Sanctuary

The Rat’s Nest

I’m a little concerned that Lynn hasn’t shown up yet. We’ll have to clear this building or at least see if it can be cleared. We have enough people to do this but the inside doesn’t really support a section by section clearing. The open interior and the fact that a second floor overlooks the main floor won’t be an easy task if a multitude of night runners are housed within as the footprints seem to indicate.

I turn my phone back on and check on Kelly’s text. She wanted to know if I was on my way so I text back “soon.” While the others offload the equipment and lay them on the ground, I lean against the Jeep staring at the structure waiting for an answer or plan to spring forth. The only thing I know at this point is that it will be dark inside so the NVG’s and gear we picked up from the armory will be extremely useful. All of the nooks and crannies created by the rack of clothes and shelves of equipment scattered throughout the facility will make it very dicey to keep all angles covered. I wish I could tell better just how many are inside by the tracks near the door but that just isn’t possible. If they were made in the dirt or some other soft substance, then yes, but the fact that they’re all over each other and made with dried blood makes it a difficult task. I’m rather hoping they aren’t in the numbers they were in the CDC. If they are, then we are in trouble and might have to find another place. I was really hoping this would be easier.

A plan for the inside begins to form in my mind just as I hear the sound of approaching vehicles. Turning around, I see the nose of a Humvee cresting the hill on the long driveway. This is followed by a host of other vehicles behind. Lynn has arrived. I notice the transport trucks piled high with equipment as the convoy pulls up and parks in the large lot by the other vehicles. Doors opening and closing resound across the lot.

Lynn steps up and tilts her head to the side quizzically looking at me.

“You have blood on you. Did you go in anyway?” She asks referring to my promise not to go into Cabela’s without the rest of the teams.

“Nope,” I answer wiping my face with my arm once again. “Better?”

“Yeah,” she says and looks over at the doors by the Jeep. “I take it the building where you obtained those was occupied.”

“No, um, yeah,” I answer.

Lynn gives a soft sigh before saying, “Jack!? I can tell I’m going to have to be very specific in getting those promises.”

“Well, we needed the doors and really couldn’t wait,” I say. “Any word from Craig?”

She hangs her head and shakes it. “No, but I left a note by the aircraft before we left,” she says. I don’t say anything since there isn’t really much to say.

We stand in the afternoon sun briefing each other on the different events that occurred during the day. The search teams found five soldiers and six civilians holding out in various locations on the military installations. Lynn tells me they were all found individually in different places. That leads me to believe that some people are just holing up and trying to survive as best they can; not trying to go out and band together. I’m sure some are grouping together as was evidenced by the marauders at Brunswick but it also seems like others are not venturing out. We’ll have to search everywhere to find whatever survivors might be left. The night runners have strength in their numbers and I feel that will be a large part of our strength as well.

“What do you say we put the additional soldiers you found in a team with Greg leading them?” I ask Lynn after introductions with the newcomers are made.

“Yeah, I already thought about that but wanted to clear it with you first,” she answers.

“I guess we’ll keep with the phonetic designations as we seem to have run out of colors. I mean, I don’t really want to say magenta or lavender team over the radio. I’ll just flat out forget,” I say.

“Roger that. I think we’re up to Echo. What’s the plan?” Lynn asks.

“Well, there are obviously night runners that we’ll have to clear out of here,” I respond having told her of the tracks by the door. “Let’s get the team leaders together and talk over a plan.”

“Okay folks, this isn’t going to be a walk in the park especially if there are night runners in abundance inside,” I say to the group once the team leaders are gathered. “The inside is cluttered with small shelves and aisles scattered throughout along with clothes racks. This will make visibility limited in many areas and prevent clear lanes of fire for any distances. We’re going in with all of the teams and it’s important to listen up on the radios and keep the communication short. We need to keep the channel clear.”

Everyone nods their heads and I continue, “We’ll be going in with goggles on so that means all flashlights off. There are two floors with the second floor overlooking the first floor in the middle. There is also a large centerpiece on the first floor that prevents any vision to the rear of the store.”

I walk over and grab a notebook out of the Jeep. I notice Robert hadn’t joined us for the brief and isn’t with Red Team and wave him over to me. I am still not certain about taking him in but he has shown himself to be quite capable and I did promise him that he would be a part of Red Team. I want him to at least be at the briefing so he can learn. Centering on the group once again as we both arrive, I draw the basic layout of the store.

“Alright, the structure is rectangular with bathrooms to the immediate left and a small, enclosed snack shop against the right wall. Echo Team will enter first and cover the immediate front just inside the interior doors. Red and Charlie Teams will enter on your heels; Red covering the immediate left and Charlie covering right. I haven’t checked to see if the front doors are unlocked as yet. I know the side doors are. Cressman, would you go quickly check and see if they are unlocked?” I ask.

She stands and trots over to the front. I see the doors swing open as she pulls on each set. She then disappears quickly inside and emerges a few seconds later.

“Both the outside and inside sets are unlocked,” she reports on returning to our group.

“That’ll make it easier then. Echo, enter through the left doors and Charlie through the right. Red will enter on Echo’s heels. Alpha and Bravo Teams will then enter, Alpha through the left doors and Bravo through the right. Move past Echo and take positions in the middle to the left and right respectively. There is a large set of stairs leading upward to the second floor balcony to the left by the centerpiece. In addition, there is an escalator on the far left side that also leads to the second floor balcony. Don’t go past the second floor overhang on the entry side. Alpha, you cover the left side balcony and far side escalator. Bravo, you cover the right and far side balcony. Any questions so far?” I ask drawing the annotations and positions on the paper.

