Takedown

Slip Sliding Away

The time runs endlessly on, some moments filled by panic and terror, other ones with strength and determination. Sensory deprivation does strange things to the mind. Lynn has tried concentrating on events, plans, and other memories to occupy her, but, here in the inky blackness of the room, her thoughts slip away and she comes back to her emotions, to fear.

The one thing that has kept her on the sane side is her unfailing belief that Jack or the teams will find her. She has been kept alive for a reason — what that reason might be is still beyond her. She has no idea why she is being held — or is still alive for that matter. The broadcasts she hears sporadically keep her spirits from sinking into some very dark depths.

The struggle isn’t so much against the night runners near the door, but against her own mind. Each low, menacing growl sends shivers through her body in waves of dread. It gets to the point that she wishes they would just attack and get it over with. She wishes for that at times so at least something would happen. In the darkest of moments, she wonders if she is being kept for food…that the night runners have advanced to the point where they are starting to collect people for food — farming them as it were.

Lynn forces her mind back from these depths and concentrates on logical reasoning. She hasn’t witnessed any time when night runners haven’t attacked and eaten the very moment they find someone. Now they seem to have the ability to restrain themselves and take hostages. They certainly couldn’t have made this leap overnight.

If she knows anything, it’s that Jack will turn the city inside out to find her. After all, she would do the same for him — or for anyone in the compound for that matter. And the fact that she hears the broadcasts from time to time lets her know that the others believe she is alive. How they will find her is another matter. She doesn’t delude herself into thinking that they will go into every single darkened building in search for her.

Well, she thinks, chuckling, Jack would.

She is torn over that thought. She knows what Jack will do — put any semblance of danger aside — and she doesn’t want him to do one of his…well, Jack things. On the other hand, she wants this, whatever this is, to be over one way or the other. There have been moments when she has thought about just rising and fighting. That is in her basic instinct when dealing with fear. Push the fear aside and charge forth — doing whatever is necessary. She has actually had to force herself to sit back down after rising to attack the night runners. The fear she has is increased by the fact that she was unaware that she had actually risen.

She searches her body for the hundredth time, hoping that she missed one of the knives she usually keeps close at hand. And, as with the other times, she finds that the night runners were too thorough in their search. She has nothing to help her in a fight with them, and without something to give her an edge, she knows she will be quickly overwhelmed. Sure, she may take down one or two by using surprise and ferocity, but not four or five. And certainly not an entire building.

She still has no idea where she is except somewhere in the city. The faint announcements have made that clear. Having heard their feet storming down what she assumes are hallways on the other side of the door, she knows that the building she is in houses a lot of night runners. The entire building reeks of them. Not knowing even where she is in the building makes the odds of making it out, even if she were to overpower the guards, close to impossible.

The constant panting, sniffing, and occasional growls keep her on edge. Even though she knows that the others won’t give up on her, she doesn’t know how much more of this she can take. If she had her vision, then it would be different — maybe. On the other hand, she’s not sure it would be better if she could actually see the night runners poised by the exit door. That may be too much. As it is, not being able to see them makes them the boogie man in the closet. Something she can either bring to life in her mind or shut out.

She wants to take action and she has to go against her very nature not to — she will wait. She doesn’t know how long she can hold out, but she will as long as possible. As much as she wants to control her own environment and make her own way out, she knows her best bet is to wait for help from the outside and keep up her strength. She’ll give it more time, but, if no help arrives soon, she knows it will be up to her to extricate herself. A firm determination settles within and she continues planning scenarios to escape.

She feels her pack returning from their nightly hunt. She went out during the night to join in the chase, but returned before the others that went farther afield. Her fear that her pack would run into Michael’s have come to naught. One worry she has is that they would rejoin his pack and she needs every one of them. She knows she stirred up the two-legged ones but, so far, they have remained within their compound during the night. She has heard their voices from the vehicles from time to time but they haven’t attacked.

Another worry she has of Michael attacking hasn’t materialized either. She has cast out periodically to see if she can figure out his intentions but has come up blank so far. Sandra thought he would attack her lair as soon as he found out what she did. After all, that’s what she would have done. To this point, though, her pack and lair have been left untouched. She doesn’t know whether to be thankful or more worried.

Most nights she has gone forth, she has made her way north in an attempt to sense the other two-legged one. She hasn’t felt anything and worries that he isn’t still alive. Perhaps he fled when she attacked. Whatever the reason, it worries her. She may have to kill the female after all and call it good. If she has to do that, she will move her pack away from here as Michael will surely do something at some point. Perhaps she will move back to their previous location. For now, she will watch and wait.

During the flight, Robert, Bri, and I take turns resting on the bunk to catch up on our lost sleep. After seeing Lynn, I plan to collapse on my cot and turn the world off for about two days. I would turn it off for longer, but it has shown a distinct lack of doing what I want it to. The droning of the engines is lulling — well, for some. The roar isn’t as strong in the cockpit. Those in back usually have a different story to tell with the engines being just on the other side of the thin, aluminum skin. The action and being up for twenty-four hours plus is starting to take its toll.

The earth below drifts slowly past us. I swear if it were to go any slower, we’d be going in reverse. I look at the airspeed indicator a few times to make sure we do, in fact, have forward momentum. Eventually, as does all things, time moves on and I wake Robert to begin our preparation for landing.

Beginning our descent, I call the compound. We’ve been out of contact for days and it will be nice to reconnect. I didn’t think the satellites would hold up for much longer, but it was nice to have the sat phones for the limited time we did. One of the aspects about losing that communication medium is that we won’t be able stay in contact with Leonard and his crew. When we fly back out to meet with Greg, whenever that might be — I glance at Robert assuring myself for the thousandth time that he looks okay — I’ll fly up the Western Seaboard on the way home and try to get into communication with him.

“Base. This is Jack on UHF. How do you copy?” I call.

“Jack. You’re back earlier than expected, but it’s good to hear you. Standby, I’ll go get Drescoll,” Kathy replies.

I’m a little confused as to why she didn’t say she’d get Lynn. “Can you get Lynn as well?” I ask, eager to hear Lynn’s voice.

There isn’t a reply and I assume she has darted off to round up Drescoll. Moments pass as Mount Rainier slides past our window and we begin a turning descent north toward McChord AFB.

“Jack, glad to hear from you. Where are you?” Drescoll finally comes on the radio.

“We’re about twenty minutes out. Can you inform Bannerman that we’re bringing eighty-plus guests to dinner? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. And let the others know that Greg and his team are continuing the search on the ground. I’ll brief you in detail when I get there. Can you have buses brought up and we need some additional transportation as well?”

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. We just have an aircraft full of guests for delivery.”

There is a pause on the other end. “Okay, Jack, I’ll meet you at the field.”

“Is Lynn there?” I ask.

I’m puzzled why Lynn isn’t on the radio and going to meet us upon arrival. Worry creeps in. I feel that Drescoll is being evasive and isn’t telling me something. The more I think about it, the more worried I get. Perhaps she’s off with the others in training and not available. I have the tendency at times to let my mind come up with worst case scenarios. I’m sure there’s a perfectly plausible explanation. No doubt Drescoll’s next communication will tell me this is one of those times.

