Sanctuary

By Candlelight

“Told ya we’d clear ‘em out, sir,” Gonzalez says as we stand in silence here in the dark.

“Although I certainly didn’t expect it to be like that,” she adds shaking her head.

“Yeah, me either. It sure came at a cost,” I say. Gonzalez and the rest of Red Team just nod as there really isn’t much else to say in that regard.

A search through the offices and customer service area yields the keys to the facility. I pull the teams out and send Horace and her team around to turn the generator on. Walking back inside with Lynn and our two teams, I insert the key into the lights and the building comes alive, awakening from its prior dormant state. The aftermath of our quick but intense battle unfolds with more clarity and the inside, especially on the right side, looks as if a hurricane swept through. Clothes racks and clothes are mingled with bodies with more dead night runners filling the area near the cash registers aisles. A haze hangs in the air drifting upward toward the tall ceiling. The reek of gunpowder and a slaughterhouse mixes together seeming to form a different odor with each breath.

Outside again, I look at the bodies lying on the concrete walkway; reminders of the world we live in now; reminders that we can’t afford mistakes. Mullins walks over and kneels by the bodies with his head hung. I wonder if he thinks he made a mistake coming with us. They were with him longer than they were with us but they were our friends as well. Other soldiers drift over to where they lie. I catch Lynn’s eye and nod toward the bodies. She nods in return. We don’t have the luxury of a proper service for them. They gave their lives fighting so that we can have a safe place to live and deserve better. Time is pressing so we all gather around the bodies to pay our respects, each in his or her way.

Finishing with our service and saying goodbye to our comrades, I gather Lynn, Bannerman, and Frank. “Our biggest priority is to get the doors and window coverings installed along with removing the bodies from inside. We also need to get some diesel fuel for the generators and lay our fallen to rest,” I say.

“Bannerman, will you see to the security doors? How many will you need?” I add.

“I think we can get them up pretty quick with two teams, assuming they have a maintenance department on site with the right tools,” he answers.

“Okay, how about you take Mullins and Greg? Oh, and if there’s time, we need to set up the base radio. Frank, can you take Alpha and find us some fuel? There should be gas cans and such inside if you need,” I ask.

“Sounds good,” Frank responds.

“I’d like to put Kathy and Kenneth with you Frank and the others with you Bannerman to help out with whatever you need. The rest of the teams can start removing the bodies. We need to make sure one team provides overwatch inside at all times. One team can find some shovels inside and start digging as well,” I say looking at the sun settling farther down towards the horizon. “The other thing I’d like to do is offer our cell phones to everyone to try and reach their families. Robert Bri, Nic, and I have working ones so anyone is welcome to use them.”

I am amazed that we have actually done so much in this day. I truly didn’t feel we would be this far along. Although there is still so much to do and still a trip down south, I feel relatively okay with where we are. If the doors and shutters were installed and working, I would feel even better. I still feel the time crunch however and may not be able to make the trip to Portland and get back before nightfall. There’s a good possibility that we may have to stay there overnight.

“I’ll see to the assignments and notify everyone that phones are available. Then we can be on our way,” Lynn says as Bannerman and Frank move off to start their tasks.

“Lynn, I really want you to come with but I feel like I need you here to make sure things get handled,” I say once we are alone.

“Yeah, that’s all fine and dandy but that’s not happening,” she says looking me in the eye. I see her mentally digging her heels in and completely understand how she feels.

“Seriously, I do trust whomever we would leave in charge, whether that’s Drescoll, Frank, or anyone else but I’m also leaving Nic here and will feel better knowing you are here seeing to the security. I know the others will do their best to get things done but I absolutely know you’ll make sure they do,” I say.

“I’m not entirely comfortable with not going with you for two reasons. One, well, that one is obvious, and two, without me, there’s only you with your kids and you don’t know how secure the place is down there is. I’d,” she adds with emphasis, “feel more comfortable if I was with you. We have over forty-eight armed soldiers here, Jack, and my being here or not isn’t going to make a lick of difference.”

“What you say is true. My only concern is making sure that this place is secure and prioritizing that,” I say.

“Look, Jack, Drescoll can see to that. He’ll make sure things get done and that they get done correctly. He’s a good sort and I absolutely trust him,” Lynn says.

“Hon, I totally hear you and, like I said, know what you say is true but I also would feel so much better if you were here overseeing everything,” I say looking into her eyes and seeing her stubbornness.

“Well, Jack, here’s the part where you don’t get your way. I’m going with and that’s just that,” she says planting her hands on her hips and taking a step towards me.

“Okay, okay, okay. You’re going with,” I say with a chuckle, taking a defensive step backwards.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll talk with Drescoll, give people a chance with the phones, and then we can go,” she says and turns to brief Drescoll.

I stare after her departing back and wonder just who really is in charge. Shaking my head with some degree of resignation, I gather up Robert and Bri for our journey south. We load up supplies of food, water, and ammo into one of the Humvees, checking to make sure it has plenty of fuel. Robert and I also replenish our empty mags and slide them into our vest pouches. I hear one of the other Humvees start up nearby. Frank and Alpha Team drive out of the parking lot and head off in search of fuel. Most of our small group come by and try to reach their family and loved ones. There is no response from any of the numbers dialed with most not even receiving a ring or voice mail. As we finish with the last of the loading, Lynn walks over with Michelle, Nic and Mom behind her.

“Ready to go?” Lynn asks on arriving.

“Ready,” I say shutting the rear hatch.

I turn to give Nic hug. “We’ll be back soon, hon. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad,” she says into my shoulder.

I give her a kiss on the head and turn to hug Mom. “Be safe and take care of the kids,” she says.

“I will, Mom. I love you,” I respond.

“I love you too.”

“Robert, you’re driving,” I say.

“Okay,” he says releasing a hug with Michelle.

We climb in and settle into the seats. The sun is continuing its march across the clear blue sky towards its inevitable meeting with the western horizon. I look at my watch and am surprised to find it’s just a touch after 1800. Part of me feels like it should be earlier but another part is amazed how the day has flown by. Robert starts the vehicle and pulls out of the lot.

I watch Cabela’s grow smaller in the rearview. We have our sanctuary, or at least a major start to one, but it came at a great cost. We lost a whole team in the process and I have a sick feeling in my stomach thinking about it. I still wonder if we did the right thing with staying in and taking it rather than just finding another place once we spotted the tracks. It all happened so fast that there wasn’t much time to analyze it other than to just react. But a whole team, I think watching the building recede. That’s just too costly and we can’t afford a loss rate like that. Or any for that matter. We lost over ten percent of our force in a matter of minutes. In normal military terms, that is referred to as being decimated. Valiant soldiers, all good men and women, gone in the blink of an eye. This really makes me realize just how tenuous our situation is; or can become. The thing to do is make sure we add this lesson to our future endeavors, I think as we leave the area and turn onto the Interstate southbound.

I pull out my cell phone as Robert drives us past Olympia and down the lonely road. We are the only vehicle on the highway – moving vehicle that is. We pass by the occasional car or pickup parked on the shoulder of the Interstate. We pass by a rest area off to the side and see only a few cars in the lot. A body lies stretched over one of the green picnic tables; too far to be seen clearly but obviously not moving. I dial Kelly’s number as the scene slides behind us.

“We’re on our way,” I say once she answers and the hello’s are out of the way.

“Did you go see about Carrie?” Kelly asks.

“I’m sorry but we didn’t have the time. We’ll check on her when we get back,” I answer.

“What have you been doing all day then?” She asks in an exasperated tone.

“We’ve been busy setting up a safe place. We’re about two hours out and may have to stay there for the night,” I reply.

“Okay but there’s still a lot of daylight left.”

“Yeah but there may not be enough to get back before dark,” I say. “Put some unscented candles in the bathroom so we’ll have light.”

“Why do we….” And that’s all as I hear the beep of a signal lost from my phone.

I look at the screen and see “searching for signal” dance across the screen. No bars show on the signal strength meter. I ask Bri to check her phone and it says the same thing. I guess the days of cell service have seen their last. I’m surprised it lasted this long. It’s just one more technology that has failed and certainly won’t be the last. I close the phone and look out at the passing fields. There are quite a few that have cows silently standing where they always have. A few have their heads down eating. I wonder if they have even noticed the change about them; the complete lack of automobiles passing by or the decrease of noise. I wonder if they notice that the ranchers are no longer coming out to check on them.