“No, sir,” everyone responds. I notice Watkins’ salutation. Perhaps him resorting back to habit in the tension of what we are about to embark upon.

“Okay. Blue Team, you’ll follow behind Alpha and take position at the foot of the first set of stairs and cover them. Delta, I want you to follow Bravo through the right, link up with Charlie and then you both move out to the right covering the right side under the overhang. Black and Green Teams, you’ll then move in and do the same for the left side. Once everyone is in position, Echo, move up to the centerpiece and cover the near-side balcony. Are we clear so far?” I ask pointing to the various positions and entry sequence on the drawn map.

The team leaders look up from the map and nod. I don’t bother talking about silence or the need to remain silent as I know it is next to impossible for fifty-four men and women to keep silent while deploying. That is one reason why recon teams are kept small. A small number of people can remain much more silent.

“After we’re in position, then Red Team will clear the bathrooms and Charlie will clear the small store to the right. Red Team will fold back to the middle and act as a reserve while Charlie meets back up with Delta. Following that, Black and Green Teams will head down clearing the left side of the first floor. Charlie and Delta will do the same on the right keeping in line with the others as best you can. Halt at the left and right corners respectively. If we don’t see anything at that point, then Black and Green Teams will sweep the back with Charlie and Delta pulling back out of the line of fire. All other teams will keep watch on your assigned sectors for them. We’ll cover the second floor sweep after clearing the first floor. Are we still clear on what everyone’s assignment and positions are?” I ask.

“Yes, sir,” the responses echo from all.

“Lynn and Drescoll, keep in mind that the side doors are open if you have to escape out that way. If that happens, then Red will move to the left and cover your area. Okay, go brief your teams and then we’ll do a quick walk through,” I say. We haven’t all worked together before so it’s important we get this down and start learning how each team and its members function.

With the teams together and everyone briefed, we walk through the entry procedure in the parking lot. The others not assigned to teams and the birds flitting about the area look on. Only, the birds don’t seem overly interested in what we’re doing. They are off performing whatever errands they happen have on this warm summer day. The afternoon breeze blows across the tall brown grass surrounding the parking lots. A soft whishing comes with it as it blows through the tall firs by the driveway entrance. I look across to the hills of the Cascades for a moment as we regroup and see that the air has become clearer even in this short time since our carbon footprint on this earth decreased dramatically. It’s not that I see them clearly but the purplish smudge they used to be, when you could see them at all, has become a brighter blue. They even look closer and Mount Rainier looms over the city with the sunlight gleaming off its snow-covered slopes.

“Lynn, would you see to it that everyone has been issued the latest gear?” I ask coming back to the moment.

“Already done, Jack,” she answers.

The next few minutes are spent going over instructions on the gear and how it functions. We don our earpieces and throat mics and each team member tests their radios. Loading up on magazines we head over to the front doors in team formations and line up at the entrance in order of entry. I stop at the shattered door on the left and listen for a moment. An occasional gust of wind blows, rustling my pant legs but does nothing to soothe the pounding in my chest. Pre-action jitters are racing through my body. Robert is by my side with the rest of Red Team and I have a tense feeling in my stomach about taking him in. Not a precognizant feeling, just a feeling of worry. We’ll be in the background in reserve for the most part so I’m not overly worried.

I don’t hear anything other than the sound of the wind against our clothes. The portion of the building in front of the doors is covered so light doesn’t penetrate far inside. The small foyer between sets of entry doors receives light from outside but the interior beyond is pitch black; a dark abyss. Charlie, Bravo, and Delta Teams are lined up across the entrance doors from us. I take a step back with Red Team following and allow Echo Team to take its place first in line by the broken glass door.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I say into the radio. “Go!”

A soft explosion of sound and movement follows my command as Echo and Charlie Teams enter through their respective doors and rush inside. The boots of Echo Team crunches over the broken glass on the ground near the entry doors. The swish of clothing grows louder as they proceed in as teams. The clink of metal on metal of sling attachment points moving adds to the soft rush of noise. Pulling my NVG’s down and turning them on, I rush in as the last member of Echo enters. Red Team rolls in behind me.

I spy Bravo Team entering alongside us. I rush through the second set of doors into the darkness. The interior shows crisply through the goggles; cast in a green glow. Echo has taken kneeling positions in line twenty feet in front of the doors. Their infrared aiming lasers reach out into the darkened building, waving from side to side as they search for any movement of night runners. Red Team forms next to them facing left and covers the area. I stand behind them and glance over to see Charlie set up in a similar manner on the other side. No explosion of night runners or their shrieks greets us. It’s all good so far.

“Alpha, Bravo, Go!” I say pressing the mic button at my throat. Another soft explosion of sound is heard as both teams enter and rush by Echo to take position further into the building. The structure stands silent to the assault within it.

Delta rushes in on the heels of Bravo, heads to Charlie, and they both head further to the right by the cashier stands. Black and Green rush immediately behind and past me. Their boots pounding on the linoleum tiled floor cease as they take up positions on the left. Thin beams of light move around the inside like a laser light show. The building falls silent except for the whisper of cloth rubbing; the team members moving as they search the interior. I feel like we have entered a long vacated and empty tomb.

Scanning the interior with the rest, I see the large centerpiece looming large in the middle. Created to look like a rocky hillside, stuffed animals of all kinds stand on and along its surface. Short shelving units, filled with an assortment of boating and fishing goods, cover the left side of the store creating a multitude of aisles and lanes. To the left front and right, clothing racks are crowded together limiting the visibility. Cashier stands are to our immediate right.