We float over Olympia as we line up on a long final for McChord AFB. The waters of South Puget Sound are rough with a strong breeze blowing from the north. The late afternoon sun glitters off the tops of the choppy waves like diamonds on a blue-aqua background. Cabela’s drifts past. On the other side of the freeway, equipment is busy cleaning up the rubble from the destroyed buildings. Trees around the compound lie on the ground as the area continues to be cleared away. The inner wall appears to be finished and workers surround upright shipping containers near the main entrance and wall corners. It looks like our inner defenses are almost complete. The scene passing below seems normal.

The pause in our conversation is a little too long and I have an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. A faint impression brushes against my mind, coming from below. It’s too quick to pinpoint but, for some weird reason, an image of Lynn flashes through my mind. It could just be caused from my worry, but it feels different than that. My anxiety builds and I open my mind for a moment. I swear the image came in the form I’ve become accustomed to sensing from night runners. It’s gone so quickly but the picture was of Lynn in a dark room. It doesn’t make any sense. I open up a little more, but nothing else returns.

“Drescoll, are you there?” I finally ask.

“Yeah… sorry, Jack. I was organizing transportation. I’ll talk to you when we pick you up. Drescoll, out.”

That throws me for another loop. There is definitely something going on, and I’m sure I’m not going to like it. Apparently, Drescoll doesn’t think I will either. If he was maintaining communication security, he would relay that in the form of coded phrases we developed. I glance at our sanctuary that is about to disappear under the wing looking for signs of something amiss. Again, to all appearances, everything seems normal. I feel like calling Drescoll back to get some information — I’m not overly fond of the waiting game — but I trust him and he is doing what he is for a reason. I focus on the upcoming landing but with a definite tightness around my heart.

The landing isn’t one of my more stellar feats of flying, but we’re on the ground. I taxi quickly to the ramp and park next to our collection of 130s. One of them won’t escape the surly bonds of earth anymore and soon, none of them will. A couple of Humvees pull onto the ramp as our propellers wind to a stop. They are followed by several school buses and a Humvee bringing up the rear.

I open the ramp. The cargo compartment needs airing out and cleaning as some of the stomachs riding in back didn’t overly appreciate the flight. Bannerman and Drescoll, along with Drescoll’s Green Team, meet us at the rear of the aircraft. I make a quick round of introductions and signal to Drescoll to meet me off to the side, leaving the care of our passengers in Bannerman’s capable hands.

Joining Drescoll, who is standing to the side, I turn to glance at Robert. He knows what the look is for and gives me a head nod letting me know he is okay. I signal for to him to refuel the aircraft. The plan I had was for us to wait for a few days to see if Robert is indeed okay, and then head back out to meet up with Greg. I have a feeling that those plans are about to change.

“Okay. So what the fuck is going on? Where’s Lynn?” I ask Drescoll.

Another glimpse of Lynn’s face surfaces in my mind, fading just as quickly as it did before. I shake it off and stare at Drescoll waiting for his answer, one I’m sure I’m not going to like.

“What’s the plan with Greg?” Drescoll asks.

“You’re stalling, Drescoll. What. Is. Going. On?”

His shoulder slump and he sighs. “Okay, Jack…this is a hard story to tell, but here it is,” he answers and proceeds to tell me about the attack and Lynn’s capture.

“Taken?! What the hell do you mean taken?” I say, my voice deadly calm.

My insides don’t match the tone of my voice. My heart feels like someone has their hand around it and is squeezing with my stomach on the verge of emptying its contents.

“Frankly, Jack. We’ve discussed that at length and can’t figure it out. I tracked them but then lost the trail in town. You’ll have to see the tapes. We have teams out every day, all day searching and broadcasting.”

“How in the hell did they get in?” I ask, going a little numb.

I’m anxious to get back and start my own search. Robert bitten, Greg out on his own and expecting our return, and now Lynn taken by night runners — her fate unknown. My head feels like it’s going to explode from the enormity of it all. I feel the rising pressure. Part of me wants to drop to the ground while another part wants to explode in frustration and rage.

“You know, Alan, that guy who showed up at the gates?”

“Yeah. What about him?”

“He apparently opened one of the loading dock doors and then the main gate,” Drescoll states.

“And we let him?”

“Jack, no one knew. Our thinking is that he, well, reverted back in some fashion. We’ve pieced together the events, but not the why.”

“Where was our security? Why didn’t the cameras catch this?” I ask, feeling my temper rise.

“Jack, remember we had to move the building cameras to the walls. We’ve since fixed that hole.”

With a deep sigh, I reply, “Yeah, I remember. My fault. Take me to where you lost the trail.”

“Jack, that trail is days old.”

“You will take me there. Right now,” I say and storm back to where the others are offloading gear and loading into buses.

Robert has begun refueling the aircraft with Bri monitoring in the cockpit.

“I’m going off with Drescoll for a little bit. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I ask.

“Yes, Dad, and I’ll tell you if I start feeling any different. I’m tired but okay,” he answers, turning back to the gauges.

“Okay. When you’re finished here, make sure everyone is loaded up. Head back with the rest of Red Team and I’ll meet you back at the compound,” I say.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you about it when I get there,” I say and go see that Bannerman has everything under control.

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I don’t know what to say. If there’s anything…” Bannerman says, his sentence trailing off.

“Thanks. I’m heading off with Drescoll. Have the group assembled when I return.”

“Will do, Jack. This may be the wrong timing, but what about Greg?”

The pressure of so many things threatens to blow every vessel in my body. I stand for a moment as I try to reformulate plans, but each thought only stays for a brief second before being replaced by the next.

“We’ll talk when I return,” I say.

I feel like breaking down and letting the tears flow but I need to take action. Even if that action might be futile, I need to be doing something to find Lynn. I know that the tears will come and once they start, they won’t stop. Right now all I feel is anger and frustration. If Lynn is out there, I need to find her. The images I briefly had of her come to mind and I’m not sure what to make of them. Hell, I’m not sure what to make of any of this.

The very thought of someone being captured or taken by night runners seems preposterous. Why would they do that? And why would they break off their attack once they were inside the building. It just doesn’t make any sense. However, it doesn’t need to right now. Right now, I need to see for myself. I need to get my sweetheart back. The fact that she may be held by night runners brings such fear that I want to weep. Thinking of the terror she must be feeling breaks my heart.

“You ready!” I shout across the ramp to Drescoll.

He merely nods and I walk to the Humvee. Loading into two of the Humvees, we are soon speeding through the deserted base. A tense silence fills the vehicle. More thoughts race through my mind, trying to put logic to the situation and failing. I’m also trying to not collapse. For me, we can’t be moving fast enough. I lean over to glance at the speedometer and then to Drescoll driving. I realize that we can’t go any faster without turning the Humvee into a carnival ride but that doesn’t help my mood.

“Look, I’m sorry I spoke to you that way,” I tell Drescoll.

“It’s okay, I understand how you feel,” he replies.

“Have you found any clue about where she might be?” I ask as we turn onto the interstate after leaving the base.

“None, Jack,” Drescoll answers and tells again of the events and efforts since. “She is my friend too, Jack. There isn’t a stone I won’t turn over to find her. That’s the feeling for the entire compound as well.”

“I know.”

