A New World: Reckoning (21 page)

“Okay, what about if we drop some in a line leading to the east. That is, after we drop the bridges. Would that help guide them around us?” Bri inquires.

“That could work, or it might not. If we understand the night runners at all, or if they thought like us, I’d say that would have a small chance of working. If you ask me, I’d say the odds are slim and we should keep the supplies for ourselves, especially as we are most likely losing the DCs to the north. However, what do I know? We could try something to see if it works after we blow the bridges and after we establish a supply line with the DCs to the south,” Bannerman says.

“Okay, let’s look at what we need to do in the immediate future. During the day, we’ll gather as much as we can from Lewis and the DC with the timeline set for completion being ten days. By that time, we’ll be back from hitting the compound and we’ll hit the bridges. Bannerman, if we can spare the crews, we’ll have more teams available in three days. They can escort crews down to locate and begin establishing what supplies the southern DCs have. Also, see if we can set up a safe fuel farm here with pumps to stir the fuel. I know there are at least large fuel bladders for remote refueling at McChord. If we can’t set up a fuel farm within the allocated time, then load up what we can with the bladders and we’ll just have to make the extended trip around for more fuel. For security, we’ll be relying on the ones coming out of Phase Two, of which I believe Tim and his group are a part. We can also ask Miguel if he and his group can help.

“Another option, if we have the people to spare, is to begin burning as much as we can between the night runners and us. At night, we’ll hit the southern fringes in the hopes that it will delay any further advances south. That and our ongoing preparation for hitting the bunker is going to keep us pretty busy with little rest. We have to make sure we get some, though, as we can’t hit the bunker tired. We’re going to need every faculty we can bring to bear. When we return, we’ll see where we sit and blow the bridges,” I say, attempting to bring all that we’ve said into a larger plan.

“You’re pretty confident about us taking out the bunker,” Lynn states.

“Is there any other way to be?”

The next morning, before the teams head off to their training, and before we head to conduct another low-level, Robert and the others who were bitten drive away with two teams providing security. Lynn and the remaining teams stand nearby on the edge of the parking lot, making it look like some stunt or circus show. I feel a little uneasy with so many around watching, but most of this will be done in silence which eases my self-consciousness some.

When the group stops about ten miles out, they radio that they are in position. We open up, and I can immediately sense their direction and distance. The physical and emotional intuition of their presence is gone, but I can pinpoint them and we are able to communicate mentally. At twenty miles, I have to push farther outward but eventually sense them.

They drive to thirty miles and I only have a vague impression of their direction. However, oddly enough, we can still communicate. Robert comes in more clearly than the others, but I can mentally send and receive messages. The mental effort is tiring after a period of time, especially trying to sense their physical presence, but it’s doable for short periods. I imagine it will become easier with time and experience. This sort of communication seems only marginally affected by distance, at least the distance we are working with at the moment. At some point, we’ll have to test what the limit is, but for now, we have a busy few days ahead of us and I call them back.

Once they return, Lynn takes the teams and they proceed to our equipment hangar for their day of training. I have one last thing to try before we leave. I ask Robert to try with Julie once again. This time, I open up both the night runner side and the one I share with Robert and the others. I stay open until Robert returns, shaking his head. I didn’t sense anything coming from his mom. A thought runs through my mind wondering if I would have been able to sense Alan before he let the night runner horde in. That falls too far into the ‘what if’ so I let go of that train of thought. With that, we plan the day’s flight and depart.

That evening, I study the new photographs that Frank provided of the exit tunnel building and surrounding fields. There is, in fact, only one camera over the door guarding the approaches. I spot numerous undulations, shown by the shadows, which I will be able to use on the fence approach. I prepare the camera systems that Bannerman has supplied and practice, both with the fiber leads and coaxial.

Over the next several days, Phase Two training ends and we assign them into teams. More supplies arrive, Lynn spends the day training with the teams, and I continue to orient Robert and Craig to flying low level at night, complete with them doing numerous night approaches and landings into our little field. Lynn also spends time with Tim as he’ll be in charge of base security with five additional teams. The nights are spent hitting the night runners on the southern fringes and commencing night low-level training. It is days of endless training filled with periods of rest only to start again the next day. At the end of the fifth day, we are ready.

We opt to take an extra day in order to rest and recuperate. We go through the same motions as the previous days so as to not interrupt our routine, which is most assuredly being watched. However, it’s only motions, and most of the day is spent relaxing. The afternoon is spent loading the gear that we’ll need into the trucks housed in the vehicle hangar, including a copious amount of ammo. Bannerman, in all of his genius and magic, has managed to acquire all of the supplies I asked for, which will make my task much easier.

We spend part of the evening going over the plan with the teams again; covering scenarios, signals, and other ‘when shit goes wrong’ eventualities. We forgo the meeting, and the others drop by at times to wish us well. At first light, we’ll be on our way to Portland where hopefully, the hangars will provide enough security that we can hole up for a couple of days before we embark. That will give us more time to train and run through the scenarios as a whole.

Morning arrives. As I lace my boots, I feel that familiar pre-mission anxiety take over. All of our gear is already loaded. The only thing we need to do is grab a quick bite to eat and be on our way. While addressing our small group of survivors the night prior, I pressed that we needed to keep the morning activities as they were the previous days so, there wasn’t to be any farewells or waving of hankies. We needed to keep it business as usual.

With my boots laced, I meet the other teams gathered in the cafeteria dining room. The smell of bacon, eggs, and toast waft from the large kitchen area. Oddly, as I fork eggs into my mouth, I find myself staring at the floor where I killed the female night runner when we took this facility. I remember vividly the look of her eyes as she gazed upward. Severely injured and wracked with pain, she stared at me with eyes filled with agony. I see clearly the look of welcome relief that flooded through them just before I fired.