“Charlie Team, start clearing the small store. Delta, be ready to back them up. Red Team will be searching the bathrooms,” I say.

“Roger that, Charlie moving,” I hear Mullins respond.

“Okay, Red Team, let’s move,” I say in a whisper to the team just in front of me. “Robert and I will cover the outside, the rest of you go into each bathroom and clear everything. Remember, these night runners can be tricky so check everywhere. We don’t want to be blindsided.”

Red Team rises and advances down the short hall to the first door. Gonzalez, McCafferty, Henderson, and Denton ease the men’s door open and proceed inside. Robert and I keep an eye on the other door. They emerge a couple of minutes later and report it’s clear before doing the same with the women’s. We move to the center behind Echo Team. Charlie Team reports the food store clear a few minutes later.

“Alright folks, we’re moving up. Echo, move up to cover the near side balcony. Alpha, Bravo, move up alongside them and cover the other balconies. Alpha, don’t forget the far escalator. Blue, you have the near stairs. Move!” I say into the radio.

The teams move up into position with a swish of movement and the sound of boots on the hard floor; the noise unnaturally loud in the stillness. They take their positions seconds later. Seeking targets, pin points of light flash in every portion of the large building. Nothing moves in the green glow of our goggles nor does the air erupt with a symphony of shrieks. The tomb-like atmosphere prevails.

Making sure everyone is in position, I say, “Alright everyone, here comes the fun part. Lynn, Drescoll, start up the left side. Mullins, guide Charlie and Delta up the right. Go slow and cover everything.”

“Moving out,” Lynn responds.

“On the way,” Mullins says.

I look to the flanks and see the teams begin to advance down the sides of the first floor, making sure they stay under the balcony overhang. Both Green and Charlie swing further to the sides of the building in their respective areas.

“Everyone else, keep your areas covered no matter what unless I tell you different. Listen up on the radios,” I say as the teams penetrate further.

I monitor their progress while checking the balcony sides and far end; watching as they swing into small aisles or check between clothing racks. Their progress is slow but thorough. There is a whisper of wind blowing in the broken doors behind me. Other than a hint of movement from the side teams or the occasional “check that area over there” or “cover me” on the radio, the black abyss we have entered remains still. There is a tension prevailing within the silence. It’s not a matter of if night runners are in here but a matter of when they will show themselves or when we will find them. The signs by the entrance doors are unmistakable; our previous experiences have taught us that much.

The teams are a quarter of the way up the side when Cressman whisper over the radio, “Night runner on the far balcony, second floor.”

I look over and see it against the metal bar railing that encircles the balcony ledge. With both hands gripping the upper surface, the night runner is leaning against the railing peering down in the direction of Delta. Although invisible to the night runner, six laser points of light instantly focus on its chest and head from Bravo centering their weapons on it. The night runner lifts its nose in the air and begins sniffing; testing the air for our scent. It sniffs, looks around the area, and then repeats the process. It knows we’re here.

“All teams hold position. Cressman, take it out,” I whisper into the radio.

From the night runner’s behavior, it is pretty obvious it doesn’t know our exact location. I want it gone before it finds us and issues its shriek of warning. We’ll have to deal with them at some point but I would rather come upon them rather than having to fold back into defensive positions, especially with the limited visibility through the clothing racks. I would also rather not have a body just lying around waiting to be discovered but it is, once again, a matter of a certainty versus a probability.

I know the night runner in view will eventually scream out and, by the looks of it, very soon. The suppressors we are using aren’t the Hollywood “ptew” type of suppressors as those don’t exist. The length of the suppressor required for that would be like carrying a tank cannon. Yeah, try wielding that around. However, it does reduce the volume from a bang to a subdued pop. The M-4 isn’t a loud weapon as far as weapons go to begin with. However, it’s also not like it goes unnoticed, especially not in a silent room.

There was always weighing the danger of noise and needing to take out a guard in order to advance in times past. That is one reason why I always liked carrying a silenced .22 but then there was the danger of the round not being effective at distances. It was definitely a very close quarter’s weapon.

All but one of the laser points of light leave the night runner except one centered on the head. A soft “pop” is accompanied by the metallic sound of a bolt being blown to the rear and cycling, the mag spring pushing another .223 sub-sonic round into the chamber. The spent shell ejected from Cressman’s M-4 clinks across the floor, bouncing several times before coming to rest. The steel core round leaves the barrel with a flash of light and reaches out for the night runner, the bullet’s path intersecting with it split seconds later. The steel hits the lower jaw. It tumbles upward by the force of hitting the solid bone, the angle of the shot, and the fact that 5.56mm rounds are designed to tumble on impact. The mandible shatters and the now partially splintered round is propelled through the soft tissue of the roof of the night runner’s mouth, entering the cranium and exploding out of the top with a shower of blood. The air above it is filled with meatier chunks of flesh, brain, and shards of bone. The night runner dies instantly and staggers backwards before dropping from view. A hush resumes in the area with a faint smell of spent gunpowder lingering.

“Nice shot, Cressman. All teams, continue your movement,” I say after a moment of surveying the area and realizing we haven’t raised the ire of any night runners.

“Thank you, sir,” Cressman replies.

“That was louder than I thought,” Robert, standing beside me, whispers in my ear.

“Yeah, it’s always louder inside. Natural outside noise and a more open area always makes it seem quieter,” I whisper back.