There are several bridges to cross on the way down and I am worried they may be obstructed. There’s no way to contact Kelly now if we find our route blocked. If even one of them is impassable, it could take hours to find a way around if at all. Although each one is crucial, the ones I am particularly concerned about are the ones spanning the wide Columbia River. Those are the ones mostly likely to be blocked as they are between two major cities. We won’t have much time to either find a way around or find a safe place to hole up in if we can’t get across.

We pass through one of the larger country towns and the Interstate becomes blocked by cars that were trying to get off one of the off-ramps. Robert slows and stops before driving across the grass meridian between the north and southbound lanes, pulling onto the northbound lanes to circumvent the block. The smell of decomposing bodies becomes strong as we pass; so strong my stomach turns and I almost gag.

“Oh my God that stinks,” Bri says with a disgusted tone.

“Hold your breath, hon. We’ll be by it in a bit,” I tell her in a whispery voice as I try to hold mine as well.

During the drive down, Lynn and I talk about some of the things we need to do when we get back and the organization needed to do them, with Robert and Bri participating in the conversations. The bridges so far don’t present any obstacles and we pull close to the I-5 Columbia River crossing with the sun just a few fingers above the horizon. The vehicles on the road have increased to a degree as we enter Vancouver but haven’t blocked the Interstate fully. Crows hop among several of the cars looking for morsels and I don’t even want to think about what they may be finding. I see the towers of the drawbridge rise above the buildings off to the side of the freeway and the congestion increases as we draw nearer.

Robert slows as we thread our way through the line of cars. A major Portland hospital exit lies down the road a ways and it may be that this jam is from people trying to get there. I just hope the bridge isn’t completely inundated with cars. We get to within a mile of the bridge when my fears materialize and the route becomes completely blocked. My anxiety increases thinking we are so close yet not able to complete the distance. At least not at this crossing.

“Let’s backtrack our route to the other freeway and try the bridge there,” I say to Robert.

“How do we get there?” He asks.

“Just back up until we can turn around and we’ll drive to the I-205 exit. That will take us to another bridge and if that one’s blocked, then I’m out of ideas,” I answer.

Robert backs up slowly, threading his way through the snarl until we reach a point where we can turn our beast around. We make our way to the convergence of the highways and turn off the exit. The roads are much clearer along this route and we find the bridge mostly unobstructed. We pass over the long, light gray, concrete bridge spanning the wide river. The sun reflects off its surface with a bright shimmer. Sailboats dot the marinas by the shore but none plow the waterway. The once busy river, with sail boats slowly meandering along with sails unfurled, skiers enjoying a day in the sun, and jet skis creating waves, is now as empty as the roads.

The sun is tipping to the horizon, beginning to fill the late afternoon/evening sky with oranges, as we pull into Kelly’s apartment complex. I have Robert pull into the main lot outside of her apartment and park with the Humvee pointed toward the entrance just in case we need to get away quickly. Of course, if it came to that, we would most likely have a lot of trouble getting to the vehicle, but one can never be too careful.

I step out of the vehicle, my butt sore from once again sitting for multiple hours, and look around at the complex. Three-story apartments encircle the lot we are in, silent yet giving the impression that they are holding a secret. The silence gives off a feeling of peace and serenity but the dark windows staring out present an underlying, menacing feel. The sound of the Humvee doors closing reverberates off the white, wooden walls. The shadow of the building next to us stretches across the lot as the day begins to close.

“Let’s grab our gear and head in,” I say eyeing the deepening blue sky.

Toting our weapons, ammo, goggles, and water, we walk up to Kelly’s apartment door. The apartments are built on a hill so her second floor apartment door is actually level with the parking lot. It’s on the other side, toward the back, that the second floor nature of it is revealed. I knock on the door and hear the deadbolt slide. The door opens and Kelly stands framed by the door looking disheveled. Her normally kempt black hair hangs limply with strands sticking out in places. Dark circles surround her almost black eyes and show clearly on her lightly tanned skin.

“Thank goodness you’re here. I was so scared,” Kelly says opening the door wider. I hear Lynn’s heavy sigh behind me.

“We’re here. Did you put the candles in the bathroom?” I ask walking inside with Robert, Bri, and Lynn following.

“Yeah but I don’t get why there,” she answers.

“Because that’s where we’re going to hole up in. It doesn’t have direct access to the outside and therefore our light and noise will be diminished. They are scentless right?” I ask.

“Most of them,” she replies.

“Well, let’s take the scented ones out,” I say walking from the small entry foyer and into the where the kitchen is separated from the living room.

“Robert, make sure the windows and doors are closed and locked,” I tell him over my shoulder.

“They’re already locked,” I hear from the kitchen.

I turn to see Brian standing in the kitchen. He looks as disheveled as Kelly with his short, brown hair sticking up in places. His paler skin looks akin to a night runner but more on the pink side rather than gray and without the translucent nature. His tan, Docker-style slacks and long-sleeved, button up blue shirt is wrinkled and with vestiges of dirt in places.

“You can never be too careful and the more eyes on something, the better,” I say and nod at Robert to continue.

“Whatever. Do what you want but I’m telling you everything is locked,” Brian says.

I shake my head and turn to Lynn. “Let’s check the bathroom out. Bri, go with Robert,” I say.

“Okay, Dad,” Bri replies.

I watch her walk toward Robert, who is checking the living room windows overlooking the back side of the apartments, and have a very strange feeling settle inside. I am watching her nonchalantly walk across the room in her loose, black tactical uniform, with her long, blond hair flowing down the back, and casually carrying an M-4 by her side. I tell you, it’s such a strange sight to see in your fifteen-year old daughter.

The apartment itself is set up like most any other apartment. The front door opens into a small foyer which makes a ninety degree angle, opening up with to a small kitchen on the left and a living room stretching ahead to a set of oriel windows looking out to the setting sun. A hallway extends to the immediate right of the kitchen, terminating at the master bedroom with a bedroom off to the kitchen side of the hallway. An interior bathroom opens to the left about halfway down the hall. To the far right of the living room, another bedroom opens. Lynn and I walk into the central bathroom with Kelly following behind. It’s a very small bathroom with a single sink, shower, and toilet.

“It’s going to be a little cozy in here tonight,” I say removing the top of the toilet and disconnecting the flush lever.

“Yeah, you’re not kidding,” Lynn replies.

“Why are you doing that?” Kelly asks referring to my disconnecting the toilet.

“We need to keep absolutely quiet tonight so no flushing. This is to make sure someone doesn’t forget,” I answer.

“Oh,” Kelly says.

Candles of various sizes sit on the counter. I make sure that only unscented ones remain and hand any scented ones to Kelly to put back wherever she keeps them. There should be enough left to keep us lit for the night. Kelly looks quizzically at the ones I handed to her.

“The night runners, the creatures, have a terrific sense of smell and may well be able to pick out the smell of scented candles burning. We can’t afford to take the chance that they can,” I answer her look.

Robert and Bri walk by down the hallway. We follow them out and meet in the living room.

“All closed and locked,” Robert says.

I hear the front door open and in walks a tall, lithe brunette carrying several bottles of water. She stops in her tracks shocked by the presentation of several armed people standing in her living room. Jessica, Kelly’s daughter and my once step-daughter, stares at Robert and Bri standing in their dark fatigues and sporting M-4’s as if the picture doesn’t match. She hasn’t seen them in a while and I’m certain never expected them to appear before her fully armed and with looks of determination.

The experiences we’ve had over the past week or so have changed them. They are confident and fully aware of the situation we find ourselves in. A little over a week ago, they were attending school and now have flown half way across the world, meeting with countless night runners. In that time, Robert has learned to fly a 130, has done so with a high degree of skill, and has been involved in several skirmishes and intense firefights. Bri has been an integral part of flying the 130, learning the systems and able to do the flight engineer job in her sleep. She has also seen several encounters. Those experiences have put an added confidence and wisdom in their eyes.

“Hi, Jack,” Jessica says turning her dark brown eyes towards me with a little uncertainty in her voice. It’s been a while since we have seen each other. We were once close but time and the separation saw a change to that. She must be about twenty now, I think seeing her stand by the kitchen entry.

“Hi, Jessica. Nice to see you again,” I say with a touch of self-consciousness as well.

“I only found a few bottles of water left at the gas station,” Jessica says turning to Kelly and Brian, depositing the bottles on the kitchen counter.

“Wait, what!?” Lynn exclaims. “Are you telling me you let her go out and into a building by herself?”

“We’ve been in there before so it’s okay,” Brian responds.

“You do understand what’s going on and what we’re dealing with right!?” Lynn counters.

“Yes,” Brian answers.

