s last lunge to the rear seat to protect her daughter.

Fucking heartbreaking, Krandle thinks, shaking his head and walking away from the horrible scene of death. This exact thing must have been played out millions of times across the country…across the world.

They leave the downtown area and enter a residential district as they slowly head toward the police station marked on the map. It’s more of the same — broken windows and busted doors. They see a few more bodies lying in the taller grass of overgrown yards, in driveways, and porches.

In order to reach the station, they have to cross the river that bisects the town before it empties into the sea. Barricades have been set up across the road and multiple bodies lie before them. Upon closer inspection, Krandle sees these are fully clad with decayed skin still intact. Through the decay, several injuries are obvious. A few other bodies lie on the other side of the barriers but these are naked and have been stripped like the family at the car. Several handguns and shotguns lie near the desiccated and stripped bodies. The handguns have the bolts in the locked back position indicating empty mags. It definitely carries the look of a stand being taken and lost.

Crossing through the barrier, the team picks up the weapons and searches for ammo amongst the tattered clothing strewn about but without luck. The police station comes into view a few blocks later. The parking lot has a few cars and pickups parked haphazardly within it as if they pulled in quickly and the occupants rapidly disembarked. Looking to the department entrance, Krandle sees that the glass doors have been broken in. Like at the barriers, several clad, decayed bodies line the area in front.

Setting the team in a perimeter around the lot, Krandle steps around the bodies to the doorway. Just inside, lit by radiant light flowing in through the doors and windows lining the room, sits a small lobby with a glass-shielded reception area. Splashes of dried blood coat the walls and the glass covering the reception window. Two skeletal remains lie on a floor covered with glass shards. A hallway leads from the room extending farther into the building. A short distance down it, the light dims and fades into blackness. Dark smears streak the tiled floor leading down the corridor.

Krandle pauses for a few moments listening for anything within the structure. Hearing nothing, he calls out, “Anyone here?”

Stepping in quickly, he retrieves another handgun lying against one of the far walls. It too is empty but he pockets it along with one other he picked up at the barricade. This building too holds the scene of terror-filled moments leading to a last stand. It feels like the very walls breathe the memory of the night and wishes to tell the tale. It’s a story that will be carried by this place for a long while to come. Not wishing to relive the last moments of those within in his mind, he steps across the floor with glass crunching under his feet, and exits.

He relates his findings to the rest of the team. “You know, I’m with you whatever you decide, but do you think we really need to go to the hospital? It seems to me that we already have the evidence we searching for. This is a dead town,” Franklin says.

Krandle looks toward at the sun which lies almost directly overhead, casting a knifepoint shadow from the flagpole mounted near the station. The attached flag stirs occasionally as each breeze passes through. The fact that it is still up indicates that the madness started during the day and there was either no one around to take it down before sunset or they were too busy. There were obviously other priorities to attend to.

“We still have quite a bit of daylight left. It’s not that far, so let’s at least go take a look. You never know,” Krandle responds.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Franklin says.

The fact of the matter is, Krandle agrees with Franklin’s assessment, but he is having trouble wrapping his mind around the whole situation. He thinks seeing more of it will hopefully allow everything to settle in. He knows the parameters and new rules of the game but that is different than having his mind comprehend it. It’s eerie walking through an empty town. Well, that is empty of people. The event at the hotel showed that they aren’t exactly alone here. The Philippines, seeing the night runners running through the streets of Seattle, and now experiencing it close up truly brings home that they are living in a different world. The words of Captain Walker play in his mind and he sorts through each and every one of them trying to gain every ounce of knowledge he can as they walk through the hushed streets.

The trip through the rest of the town is much the same — broken windows and a few bodies of both night runners and the skeletal remains of people that Krandle suspects were eaten. The hospital itself presents an even more chaotic scene. The parking lots are filled with cars. In one lot, most of the cars are burned-out husks. The remains of a helicopter lie on its side in the midst of the pile with one of its rotors broken off and pointing skyward. A helipad sits nearby. To all appearances, it looks as if a life-flight helicopter crashed into the cars while either trying to land or take off.

Journeying warily around the building, he notices that several of the glass doors have been broken into like many of the other buildings they’ve visited. Remembering Walker’s words about night runner signs, he knows that the hospital has been overrun as well.

“Okay, ladies, we’ve seen enough now. Let’s go home,” Krandle says.

The team is silent as they make their way back through town. Although alert, they are all in their own thoughts. The reality of what the world is like now has been brought home and they each are dealing with it in their own way. The feeling is a melancholy one — almost depressing — as they trudge through this once summer vacation town. They pass the family in the car that almost made it — although for how long they would have, who knows.

At the beach, Krandle signals the sub that they are on their way. Leonard briefed them that he would remain at periscope depth with the radio antenna extended in case they ran into trouble and needed a quick extraction. The team grabs the Zodiac and reverses their process down to the water. The tide has come in a fair ways since they came ashore so the trek across the soft sand isn’t nearly as long.

They enter the water and Krandle takes a last look at the abandoned town. There isn’t much to see from his vantage point, mostly the retaining wall and beach. The volleyball nets hang limply, billowing with each breath of wind that blows through. The beach, which would normally be marred by thousands of footprints digging into the soft sand, is smooth with the exception of the two drag marks made by the Zodiac and the trails left by him and his men. Normally, they would have carried the Zodiac aloft and erased their tracks both in and out. However, they weren’t trying to hide their presence. Krandle knows that in a few more days, even those tracks will vanish with the wind and this town will be left solely to the night runners.

They push the rubber craft into deeper water and board. The motor is lowered and they are soon powering their way through the small surf for their rendezvous with the sub. The way out is a rougher ride as they have to go against the waves. The craft hits each rolling wave with a splash before riding up and over it. They are soon out of the surf and into the swells. As with the surf, going against the swells makes for a more turbulent ride, but the Zodiac manages it with ease. Ahead and slightly to the right, against the lowering sun, Krandle sees the conning tower of the sub rise out of the rolling waves. With water streaming from its surfaces, it rises higher until the lower deck is barely above the surface. They drive the Zodiac onto the deck, cutting off the motor and lifting it at the last moment.

Stowing their gear, they drop below deck and feel the sub immediately begin a slow descent into the depths once again. They change out of their wet gear and Krandle briefs Captain Leonard on what transpired onshore. Leonard listens and then asks a few questions, some of which Krandle can answer and some that he doesn’t know the answer to. There are many more of the latter than the former. In some instances, Krandle speculates but tells the captain that it’s only a guess based on what he observed.

After talking with the captain, he returns to the mess. The team debriefs, each member sharing their perspectives of the mission.

“So, here’s how we do it differently from here on out. We don’t leave without NVGs and we run each operation with the contingency that something may happen and we could have to remain overnight. That means we are to be constantly on the lookout for something we can fortify quickly and we pack as much ammo as we can. No matter what happens or what we find, we begin making our way to the sub planning to arrive no less than two hours prior to sunset. And here’s the biggie, we do not enter into darkened buildings unless absolutely necessary. And by absolutely necessary, I mean never,” Krandle says, finishing the debrief.

“I’m so with you on that. Not even if Blanchard here was on fire inside of one and needed me to piss on him,” Speer says.

“Get some rest. I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing a lot more of what we did today,” Krandle says, rising.

The sub heads farther out to sea before turning south toward its eventual destination of San Diego.