Green, Black, Charlie and Delta make it to the half-way point towards the rear of the store when Cressman whispers once again in the radio that she has spotted another night runner, this one on the balcony above and to the right. I quickly halt the teams in place and snap my head in the direction she indicated. Again, several thin beams converge and dance on the night runner standing by the second floor railing on the right side. The gray-skinned creature, seeming to glow in my goggles, lifts its nose in the air and snaps its head to the right. It leaves the railing quickly and trots over to where the first night runner was, disappearing from view. All of this happens too quickly to issue a command to fire.

A loud shriek reverberates within the interior; the night runner has discovered its fallen comrade. Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later, I think waiting for events to unfold. Time comes to a halt. The last vestiges of the scream echoes throughout and a palpable tension grips the air. The release of adrenaline from the fifty-four soldiers standing and kneeling in various positions can almost be sensed. My own heart kick starts with a boom. It’s game time and the opening kickoff is away.

Choruses of screams suddenly erupt from the darker depths of the building; the first shriek, fading off, just a prelude to the rising symphony. The escalation of noise is like a ghostly crowd cheering a touchdown in an enclosed stadium; however, the sound is piercing rather than booming.

“Everyone hold positions and focus on your areas. Cleared to engage at will,” I say searching the upper and lower levels for movement; knowing it will not be long in coming.

“Night runners on the top floor,” Cressman calls over the radio.

I catch glimpses of numerous shapes darting from right to left along the second floor on the far side; possibly heading toward the escalator. A host of night runners suddenly appear at the upper balcony, both ahead and to the far right, pausing momentarily before vaulting the rail and leaping to the first floor. The sound of clothing racks falling to the floor or thrust aside rises out of the din of the yells. Flashes of light emit from Bravo Team as they begin firing into the night runners pouring like a waterfall over the balcony railing; the coughs from their suppressed M-4’s add to the many noises filling the interior.

Bravo’s rounds collide with the horde streaming over the railing, knocking many askew of their downward path but many more of the shrieking beasts reach the first floor unscathed. The loud coughs and metallic clinks of expelled rounds hitting the tile to their sides are continuous; the only pause of fire with each member is with the changing of empty mags for full ones.

“Delta, wheel left. They’re coming over the balcony edge. Charlie, cover to their rear,” I shout into the radio.

I see intermediate flashes of light coming from the right under the overhang as Delta begins to engage the host making it past the curtain of fire put up by Bravo. The flashes and an increase of sounds ring out from the right as Delta and Charlie find themselves under a sudden rush of night runners.

“Night runners on the first floor coming from the rear,” Mullins calls out over the radio.

The soldiers from Alpha start firing at night runners beginning to make their way down the escalator stairs to the left rear; with some vaulting down over the left side balcony.

“Lynn, orient to your right. Can you get an angle on the ones coming over the balcony?” I call pressing the mic button amidst this rapid and sudden onslaught.

“No. The stairs and a wall of some sort are blocking our line of vision,” she answers.

“We’re starting to get night runners on the first floor on the left,” Drescoll calls.

I see quick flashes of light bouncing off the ceiling in Lynn and Drescoll’s direction as they begin engaging night runners coming down the left flank; the sound of their shots add to the din of the battle. Night runners continue leaping over the railings on the right and the far side by the corner of the balcony. It’s a tide that Bravo Team cannot hope to stop and can only put a small dent into.

“Echo, peel off three to help Bravo,” I say.

I would divert more but the last thing we need right now is night runners dropping directly into our base of fire. Greg turns and taps three members of his team. They peel off and turn, joining Bravo Team and add their additional fire into the jumping masses. Thin lines of light extend out from Bravo into the avalanche of bodies. Some within the horde fall sideways with shrieks of pain and fall to the floor with hard thumps, injured or dead.

Alpha is pouring fire into the ones trying to get down via the escalator but their massed fire is holding the night runners at bay for the moment. The small amount of night runners that do make it over the side run directly into Black Team and are brought down. The muzzles of Blue Team covering the near stairs send their deadly projectiles upward as small groups of night runners appear at the top of the stairs. The wall of steel they lay down doesn’t allow a single creature to make it to the first step. The ones that appear at the top are propelled backwards, vanishing out of sight into the dark recesses of the second floor.

The laser aiming devices from Bravo and Alpha are steady as they fire into their appointed areas. The lights from Charlie and Delta wave around on the right as they seek out targets and defend themselves; the poor visibility from the numerous clothes on that side making it difficult to have clear lanes of fire. I see the same on the left with Black and Green Teams although to a lesser extent. The rapid development of the firefight and the limited visibility makes it difficult to determine exactly what we are facing on the first floor. The time from discovery to this point of determined defense has been short; only a matter of moments.

I would like to throw Red Team into the fray but am worried by what I don’t yet know or see. Becoming engaged will make us unavailable should something crop up that needs our immediate attention. If something were to happen and no one was available, our line could quickly fail and we could find ourselves trapped in small pockets of defense which could be easily overwhelmed. The carbines from the three Echo Team members remaining begin flashing at intervals as they keep our backside clear on the second floor. A body falls into view, dropping from the near-side balcony and lands in front of Red Team with a thud so hard it is both heard and felt. Red Team startles and all weapons immediately round to the body but it doesn’t move or rise from the cream-colored linoleum.

The surge of night runners flowing over the far railings is steady. We have walked into a hornets nest with hundreds of them in here. The short minutes of our fight seem both elongated and compressed. Night runners pile high on the escalator stairs as Alpha renders that area a deadly place to venture. The bodies tumble over the others as new groups appear, attempting to get down to us, and come to rest at angles on the metal stairs. Some fall all of the way down to the very bottom. Others slump as if they are taking a seat and resting on the cool aluminum and steel.