Lynn hangs her head and shakes it from side to side before looking up at me. “Tell me why we came down here again?” She asks. That’s my Lynn, blunt and to the point.

“Let’s just focus and get ready for tonight, although that wasn’t the greatest of ideas,” I add looking at Kelly. “We need to talk about tonight’s plan.”

“What do we need to do?” Kelly asks.

“First of all, we need to barricade the front door and put something up to block the kitchen window,” I say thinking that those are the two most prevalent entrances at ground level. I’m not too keen on blocking our only routes out but I don’t really see much of an alternative.

“What about using the couch for the door?” Bri asks.

I look over at the larger of the two couches in the living room thinking it may indeed fit in the entrance foyer against the door and opposing wall. “Good idea, Bri. Why don’t you, Robert, and Brian see if you can wedge it in place?”

As they begin moving the couch, I look around the rest of the place for something to block the kitchen window that overlooks the entrance to the front door. It’s not the easiest solution finding something to put over the sink that will hold but I eventually settle on a small bookcase in one of the bedrooms. Pulling the books and knickknacks off the shelves, Lynn and I lift the bookcase up against the window with the back to the outside. We also grab the smaller couch and wedge it between the shelves and the kitchen counter, pulling and pushing to make sure it is pressed firmly against the shelves, wedging it firmly in place. Robert, Bri, and Brian manage to fit the couch against the front door.

We all gather in the now couch-less living room. An orange glow peeks around the closed blinds announcing that the day is rapidly drawing to a close. I notice a not-so-faint aroma rising from my clothes. Yeah, the confined space we’ll be in tonight should be interesting in that regard and I wish I had brought a change.

“You know that bathroom isn’t very defensible,” Lynn says.

“I know. What do you think about using the back bedroom if something goes down tonight? ” I ask.

“I think that’s probably our best bet,” she answers.

“Let’s go take a look then.”

As a group, we move to the back bedroom down a narrow hallway filled with framed family pictures on the walls. The bedroom is mostly filled with a bed and dresser. To the left and backside of the apartment, long, white, slat-like blinds hang vertically over a sliding glass door leading to a small patio. The patio itself stands a good ten feet off another paved driveway and parking places. To the right, a good-sized walk-in closet opens off the room with a larger bathroom just past it. The frosted window in the bathroom leading outside is too small for anyone or anything to gain entrance.

The walk-in closet is filled with clothing in every available space with shoe boxes and shoes lining the floor underneath. “Kelly, can you clean off the closet floor?” I ask.

Kelly and Jessica remove the shoes and boxes, stuffing them under the bed and on the floor by the dresser. While they are doing that, Robert, Lynn, Bri, and I don our NVG’s and test our radios, making sure they are off to conserve the batteries. The nice thing about these units is the battery packs are rechargeable, however, there isn’t any electrical power here and I didn’t bring the chargers with us. Our actions throughout the day have drained them to an extent. The orange glow that was peeking around the living room blinds now changes to a deepening blue-gray around the bedroom blinds.

“What now?” Robert asks as we pile into the interior bathroom.

“Now we wait the night out,” I answer. “If something happens, we’ll move quickly into the bedroom with everyone in the closet. I’ll cover the hallway.”

“I’ll be with you,” Lynn says.

“I’d rather you be with everyone else and cover my back watching over the back patio door. It’s an enclosed space and I don’t want to have to second-guess what I’m shooting at.” I wish we had the IFF tabs we could attach to our uniforms. A thought for later.

“Okay, Jack,” she replies.

“What about me?” Robert asks.

“The same. Keep my backside clear and protect the others,” I answer.

The bathroom is indeed crowded with the seven of us in there. I take a seat on the counter by the sink with Robert next to me. Lynn squats by the hallway door and Bri sits herself on the bathtub rim. Brian sits on the floor under the towel rack with Kelly by the other door leading to the far bedroom and Jessica sitting on the toilet seat. We light the candles and place towels under the door.

“What’s with the towels?” Kelly asks.

“So the light doesn’t leak out,” I answer.

“Well, I for one don’t want to wait the night out in here,” Brian says.

“We don’t have much choice,” I respond.

“We’ve stayed out in the living room and bedrooms every night and have been just fine,” he retorts.

“Look, Brian, we have to become a deep, dark hole in the fabric of space and time. You have no idea what these night runners are capable of,” I state in a whisper. “And keep your voice down.”

“What!? Just because you come in wearing SWAT gear and trying to look badass doesn’t mean that you know everything and have all of the answers,” he says still keeping his normal tone. “Weren’t you just a pilot anyway?”

“There are very few people in this room who know exactly what I did and that’s irrelevant anyway. All of us here have had a bit of experience with the night runners so we do know a bit. I don’t think you fully grasp what we are dealing with,” I whisper. “There are what, like over 2 million people in the Portland area? Or were?”

“Something like that I’d guess,” he says keeping his voice at normal volumes.

“Shhhh. Keep your voice down dammit,” I whisper sharply. “Just so you understand, there is something like thirty percent of the population that turned into night runners. That means there are about seven hundred thousand of them around this area. Seven hundred thousand, Brian! That’s a fuck of a lot!”

As if to emphasize my point, a very faint, distant, yet distinct shriek of a night runner, or perhaps a few of them, penetrate the inner walls and reach our ears.

“I’ll be fucked if I’m going to be told what to do in my own place and will talk as loud as I want,” he says with his voice rising.

That’s a surprise to me as I didn’t know Kelly and him were living together but then again, there has been no contact with Kelly since we split up many years ago. There is an obvious Alpha male thing going on. I am getting that Brian is feeling a little insecure which could stem from a number of reasons. He may be jealous and feel the need to assert himself as Kelly and I were together at one point, or it may be from the fact that we were asked to help and he is therefore feeling he is inadequate; that his manhood is in question. I just don’t have the time or patience for his insecurities. Especially if they are endangering the rest of us. I can also tell, by the tightness of her lips and the narrowing of her eyes, that Lynn is getting fairly perturbed.

Brian starts to rise as another shriek rises in the night, closer this time. “Sit the fuck down and shut up. You’re endangering us fuck-wit,” Lynn says with a sharp whisper, finally having had enough.

Brian pauses in his movement. “What!? Are you going to shoot me?” He asks not lowering his voice one whit.

“If I have to and if that’s what it takes,” Lynn says raising her M-4 a notch.

I see, by the tightness around his eyes, that Robert is pretty upset as well. With Lynn, he raises his weapon a touch. Bri and Jessica are watching the exchange with wide eyes, although Bri has a more of a “this is interesting” expression on her face.

“Brian, please, sit down. They know what they’re doing and I trust them,” Kelly says.

Brian does indeed plant himself back on the floor but continues to glare. “How about lending one of your guns then?” He asks.

“Have you been trained?” I ask in return.

“I’ve shot a gun before,” he answers.

“But I mean trained, as in any military type of experience?” I ask.

“No.”

“Then, no. I don’t want the added risk of someone not knowing what they’re doing; maybe shooting in a moment of excitement and injuring one of us.”

“You have your kids toting around weapons and I know they weren’t in the military,” Brian states.

“They’ve had some training and I trust them,” I respond.

A scream cuts sharply into the night intruding upon our “conversation.” Footsteps thump across the ceiling from the apartment above. The sound and vibration of the footsteps are accompanied by voices, too dim to make out the actual words but it’s apparent they are from people and sound like female voices.

“Who’s that?” I ask quietly.

“I think they’re the daughters from the couple upstairs,” Kelly answers.

“Have you talked with them?” I ask further.

“No,” she replies. Another loud shriek penetrates, sounding like it’s coming from the parking lot in front. This is followed by an additional one from the same area. The voices upstairs continue.

“They better be quiet or they’re going to invite the night runners,” Lynn says.

As if her words were the catalyst, a pounding of footsteps on the concrete stairs outside, seemingly heading upstairs, vibrates the apartment. Screams dominate the night and the first slamming of bodies into the apartment door upstairs causes the people there to scream as well. This only serves to agitate the night runners more.

“Can we help them or do anything?” Jessica asks as we all look to the ceiling above. I glance to make sure the towels are securely barring any light emitting from our small bathroom enclave.

“If we’d have known someone was up there, we could have brought them down with us but there’s nothing we can do now without endangering us all,” I answer.

The assault on the upstairs door continues and then, with a crash and the sound of splintering wood, the door gives way. Loud shrieks and rapid footfalls race across the ceiling just a few feet over our heads.

“Nooooo!” We hear from above.