I’m glad he is referring to Lynn in the present tense. That’s a little comforting at least. It means that he believes that she is alive, wishful thinking or not.

“And just so you know, I’ve called for a form of curfew and a lockdown at night,” Drescoll states.

“That’s understandable given how it seems to have happened,” I say. I’m really only following the conversation on the peripheral.

He blows his breath through puffed cheeks. “You should also know that we’re keeping Julie and the others confined to an extent in their cubicles.”

This grabs my attention and I turn sharply toward him. “What do you mean by confined?” I ask, my voice again cold and calm.

“She and the others can shower, go to the bathroom, and eat, but I have detailed a guard to be with them when they leave their rooms,” Drescoll answers.

This is the kids’ mom. They aren’t going to like this very much and, as a matter of fact, I’m not a big fan of it either. Certainly, I understand the reasoning, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“Has she or the others exhibited any sign of reverting back or causing trouble?”

“No. I did it for the good of both sides, for their protection as much as our own. There isn’t a whole lot of trust right now. People are scared, Jack.”

I get what he is saying and I see no problem with his reasoning. It’s just that…one, it’s the kids’ mom, and two, we can’t afford to have the camp split and for paranoia to reign. This is a time when we need to be of one mind with regards to our survival. Distrust like that can break us up — a fracture that can widen into disruption.

“We’ll talk about that tonight,” I state. “Wait, does that mean they don’t trust me?”

“No, Jack, I haven’t heard anything along those lines,” Drescoll states.

He said that with no hesitation at all so I believe what he is saying.

We arrive at our turnoff. As we track along, Drescoll describes how he followed the path of the night runners. The churned up ground is still clearly visible but it is slowly reverting back to its overgrown nature. I make a mental note to have the grass cleared away — possibly burnt. We drive slowly along the rubble-strewn streets. Crews work among the debris, heavy equipment lifting the debris into dump trucks to be carried off. A significant portion of the wreckage in this area has been cleared. Drescoll continues to explain the signs he found and we are soon winding down neighborhood streets. The signs taper off to nothing. We finally arrive at where Drescoll lost the trail for good. We stop and I get out.

Looking closely around the area, it is like Drescoll said, there isn’t any clear indication of where the pack of night runners went. I look for the smallest sign of Lynn — something dropped, a shoelace, piece of uniform, anything but come up with nothing.

Staring at the sky growing a darker blue with the fading day, I open up, pushing farther outward, but I continue to come up empty. I don’t sense any night runners in the vicinity. I push farther. I pick out a few small packs farther south but nothing of the magnitude that Drescoll mentioned.

“You said there were thousands?” I ask.

“Yeah. Thousands upon thousands, Jack. You’ll have to see the video to get a perspective of just how many,” he answers.

I stand for a while staring down the forlorn streets. The tops of the trees sway in the wind, the whoosh of it blowing through the needles of the tall evergreens. My pant legs and shirt sleeves flail against me. I sniff the breeze, hoping to catch a scent. Nothing.

“Jack, we should start back. Night will be here before too much longer,” Drescoll says, hesitatingly.

“Huh? Yeah, okay. Radio that we’re coming in and have the group assembled. I’ll be along in just a moment,” I reply.

He places a hand on my shoulder for just a second and then turns back to our lead Humvee.

I stare down the streets, wishing for a sign, something to tell me where Lynn is. I still can’t believe this is happening…has happened. The grief I have kept tamped down threatens to overcome me.

“Be okay, Lynn. Please. I need you. If you’re out there, know that I will find you,” I say quietly, hoping it will reach her.

Turning, I walk to the vehicle and we make our way back. The crews we passed are packing up and heading back to the compound as well.

She startles awake, hearing a faint drone drift through the walls of the lair. It’s the same sound that she’s heard periodically, especially on the nights when fire rained down from the darkened sky and slammed into the hunting packs. Her heart thumps with a shot of adrenaline, at first fearing that they’ve been found and their lair is about to be taken down. She casts outward as the drone fades into the distance and senses, for a brief moment, the two-legged one. A sense of relief fills her. She was worried that she wouldn’t find him again. She sends a quick image of the female and closes her mind back down, not wanting Michael to sense her location. She’ll have to do this carefully. She waits a little longer and sends another image before falling back into a slumber, her hands wrapped around her growing stomach.

With her arms around her drawn up knees, and her rear sore from sitting on the hard surface of the floor, Lynn rests her head wearily on her knees. Dozing periodically, she brings her head up sharply as a muffled droning penetrates her consciousness. Deep growls and a nervous type of shuffling come from the night runners near the door.

That’s right, assholes, that’s your death overhead, she thinks, recognizing the sound of a 130.

The sound fades and the night runners calm down. The fact that she heard the aircraft tells her one thing — Jack is here. That was either him returning or he is using the 130 to search for her. Of course, having no idea of what time it is, it could be him out in the AC-130 on a night mission. The mere fact that he is around lightens her spirits. Lynn wishes she could communicate with him in some fashion and help him find her but that seems next to impossible.

If that was him arriving, he will hear shortly what happened. She knows he will turn over every stone to find her, just as she would for him. Jack has the ability to sense night runners and will have a better chance than Drescoll and the others of finding her. If he can find the large pack, and pin down their location, he will find her.

With a smile painted on her face, the first in a while, she lays her forehead back to her knees.

We pull into the parking lot with a host of other vehicles coming back after finishing their day’s tasks. A few anxious glances are directed my way before turning quickly away. I’m not sure if the anxiousness is from wondering about my reaction to Lynn being taken or if there is something more to it — a form of mistrust.

The inside of Cabela’s is a bustle of activity from arriving crews and our new guests getting settled. We now stand at over three hundred and thirty people. With our supplies stacked on the lower levels, this many people crowds the interior and greatly increases our need for additional housing. That will have to wait until our inner perimeter improvements are complete but I’m sure I’ll hear it from Bannerman when we meet.

I call Robert aside as he is getting ‘reacquainted’ with Michelle and tell him to go see the doctor. The stare from Michelle is unmistakable. I know I’m not her favorite person for taking Robert all of the time. I’m quite sure she views me as some controlling dad who is constantly taking her boyfriend from her and trying to kill him. The reason for talking to Robert on the side is because I’m not sure if he’s told her about his bite as yet. That’s his story to tell and his time to tell it.

“I will, Dad,” Robert replies once we have some space to ourselves.

“I mean now,” I reply.

“What about the group meeting?”

“That can wait. I have a couple of things to do before we meet anyway so hustle yourself up there. I won’t ask you if you’re feeling okay because I know you’ll tell me if you aren’t. Did you tell Michelle yet?”

“No.”

“Are you planning to? I only ask because it’s bound to get out and she’ll eventually hear about it. Trust me on this one, It’s better if she hears it from you first…although that’s your call. Now get upstairs,” I say.

He sighs and walks over to Michelle. Motioning to Drescoll, I keep an eye on Robert and Michelle, seeing her eyes go wide after a moment. She shoots a glare in my direction. Yeah, I kind of thought that might happen.

“I want to see the video feeds for myself before we meet,” I tell Drescoll.

We stroll into the operation center filled with video monitors. Drescoll plugs in the tape. I watch with horror as night runners stream by the gate cameras and enter the compound. Thousands pour across the monitor.