A few bodies have tumbled part way down the near stairs, lying sideways on the wide, light-colored wooden steps. Some lay face down with their arms outstretched as if trying to fly. One lies with its leg bent forward and its toes almost in its mouth; its femur broken either from the fall or an impacting round. Even in the green of the goggles, I see rivulets of blood running over the edges of the steps, where the night runners lie, and pooling on the steps below.

A faint haze hovers over our line from the volume of fire; not seen in clarity through my goggles but observed more as a blurring of objects. The firefight being waged inside our desired sanctuary is an assault on the senses. The smell of gunpowder fills in the air along with the reek of bodies being torn asunder. Internals are being ripped apart and exposed along with bowels being emptied. The sight of night runners pouring toward our positions and soldiers firing to stem the tide. The fine lines of light dancing about the green-lit interior and the sharper flashes of strobes. The loud coughs from over fifty carbines firing and their echo off the concrete walls mixes with the shrieks and howls of the multitude of night runners. Shouts from the soldiers of “reloading,” “to the right” or “to the left” and other commands or warnings rise above the din.

A loud, human scream issues from the right side over the interior noise. This is followed immediately by another high-pitched scream but definitely human, or rather non-night runner. I walk to the right behind Red Team to get a better picture of events over that way, telling Robert to stay in position. I see a lot of the clothes racks have been thrown to the floor and night runners moving quickly through and over them as they hit the floor from above and launch themselves towards Delta and Charlie Teams.

From my new vantage point, I see some of Delta and it appears they have correctly oriented themselves towards the middle of the building and the night runners leaping from the overhead balcony. The night runners are almost among them with more pressing hard behind those in front. I see a surge among the mass and another scream of pain and fear rises above the noise.

“They’re in amongst Delta. They’re being overrun,” Mullins shouts over the radio.

Standing by the cash register stands, I see heads from a dense mob of night runners over the clothing racks that remain standing. They are in the area where Delta had been positioned and surging toward Charlie. Some of the heads disappear below the stands and I assume those are dropping to where the some of the members of Delta have fallen. I can’t see any of Delta remaining. Charlie now has night runners to the front and side.

“Charlie, Delta, pull back to the cashier stands,” I shout into the radio witnessing Charlie about to be overrun.

“Negative, we’re going for Delta,” Mullins calls back.

“No! You’ll be surrounded and overrun as well if you stay there. I said pull back.”

“Roger that,” Mullins responds and I see Charlie begin a fighting withdrawal in my direction.

“Red Team, on me. Lynn, Drescoll, pull back on the left,” I say amidst an interior filled with growls, snarls, shouts, and subdued gunfire.

“Pulling back,” Lynn replies.

I step out from under the second floor ledge above. The night runners have stopped coming over the balcony resulting in diminished fire from Bravo. Flashes still rebound off the ceiling on the left from Black and Green Teams as they fight their way back. An occasional volley of fire comes from Alpha as some night runners continue their attempt to make it down the escalator. The escalator itself is piled to the hand rails with bodies. Some of the night runners are only injured and move in the pile only to be stilled moments later by shots from Watkin’s group. It’s the same with Horace’s Blue Team covering the near stairs; only an occasional flash of gunfire.

Red Team arrives quickly and we set up behind the register stands. “Red Team, fire only into the flanks. Watch for Charlie and Delta,” I say as Robert pulls up to my side. Charlie makes their way back. They rush through the check-out aisle and form up alongside Red.

“The aisles will funnel them,” I say out loud to Robert and Mullins. I don’t see anyone from Delta in with Charlie and ask Mullins if he saw anyone make it. He hangs his head and shakes it; answering negatively.

“Bravo, orient to the right but keep the overhead balcony clear. Be ready to hit them from the side,” I say with an internal sigh. I’ve fucked up and others have paid.

Night runners pour out in mass from the clothing area to our front and are greeted by a torrent of gunfire from our line. Our bullets reach out and knock the first line backwards, to the sides, or drop them straight down as our steel meets their flesh.

“Bravo, open up and hit them in the side,” I say pausing momentarily from firing bursts into the solid wall of night runners.

And increase in the loud coughs is heard as Cressman and Bravo Team unleash their fire into the bunched up mass, catching them in a deadly crossfire.

“We’re clear here. Need help?” Lynn asks over the radio.

“Pull into the middle and act as reserve. Drescoll, stay in position,” I answer.

I hear something over the radio but the press of night runners calls my attention. The surge is drawing closer and they have entered the narrow aisles. The floor behind the ones in front is covered with bodies and the runners coming after us have to leap over them. Some vault upon the register stands trying to push by the ones stalled in the aisles but they are dropped quickly by the fire from both teams. I think about pulling everyone back outside as we are close to being overrun ourselves. The fighting is at a distance of thirty feet and is closing. Showers of blood and matter fill the air as rounds meet with bodies. Jets of blood spurt out from severed arteries, coating the cash registers and stands in patterns; dripping down in streams where it hits with thick splotches.

“Cressman, can you advance any?” I ask.

“We’ll try, sir,” she answers.

A storm of steel fills our small area within the store coming from two sides. I am about to call out to evacuate when a strange and startling sight suddenly materializes. There aren’t any night runners rushing us. I look to the sides and further into the large building but can’t see anything moving. Our fire tapers off as others realize the same thing.