Cries resonate from above, filling our tiny space. A loud thump shakes the apartment and agonizing screams follow, rising above and mixing with the screeches from the night runners. I can almost make out the sound of flesh being bitten into and torn from the bodies but that is mostly coming from my imagination. The flame from the candles around us waver as if dancing in tune to the horrific scene being enacted above, making our shadows move across the walls in the same macabre beat.

The screams stop and only a muted growling and snarling reach our ears. My finger caresses the trigger guard both from nervousness, with having the night runners so close, and a sick feeling inside hearing the horrible end to the people upstairs. With this scene fresh in my mind, I think there can’t be too many other survivors. Our one percent has most likely decreased to a marginal level.

“What, in the fuck, was that?” Brian asks loudly.

You have got to be fucking kidding me! I think and look at him incredulously with a touch of fear and panic washing through me. I can’t believe he just spoke that loudly – again! Especially after what we just witnessed. He just doesn’t get it! Several loud screeches come from above and footsteps thump rapidly across the ceiling.

“You fucker!” Lynn sharply whispers and begins to stand.

“Everyone in the closet now!” I whisper on the heels of her statement.

We all rise with Lynn opening the bathroom door as I blow out the candles plunging the interior into darkness. Lynn steps out of the bathroom and stands in the hall ushering the others out of the door. I snap down my goggles and turn them on bringing on the familiar glow of night vision. The pattern of steps on the stairs outside mixes with the shuffle of our group in the hallway as we head to the back bedroom and the closet. Lynn heads back after the others pass by her. Robert, who has waited in the bathroom with me until everyone else has exited, pulls his goggles on as well and looks at me. I can’t read his expression due to the goggles.

“We’ve been through worse,” I tell him guessing at his thoughts.

“Yeah, but we don’t have an exit to retreat to this time,” he says.

“True,” I say with a sigh, “but we’ll be fine. Keep my backside clear.”

“I will, Dad,” he says and gives me a quick hug as best as he can while holding his M-4. I return the quick hug. He heads out the door and down the hall. Was that him thinking the worst is about to happen given what we heard above us just a few moments ago and wanting to get a last hug in? I think closing the bathroom door and heading down the hall. Or was it for reassurance?

The first hard slam against the front door sounds, startling me even though I expected it. I stop and kneel in the hall close to the bedroom door with a direct line of sight with the front door. Turning my sight to the 1x setting, I look through and set the dot on the center of the door. I’m hoping the couch holds the door long enough for the night runners to grow tired and move on. I’m also hoping they can’t get in through the kitchen window as I only have a small view there. If they do get through, they can run around and get through the bathroom which will give me a very limited amount of time to react. The same goes for being able to scale the building on the outside and get into the far bedroom. I’m taking nothing for granted as to what the night runners can and cannot do as they have surprised me more times than I care to recall. There is no way of telling how many of them are gathered but judging from the shrieks and pounding at the door, there are more than a few.

I look towards the closet but can only see the opening from this angle. I picture them all with their backs to the wall with dresses, shirts, and pants dangling about their heads.

“I’m in the hall by the bedroom door,” I say pressing the mic button at my throat, wanting to let them know exactly where I am positioned. “Everyone okay?”

“Copy that and we’re doing fine,” Lynn answers. “How does it look out there?”

“So far so good,” I reply.

I look back to the front keeping both eyes open and using a parallax view, - this allows a greater width and depth of view while seeing the aiming dot as well – I see the front door jar and shake with each successive thump against it. It is holding and I imagine the night runners are getting pretty sore shoulders but the couch is against the jamb rather than the door itself so there’s a little give with each thump.

I hear the glass of the kitchen window breaking and see the couch wedging the bookcase shake but it too holds firm for the time being. I feel my heart pounding in my chest and have a trapped feeling. I always liked having a way out if things went awry but don’t see an option here. We can’t escape through the patio door as the drop, although livable, will take us out into the night with no protection. It’s also on the other side from where we parked the Humvee so that option offers nothing. Kind of fucked up where I parked on that one, I think.

I suddenly hear loud, heavy breathing through my earpiece. It sounds like Bri. She must have just turned on her radio and may have set her radio to VOX (voice-activated) which makes her mic activate and transmit with any sound. Or she may be accidentally holding the mic button down. It will hold up the frequency if we need to communicate so I rise to tell her.

A particularly loud bang hammers the front door and I hear her take a deep, sharp breath in. “It’s okay, Bri. We’ll be fine,” I hear Robert say dimly coming through Bri’s mic. “That’s Dad out there and we’re here. It’ll all be okay.”

“Bri, your mic’s on,” I whisper into the closet standing by the entrance. I hear some moving around inside and, with a click, the breathing in my ear stops.

Another terrific thump sounds against the door as I settle back into position. The front door shakes even more. My breath quickens as I see it rock backwards with the next hit. There is a pattern of a shriek and then a slam. My hope that they would tire quickly is not coming to light. If they do manage to get the door down, at least they will have to funnel through one or two at a time. I pat the mags in my vest, comforting myself that they are there and available. Taking two out, I set them by my knee. I would have taped two together end-to-end for quicker reloads but that makes it difficult to carry in the pouches.

A slam comes against the door for about the hundredth time and the jamb by the latch splinters. Oh fuck! I think seeing the jamb itself beginning to give way. That is the last thing I wanted to see and my thought quickly goes towards my kids and Lynn. I should never have come down. I quickly turn my radio to VOX as I may not be able to take the time to reach up and click the mic as my hands may be too busy. I want to stay in communication regardless of what happens. My adrenaline rate increases but a calm settles in.

The jamb gives way but the door comes against the couch and it doesn’t open any further. It’s not even a door width open but the latch is no longer secure. The screeches outside intensify as if the night runners know they are almost inside. The interval between bangs against the door increases. The jamb where the hinges are screwed in begins to splinter as the latch did moments before. The trapped feeling intensifies. A part of my mind searches for an avenue of escape but realizes that none exist.

“Very well motherfuckers! Bring it,” I whisper to myself, getting myself in the frame of mind needed, steeling myself for the inevitable.

Another solid thud and the top hinge gives way. With the sound of wood cracking and a screech of metal being torn, the door caves inward, the top falling across the couch at an angle. The night runner shrieks, no longer muted by closed door, rises in volume as our little bit of sanctuary becomes open to the outside. I see movement through the small cracks the angled door leaves though not enough to get a shot through. The door is picked up, twisted, and pulled outside. Now we are fully exposed.

“They’re in,” I call seeing the first night runners enter into the now open doorway.

I rub my thumb over the selector switch to verify I am on auto and put my dot on the first to enter as it scrambles over the couch still sitting in front of the door. I opt for the auto selection in case any of my rounds miss or glance off, then there’s a chance they’ll hit and slow up any night runners that are behind. The entry way outside is congested with night runners waiting to get in. Pulling the trigger lightly, my carbine pushes against my shoulder as I send three rounds streaking outward.

The hallway flashes with pulses of light and the muted coughs resonate loudly in the enclosed hall. My three steel core bullets meet up with their target in a tight pattern with speed and power hitting the night runner full in the face. The force of the rounds striking destroys the bone structure and knocks the lower jaw loose before ricocheting inside its cranium and exiting, taking the entire back of its head off. A massive, chunky mist sprays out from behind as it collapses face forward onto the couch. The cream-colored couch absorbs the blood trickling from the night runner, turning red where the night runner’s head comes to rest making the couch look like a tissue after being dabbed on an open cut.

Two night runners jostle at the door before entering and climb over their fallen member. More shove from behind and the entire doorway is filled with pushing night runners. The multitude of screams outside tells me that many more are outside. The vast number is more than I anticipated, although I know I should quit anticipating anything with them. I switch my M-4 to semi as I worry about the ammo. Running low has happened too many times now – and once being too many.

I center my dot on one coming over the body and couch and put just enough pressure on the trigger to break it. A flash in the hallway signals another bullet exiting the suppressor. The round speeds toward the night runner and hits it in its left cheek, entering the cavity of the mouth as if unobstructed. The back molars and side teeth splinter into tiny shards leaving just the stumps and roots attached to the gums. The round then angles upward slightly before slamming into the lower part of the skull and breaks apart with the largest part of the bullet exiting out just above the ear. The skin flaps open and splatters a coating of blood on the foyer wall. The night runner’s head is slammed against the same wall with a solid thud and slumps backward, coming to rest on its back along the back of the couch.

