A New World: Sanctuary (10 page)

I pull up to the front of the store, staying back from the covered drive-thru area by the front doors.
 
Four sets of double glass doors, two sets on the left and two on the right, with two large panes of glass between them, make up the front entrance.
 
A small foyer exists inside with a second set of entrance doors identical to the first ones across a small tiled vestibule.
 
My heart leaps into my throat looking at the entrance.
 
Shards of glass litter the wide concrete sidewalk; one of the large panes of glass is broken and very little glass remains in its frame.

“That’s not good,” I say as we all gather on the pavement by the drive-thru.

The familiar pattern of faint footprints, marked by dried blood, lie on the light gray sidewalk, disappearing as they hit the darker gray pavement of the drive.
 
My heart sinks at the sight.
 
I have brought everyone to this place and now it seems like it is occupied.
 
The size of the building makes me believe that multitudes lie within.
 
We have yet to find signs like these into a building where hordes of night runners haven’t lain within.
 
I feel at a loss as to what to do.
 
Thoughts enter of retiring back to the aircraft for the night and the sanctuary it affords.
 
Yes we will have all of the teams available but the risk is great.
 
Looking at the store, I still think this gives us the best option given its size and limited entrance.

“I was really hoping we wouldn’t see something like that,” Gonzalez says, “but, sir, we’ll clean ‘em out right quick.”

I am really thankful for her support and mark of confidence.
 
A quick gust ruffles my clothing and then is gone.
 
The scent feels clean, carrying only the odors of the surrounding grass fields and the evergreens farther away.
 
I am thankful the breeze wasn’t coming from the direction of town as it would probably carry an entirely different scent.
 
We’re here so we may have to fight for our place of refuge.
 
If it gets too bad, we can retreat and find another.

“Thanks.
 
I needed to hear that,” I say turning from the building and the implications the broken glass and footprints indicate.
 
“Henderson, Denton, stay here with the others.
 
Robert, Gonzalez, McCafferty, with me.
 
Bannerman, would you get a measurement on the front doors?
 
We’ll want to put the pull-down security doors on both the inside and outside of both sets of entrance doors.
 
Keep in mind the possibility of using the armory doors in the future.”

Attaching the throat mic and with my “new” M-4 cradled in my arm, I head off to tour the exterior to get an idea of what we are looking at.
 
The building is basically a large rectangular structure with reddish - brown, wooden sides giving it the look of an enormous log cabin.
 
A river-rock wall about three feet high is built up along the sides.
 
Looking by the entrance doors, I notice that the wood and rock wall is built against a sturdier concrete structure.

Robert is at my side, with Gonzalez and McCafferty tailing behind, as we round the first corner.
 
Walking along the long side of the structure, we come across the double glass doors of the side entrance set approximately at the mid-point.
 
The doors are intact and unlocked.
 
This is handy as it will give us the option of having an immediate second exit or entry point for when we go inside.

“Bannerman, there’s another set of doors along the side that I’d like you to measure when you finish,” I say into the radio.

“Will do, Jack,” he responds shortly after.

We continue along the side and round the corner to the shaded rear of the structure.
 
A large, enclosed overhang is set against the building.
 
I nod in appreciation.
 
I was hoping to find this.
 
Walking to the enclosure, I see the open part is secured by a chain link fence across its entirety with a double gate set in the middle.
 
The gate is padlocked.
 
Behind the fence, bolted onto a concrete pad, sit two very large generators.
 
Both have large tanks with a green diesel placard plastered on the exterior.

“Would you two mind heading back and drive one of the Humvees over?
 
Grab the bolt cutters and you’ll find a couple of green hoses in the back of the Jeep.
 
If you could grab those, I’d be most appreciative.
 
Oh, please grab the gas cans there as well,” I say to the two women dressed in black fatigues and tac vests.

“Sure, no prob, sir,” McCafferty says and they trot along the back and disappear around the corner.

“What do you think?”
 
Robert asks referring to the generators.

“I think they ran out of fuel.
 
It could be that the lights might have been left on inside judging from the unlocked doors.
 
If not, then we can check and see if they at least work.
 
Wherever we go, we’ll need power,” I answer.

“Hey, Dad,” Robert says.

“Yeah,” I respond continuing to stare at the mammoth diesel engines.

“Thanks for including me and letting me be a part.”

“You may not thank me later, but you bet,” I say turning to put my arm around his shoulder.

“Do you think this place will work out?”
 
He asks giving a small nod toward the store.

“I really hope so.
 
We may have quite a fight on our hands clearing it out.
 
I’m not a fan of its open interior and with it having the second story open to the bottom.
 
We have plenty of teams and so, if we play it right and do it smart, we should be okay,” I answer.

I hear the sound of birds chirping in our vicinity before the noise of an approaching vehicle overrides their calls.
 
The Humvee appears at the corner and is driven up over the curb.
 
Gonzalez brings the vehicle to rest a few feet from the fenced-in generators and both women jump out.
 
Opening the rear, McCafferty extracts bolt cutters and the hose while Gonzalez hoists the two metal gas cans.
 
The silver-colored padlock is cut off and the gates swung open.

I step into the enclosure and tap down the sides of the tanks.
 