“Cease fire. Bravo, move back into your original position. Everyone remain alert. They may just be changing tactics,” I say as a silence descends.

The quiet is surreal. It’s like a fierce windstorm that has hammered us for days suddenly relenting; one moment extremely violent and the next so calm as if it never happened. The evidence of our fight is all around us however. The haze that was only faintly prevalent before is now quite visible along with the tremendous stench. Bodies lie in heaps before us. I hear a moan and attempted growl come from our front. A shot sounds out from Robert’s carbine. The single round speeds from his barrel and strikes a night runner in the side of the head, entering just above the ear.

Other moans and cries of pain now drift into our deafened ears, along with stirs of the injured crawling or moving; like the spirits of this darkened tomb have come alive. Anticipating a change of tactics and another rush of night runners, as we have seen in the past, we all stay in our positions. The only movements are the lasers moving about in the green glow.

“Anyone see or hear anything?” I ask after a moment of searching and listening.

“Nothing here,” Cressman reports.

“Same here,” I hear from Drescoll with all other team leaders reporting the same.

“Anyone from Delta still on?” I ask only to be met with silence.

I call for an ammo check. Blue, Charlie and Alpha report they are down to just a few mags. The rest report that they are okay. I have the others share some of their remaining mags with those that are low. The action inside was intense but didn’t encompass a lot of time.

“Okay. Charlie and Red Team are going to advance up to Delta on the right. Stay sharp and be aware that there are injured night runners out there,” I say.

I coordinate with Mullins and both Red and Charlie begin to move up on the right side of the first floor. We have to step over the many bodies lying in the check-out aisles and just beyond. The going is slow as we check over each body to make sure it is indeed visiting whatever afterlife it has in store. There are several night runners that are injured; some barely hanging on and others that are a little feistier. The slow advance is accompanied by the occasional shot as the injured are put to rest. The slow pace is also due to checking each body on the ground for Delta Team members and to make sure we are only shooting night runners.

Once past the registers, we spread further out on line and continue up to where Delta had been positioned. Night runner corpses litter the ground and are entangled in fallen clothes racks and the clothes that once hung in an orderly manner upon them. It is a very confused, scattered mess. Bodies are moved after first checking to make sure they are dead as we search the area for the members of Delta. Any hope we had of finding them alive is quickly erased as we wade through the entwined bodies. The reek of bowels and bodies that have been ripped open hangs in the air.

We find the first Delta team member and see it has been torn apart by the night runners in their frenzy. The flesh has been ripped off in many places with gouges where teeth ripped into it. Blood covers absolutely everything. It is apparent from the scores of bodies on the ground that Delta put up a valiant defense but the quickness of the assault, the numbers of night runners materializing, the limited visibility, and the fact that I put them too close to the overhang didn’t give them much of a chance. Searching through the rest of the piles, after putting a number of night runners down for good, we find the rest of Delta and lay them to the side. I notice Robert grimace a few times while searching, heck, we all are, but he continues with the process anyway. Only a few faint moans now drift through the structure coming from the escalator and top of the stairs near the entrance.

I have Mullins set a defensive line and call for Lynn on the radio, “Lynn, can you bring Black Team up and help us carry the bodies out?”

“Sure. Be right there,” she answers. Black Team makes their way through the bodies and reaches our position.

“Did you find any of them still alive?” Lynn asks as she reaches my side and referring to Delta.

“No. They were overwhelmed pretty quick,” I answer softly.

“You know you did the right thing pulling Charlie back when you did, right!?” She says. “Otherwise, we’d be pulling a few more bodies out of the piles and we might not have had enough to keep them in check on this side. We could have been completely cut off.”

“Yeah, I know, but it doesn’t make it better or easier,” I reply.

“Yeah, I know. It never does,” she says and moves over to help the others from Black Team carry the slain members of Delta out of the building.

Bri stands by a Humvee in the bright afternoon light. The rays of the sun beat down and strike her shoulders and back, warming her in her baggy, black fatigues. But as as she stares at the front entrance to Cabela’s, she doesn’t notice. Black-clad team members press against the outside walls of the structure; tense, ready and waiting to go in. She sees her dad and brother standing by the shattered glass door on the left peering into the building. Worry courses through her. She knows her dad can take care of himself and knows he will do everything he can to make sure Robert is safe. But she has also heard the stories of the attacks in other buildings. It’s much different hearing those stories than witnessing one, she thinks watching the scene before her. Perhaps it’s because the story is being told by the survivors and she knows the ending comes out well.

She looks to the side and sees Nic, Michelle, and her grandmother with the same tightness around their eyes. The M-4 in her hand feels heavy and unfamiliar yet reassuring in a way. She makes sure there isn’t a clip in the lower receiver and pulls the charging handle back, like she had been taught, to make sure there isn’t a round in the chamber. Taking a few steps away from the Humvee into the clear, she raises the carbine and looks through the sight. Reaching up, she turns it to the 1x setting and looks around the empty fields surrounding her; putting her red dot on one object after another. She fired this M-4 at the range with the others and found that the kick, although there, was negligible. That was one fear she had – that it would buck hard against her shoulder. The red dot wobbles slightly as she tries to hold it on a clump of dry grass near the edge of the parking lot. Bri notices the gun isn’t as unwieldy as the first time she fired it yet it is still hard to hold steady. Much better than the M-16 she fired briefly in Kuwait. She switches the zoom control and the red dot changes to a cross hair. She continues to play with sighting in before turning the sight off, steps back into her previous position, makes sure her radio is on, and focuses once again on the entrance.