Only registering the hit in the back of my mind, I switch to the second night runner scrambling over the couch and discharge another projectile. The shot hits the clavicle and angles upward into its throat. Blood splashes outward in all directions as major arteries and veins are hit and the night runner falls forward, its head hitting the tiled entryway with a solid smack. It lies still with it feet resting on the first night runner and blood quickly forms a large puddle on the floor.

Night runners pour in behind these first three. I’m not going to be able to hold them back with mere single shots. I switch to auto once again and hope that my rounds last longer than the night runners. The roar from the host is deafening as the sound waves concentrate down the narrow hallway. I begin placing bursts into the crowd that is pushing their way inside, no longer worrying about killing shots. Bodies are piling up on the couch and by the kitchen entry, but their entry is coming faster than I can put them down. Like an incoming tide, they are slowly gaining ground. I faintly register the sound of my spent cartridges hitting the wall next to me. Each time I reload, they gain even more ground. The empty mags are accumulating at my knee like the night runners piling up on the couch and floor beyond.

“How many of you fuckers are there?” I say under my breath.

“Jack, are you okay?” Lynn asks. Kind of forgot I had set my radio to VOX.

“Yeah. I think they’re fucking breeding out here,” I reply not interrupting my fire or diverting my attention.

The night runners gain ground to the hallway entry. Seriously, how many are there? I think jamming another mag into the lower receiver. The time distortion, which comes on when it seemingly feels like it, is sorely missing here. I would so love for things to slow down but they seem to be speeding up instead. I notice a couple of night runners race behind the front line and off into the living room to the right. Uh oh. If they get into the bathroom and come out the door just scant few feet in front of me, I’m done for.

The mass enters the hallway and are met by the steel propelled from my carbine. I reach for another mag and slam it home allowing them to gain a few additional feet. The stink of unwashed bodies and gunpowder rises to my nose. The glow of the night runner’s skin in my goggles and the shine from their night-vision-enhanced eyes is downright spooky. Even scarier is how many there are and how close they have gotten. A slam against the bathroom door just in front jars me. As if that were not a bad enough sign, shattering glass behind me catches my immediate and direct attention.

I stand and take a step back into the bedroom without altering my fire. I hear two bursts of fire come from the closet. I glance to my side and see a night runner, that somehow climbed onto the patio, pitch back through the hanging blinds. The blinds part as the night runner blows through them and they swing back together immediately as if wanting to keep the result secret; making the night runner appear as if it dove into a pool and disappeared beneath the surface. The only proof that anything happened at all is the blinds still swinging back and forth.

“Thanks,” I say focusing back on the hall.

“You’re welcome, Dad,” Roberts says.

“No worries, Jack,” Lynn responds. “How’s it going out there?”

“Getting a little sporty,” I reply.

The glance only took a moment and looking back, the bathroom door bows and then explodes outward. I’m standing at the bedroom door and see multiple heads crowding the hallway but can’t ascertain how many. Some is all my mind registers. Night runners emerge from the bathroom and into the hallway, ahead of the line already there.

“Oh hell no! You don’t get to do that,” I say out loud and squeeze a burst into the first one.

It takes the burst in the side of its chest. Blood erupts from its mouth and nostrils and the rounds devastate its lungs and interior of its chest region. It pitches forward into the opposite wall face first and falls to the floor leaving a smear of blood trailing down the wall. The night runner behind trips over the fallen one’s legs as more rounds leave my barrel and rush toward it. The strobing flashes light up the hallway and the creatures, showing the surprise and pain registering on the stumbling night runner’s face as the fast-moving rounds connect. The power of the impacting bullets launches it backward into the ones trying to get closer. My bolt locks to the rear. Oh fuck! Not good!

I don’t have time to reload. I drop the M-4 and step backwards reaching for the M-9 at my side. Bringing it up, I get one shot off before being body slammed by a running night runner. The impact knocks me off my feet and I’m driven backwards. The pistol is knocked from my grasp by the strength of the collision. The surprise is complete as my mind only records the fact that I am on the way to the floor with a night runner on me. My mind screams, Noooooo! as the additional thought registers that my kids are now exposed to the danger and I’m not up and able to help them.

The great fear turns to anger as I hit the ground on my back. The impact with the floor nearly knocks the wind out of me. My left arm is between me and the night runner on top. I slide my forearm up to its throat to keep the snarling and growling face from me. Putrid breath launches an assault of its own against my senses. I push upward with all my might but the night runner has a good position on me and I can’t get any leverage. The only thing I can do is attempt to keep its gnashing teeth from penetrating my skin.

My right leg is free. I bend my knee and reach down to grab my knife strapped to the outside of my ankle. The leverage is tough to hold while reaching down but I manage to pull the knife free of its sheath. I hear a small scream and several bursts from the other M-4’s. The thought that my kids are in trouble angers me even further. I plunge the knife in under the ribs and twist. The writhing night runner on top of me howls as I withdraw the knife and plunge it in again. A spurt of blood comes out of its mouth that is only inches away from my face. It pushes down against my arm, growls once more, and then goes limp.

“Get the fuck off me,” I say pushing the night runner off and to the side.

Sitting up, I am immediately slammed to the ground again. Fear, adrenaline, and anger course through me. Another night runner has slammed me onto my back and is on top with its head by my chest. My left arm is trapped between the night runner and myself. It claws at my neck and I feel the stinging pain of my skin being ripped on the left side. I feel the weight on top of me double as another night runner’s face appears over the shoulder of the one immediately above me.

I can’t move and can barely breathe. My jaw clenches and I feel a surge of anger. “Okay, you’re seriously starting to piss me off,” I yell and stab my knife into the closest one’s neck.

The top of my blade emerges from the other side of its neck cutting through tendons and cartilage. Blood leaks out of its mouth and nose, dripping onto me. Its growling turns into a gargle and I feel the warm blood gush over my hand and flow onto my chest. I remove the knife and jets of blood spurts twice before I feel the night runner become a dead weight on me.

The other night runner is trying to get down to me but isn’t able to with the dead one between us. I also don’t have a very good angle on it. It reaches over its dead comrade attempting to claw my face and neck. As it reaches its hand upward toward me, I stab upward under its armpit. The howling shriek turns into a scream of pain as my knife penetrates that very tender place. The armpit is a source of many nerves and the arteries of the arm run just under the surface of the skin. I twist the blade and feel jets of warm blood spray against my hand. I twist and push my knife blade again. The night runner arches up howling and struggles to get away from the point of my blade buried deep under its arm. Its yells of agony fade and it collapses across me to the side.

“Get..the..fuck..off..me,” I mumble straining to push the night runners off me.

“Dad, are you okay?” Robert asks.

“Yeah, just fucking peachy,” I answer giving a final push.

I finally manage to heave them to the side and scramble back to my feet. A few night runners lie on the floor in front of the closet entrance with one half in and half out of the entry itself. Two more night runners stand by the bedroom door. A glance behind them shows the hallway clear.

“Hold your fire,” I say as the two start for me, my roar meeting with theirs.

The two night runners rush, one behind the other. I take a step forward and meet them, going to a crouch just prior to contact. I rise forcefully and drive my shoulder into the front one’s chest, halting its forward momentum. I grab the night runner by the neck, drive it backward into the one behind, and thrust my knife under its sternum. I feel the warm sensation of blood run down the haft and onto my hand once again. I tighten my grip as the handle has become slippery. A turn of the blade and I move the night runner to the side. I duck under a swiping reach of the second one behind. Coming up as its arm sweeps over my head, I drive my knife into its neck. I lower my head just prior to my blade penetrating to prevent splashes of blood coating the lenses of my goggles.

I feel a slight resistance in my arm as my point meets the tender skin and drives inward. Blood splashes across my forehead. Putting my shoulder into the thrust, my knife plunges further into the night runner’s neck and comes to a stop against its spine. I withdraw the blade, step forward putting my right leg behind its right ankle, and push with my shoulder. My push trips it and sends it to the floor where it hits with a thump flat on its back. It lies gargling for a moment and then is silent.

I turn to the sound of the patio door blinds stirring. Another night runner darts into the room. I’m blocking the closet door so Robert and Lynn can’t fire at the new intruder. It stops a couple of feet inside, thrusts its head forward and shrieks. The scream fills the smallish room to the point that it seems the walls shake with its intensity. Rage and adrenaline still fills me like a heated glow but there is a numbness and calm accompanying it as well. I feel like I’m wrapped in a heated void. I hold my arms out to the side with my knife dripping blood, thrust forward in a similar manner, and roar back at it. A startled look crosses its features as I step towards it. It turns and darts back through the blinds. I hear a sickening thud and crack issue mutely from outside followed by a scream of pain.