“That’s Alan,” Drescoll says, pointing to a figure in the middle of the storm.

I watch as he gets torn apart and disappears under a torrent of night runners. The screen then empties as they streak farther into the compound leaving the mutilated body of Alan lying on the hard surface.

Drescoll reaches over and fast forwards the tape. Soon, night runners begin exiting. I feel hot tears of sorrow and frustration at the sight of Lynn being carried off, her body hanging listlessly. Watching them disappear from the screen, I feel a building rage and a desire to kill every last night runner. That feeling was there at losing Nic and has never left. Having Robert bitten made it worse and now with Lynn being carried off, it is pushed to a crescendo.

The last of the night runners vanish from the monitor and Drescoll reaches across to turn the recording off. I continue to stare at the blank screen — my anger being fueled by fear. I no longer see the screen but my mind is running through scenarios to wipe every night runner from the face of the earth.

The pressure becomes too much to keep within. I stand and kick the chair I was sitting on across the room. It slams against the far wall and tumbles to the floor with a clatter. The staff manning the video feeds and radios flinch, glance fearfully at me, and then return their attention to their screens. Several people poke their heads in the doors and then quickly leave. An uneasy and awkward silence fills the room.

“Feel better?” Drescoll asks after a moment.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I reply, “Yes…no…a little. Tell me again about what happened inside. I want to know every detail.”

Drescoll describes the fight inside and events following. I listen for any clue as to why Lynn would be taken — or where. Nothing in his story gives me the faintest clue.

“Okay. Let’s meet with the others,” I say. “And Drescoll.”

“Yeah, Jack.”

“Nice job with the defense and getting order restored.”

“Thanks,” he replies with a nod.

“I apologize for my losing control,” I tell the others manning the ops center as I leave.

They all turn and nod, relieving the awkward tension filling the room. Upstairs, I see Robert over with the doctor.

“Tell everyone I’ll be there in a moment,” I say to Drescoll. He nods and strolls over to where the others of the command group are seated.

“How is it, doc?” I ask, joining Robert and him.

“There doesn’t seem to be any sign of infection. As I was telling him, his temperature and vitals all appear normal as do his neural responses. The wound seems to be healing normally. I’m prescribing three weeks of antibiotics just as a precautionary. If I had facilities, I’d have blood workup done but, honestly, everything appears to be okay,” the doctor answers.

“Thanks, doc,” I say, feeling a little relief at his words.

The stress is still there but at least this is good news. I won’t, however, feel one hundred percent relieved until a few weeks have passed without any signs.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

Robert glances over at Michelle standing by the upper railing near their quarters. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“There will be plenty of time to get yelled at later,” I state.

He smiles. “I’m not really looking forward to that.”

The deep anger I felt before has diminished. Not that it’s gone by any stretch, it’s just that it’s contained. Although emotions continue to roil inside, I also feel rationality return. Taking a seat with the group, I note that Taylor is sitting in for Lynn.

“I know we probably all want to talk about the attack and Lynn, or maybe it’s just me that does, but we should catch up first,” I say, detailing our trip, culminating with Greg departing with the Stryker.

Bannerman then begins to brief. “As I’m sure you saw on arriving, the inner wall has been finished and we expect the towers to be completed within the next two days. We’ve focused efforts on that and clearing out the rubble and trees in the area. Additional cameras have been installed on the interior and exterior with additional people monitoring the video feeds. After the towers, we’ll then focus on housing. We have plans drawn up based on what we talked about before. The only changes are watch towers and security watches within each building based on…well, based on what happened.”

“Any word from Leonard?” I ask.

“We haven’t heard anything for a few days now. The last we heard from him was about the same time we last had a radio call from you,” Frank states.

“So, the satellites must have finally gone down?” I ask.

“It would appear so. At least, it would explain the outage,” Frank answers.

Something in his tone says that he’s entirely certain.

“Are you convinced of that?” I ask.

“I can’t think of any other reason,” Frank replies.

“We picked up this guy, Harold, who had some interesting ideas,” I say.

“What did he say?”

“He seems to think someone is blocking our satellite communication,” I answer.

“Did he elaborate?” Frank asks.

“Not really. I asked why not block all communications. He replied that frequencies radiate outward from the transmitter and thus are more difficult to block. If they were close, the frequencies could be jammed but the satellite is a central reception point that can be shut down from a base source. He then shrugged and wandered off. Let’s deal with that at a later time though. Right now, I want to talk about this holding other in house arrest,” I say.

“As I mentioned, we did it for the good of everyone. There was a lot of fear that the others, including Julie, might revert back as it appears Alan did,” Drescoll says.

The mention of their mom being held in house arrest causes Robert and Bri to sit upright.

“Wait, what do you mean my mom is being held?” Robert coldly asks.

“From what we know, and with some guesses, Alan was a night runner previously. Everyone knows or believes that to be true. He’s the one that opened the gates and allowed the night runners to gain entrance. We’re lucky,” Drescoll says, looking in my direction as I also sit more upright at his use of the word ‘lucky’,” well, we’re fortunate they didn’t kill us all. We decided that keeping them with a guard and confining them was in the best interest of everyone.”

“That’s not cool,” Robert states, rising. Bri joins him.

“Sit down,” I say to the both of them.

“Dad, this is not okay,” Robert firmly states.

“I know…and we’ll talk about it. Sit down,” I say more firmly this time.

The problem is that I can see why Drescoll and the others did what they did. I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have done the same, or at least thought about it.

“Okay. What about this? We keep a guard with them at all times for the time being, but they are allowed to go as they please as long as they don’t do anything that endangers the group. I see your point, Drescoll, and would have done the same for the short-term. As far as the curfew at night, we keep that for the time being,” I say.

“How long are you thinking we keep a guard with each of them?” Drescoll asks.

“Let’s just do it until we are all comfortable they aren’t a danger,” I state.

I see Robert and Bri relax a little with this suggestion, but I can tell they aren’t happy with their mom being under guard. I’ll have to have a word with them in private later. It may not make them any happier but I want for them to understand the thinking behind the decision. We may not ever achieve complete security but anything we can do to improve it is something we need to do.

“You know, I will say that it’s not just Alan’s fault. I carry some of the blame,” Watkins states.

“What do you mean? You were the one who notified us in advance of the night runner’s arrival which allowed us to get into position. Without your warning, we would all have been annihilated in our sleep,” Cressman says.

“It was my complacency that allowed Alan out in the first place. As I mentioned previously, I let him walk around at night. It happened so often that I dismissed it. I was complacent about watching the interior,” Watkins says.

“We didn’t know to watch our own people,” Horace comments.

“No one ever does,” Watkins replies.

“Alright. The blame, if we are to place one, is a shared one. I allowed the cameras to be moved and had us focus on other projects. We can’t trace this or put ‘blame’ on any one person. We’re a team and therefore share the good and bad together. What we need to do is move forward and see that it doesn’t happen again,” I say. “Speaking of moving on, what about training?”

“We’ll have another graduating class and both phases of training for the current group completed in a week. We should be able to form an additional two to three teams with the ones that have finished both phases of training,” Drescoll reports.

