Conspiracy

Taps

For the second time this day, Michael is awakened from his slumber. This isn’t the panicked waking that the previous one was, but more of something that gradually pulls him from the dream world to the waking one. He is groggy at first and rolls over to fall back asleep, noticing many of his pack within the large interior are restive as they too have come awake. His eyes open as he realizes there are images of pain and fire entering his mind.

He pushes himself to a sitting position. The low noise of his pack jostling around the interior increases. Many rise to a sitting or standing position as the images fill their minds as well. Waking more, Michael reaches out and knows instantly the images of fear and death are coming from where Sandra’s pack was. He senses, through the minds of the distant pack members, the explosions that are rocking the lair. He also senses the agitation that is sweeping through his own pack.

Fear of the unknown thing that is tearing the lair apart emanates strongly from the far pack. Flashing images of individuals running through the halls to escape. Multitudes are running randomly, hoping to escape the fire and destruction. Floors and walls rock, knocking many off their feet. Images of plaster falling from the ceiling enter Michael’s mind. Other brief pictures are of entire hallways disappearing in a tumult of falling debris. Members from the far pack vanish from his mind, never to return.

Shrieks from Michael’s own pack echo as they share in those images. Some run around the interior as terror from the distant pack enters their minds. Michael’s own fear is mixed with frustration because he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to send some message that will help, but he doesn’t have a clue as to what that should be. The faraway lair is coming apart and he doesn’t know why. He does have the deep sense that the two-leggeds are responsible but has no idea how. The only thing that comes to mind is that thing that deals death from the night sky.

With the images storming into his mind, Michael looks up at the ceiling far overhead. He dreads that the destruction he is witnessing in his mind will come to his lair next. If it does, there is no place they can go. Heading outside into the bright, painful light is certain death. Thankfully, the lair that is being destroyed is some distance away. He anxiously stares at the ceiling while the other pack vanishes from his mind by the tens and then the hundreds. Soon, there is not a single flicker of life left that he can sense.

The rest of his pack settles down after the last of the images fade from their minds. They feel his apprehension and huddle in corners or in groups, waiting for the same to happen to them. Whimpers and moans fill the vast, darkened interior of their lair and Michael wonders what Sandra has brought upon them. He thinks, belatedly, that he should have killed her when he had the chance. Whatever destroyed her lair is far more than he can deal with. Michael no longer thinks of his place as a sanctuary. He thinks again that he and the two-leggeds can’t inhabit the same area. The answer, however, remains elusive — run or attack?

Time passes without the concussive noise or destruction arriving. Michael begins to relax, and the pack eventually drifts back to sleep. Even though the other pack didn’t come close to the numbers he has, he knows numbers won’t mean a thing if the lair is attacked like that. Sandra’s demise and the way the two-leggeds accomplished it escalate the danger of them. The destruction of the lair, and in such a short period of time, intensified this feeling ten-fold.

“Dad, turn um… to 210 degrees. I’m picking up something on the thermal. It may be nothing, but it’s the most we’ve seen so far,” Robert says over the intercom.

We’ve been running a grid search, but in a seemingly random pattern for the last hour. The pattern is random so that, if there is someone on the ground, they won’t know we are searching for something. We’ll appear to be on a training flight. If we were to crisscross the area, it would become abundantly clear we were in an active search mode. We need to hurry though, as there isn’t much time before we need to head back for Allie’s ceremony. The sun is lowering and will hit the horizon soon.

I turn toward the heading given by Robert. I don’t want to head directly at what he found as that would be obvious as well.

As we near the area, I look to the monitor and see where Robert has zoomed in. On the screen is a standard looking farmhouse with an attached garage, complete with an oak tree in front providing shade and an equipment shed and barn nearby. Switching to the thermal imaging, I see what drew Robert’s attention — a heat signature emanating from the garage. It’s faint but there, and brighter than anything else we’ve found. It’s lucky today is cooler or we might have missed it entirely. Of course, it could be anything, but any heat registering would have to be something; either a sign of some other survivor(s) or from the team we suspect is in the area.

“I’m picking up some tire tracks in the driveway,” Robert reports.

Switching back, I look at the zoomed displayed image. There is a definite disturbance in the dirt driveway. It’s hard to tell if they are definite tire tracks, but something has disturbed the otherwise smooth surface.

“Keep an eye on those buildings,” I say, setting an orbit around the small farm.

I radio base to update them and have three teams head south with the rest placed on standby. I don’t know if we’ve actually found anything, but if we have, I want to be ready to hit it quickly. Only three teams are sent since I don’t want to leave the sanctuary undefended considering what has happened. We may have only found some random heat source, and the suspected team may actually be closing in — if there is anyone at all.

Looking down, I study the setup. The house itself is far away from any others and a ways outside of Olympia. It’s nestled in a small valley amongst the hills of the Capital Forest. There don’t appear to be any fortifications, but this seems like a place that would be devoid of any night runners. It looks to be a calm and peaceful place that I’m sure was someone’s dream home before the world went to shit.