I check the hall and front doorway to find them empty of any further attempts to invade the apartment. Walking to the patio, I step through the shattered glass door and look down at the driveway to the rear. The night is silent. Below, the night runner that fled is crawling slowly across the pavement having apparently leapt off the balcony and broke one or both of its legs on impact. I walk back in, grab my M-4 off the floor where I dropped it, and put a fresh mag in – my last one. Flicking the release, the bolt drives home, chambering a round.

Returning outside and clearing the area, I put the sight on 2x and center the crosshairs on the night runner. I continue to stare at the creature slowly and painfully crawling across the dark pavement for a moment. The thought of leaving it to deal with the dawn coming a few hours away runs briefly through my mind. The fear turned to anger is rapidly disappearing as the danger recedes and I feel a little sorry for the night runner below me. Regardless of the situation prior, no person, animal, or other deserves to be in pain or to suffer needlessly. With the crosshair centered, I send a fast-moving projectile into its head, bringing its crawling, and its agony, to a sudden halt.

Looking out at the narrow view of the bed and patio blinds, Robert kneels on one knee in the center of the group against the back wall of the walk-in closet. Clothing hangs down to either side of him. His heart thumps inside his chest as the thuds echo inside the apartment from night runners slamming into the front door. A particularly loud bang shakes the walls around him and he hears Bri gasp beside him.

“It’s okay, Bri. We’ll be fine. That’s Dad out there and we’re here. It’ll all be okay,” he says reassuring her.

His dad whispers at the door that Bri’s mic is on. In his peripheral, he sees Bri scramble trying to find the right switch and notices her look up at him. He reaches over and moves the switch on her mic cord. The breathing in his ears, that he assumed was his dad’s, falls silent. Several more slams resonate.

“Very well motherfuckers! Bring it,” he hears his dad whisper through his earpiece.

His heart rate quickens knowing his dad and his idioms. Those words mean something is about to happen and his dad is steeling himself for it. He looks at Lynn kneeling beside him in the same manner; on her knee with her M-4 pointed outward. She turns her head to him and nods. He feels confident yet scared at the same time. He knows he will react okay but will it be enough. He is glad he gave his dad that hug before leaving the bathroom. For some reason, it makes him feel better knowing that he did. It seemed the right thing to do. He almost wants the action to start so he can get rid of this feeling inside and just react like the previous times. This nervousness is close to unbearable. A tremendous crash blasts through the closet.

“They’re in,” his dad calls out.

Light flashes across the open doorway followed a split second later by muted gunshots. This is quickly followed by more. The first bursts of fire are trailed by single shots. Robert tightens his grip and slides his finger into the trigger guard. His thumb rubs along the selector switch to affirm that it’s set on auto. If they get in this far, semi just isn’t going to cut it, he thinks keeping his focus on the doorway and far blinds. The flashes of light and sounds are near continuous except for pauses where he assumes his dad is reloading. The mixture of shrieks and screams of pain make it difficult to hear anything else.

“How many of you fuckers are there?” Robert hears his dad say.

“Jack, are you okay?” Lynn asks.

“Yeah. I think they’re fucking breeding out here,” his dad replies. Robert chuckles knowing things are okay if his dad is keeping his humor.

While concentrating on the things within his view, he is reminded of those times where he and his dad laughed until their eyes bled tears. They have an identical sense of humor, perhaps stemming from the countless hours they spent together, and they see things in life the same way. Sadness folds over him as he remembers those times now with his dad out there fighting for his and their lives.

The sound of glass breaking rides over the howls and shrieks from inside the apartment bringing Robert’s entire focus back to the moment. The blinds part and a night runner enters the bedroom. He pulls the trigger with his dot centered on the chest. Multiple strobes flash off the walls of the tight closet as both his and Lynn’s carbines fire at the same time. The night runner is launched off its feet and back through the blinds from the multiple, forceful strikes on its body.

Robert sees his dad step back into his range of vision but is only able to see his back. “Thanks,” his dad says.

“You’re welcome, Dad,” Roberts says.

“No worries, Jack,” Lynn responds. “How’s it going out there?”

“Getting a little sporty,” he replies.

Robert knows what “getting a little sporty” means to his dad. It is a little more than the normal “getting a little sporty.” There was a time when he and his dad rode their mountain bikes up this long, steep ridge to the top of a mountain on the Fourth of July to watch the area fireworks. They sat on a mountain top, tired and exhausted from the ride, drinking Dr. Peppers and watched the light shows in the region below. The sun had set on everyone else but the glow of the sunset still shown on them. After a while, darkness set in firmly and the fireworks ended. It was pitch black out and they only had small flashlights – yeah, that one wasn’t thought all of the way through – which illuminated the ground in front for only five feet at best. The brakes only worked marginally on the exciting ride back down the steep slope. It was hard to keep the bikes under control as they careened off rocks and the edge of the cliff came close several times. When they finally reached the bottom, his dad said the same thing, “That was a little sporty.” Truth be told, Robert had thought it rather fun and exciting.

The one other time he remembered his dad using that phrase was the time they kayaked across a large, open body of water, the wind kicked up against an incoming tide and they paddled across with waves breaking over their head.

“Oh hell no! You don’t get to do that,” Robert hears his dad say over the radio.

His grip tightens on the handgrip of his M-4. The reality of the moment sinks in and he feels an intense fear but with an underlying calm. He feels a certain confidence with his dad and Lynn with him. Moments later, he sees his dad being catapulted in the air past the opening with a night runner on top of him; the two of them disappearing off to the right.

“No! Dad!” Bri screams rising to her feet.

“Stay here Bri,” Robert says holding his arm out in front of her.

“Holy shit,” Brian says in hushed voice.

“Shut the fuck up,” Robert says with adrenaline coursing through him. His response surprises him as much as the others around him. That came out of him from the fear he feels seeing his dad thrown like that, from the dire nature of their situation, and from his disgust for the guy next to him for getting them into this.

Other night runners follow in the path his dad and the night runner took. He and Lynn fire at the ones materializing in front of the door. Their rounds hit the night runners in the head, chest, and arms, knocking them to the side against and on the bed. They are attempting to keep the swarming creatures away from his dad. A night runner quickly appears in the doorway, completely blocking the view outside. Kelly screams as Robert raises his carbine and pulls the trigger, sending speeding projectiles toward the night runner threatening them. His rounds close the distance quickly and hit in rapid succession on its chest. The upward angle of the shots lifts the night runner off the ground with its legs shooting forward and its head backward. It falls to the ground half in and half out of the doorway.

“Nice job,” Lynn says as they resume shooting at the passing night runners.

“Get the fuck off me,” Robert hears his dad say over the radio.

The night runners coming by the door are thinning out to an extent, becoming ones and twos rather than the horde that was there moments before.

“Okay, you’re seriously starting to piss me off,” he hears his dad yell.

No further night runners come by the opening but he hears others rustling in the direction of the hallway. The decibel level has dropped substantially. The sounds from the hallway combine with the sounds of struggle coming from his dad’s direction.

“Get..the..fuck..off..me,” he hears his dad mumble on the radio.

“Dad, are you okay?” Robert asks.

“Yeah, just fucking peachy,” his dad answers. With that answer, he knows that his dad is indeed doing okay. A little pissed but okay.

“Hold your fire,” his dad says stepping into view of the open doorway looking a little disheveled.

Screeches once again fill the hallway. He sees his dad lean forward and yell back. He watches as his dad steps forward, crouches down and drives his shoulder upward into a charging night runner. He then grabs its neck, forces it into another night runner behind and brings his hand upward, plunging his knife into its belly.

“Eww,” Jessica says softly.

All eyes in the closet are mesmerized by the scene unfolding before them. Robert watches his dad toss the night runner to the side and duck under the swing of the second night runner only to come up quickly, thrust his knife into its neck - even through his goggles, he sees the blood squirt outward - and push the night runner to the ground. The creature disappears from view and he hears a gurgling sound for a moment and then all is silent.

“Fuuuuck me,” Brian says barely under his breath.

The soft swish and tic of the blinds stirring by the patio door reaches his ears at the same time that he catches a hint of movement on the other side of his dad. A shriek fills the room once more and is answered by his dad giving an equally loud scream. His dad takes a step and Robert sees movement as the night runner apparently runs back through the blinds, his dad seemingly chasing it off.