Bri sees her dad and brother step away from the entrance and another group moves quickly up to take that position. “Okay, let’s do this,” she hears her dad say into the radio. “Go!”

The teams by the doors quickly rush in and disappear from sight. She watches as her dad and brother vanish into the building immediately after and sends a prayer in with them. “Please let them be okay,” she whispers. With not knowing where her mom is or what happened to her, seeing her dad and brother disappear into the building like that brings the quick fear and thought that if something were to happen to her dad, her and Nic would be orphaned and alone.

She hears a small gasp from Nic. She looks at the others and notices that they, like her, seem to be holding their breath. “Alpha, Bravo, Go!” She hears her dad call and the rest of the people outside of the building flow inside like a mist; everyone vanishing from sight. She has been inside numerous times before with her dad and follows their progress in her mind from the radio calls. Noticing that she has been rubbing the trigger guard of her M-4 with her finger, she pulls it away, takes in a deep breath, and tries to calm her nerves.

Her thoughts, while following the initial entry and progress inside, folds back to the events of the past. She finds it hard to believe they were in class just over a week ago and her biggest concerns were what she was going to wear and what friend’s house she was going to go to after school. The whirlwind adventure of this past week seem very unreal to her. Or really, the time before this is the one that seems surreal. It still seems like an adventure but with terrifying events mixed in. It was a lot of fun flying around and being the flight engineer, she thinks but then turns to thoughts of her mom and friends. A tear leaks out and runs down her face. The thought of her mom and what happened brings a stark reality of their situation.

Bri thinks back to that terrifying morning. Robert rushing into her room and waking her. Her being pissed at him for waking her up early as she had stayed up late texting with her friends.

“Bri, get up! Something’s wrong and we’ve got to get out of here,” Robert said with an urgent whisper.

“What!? Where are Mom and Nic?” She asked.

“Shhhh. Keep it down dammit,” he said with a tense whisper and finger to his lips. “Nic is in the hallway by the door.”

“Where’s Mom?” She asked more quietly. She remembers Robert just staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“Just get up. Now!” He answered.

She pushed the covers off and felt the cold floor beneath her feet. Her phone was on the sheets next to her where it had fallen when she had fallen asleep in the middle of texting. She grabbed it and followed Robert to the door. Nic was standing outside looking down the hall and stairs. Nic gave her a quick hug before turning back to her focus.

“What now?” Nic asked Robert.

“We need to make it downstairs and outside. We need to keep quiet. I’ll go first with you two right behind,” he answered.

“What’s going on?” Bri asked quietly.

“There’s someone or something downstairs,” Robert answered. They had all read and watched the news of the quickly escalating situation. They had somewhat put the pieces together and knew something wasn’t right. There was the increasing news of the flu pandemic and subsequent vaccine. People were dying in droves and the reports of people attacking each other were startling. The world seemed to be coming apart at the seams.

Robert started off and it was then that Bri noticed the knife in his hand. It was one of the boot knives their dad had given him. Seeing Robert stalking ahead with the knife had made her realize that their situation was dangerous as Robert wasn’t one to be dramatic for drama’s sake alone. They made their way to the stairs and began to creep down. Reaching the corner, she could see where the stairs emptied into the living room. Robert reached the bottom step and peered around, signaling them to follow after a moment.

They all stepped into the living room and crept toward the locked front door. The door was locked fast with multiple deadlocks and a contraption of boards against it. Robert had stepped into the hallway in front of the door and a loud shriek erupted from near the back door along with feet slapping rapidly against the floor.

“Quick, into the basement,” Robert said knowing he would never get the front door open in time. Throwing the basement door open, they all flew inside. Robert shut and locked the door just as something big slammed into it. They fled down the basement steps and hid by boxes of mementos on the floor.

“What was that?” Bri asked.

“I don’t know,” Robert answered.

Robert’s phone vibrated and he answered, talking briefly. It vibrated again shortly thereafter and, again, the conversation was short.

“That was Dad. He says to be quiet, that he loves you, and that he’s on his way,” Robert said closing his phone.

“Night runner on the far balcony, second floor,” Bri hears a female voice call out over the radio, jarring her back into the present.

The radio call brings an increase in tension within her. She thinks of her dad inside as he issues an order for Cressman to take out the night runner. She remembers the times when her days were filled with being with her friends; missing her dad but thinking she had time to connect and see him later. It was always later. An overwhelming feeling of sadness envelopes her thinking of those missed opportunities and how fun it had been when they would all go to the drive-in; how free and open those times were. She sends another prayer outward hoping they will see this through and she will see her dad again.

She follows the events inside with the radio calls. Suddenly, shrieks emit through the entrance door, faintly reaching her ears faintly. The radio calls begin to take on a frantic tone and gunshots, well, more like gunfire is heard both through the radio when calls are made and the open door. Her heart beats faster and she hopes that everyone is okay. After a short time, she hears her dad calling for teams to pull back. The noise being radiated from inside is constant. Looking to the sky with another tear forming, she whispers, “Please, please, anything but let them be okay.”

Nic steps over and puts her arm around her, knocking her earpiece out. She doesn’t bother to put it back in as the feel of her sister’s arm around her is comforting. The sounds being emitted suddenly, and without warning, cease. Her heart jumps up a notch. Several minutes pass and she sees soldiers appear at the door hauling limp forms between them. She gasps loudly and runs toward where they are laying the bodies by the side of the door. She peers anxiously at each of them but they are so ruined that she can’t make out the features well enough to identify. Her stomach turns but she continues to look, hoping to find something that will tell her that none of these are her dad or brother.