“Okay. That’s good news. Sergeant Reynolds and her group can form a team immediately. They are all airborne qualified. We’ll incorporate some of the phase two aspects into our morning training formations,” I state.

“Foxtrot team designation?” Drescoll asks.

“I believe that’s what we are up to for naming,” I answer.

“Okay. I’ll hold a quick class on procedures and expectations if that’s okay,” Drescoll says.

“Fine with me,” I reply. “We can put Harkins and the eleven soldiers with him into the next training class.”

“Sounds good, Jack.”

“As we’re talking about teams, what about a team leader for Black?” Taylor asks.

“What do you mean?” I respond.

“Well, do we need another…team leader?”

This creates an awkward moment. It’s the elephant sitting on the table that we’ve…well, not skirted, but held off. What he’s asking, besides the team leader situation, is what we are going to do about Lynn. Are we going to give her up as missing?

“No. Lynn will be back. I’ll see to that. There won’t be a replacement because one won’t be needed. However, you’ll command in the interim,” I say to Taylor, who nods his reply.

“So…what are we going to do? Do you have a plan, sir?” Horace asks.

I feel the emotions bubbling up again. With a deep sigh, I answer, “No. I don’t have a plan per se. We operate under the assumption that she’s still alive. That’s the only, and I mean only, one we can have with the night runners taking her — that they want her alive for some inexplicable reason. We don’t know where she was taken so that’s the first thing we need to do –find out where she is.”

“How are we going to do that? We lost her trail and haven’t had any sign of her,” Horace asks.

“I’ll drive with the broadcasting teams and open up to see if I can sense a gathering of night runners of the size we recorded. We also take the Spectre out at night and see if we can locate them on thermals,” I answer.

“What then? What do we do once we find where she’s been taken?” Drescoll asks.

His tone is excited at the prospect that we have tools on hand that may locate Lynn.

“Let’s just find her and then we’ll work out the details on how to get her out,” I state.

“What about Greg?” Robert asks. “We’re supposed to meet up with him and we don’t have any way of communicating with him.”

“Greg is just going to have to wait a few days more. I don’t see any way around that. He knows we don’t have an exact timetable and will proceed…” I begin my reply but am interrupted by an image that forms in my mind.

It’s clear and sharp. I’m taken aback by its sudden appearance. I hadn’t opened myself up consciously but, with the emotions swirling inside, I must have allowed it somehow. In my head is a strong picture of Lynn, alive and in the dark. I turn my head sharply to the source and am able to sense exactly where it is coming from — almost due south. It’s sent by a night runner, the presence a strong one. The image is gone just as quickly as it came. I search outward to regain it but it’s gone. Although it has vanished, the source remains firmly entrenched in my mind.

I take in a deep breath, not realizing that I was holding it. The others in the group all stare at me, questioning, as I had abruptly stopped talking in mid-sentence and began staring at the walls.

“Lynn’s alive and I know where she is,” I state, still not believing it myself.

“How do you know that?” Drescoll asks, incredulous.

“I just saw her,” I answer.

“What do you mean ‘saw’? You mean you sensed the night runners who took her?” Frank asks.

“Yes and no,” I respond. “It was an image of her and it was sent directly to me. I can’t explain it really. It wasn’t like it was broadcast but sent directly.”

“What does that mean?” Frank asks.

“I have no idea. But, I know where she is…or may be.”

“So, we go get her,” Drescoll states. “We could use the Spectre and verify with thermals. We can use it to take them out as they come out.”

“Hold up a moment. We can certainly use it to verify the building…but think about it. What has happened in the past when we’ve used the Spectre on large packs?”

The group looks at each other questioningly.

“They moved. We can’t afford for that to happen here.”

“Okay. Then we verify where she is and then we go get her,” Drescoll restates.

“There may not be a ‘let’s’ to it,” I reply.

“What do you mean by that?” Drescoll says, an ounce of irritation edging into his voice.

“I mean, that if there are as many as the videos showed, the teams won’t stand a chance inside. However, let’s not jump to anything until we have more info. I’ll take the Spectre out in the morning and see what we come up with,” I respond.

Knowing that Lynn is alive and possibly where she is, I feel a little better. The sensations of excitement and fear bubble inside me in a chaotic mix. Mostly, I feel impatient. I want to be off right now and begin searching — to head straight into the teeth of those that may be holding her. It has to be from the night runners that took her as there is no way I could receive such a message from Lynn herself.

The exhilaration bounds among the group knowing that she is alive, or, better put, my belief that she is and that I know where she may be. I say ‘may’ because it was just an image and not an actual confirmation. That was going to be the hardest part — finding her. A certain anxiety takes hold because she may be ‘captured’ and perhaps surrounded by thousands of night runners. I may know where she is, but getting her out will be a different story altogether. It may prove impossible.

“What’s the plan for the next few days with regards to activities?” I ask.

I hate even uttering those words, but there’s nothing I can do at the moment about Lynn until we have more information.

“The plan is to continue with the towers and clear the rubble. We’ve felled a fair number of the trees around the outer wall. We’ll begin cutting those up into firewood and storing it in cargo containers. Before winter sets in, I’d like to put wood stoves in the interior to take some of the load off our electrical needs. The plan for the housing is to incorporate wood stoves for heating into those as well,” Bannerman states.

“We also need to clear the taller grass away from the walls. I’m not sure of the impact on the walls if we burn it, but that would be the easier solution,” I say.

“We’ll run a test on a section of it,” Bannerman replies. “If there isn’t any detriment to the walls, we’ll move forward with that idea.”

“I know you’ve been busy, but have you had any luck researching bio-fuels?” I ask.

“We’ll have to make a foray into one of the libraries we’ve kept intact once we can spare any teams. I’ll plan that once we start on the housing.”

“Okay. Anyone else have anything?”

“What about sending one or two more teams out with another Stryker to meet up with Greg?” Horace asks.

I find myself half turning to Lynn to see if we have teams to spare for that, but catch myself.

“Let’s see what we find out tomorrow. We may or may not need the teams to get Lynn,” I state. “Anything else?”

No one responds so the meeting breaks up. I pull Bannerman and Frank aside to take a look at the housing plans. The others head off for their dinner or to find their cots. We pull open plans and begin to go over them. The exhaustion of only getting a little shuteye for the last day and a half is taking its toll, both in my thinking and ability to focus. Stress and lack of sleep are making it next to impossible to think logically or follow a line of thought. Before long, I call a halt.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I know I said I wanted to go over these, but I’m finding I can’t keep my eyes open a moment longer,” I say.

“Of course, Jack, I completely understand,” Frank says with Bannerman nodding in agreement.

I stroll wearily back to my room, stopping at Robert’s place. Knocking softly on the partition, Michelle pulls the blanket serving as a door to the side.

“He’s asleep, Jack,” she says.

“How is he?” I ask.

“He’s exhausted from running around. But, other than that, he’s fine,” she says with a touch of coldness in her voice.

I can’t say I really blame her. I could do a whole lot of apologizing — trying to get her to understand the need to gain experiences and tools to survive — but I’ve never been very good at that. Instead, I say lamely, “Let me know if anything changes.”

“You’ll be the first to know, Jack,” she says and closes the doorway.