Exhaustion sweeps through me as I re-enter the apartment. I check the hallway again and drop to my knee to retrieve my handgun. Energy seeps from me and I remain on the floor a touch longer in front of the closet. I take a deep breath and continue deep breathing to clear my mind and catch my breath. The silence has returned to the dark apartment and makes my breathing seem inordinately loud. With my head hanging down, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Looking up, I see Lynn looking down at me with a worried smile. Robert walks out of the closet and I give him a tired nod of thanks and job well done.

“Are you okay?” Lynn asks quietly.

“Yeah, I think so. I need all of the bottles of water we have,” I reply feeling a sting from the scratch on my neck; both from the recentness of the injury and from sweat running into it. “Robert, cover the front door. Bri, I need you to cover the patio door. Both of you call immediately if you see or hear anything.” I realize my radio is still on the voice-activate mode and switch it to the push-to-talk mode.

Robert looks down the hall at the numerous bodies heaped there and beyond. “Holy shit!” He exclaims quietly.

“Yeah, holy shit is right,” I reply.

Robert kneels in the hallway where I was previously while Lynn steps into the bathroom to retrieve the water. With Bri standing by the bed by my side, I reach into a pouch on my vest and retrieve a batch of antibiotics we divided up seemingly years ago. Lynn returns with the water and sees me taking the pills.

“Jack?” Lynn says in a questioning and worried voice.

“I think I got scratched,” I reply in answer to her questioning concern.

“Oh fuck, Jack! Where?” She asks whispering.

“On my neck. I think it was a clawing scratch and not a bite though,” I answer feeling my neck for the scratch to determine the depth and extent of damage.

“Come on, into the bathroom,” she says.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a second,” I say.

I walk past Robert and down the hall. The enclosed space of the hallway stinks of torn bodies, the iron smell of blood, and gunpowder mixing together. I have to step over the bodies lying on the ground filling the hallway floor. I nudge each body testing for any life remaining within them. Several night runners respond to the toe of my boot prodding them and I finish them off with one round to the head. The entryway by the kitchen is piled waist high in places where the night runners pushed into the apartment and were met by steel. I go through almost an entire clip by the time I put the last of the night runners to rest.

Climbing over the mounds of bodies is difficult as they shift and slide. My boots sometimes sink between them like stepping into soft spots in a muddy swamp. I exit the mounds by the kitchen and step into the living room, alert for any hiding night runners. A sweep through the open living room and far bedroom reveals that none remain within the confines of the apartment. We’re clear for now. I backtrack to the bathroom entrance letting Robert know I am reentering the hall. It would totally suck to forget something as simple as that and be shot after all the night has held to this point. Communication is one of the most important keys to survival with a group.

Meeting Lynn at the bathroom entrance, we step over the broken door and enter the bathroom. Lynn props the door against the entrance as best as possible to seal it against any light leaking out, and lights the candles. I remove my NVG’s, prop my gun, and lean against the counter with both arms. The candlelight reflects off the mirror revealing a different person staring back. I don’t recognize myself. My tired eyes looking back observe the blood on my forehead and neck. As I look at my reflection in the mirror, it seems like I’m watching myself through a third person. The area around my eyes is clear where my goggles were making me look like a reverse raccoon.

This seriously can’t possibly continue in this manner, I think as Lynn takes one of the towels from the floor and pours water over my face and neck. The water runs off my head and into the sink turning the basin into a pink, swirling mix of water and blood. I feel a sting from the scratch. She begins to dab my face and neck with the towel clearing the blood away. Watching her tenderly administering to me, my heart is flooded with warmth. This was not the homecoming I imagined or anticipated.

With the blood cleared, I see the scratch clearly. Not normally concerned with such a minor wound, the fact that it was from the night runners and that some of their saliva may have come into contact with it increases the worry factor. I need to be around for my kids and Lynn. The scratch itself runs from the middle of my neck down to my collar bone. In the yellow light of the candles, I see the skin around has already turned a bright red. Lynn rummages through drawers and a bathroom cabinet until she finds some gauze pads and tape.

“Here, crush one of these up and sprinkle it on,” I say pulling another antibiotic pill out before Lynn applies the dressing.

She takes out her knife and crushes the pill on the counter, sprinkles it on the scratch and covers it with the gauze and tape. Watching her with the tenderness and worry brings out another feeling within. The post adrenaline, close call, and watching her, well, brings about a certain desire. The problem is that we aren’t out of the danger zone yet and won’t be until the sun comes up, let alone the fact that there are others close by. Ugh!

She puts the last of the tape in place and looks up at me through the mirror. “Jack, I know that look,” she says quietly with a small smile.

“Mmmm hmmm,” I reply just as quietly with a tired yet mischievous smile.

“We can’t here,” she says looking to the broken doors propped up against the bathroom doorway.

“I think you’re looking the wrong way,” I say looking to the other door leading into the far bedroom.

She looks longingly at the opposite door then shakes her head. “Jack, you have no idea how much I want to but we can’t,” she says with a sigh.

I mimic her sigh, “I know but you’re in trouble when the sun rises.”

“Deal,” she says with a larger smile.

“Come on sunrise,” I say playfully and rinse my knife off in the sink.

“Yeah, no shit,” she says with another sigh.

Lynn looks at the white gauze and tape at my neck. “I think it’ll be okay. It only burns a little but not overly so,” I say answering her worried gaze.

I give Lynn a kiss which threatens to develop further before we head back to the room after extinguishing the candles and donning our NVG’s. Seeing us enter the hall, Robert lowers his muzzle. Passing by my kneeling son, I pat him on the shoulder.

“You doing okay, Dad?” He asks looking up through his goggles.

“Yeah, thanks. How are you doing?” I ask in return.

“Tired, but okay,” he answers.

“Good.”

Returning to the bedroom, Lynn and I sit next to where Bri is kneeling with her M-4 aimed across the bed. I ruffle her hair, “How are you doing, hon?”

“I’m okay, Dad,” she responds looking up.

I smile back at her. A flood of warmth and love for both of my kids flows through me. I am so proud of them but there is also an underlying fear for them given our situation. I wish I could just wake up and we could be back to the world we knew before; worrying about which fireworks show we were going to go see rather than which building is going to harbor night runners, when the next assault will occur, or how we are going to stay supplied.

“We can’t continue like this,” I tell Lynn. “We can’t keep facing massive assaults like this. We’ve just been lucky so far.”

“And sometimes less than lucky,” I add remembering the loss of the entire Delta Team.

“Jack, we won’t have to worry about that so much once we get the sanctuary built and secured,” Lynn responds.

“We’ll still have to go into buildings for supplies until we become self-sufficient. I mean, they have been in mass in almost every, single building lately,” I say.

“Is it safe to come out?” Kelly asks from the closet with a whisper.

“Yeah, we’re okay for the moment,” I answer.

Brian, Kelly, and Jessica emerge from the closet and stand by the entrance. Brian takes a step forward. “Hey, I just wanted to say sorry and thanks man,” he says in a whisper.

Oh sure, now he whispers, I think. “You know, I think it’s best that you not speak to me right now. You put my loved ones at risk and I’m not too keen with that,” I reply and he steps back to the closet entrance and plops down against the wall. Kelly squats next to him and they begin whispering in the dark.

“Then don’t go into buildings,” Lynn says picking up our conversation. “Maybe it’s you.”

“Very funny,” I say.

“Seriously though, Jack, what choice do we have?”

“Well, I know we can’t continue in this manner; with these kinds of encounters. We are being reactionary. It’s going to bite us in the ass harder one of these times,” I answer.

“What are you thinking?” Lynn asks.

“I am thinking we have two choices. Well, three but the third isn’t an option. The first is to build our haven, walls and all, then hunker down and let both us of live in our own environments. Let them have the night and we’ll have the day,” I answer.

“And the second?” She asks taking in what I said and nodding.

“Exterminate them all within our area,” I answer.

“That’s the riskier solution in the short-term but maybe worth it. I’m not sure we have the manpower to do that though. So, which one are you thinking about?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I reply.

“Just curious, what was the third option?” She asks tilting her head to the side.

“Give up,” I respond.

“You’re right, that’s not an option,” she says knowing I wasn’t being serious.

A muffled cough from Robert’s M-4 interrupts our conversation and startles all of us. Jessica lets out a small squeal. Lynn and I immediately jump off the bed, go to a kneeling position facing the front door, and shoulder our weapons. Nothing is moving at the door. It remains silent outside.

Robert is in the line of fire so Lynn and I keep our muzzles lowered but ready to move up and engage if something enters the open doorway to our front. Not wanting to risk the additional noise of talking halfway across the bedroom, I move up to his side, leaving Lynn in place to help Bri cover the back door. I am anticipating a round two of our previous bout but the lack of shrieks doesn’t indicate one.