She stifles a sob and looks up to see Lynn arranging a sixth body beside her. Their eyes meets; Lynn’s blue eyes red from a lack of sleep and tension, Bri’s from the forming tears and anxiety.

“Is my dad okay?” Bri asks looking at Lynn hopefully.

Lynn stands and wraps her in a hug, “Yes, he’s okay, sweetheart.”

“And Robert?” Bri asks into Lynn’s shoulder.

“Yes, hon, they’re both okay,” Lynn answers.

Bri sobs once in relief and thanks any spirits listening for an answer to her prayers.

The bodies of Delta are carried outside and laid by the front door. The soft moaning carries throughout the building at intervals. No other attacks, shrieks, or screams are heard. The few minutes of violence that once filled this space will be forever remembered but it is now just a blip on the passing line of time. The area will forever hold the fierce battle, the shouts, the screams, the gunfire and bloodshed that were created in this space and time but the world moves on and so does the passage of time and events.

“Red Team will join with Charlie. Lynn, Drescoll, move up on the left as before. We’ll try to stay in line with you. We still need to clear the building. Watch out for night runners that may still be hiding and for the injured ones,” I say getting ready to finish what we started. “We’ll move to the corner and then you sweep the back. Notify us when you turn the corner.”

“Copy that. Moving out,” Lynn responds.

“Will do,” Drescoll replies.

“Echo, cover your area but you’ll be the reserve team,” I say.

“Roger,” Greg’s voice responds in the radio.

We complete the sweep of the first floor without any further large scale attacks; or any for that matter. A few suppressed shots echo within as more injured night runners are put to rest with the added result that fewer moans and cries of pain are heard. Meeting up with Lynn and Drescoll in the back right corner, I have them take positions on the first floor to cover the balconies while sending Horace and Watkins, with Blue and Alpha Teams, up the entrance stairs to begin clearing the second floor. I take Red and Charlie up the escalator stairs, stepping over the pile of night runner bodies in the process.

The climb to the second floor is difficult as the steps are crowded with corpses. We have to step on them in order to make our way to the top as no part of the stairs is visible; the bodies move and slide beneath our boots making us stumble at times. Only a couple night runners still move under their own volition or moan and they are quickly silenced. By the time we reach the second floor, silence once more settles within the facility.

Horace and Watkins meet up with us by the escalator and we continue across the second floor finding only dead bodies. The numerous shelves are filled with camping gear, archery supplies, gun cases, and other miscellaneous outdoor equipment. The far end wall behind a gun counter is lined with rifles of every sort and the glass counter itself houses handguns of all calibers and models. Passing by a display rack, I point out the M-4-based DMR setup that Robert envied the many times we visited. He nods. The nod would have been normally accompanied by a grin but we’ve just lost a lot of friends and that weighs heavily on us. We check carefully in every nook and cranny but don’t find any hidden night runners lurking within. Assured that this part of the second floor is clear, I send Echo and Bravo to clear out the loading dock area.

Rounding the last corner upstairs, I notice a trail of blood leading away towards the restaurant set into the corner of the building. It looks like one of the night runners crawled away injured. The trail shows up as a dark smear in my goggles. I point it out to the members of the sweeping teams. Still slowly checking the aisles and tents that are set up for display, we follow the trail as it disappears into the eating area of the restaurant. Setting Horace and Watkins in a perimeter around the restaurant, I step inside with Red and Charlie Team.

Light colored wooden tables sit within the medium-sized, rectangular restaurant; some stand askew, others are tipped over and lying on the floor. Plastic brown and orange chairs add to the mess in the area. The restaurant is open to the rest of the store and the wet trail continues. Stepping carefully between the tables and chairs, I hear a low growl coming from behind one of the tipped-over tables just to my front.

Stepping up to the table with my M-4 at the ready and fully expecting a night runner to launch at me, I look over the edge. A female night runner lies on the linoleum-tiled floor. It looks up at me and emits another low growl that turns into a whimper. The light colored blouse is dark with blood and the jeans are soaked. The trail we are following leads directly to her. She was obviously injured at the railing and crawled here. Her eyes are full of pain she looks up and meets my gaze. I lower my carbine a touch and we just stare at each other.

I direct Charlie to search the kitchen area without taking my gaze off the night runner almost at my feet with only a table between us. She must have been shot in the abdomen or someplace near judging from the soaked blouse and the amount of blood lost. I haven’t seen a live night runner this close before without being pumped full of adrenaline and fighting for my life. The eyes still have a humanistic look to them as much as I can tell with the night vision goggles on. They reflect in the greenish glow like a night animal. The light gray skin shines in my sight and I make out the pulsing, dark gray veins beneath the translucent skin. I hear her shallow, panting breath over the noises of Charlie Team clearing the kitchen area.

Mullins reports that all is clear as do Horace and Cressman reporting from the loading docks. I nod an okay to Mullins, “roger” the call from Bravo and Echo, and look back down at the night runner. Her pain-filled eyes continue to meet mine and she attempts another growl or moan but it comes out as a gurgling sound and blood runs out of the corner of her mouth. The fact that the night runner is a female gnaws at me somewhat, but I raise my M-4. I swear she looks through the pain and knows what is coming and is thankful. A muted cough echoes in the enclosed area. My round enters her left eye and explodes out the back of her head. A large amount of blood, tissue, and bone splatters across the floor and her head pitches back before slumping to the floor. With that final shot, the sanctuary is ours – for the time being.