The hollow sound follows my tapping down to the bottom of both tanks.
 
Empty, as I thought.
 
I reach up and unscrew the cap on the top of one tank, inserting a metal pole sitting by the side.
 
It comes out with a miniscule amount of fuel on the bottom.
 
The second tank indicates the same.
 
We siphon a few gallons from the Humvee, filling the gas cans a few times and emptying their contents into the dry tanks.
 
Resealing the caps, I hit the green “run” button on the first generator.
 
The generator cranks for a moment, coughs and sputters, and then comes to life with a roar.
 
I test the second generator and it follows the same process.

I head over to the side with the noise from the generators fading as I round the corner.
 
Bannerman is by the side doors, measuring them, with the others standing a short distance away.
 
I walk in front of the glass doors and peer in.

“Crap,” I say with my head still pressed against the glass and my hands cupped around my eyes.

“What?”
 
Roberts asks.

Darkness still reigns inside although I’m able to see the green exit lights glowing above the entrance doors far to my right.

“The lights are still off,” I answer pulling back from the door.

“Do you have the measurements?”
 
I ask Bannerman.

“As best I can,” he replies.

“Okay, let’s head out front.
 
I’ll turn the generators off and meet you there,” I say.

With our original group, I return to the generators and hit the red “off” button on both of them.
 
They sputter and die.
 
Closing the fence and putting the padlock through the gate, we reload the gear and I send Gonzalez and McCafferty to the front with the Humvee.
 
Robert and I continue around the rest of the exterior, finding only three large service bay doors that are closed and locked.
 
I do note that the roof is flat but cannot see any easy way up from the outside.
 
Gathered at the front with the others, I notice windows set into the second story.

I point to the windows and tell Bannerman, “We’ll need something to cover those.”

He looks up.
 
The windows appear to be a regular size and are set into the wall on either side of the entrance.

“I think bars might be best for something like that,” he says.
 
“Maybe a set on both sides.”

“Good idea,” I tell him.
 
“Hopefully they’ll have something like that at the same place where we find the doors.”

I get the phone book we secured from the weather shop and open it to the yellow pages where I found the security door manufacturer.
 
I take note of the address.
 
The rays from the sun cast a shadow from my finger across a map of the city as I find the location and trace a route.
 
I look up towards the western sky and judge the travel of the sun across the light blue sky.
 
We have quite a few hours of daylight left but it doesn’t feel like it.
 
I look at my watch and see it’s a little after three in the afternoon.
 
I figure we should have enough time to get the doors and be back before Lynn shows up.
 
Providing everything goes well that is.
 
I would like to leave those without training here but don’t want to leave the scant few I have with me behind to guard them.
 
You never know what the circumstances are at the location or what we may run into and I’d like to have every able body with me just in case.

“Alright everyone, let’s mount up,” I say.

Slumping into the Jeep seat, the invigoration I felt earlier is beginning to fade, being replaced by an oncoming tiredness.
 
The warmth of the day, although much cooler and less humid than the previous days, is adding to a feeling of lethargy.
 
O
h for a peaceful night of sleep
, I think starting the vehicle up.
 
I hear the other vehicles crank up and we backtrack to the Interstate.

We drive down the black-topped road, take an exit south of town and on subsequent country lanes that eventually lead to a medium-sized metal pre-fabricated building set behind a chain link fence.
 
I come to a stop by the short, dirt and gravel driveway leading in.
 
A wide open dirt-filled yard, with scrap pieces of metal scattered and strewn about, encircles the structure.
 
A couple of rusting trailers sit in one of the corners of the yard and three large panel vans are parked towards the front.

The gate to the facility is open making it easy to drive up to the entrance.
 
The blue metal building is plain but large.
 
Two windows and a white door adorn the right side of the building with a large roll-type, garage door in the middle.
 
All are shut and the place looks vacated.
 
It has a quiet, desolate feel to it.
 
With our engines shut down, that feeling only intensifies.

A warm breeze blows through causing the dust to eddy about the abandoned yard, giving it its only life.
 
The dust twirls upwards forming a small funnel and moves across the abandoned yard.
 
The others exit the vehicles after the swirl of dust passes out of the gate like a customer leaving.
 
The air is calm following the short dust storm, settling into the warm summer day once again.
 
The rays beat down from a sun hovering above the top of the trees across the road.
 
For once, time seems to stand still in this little lot.
 
Not a breath of air stirs or sound is made.
 
It’s like we stepped out of the world we were placed in and into a separate piece of reality.
 
Even the degree of tension about the time seems to have ebbed.

The feeling of separation from the rest of the world suddenly vanishes and we are left just standing in a dusty, litter-strewn lot with an aging, prefabricated metal building in the middle of it.
 
Clumps of brown grass grow among and around where the larger metal parts have been scattered.
 
The others in our group are standing adjacent to their vehicles in much the same manner; perhaps feeling the same way, perhaps lost in other thoughts.
 
I think there are times of great stress when the mind just has to rest itself.
 
Or maybe when it’s about to embark on something of great stress.
 
I certainly remember folding into another world prior to a mission but that was more on a conscious level of focusing the mind; eliminating distractions that may interfere with being centered.