Lynn nudges me in the ribs, shaking me from my remembrance. She merely looks at me before returning to her plate. Our early morning breakfast is conducted in almost complete silence as each team member is lost in their thoughts. There is only the sound of forks scraping across plates or a glass being set down. It’s not a solemn atmosphere, nor a depressed one. It’s more one of serious intent.

Finishing with our meal, we make our way downstairs. Despite my saying something to the contrary, most of the group has gathered downstairs to see us off. There isn’t any cheering or heroic speech. There are just a few pats on the back as teams members file past, with a few words of quiet encouragement thrown in. I walk past Robert and Michelle embracing near the front doors and out into the early morning light.

Cold air sweeps across the lot, and the light of the dawn touches the pavement. I was never one to look back and wonder if it was the last time I was going to see a certain place, but that thought momentarily enters my mind. This isn’t going to be a walk in the park and, when we return, we’ll still have thousands upon thousands of night runners north of us to deal with. Mostly, my mind is on the teams and feeling nervous for their safety. I know I have a couple of days before we set out in the 130 from Portland, so the cold nature of an impending mission doesn’t fully descend upon me as yet. I just hope we’ve done our homework and the assumptions we had to make prove to be true ones.

The light of the dawn grows as we walk across the field toward the vehicle hangar. The silence we experienced in the dining facility matches the quiet with which we march through the brown grass. The only sound is the stalks as they rub against the pants of almost a hundred legs and the sound of that many boots marching across the hard soil. We gather in the hangar and loiter for a while, trying to simulate the same thing the teams have done every day for the past six days. It will be difficult to conceal the trucks leaving but hopefully, if the other group is watching, they will see that it is only a supply run when the trucks return this afternoon. The hope is that they will miss that the seven teams marching into the hangar don’t return.

After an hour, we load into the covered supply trucks. Three of the trucks will be taking two teams apiece with a fourth taking myself, Red Team, Robert, Bri, and Craig. Red Team will be going in light on this with Robert and Bri having to fly the 130.

The truck lurches forward out of the hangar. Even though we have a couple of days before heading east, the jostle signals that the game is on. Up until I first put my boots on the ground, we aren’t necessarily committed and can pull back, but, once that happens, we’ll have no choice but to move forward—or at least I won’t. With the exception of a few shared words, we maintain our silence during the trip down, our bodies only occasionally jostled while our thoughts tumble incessantly.

In the back of the truck, as we make our way south, I can feel the nervous energy emanating from those riding with me. Of course, it could just be mine.

Will the hangar provide enough security for us to stay two days, or will we have to embark when dusk arrives?

If we have to leave this day, then it is what it is, but it will feel rushed. From the moment our wheels leave the ground, we’ll be continuously engaging from one phase to the next. It would be nice if we had a little break before we set out. That will enable us to have more training and gear the mind better toward what we are propelling ourselves into.

Part of me worries about my end of things; whether I’ll be able to circumvent the security measures that I run into. I have an idea of what I may encounter within the facility; I’m drawing from previous experiences, but it’s only a knowledge of usual security measures. This could easily end in one giant clusterfuck.

Being stuck in the enclosed back end, it’s difficult to gauge our location. We have the back panels closed so I can’t see any of the familiar landmarks. The drive seems to be taking forever. I’m surprised when we finally pull to a stop and I hear the crews riding in front hop out. Soon after, I hear the sound of what I assume are heavy hangar doors opening on their metal rollers. The truck doors shut and we start forward once again, driving into the hangar.

Once we’re given the all clear, we quickly scramble out, quick being relative as my knees don’t seem to want to straighten again, and unload our gear. Quickly looking around, the hangar seems like it will provide a secure location for us to hole up in. There are only the large doors and one other exit leading into the building. Thick paned-glass windows rest high across the main doors and along the upper sides of the hangar. They are out of reach of any night runners, unless they’ve developed the ability to fly, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point.

The crews that drove us turn the trucks around in the immense open area of the hangar and park them in open view just outside. They begin grabbing anything they can find and start loading it into the back of the vehicles. While they are doing this, we gather at the rear of the hangar in order that we won’t be seen at an angle from above.

In order to simulate a supply run, the crews take a couple of hours to load the trucks. It’s mostly for show, but they do their best to make it look like a supply run. Finishing with the hangar, they close the large doors and drive over to the only remaining 130 that was stationed at the guard base, open it up, and begin offloading anything they can find. With the afternoon setting in, they climb back into their trucks, leaving the rear ramp of the 130 open, and drive away. I hear them leave the ramp, fading until they are gone completely, leaving us alone in the hangar.

We gather our gear and secure the one door leading in. Lynn sets a watch schedule and we find places to settle into. There is only the light gray painted concrete floor which will make for some uncomfortable sleep times. Through the windows set in the doors, I see clouds gathering to the west in the afternoon sky. That’s a good sign, and I hope they bring rain with them. I also hope whatever system seems to be trying to make its way to us, that it stretches far to the east when it does. It would be nice to have cloud cover all of the way, as long as the ceiling isn’t too low.

We are now in the ‘wait’ portion of the ‘hurry up and wait’ mode that we all know and love. We have the night and two more days before our planned departure. In the afternoon glow seeping in through the windows, the soldiers break out several decks of cards and more than one backgammon board can be seen as we spread across the hangar floor.

Looking up at the tall, arched roof overhead, I know that we won’t have to worry about a significant buildup of heat within which could show on any thermal imaging systems that may be perched high overhead. I just hope that our ruse worked, although there’s really no way of telling until we land and set the first boot on the ground.