“Vehicle emerging from the barn…make that two,” Robert calls out.

On the scope, I see two vehicles charge from the barn. The first barges through the flimsy barn door with a second one emerging on the heels of the first before the splinters of the wooden door have finished falling.

“Permission to engage?” Robert asks.

The vehicles appear to be Humvees painted in a woodland camo pattern.

This surely has to be them, I think, watching the vehicles make a dash for a road leading deeper into the forest.

The actions surely indicate this is who we are looking for. I’m not sure there would be anyone else who would, one, make a run for it with us flying overhead, and two, be driving military-style vehicles.

I take a second to answer as the Humvees draw closer to the wooded area.

“Permission granted,” I reply.

We can’t afford to let them get away. We’ve already lost one valuable team member to them and can’t afford that they might take another shot at us.

I sense more than hear the 40 mm cannon open up. The ground around the lead Humvee erupts in a flurry of dust and smoke as the rounds strike around it. The vehicle flips over frontwards like it hit a tripwire and lands on its top, skidding to a stop after a short distance, its wheels spinning in the air.

A second later, I hear Robert issue the order to engage the second vehicle. Another flurry of dust strikes send it into a sideways skid.

As the dust settles, I hear Robert, “We have two runners from the second vehicle.”

Tracer rounds streak downward from the 25 mm Gatling gun. Again, the ground is chewed up around first one, and then the second runner. Through the thermal imaging, two bodies lie unmoving on the hard-packed earth. Dust slowly settles to the ground around the bodies and vehicles, but not another thing is moving.

I contact Horace to inform her of our contact and give her the coordinates. She informs me that she and two other teams are about twenty minutes out. We continue to circle and monitor the house for any further movement. From all appearances, we won’t be asking questions of the sniper’s teammates.

With Horace due to arrive in five minutes, I have Robert direct a single 105mm shell into the house and another into the barn. The house and barn fly apart from the concussive hits from the howitzer, scattering wooden shrapnel into the yard and surrounding fields. If there were others inside, any info they may give is not worth the risk to our team members. We have the one shooter and have lost enough for one day. If we didn’t already have one to garner info from, I may be thinking differently. And, if we hadn’t lost Allie, I might also try to capture another. However, her loss has hit me hard. Every life is valuable. We can’t afford any losses if we are to survive.

We circle looking for any others that may be below. A line of dust rises as Horace and her column of vehicles turn onto the dirt road leading to the small farm. They dismount away from the ruined house and barn with the weapons of the Humvees and Stryker she brought trained on the structures. They approach and start going through the wreckage, finding nothing of value.

They take a cautious approach toward the destroyed vehicles. Without taking any fire, they search the vehicles, finding five dead and two badly wounded but unconscious. They go through the wreckage without finding anything of value, gather the bodies, and return to base. We search without finding anything else by the time we need to return. Horace calls a short time later and informs us that the two wounded have succumbed to their injuries.

The warm but humid day becomes chilly by the time we arrive at Cabela’s. The mood is somber as the crew of the Spooky and I walk into the main building. Milling quietly, the others of our compound have gathered on the first floor. Near the front doors, a casket resides on several sawhorses. Inside lie the bodily remains of Allie, her soul having already departed to her next destination. Seeing the casket, I wonder if it’s just a small matter of time before we all meet a similar fate…are we just operating on borrowed time? Is this thing we are doing, trying to survive, just the last dying gasp of humanity? Drescoll stands close to the concealed casket, staring down at it. His eyes are unfocused and it’s obvious his mind is miles away.

We quickly stow our gear and return. Drescoll hasn’t moved and is still lost in his own mind. Lynn walks to him and places her hand on his shoulder. He gives a subdued start and turns his head slowly. His red-rimmed eyes meet hers and she whispers something to which he gives a slow nod.

Lynn quickly bathes and returns. Someone hands her a bite to eat, which she gladly accepts. The filth that covered her has been removed, but cleaning up and having something to eat can’t hide the gauntness that remains. It is obvious that she’ll need time to regain her health.

Gonzalez, Robert, Henderson, Denton, Lynn, and Drescoll take positions around McCafferty’s casket and lift it onto their shoulders. They proceed solemnly out the front doors, the rest of us following.

The funeral procession makes its way to our small cemetery — Allie’s final resting place. Seeing the markers and the hole dug for McCafferty, I hope we won’t have to place any others here prematurely. Our endeavors must be so that this place remains uninhabited except for when it’s our own proper time to leave. Although this world truly sucks, it’s the only one we have and we must endure.

As Allie is placed on a bier set over the open grave, the feeling of grief once again grabs hold of my heart. After all she’s been through, to find an end in this way just doesn’t seem right. I hear the echo of her ready laugh in my mind, a picture of her grinning at some joke made after an operation, her game face as we embark on yet another operation. Her small stature contained an overly large heart that held no fear. She hung in there during the grimmest moments. One picture emerges of her smiling at something said at dinner, her eyes shining with the same joy. She loved the camaraderie of the team and was loved by all in return. She will be sorely missed.