With a sigh, I turn and head toward my own room. Lying on the cot, I look over at Lynn’s empty one. Sorrow flows through me. I feel lost without her. Part of the grief stems from knowing she is possibly spending another night inside a night runner lair and I’m lying safe and dry in comfort.

“I’ll get you out, Lynn,” I say softly as the first salty tears fall to my pillow.

Even with the turmoil of emotions running through my system, sleep eventually takes hold and I fall into a deep slumber, awakened only by the sounds of others as they move about the premises — shouts from below as crews get ready to move out, laughter occasionally floating above the rising din, boots stepping across the hard floor. I come abruptly awake wanting to get out and find Lynn. Quickly scrambling out of my sleeping bag, I join the ruckus outside.

Robert and Michelle are gathered at the upper railing engaged in a quiet conversation. I see Bri sitting with the rest of Red Team finishing off their breakfast. Not wanting to disturb Robert and Michelle, I wander toward the dining area and Red Team. Gonzalez is apparently telling a tale that has the rapt attention of the others. As I near them, they all break out in a fit of laughter. I smile as it’s good to see Bri accepted as one of them. I’m still not overly comfortable with her being on a team to begin with, but it’s good to see her fitting in.

“Good morning, sir,” McCafferty says.

She is the first to see me nearing. I know that is meant as the greeting it’s intended to be, but it is also serves as a warning to the others that rank is around. It’s a much better way of doing it rather than the elbow nudging or quick whispers I’ve seen. It doesn’t mean they were talking about me or anything bad, it’s just instinct.

“Good morning,” I reply. “I hate to break up the merriment but we’re leaving for the Spectre in thirty minutes.”

“We’re ready when you are, sir,” Gonzalez replies.

I nod and pass Robert and Michelle on my way downstairs.

“Good morning, Robert…Michelle.”

“Morning, Dad.”

“Good morning, Jack,” Michelle responds, smiling.

She sounds more cheery about my presence than she did last night. I guess her worry about Robert has been lessened.

“Feeling okay?” I ask Robert.

“Yeah, Dad. Just fine.”

“We’re leaving to take the Spectre up in about thirty. I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready.”

“See you there.”

I find Frank and Bannerman to let them know we’ll be leaving. They nod before turning back to other tasks. I walk out into the chilly morning, dawning bright and clear. Vehicles of all types fill the parking lot with their idling and revving engines. Standing there, I almost feel like a fifth wheel. The place really does seem to run itself. Drescoll, Frank, and Bannerman have done a great job keeping things together. Of course, it’s really been them all along as I’ve been off and about for the most part.

“Jack?” I hear a voice say tentatively behind me.

Turning, I see Julie standing just a few feet behind me. I tense not knowing what is coming. We haven’t really talked much since she was rescued. It’s not that we dislike each other, it’s just that we really don’t have much to talk about and I’ve been gone for a considerable period of time. I’m mostly surprised to hear her say anything. Julie rubs her arms to ward off the chill, glancing momentarily at the team member standing a few feet away — the one assigned to stay close to her.

“Robert told me what you said…and what you did. I just wanted to say…thanks.”

“I only did what was right. There were others involved as well,” I reply, still not really knowing what to say.

“Well, regardless, thank you. And I never did say thanks for getting us out of that camp, so thanks for that as well.”

“It was nothing, but you’re welcome,” I say.

I have never really been comfortable with people thanking or complimenting me and I tend to shrug it off. I know that may be offensive to others but it’s just my discomfort. Julie nods and turns to walk away, pausing momentarily to glance back over her shoulder.

“And, for what’s it’s worth, I’m sorry about Lynn,” she says and continues back inside.

Well if that doesn’t beat all, I think watching her head back with her guard in tow.

The funny thing is, I expected a whole lot more drama with having two exes under the same roof, but that hasn’t materialized, much to my relief. It could be, once again, that I’m gone a bit, which I’m sure they don’t mind in the least, and that I haven’t really engaged them in much conversation.

Vehicles depart from the compound, some gears grinding as they fade toward the gate. My patience is wearing thin and I turn back to see what is keeping Red Team when they emerge from the entrance chuckling. Gonzalez and McCafferty both ruffle Bri’s head to which she grins sheepishly.

“Not to worry, we’re here, sir,” Gonzalez says.

“Good, I thought you had decided to create a replica of the Sistine Chapel,” I respond.

“We finished that fifteen minutes ago,” Gonzalez replies with a grin.

“Good grief. Just load up.”

We take two Humvees north along a route we could now probably blindly negotiate. It doesn’t take long to ready the AC-130, and we are soon lifting off into the crisp morning. The impatience and anger I felt previously has dissipated now that I’m actually taking some action. I’m still not exactly sure what building Lynn may be in, but I have the spot pinpointed in my mind. I’ll fly to where it is and we’ll see what we are dealing with.

Robert is in the command module ready to start the video. I plan on making a few passes to take visual and thermal images, however, I want to limit the time spent over the target. Even though I know deep down the images of Lynn were sent for the reason of locating her, limiting our exposure, and thus alerting those inside are just instinctual.

With Craig in the right seat and Bri doing her job as the flight engineer, I level us off at a low altitude and proceed south toward Olympia. The terrain below is so much different than the other parts of the country. Here, the green foliage remains due to the amount of moisture. Sure, some of the fields are brown as they always are in the summer, but the evergreens make up a large part of the area.

We pass directly over Cabela’s as I fly directly toward the location in my mind. Vehicles across the interstate are busy clearing the remains of the rubble. Trees lie jumbled where they are felled around the outer walls, looking like a large game of ‘pick up sticks’ is in progress. Several folks in the parking lot look up at our passage, some of them waving. I rock my wings in response, quickly leaving the sanctuary behind.

Burned out neighborhoods give way to more trees and buildings as we proceed toward the city center. The once thriving downtown passes underneath and we fly over the ridge overlooking it. Pressing onward, we are soon over the Capital Mall with its empty lots surrounding it. Zooming past it, we are almost out of the city proper when I feel us nearing the spot indicated by the image that was sent. We pass directly over the location and I bank us to get a better idea of what we may be dealing with. In the turn, I look out my window and see a hospital gradually come into view.

It’s situated on the very outskirts of the city but I recognize it for what it is — The Capital Medical Center. It’s one of the larger hospitals in the area. Its tan brick walls and dark windows, which make up a large part of the facility, stretch upward for four stories. Another large section to the north is only single story. While not even close to as big as Madigan Hospital, it still covers a lot of area. It’s another of those buildings that would take a battalion to take if it is indeed infested with night runners.

I set up a circle around the building and have Robert begin videoing the structure from all angles. I look at the repeater as we go thermal but nothing much comes to view on the screen — it’s much the same as the visual representation except cast in shades of grays and whites. I wish we had x-ray capabilities to see inside, but I’ll analyze the videos once we get back to the compound.

Making one last circle, I commit the environment and building to memory. The area itself is mostly open with an apartment complex to the east and several smaller medical offices to the south. The parking lot, dotted with trees, is filled with vehicles. A life flight helicopter sits on a single helipad to the side, the rotors dropping toward the ground.

“Did you get it?” I call to Robert over the intercom.

“I think so. I’m reviewing the footage now,” he replies.

I take us a distance away from the facility while Robert continues to review what we recorded.