Kneeling by Robert I ask, “What’s up?”

He doesn’t move his eyes or carbine from the front door as he answers, “One just poked its head around the side of the door.”

“Did you get him?” I ask watching and listening for additional movement.

“I think so,” he answers.

I think about going up to the door to check; not only to see that the one night runner is down but to see if others remain outside. However, I don’t want to stir up trouble if there are others out there. If they are content to stay outside and leave us in peace, I am perfectly content to stay in here and leave them in peace. I listen for any sounds or calls both near and far. The night is as quiet and as void as deep space.

I pat him on the shoulder again. “Nicely done,” I whisper into Robert’s ear.

“Thanks,” he whispers back.

“You doing okay here for a bit longer?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answers.

I walk back into the bedroom past Brian, Kelly, and Jessica. Both Kelly and Jessica whisper their thanks for coming down to which I tell them no worries. I can tell Brian wants to say something along the same lines but wisely keeps quiet.

“Okay everyone, we need to stay quiet as we’re not through this yet and there are bound to be more around. I think we’ll be okay in here as long as we keep absolutely silent,” I say plopping back onto the bed where I begin to silently load my empty mags.

The apartment chills with the night air circulating through the open doors. I worry about our scent carrying outside however the rest of the night passes by without incident other than the scratch on my neck continuing to burn. We take turns resting and covering the entrances. I take several more antibiotics with Lynn undoing the tape and sprinkling more directly on the wound. The outside lightens with the coming dawn signaling a return to the safety of the day. We have survived another night; another encounter.

With the dawning of a new day, we all relax. We toss our goggles in the Humvee and I gather Robert, Lynn, and Brian and we begin removing the bodies from the hall, kitchen area, and front door. I wouldn’t worry about clearing the apartment but it’s impossible to get out without stepping over and on them. I want to at least clear a route out. We toss them over the front balcony railing into the front entryways of the apartments below. Brian heaves a few times as he and Lynn cart several night runners that have been ripped open by rounds hitting them and tumbling, creating a mess. Blood and fleshy bits of night runners, some of the flesh still having hair attached, covers the tiled floor as we make our way down to the last layer of bodies. We slip a few times on the slick floor carrying the bodies out. The entry way below fills with corpses as we toss body after body over the railing.

I look up at the shattered door of the apartment above us as Robert and I throw the last body over. I think about going up to investigate, as the sun peeks over the apartment building across from us, but decide not to as there is really nothing to be gained by going in there. With a sigh, I head back inside with Robert.

“Pack up anything you want to bring but try and keep it to the essentials,” I tell Brian, Kelly, and Jessica.

“Make sure you keep them on track if you don’t mind,” I ask Lynn. “I’m going outside for a breath of fresh air.”

“Will do,” she responds.

I head outside after we wash up and sit on a curb behind the Humvee away from the bodies and the smell. The sun is shedding its light on the parking lot over the buildings. I sit on the hard concrete feeling exhausted. With my M-4 resting between my legs and the sour scent of my own body odor assaulting my nose, I ponder the previous night. I feel like I unnecessarily put my loved ones at risk yet again. I feel like I make mistake after mistake and know I can’t afford to keep doing that. The mistakes I feel I made were bringing my kids down even though I thought I needed them to bring a 130 back. I don’t know if that was from an earnest need or just a desire to have a plane nearby. There was also a selfish part of me that wanted them close but if that were indeed true, I would have brought Nic too.

I relive the night going over where my mistakes were and where I could have done better or done things differently. The only thing I come up with is that I should have been more forceful quieting Brian. Not shooting him as that would have made noise and is perhaps too extreme. However, his being unconscious would have kept him quiet. I resolve not to let anyone else put my loved ones in harm’s way in that manner again; or in any manner for that matter. Robert walks out and joins me, sitting by my side.

“That guy is a real jerk,” he says.

“Yeah, I should have done something about it before it got to the point it did,” I reply.

“There was nothing you could have done.”

“I could have sent him to dreamland,” I state.

Robert chuckles, “Yeah, there’s always that option.”

“Do I smell as bad as you?” I ask smiling.

“Worse,” he replies with an answering smile.

“You did a great job in there. Thanks for watching my back,” I say.

“That was some scary shit,” he says. I notice a change in him. He is no longer shaking or referring to his being terrified but more relating to the event rather than himself. His confidence is increasing.

“You are not shitting with that. I thought we were done for a couple of times. Thanks again for watching my back.”

“I did too and no worries,” he says looking at the ground. Our silence continues for a few moments as we each relive portions of our experiences. Lynn walks out a short time later and joins us.

“It was all I could do to keep from laughing when you told that guy off,” she says to Robert.

“What? Oh, yeah that,” he says with a shy smile forming on his face once again.

“What’s that about?” I ask.

“He told that guy, Brian, to shut the fuck up in the middle of our firefight,” she answers.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Well, it was when you decided to take flying lessons with a night runner on top of you. You went sailing past the door and Brian said ‘holy shit’ or something like that. Robert looks at him and tells him to shut the fuck up. I almost lost it. If I wasn’t so worried about you and what was going on, I would have busted a gut.”

“Really? You did that?” I ask Robert.

“Yeah, kinda. I guess so,” he answers.

“Too funny,” I say as we all chuckle.

“Brian is terrified you are going to shoot him,” Lynn says after our chuckles subside.

“I’m still on the fence on that one,” I say.

“I’m going to check on Bri,” Robert says after a bit.

“Okay. We need to go pretty soon,” I say as he gets up and heads inside.

I look over at Lynn and smile. “Take a walk with me?” I ask once Robert gets out of earshot.

“Mmmm hmmm,” she answers returning my smile.

Carrying our weapons casually but still alert, we stroll down the lot. We find a place behind a parked van out of sight.

“As much as I hate to say this, Jack, we’ll have to make this quick,” Lynn says.

“I know,” I say. “Being quick will be no problem at all.”

“We’re going to have to find some privacy for a much longer time,” I say a short time later as pick up our M-4’s.

“Yes we are,” she replies. We walk back to the apartment complex hand in hand.

Brian, Kelly, and Jessica finish packing their bags. It looks like they packed the entire apartment. “This is packing the essentials?” I ask eyeing the vast amount of baggage. Not that I would have done much different I guess. Kelly merely shrugs a response as we throw the gear in the back of the Humvee. The interior is packed as we climb in. I have Robert drive once again and we pull out of the apartments with the sun climbing into another warm, clear day.

The drive to the airport is conducted mostly in silence with our only real conversation being which road and exit to take. We arrive at the open gates of the Air Force National Guard Base and drive to the flightline. F-15’s sit in rows in the center of the tarmac with others parked in large, open hangars. Off to the side on the edge of the ramp, two C-130’s sit side-by-side. We pull up behind them and exit.

Opening the crew door of one, I check that the inside is clear. The interior has a musty aroma mixed with the smell of oil, jet fuel, and the ground in odors of years of use. I walk into the cockpit and turn on the battery. The gyros begin spooling up and the total fuel gauge reads about three-quarters full. There aren’t any external fuel tanks installed on this one so their tanks read empty. The fighter squadrons have the 130’s to carry their gear for their deployments and exercises. Satisfied that all is in order and this one appears in good shape, I walk to the rear and drop the ramp.

“Do you want us to carry the gear inside?” Robert asks after I relate that this one seems to be in working order.

“No, we’ll just drive the Humvee in and tie it down,” I answer. We edge the vehicle in and secure it to the cargo floor.

“This one should be almost identical to the other one,” I say to Bri and Robert as we take our familiar seats.

“Okay, Dad,” Bri says adjusting her straps.

Lynn straps in at the nav seat while the others find seats on the bunk adjacent to the rear bulkhead. I find a checklist sitting on the throttle quadrant as we proceed through the checklists in a familiar fashion. Brian, Kelly, and Jessica look decidedly anxious as they watch Bri handle the fuel and electrical systems. They glance nervously from her to Robert sitting in the co-pilot seat as we run through the start-up procedures like old hands. The engines come to life as we start one after another; the throaty roar saturates the cockpit. We don’t have helmets so the sound fills our ears in full force. We’ll have to shout to one another as we don’t have mics or headsets either. We taxi out and take off into the noon sun and turn north staying down low and follow I-5 northbound. As we turn to the north, leaving the dead city behind us, my thoughts go out to those who remained at Cabela’s and wonder how they are doing.