The others of our small group of survivors begin making their way to arranged seating. Allie’s dad is standing off to the side staring blankly at the flag-draped coffin. With his head hung low, Drescoll makes his way to a podium. I hear him sniffle and wipe away a tear.

“I really don’t know what to say,” he begins between sniffles. “Allie was a true angel…(sniffle)…who had the biggest…(sniffle)…of hearts.” Tears begin to stream down his face. He attempts to scrub at them, but they fall faster than he can wipe them away. “I’m sorry…(sniffle)…She’s going to be…(sniffle)…missed…”

I walk to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, you grieve and I’ll talk. I just hope my words can give her the honor she deserves.”

Drescoll nods and walks to the casket, his back to the crowd and places his hand on the polished wooden surface. Before turning to the gathered crowd, I see his shoulder begin to shake with grief. Allie’s dad, also weeping, rises and joins Drescoll on the other side of the casket.

“Friends, we gather at a very sad time to give our final respects to one of our beloved. How do I even begin? How do we say goodbye to someone that we can’t believe is gone? How do we say farewell to one that was with us heart and soul?

“Allie was with us just a short time but impacted the lives of everyone she came in contact with. It was impossible to remain down when she was around. Her ready smile brightened the day, and she gave us strength when times were hard. Allie, you were taken from us too early and you will be grievously missed…”

I have tears in my own eyes by the time I finish. Seven rifles fire three times, each report sends a note that Allie is truly gone…that she will be with us no more. After the final shots echo into the distance, a solitary bugle plays Taps, the sound drifting forlornly over bowed heads. Soldiers rise and come to attention, saluting a fellow companion. The skies overhead threatening rain reflect the gloom and sadness we all feel. I can’t hear Taps without tears forming, and this time is no different. The hot tears streaming down my cheek are a direct contrast to the chill of the dying day.

The services end and everyone silently makes their way to our sanctuary. I watch them depart, thinking that, in this new world, it seems that for every gain, there is a corresponding loss. For Lynn’s return, we lost Allie. We can’t seem to get a leg up on things. That needs to change soon or we are in for trouble. If it’s not the night runners, it’s our own kind. As for the night runners, they seem to be advancing at every turn. Standing at the podium, with my pant legs whipping in the wind, I hope that we aren’t in for any further surprises. We can’t afford it from either a personnel or psychological standpoint.

I join Drescoll and Allie’s dad who maintain their silent vigil. I think to provide some consolation but I’m not any good at that. Still, I want to tell that I’m sorry and that I understand their pain. But what can you really say to anyone that has lost a loved one? There really isn’t anything that can alleviate the pain and sorrow.

I’m about to put my hand on Drescoll’s shoulder and hear him whisper, “Why did you have to leave, Allie? Why? I don’t want to be here without you…”

I back away. This is a time for him to grieve. As I turn to leave, I hear him say, “I will really miss you.” He leans down and kisses the casket.

He turns and we lock eyes. “I’m really sorry. I know there isn’t anything I can possibly say that will alleviate the pain and sorrow you’re feeling. I would love to tell you that time will heal the grief and somehow make it better. The truth is that time only makes it more bearable but, it does make it bearable. I’m not going to say that I understand what you are going through because I’m not you. But, just know that I’m here if you need…for anything,” I tell him.

Through his tears, he nods and makes his way toward Cabela’s. Allie’s dad runs his hand lovingly along the casket and departs as well. Red Team, Lynn, and I are the only ones left and we ease Allie into her final resting place.

Drescoll walks across the hard-packed ground. With his heart filled with the pain of grief, the chill of the evening is lost on him. He and Allie had only known each other a short time and were together for an even shorter one. That doesn’t change how he feels…the depth of his affections. Once they began talking, it just seemed natural and right for them to be together. Each time they had a chance to be alone with each other, life had more meaning and everything seemed so much brighter. He didn’t want those moments to ever end and, should time decide to have frozen then, he would consider himself fortunate.

Now, he is walking back to a place that seems darker. He has never been one for relationships and didn’t mind being by himself. Now he has never felt so alone. He knows Jack’s words were meant to help, but his thoughts are running in a confused jumble. In his heart, there is a small part remaining where he doesn’t doubt Jack’s sincerity and care for the people. It’s why he cautioned Jack in the first place not to place himself in danger all of the time — the group needs him. But, he constantly placed Allie in danger and this is the result. She took a bullet meant for him and Drescoll isn’t sure he can ever get over that.

He now understands Jack’s initial anger toward him over Nic’s death but, at this moment, he doesn’t know if he has the strength to forgive. Allie was his everything, his world, his reason to continue in this miserable hell, and now she’s gone — the light of his life snuffed out.