“It looks like we have good recordings from all angles,” he reports a short time later.

“Roger that. We’re heading back,” I state.

I radio in the coordinates of the hospital to base as we make the quick trip back to McChord AFB. We land and shutdown in short order. Robert grabs the video from the equipment and we button up.

“Are we heading back to Cabela’s?” Bri asks as we stand ready to load into the Humvees.

“There’s one other thing we’ll need,” I state.

“Let me guess, building plans,” Robert says.

“Where are we going to get those?” Bri asks.

“From the front reception desk…I hope,” I answer.

We load up and I notify the compound of our intention to visit the hospital to get a better indication of what we may be up against. I don’t know that Lynn is still in there having had no new images but it’s the only thing I have to go on.

“Jack, are you planning to go in?” Drescoll radios a few minutes later.

“Um, not very far in,” I state.

“Frank just marked the location on the maps. I’ll meet you there,” Drescoll replies.

“Copy that.”

The drive takes longer on the ground than it did in the air but we eventually arrive. Drescoll’s Humvee is already parked in the eastern lot, the side facing the front entrance. He is standing with the rest of his team looking toward the immense structure. He glances at us arriving before turning back to the building.

The enormity of the complex becomes readily apparent as I step out and meet up with Drescoll and his team.

“You think she’s somewhere in there?” he asks.

“It’s where the image of her came from. Whether she’s actually in there is anyone’s guess,” I answer. “After all, it was only an image of her.”

“So, what’s the plan to get her? This place is huge,” he says.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to take a look at the video and the building plans first. I think we can eliminate most of the outside rooms though,” I say, looking at the dark plate glass windows filling a large part of the building walls. “That leaves her somewhere in the interior.”

“That’s a lot of area to cover.”

“You have that right. Now, let’s see what we can do about obtaining some plans,” I say.

We cross the parking lot to the main entrance, passing cars and trucks covered in grime. The tall grass in the medians between the rows of parking spots has turned brown but the trees dotting the area remain green. The shrubs lining the walkway to the entrance, which were once trimmed to perfection, now look like they have a serious case of morning hair.

The entrance itself has tinted windows, rising to the height of the entire first floor, on either side. The glass on the automatic doors of the entrance itself are broken out, a sure sign that night runners lie within. For the first time encountering this sign of a night runner lair, I’m a little relieved to see it. It’s another clue that Lynn may actually be within the hard walls and dark windows. Kneeling, I look into the entrance foyer. The shards of glass from the broken doors have been moved from the entrance itself and arrayed in a pile near one of the exterior walls.

That’s new, I think, looking on. I stare inside trying to get a feel for the place.

“Can you open up and see if you can sense any night runners?” Drescoll whispers at my side.

“I’d rather not right now. I mean, if they’re inside, I’m sure they know we’re here by our smell and we weren’t exactly stealthy with our approach. Just call it a gut feeling that I’d rather not right now,” I answer.

“You think they might try to stop us from entering?”

“They may. We need those plans, if they exist. Without them, our chances of getting Lynn out are drastically reduced.”

“So, how do you want to play this?” Drescoll quietly asks.

Looking farther inside the foyer, I see that the radiant light extends quite a distance in due to the full height of the windows. A reception desk is on the far side of the foyer, sitting at the edge of the fading grays of the sunlight. The tinted windows, however, reduces the brightness of any light and casts the interior in gloom.

Trails leading farther into the interior mar the dust-covered floor — more evidence that night runners have been using this place. Even if night runners happen to be inside, and judging by the body odor I can smell, they are, they won’t be able to get to us if we go no farther than the desk.

“Both teams in. You’re in first and on the left, Red goes in second and to the right. We set a perimeter no farther than the edge of the light. I’ll head to the desk and see if I can find anything that would have the hospital diagrams in it. I’m guessing they would have to have had something on hand in order to guide patients and visitors to the right place,” I state.

Green Team stacks at the entrance door followed by Red Team. On a nod from Drescoll, they enter quickly into the foyer, sweeping along the left wall, their boots plodding on the hard floor. Red Team follows on their heels fanning out to the right. Both teams quickly settle into position creating a semi-circle with the entrance door at their backs. I step into the foyer as a single, faint shriek sounds from within the depths of the hospital.

Every soldier tenses at the sound. The scream echoes down corridors and fades. Silence resumes. I halt in the middle of the teams, waiting for a chorus of shrieks to follow. Nothing. The coolness of the interior coats us as we wait for what we’ve become used to, an explosion of night runners heading our way. A deep quiet follows the single shriek.

I listen intently for the sound of running feet or some indication that a horde is on its way. We should be safe in the light, but anyone inside of a night runner lair, and hearing that sound, cannot feel anything but fear. Tension fills the foyer. Dark hallways extend out to the sides and back of the large room. Nothing comes out from their shadowy depths. There aren’t any flashes or glimmers of pale faces hovering on the edge of the light. The fact that night runners aren’t howling at the edge of the light is more than a little eerie.

Soldiers sneak glances my direction. I still don’t open up — perhaps afraid of what I might actually sense. Although I know it would be good to know how many we may be up against, now or when we come back, I just don’t feel it’s the right time to play our hand. Deep within me is the fear that I’ll spook the night runners and they’ll move Lynn — assuming she is even here.

The thought that she could be close by, in this very building, creates its own impatience within me. I want nothing more than to call out and hear her voice — and to move deeper into the shadows to find her. Sanity prevails though and I know that I…we have to do this carefully if we are going to get her out alive.

With my M-4 held at the ready, I walk over to the large reception desk. Rounding the corner, I’m startled to see skeletal remains on the floor amidst a couple of overturned chairs. Only pieces of rotting clothing remains attached to a mostly devoured corpse. The lower jaw hangs open as if still uttering the final scream. One of the arms is missing and the right leg lies some distance away from the carcass. One of the telephone systems has been knocked to the floor and lies next to the desiccated body. The phone handle and cord rests near the head of the body as if it were trying to make that last call. Shaking my head, not wanting to think of this person’s final dark moment of terror, I turn my attention to the desk.

The dark wooden desk has sheets of paper strewn about its surface and on the floor behind. Dust covers dried pieces of paper that are curled at the corners. Thick clouds of dust rise as I blow on the sheets, the particles settling slowly to the floor and casting dust motes in the light streaming in from outside. Nothing I see resembles building plans.

Most are memos directing patients to the right rooms. One departmental note specifies that the hospital is no longer taking patients and for the staff to direct any further incoming patients to their family physicians. I note with a kind of morbid fascination that several of the pieces of paper are covered in dark stains.

With only the sound of the teams shifting positions as they continue to scour the interior for signs of night runners, I begin opening drawers. The third drawer I access yields what we came in to find, a notebook with the diagrams of the interior rooms listed by department. I tuck it in my vest and start making my way back to the entrance. I wait at the entrance as the teams fold back to the door, their attention still on the interior. I nod at Robert and Bri as they pass by.

One by one, the teams exit until only Drescoll and I remain. A shriek erupts from one of the darkened halls, echoing in the large foyer. We both turn sharply toward the source bringing our weapons to bear. A single ghostly face flashes once at a hall corner before disappearing. I hear no sound of feet running meaning that it’s still there, right around the corner. Drescoll and I quickly exit.

“What the fuck do you think that was about?” Drescoll asks as we emerge into the full light of the day.

“Hell if I know. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that it was a guard posted to give an alert if something entered. It could be anything, though. It could just be a night runner that smelled or heard us but couldn’t come at us because of the light,” I answer.

“If it was a guard, that has some chilling ramifications,” Drescoll adds.

“More chilling to me is that they can conceive the concept of kidnapping,” I say.

“I really don’t think I like these night runners much.”

“The sooner we get Lynn, the quicker we can set about seeing to their destruction. And, given the attack on Cabela’s, we had better do that quickly before they do the same to us,” I say.

“Why was there only one, though? Are we sure there are more of them here?”

“No, but all of the signs point to the fact that there are more…a lot more. I would find out for sure, but I don’t want to spook them. We are dealing with a much more upgraded version of night runner nowadays. Aside from them taking Lynn, and apparently alive, did you notice the house cleaning?” I ask.

“You mean the glass swept aside?” Drescoll responds.

“Yes. Have you ever seen that before? I mean, it’s been a while since we entered a lair but there was always glass strewn across a bloody floor. Now it seems they’ve adapted on a few new levels.”

“That’s just too fucking scary to think about.”

“You have that right, my friend,” I say, staring at the immense structure.

I think about yelling to Lynn to let her know we are here. I’m sure her spirits could use a lift, but yelling would be the same as opening up — if they aren’t setting this up for us to come in, then it might spook them and I can’t take that chance. Of course, their knowing we were inside their lair might do the same thing but there’s no use compounding the issue. I’ll look at the video and diagrams and be back tomorrow. Then I’ll let them know I’m here. Knowing Lynn may be inside the building I’m staring at brings that stowed anger to the surface. Yeah, they’ll fucking know it!

The muted droning sound interrupts her dozing. There is little to do in the dark and fading off into sleep is a blessing. Lynn’s moments awake are agonizing to say the least — time drags on eternal. She’s tired, dirty, and the room stinks of her own waste, the reek of the night runners, and her own body odor. The time spent in the darkness is only broken by the change of the night runners at the door, food and water brought to her, and bathroom breaks. Her mind continues to play tricks on her and there are times when she’s positive she imagined the sound of the 130 seemingly so long ago.

It takes her mind a while to recognize the sound. She looks upward in the dark toward where she assumes the 130 is, the sound of which doesn’t fade nor does it get any louder. That means it could be circling. Could they have found her? The presence of the 130 also means that Jack is back, but she already knew that, didn’t she?

The noise fades after a period of time; leaving her alone once more. A muted shriek from somewhere beyond the door causes her to lift her head again. She’s heard the cacophony of shrieks as the night runners have left on the evening hunts a few times and, for her, that is the only real mark of time she has. This one, though, isn’t followed by the usual chorus. She senses tension emanate from the darkened shape of the night runners. They stop and then shuffle in an agitated manner, emitting very low growls. Another scream penetrates the blackness that is her room. This seems to calm the ones near her and they resume their panting and sniffing.

The droning wakes Sandra, jolting her upright. That hum instills fear in every night runner hearing it. It’s the sound they’ve heard at night just before it started raining down fire upon the hunting packs…it’s the sound of death from above. She visited the large lair she shared with Michael after the two-legged ones destroyed it. If they had been inside, none would have survived. She fears that the two-legged ones, knowing her position, won’t try to rescue the female but destroy the lair instead. Perhaps she should move the pack tonight, providing they make it until then, and come up with an alternate plan.

The droning fades and she relaxes. There weren’t the loud bangs or buzzing sound that indicated the packs were under attack from the thing in the sky. The two-legged ones have to know where she is…she sent that image of the female to the two-legged one. Perhaps they were just looking the place over. That means they will be here soon. The thought of the two-legged one coming to her causes a sensation in her stomach that can be associated with pleasure.

The image of a group of two-legged ones entering the lair causes her to turn her head sharply. She hadn’t expected them to come so soon. Sending a message to her pack, she wakes them and tells them to get into position, telling the one on the first level to keep watch. If the two-legged ones proceed, they know they are to take the one alive but, as for the rest, they can do as they please. Her pack will overwhelm whoever shows up in the narrow hallways.

Expecting to hear news of the two-legged one’s attacking and of her own pack responding, she waits. Nothing. The pack member downstairs sends an image of the two-legged ones kneeling in the light near the outside portal.

They’re afraid to leave the light, she thinks.

Soon, a signal is sent that the two-legged ones are leaving. Sandra doesn’t know what to make of that but believes they’ll be back.

We load up and head back. I get with Robert, Bri, and Frank to begin the monotony of watching the videos. The thermal videos are next to worthless so I concentrate on the others, taking in every detail as I cycle through them. I have the building diagrams laid out and put the outside images together with the interior plans until I have the place fixed in my mind.

“So, what do you think?” Robert asks after spending hours watching video and diagramming.

“Let’s gather the others and go through this together,” I answer.

I gather the group and give the details and impressions about our trip to the hospital — from both the air and ground.

“Jack, have you thought that this could be a trap?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it. Trap or not, I…we have to get her out. If the night runners are capable of setting a trap like this, the only thing I can think of is that they want to lure our teams in to destroy them. Lynn may have just happened to be the one they caught. It could have been anyone. So, with that thought in mind, we won’t be launching with the teams,” I answer.

That creates an uproar with Taylor once again pleading that Black Team be allowed to go. I understand his desire. It was, after all, his team leader that was taken.

Frank waves the discussions down. “Jack, I have several thoughts about that. How would the night runners know to send a message like that? I mean, they communicate in that manner, but how would they know we could…specifically you. And there is the aspect that they specifically sent you Lynn’s image. Have you thought about that?”

“I guess that they could have found that out before I gained some control over it. Again, it could have been anyone who was captured and they sent the image to the one they know could receive it,” I answer.

“That’s too much of a coincidence for me,” Frank states. “Let’s go with the reasoning that they found out somehow, perhaps as you say, that you can communicate in that manner. It still strikes me as too much of a coincidence that Lynn was the one captured.”

“Are you saying that Lynn was targeted?” I ask.

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Frank responds.

“That sends chills up my spine,” Horace states.

“So they may have pulled her image from my mind and targeted her. I don’t like the ramifications of that any more than the rest of you, but, it could be that they wanted to be sure that the trap would succeed so they targeted someone they knew we’d go get. They might not understand that we would go get anyone that was taken. While their reasoning may matter, we can discuss that at a later time. The fact is that Lynn has been taken and I’m going to get her. And, in thinking about it more, if they are doing this to set a trap, that’s all the more reason why we shouldn’t take the teams in. They may not think of or be alert for only one of us going in,” I say.

The mere fact that I use night runners and thinking on this level in the same sentence is scary. They are faster, stronger, more agile, and far more numerous than we are. We have the day and they have the night which makes us even in that regards. If they can think at the high level we are discussing, to the point of kidnapping and setting traps like this, our troubles just multiplied exponentially. If they achieve the level of thinking we have, or heaven forbid, learn to use tools and weapons, then we are truly fucked. The only reason we have lasted as long as we have is because we have weapons and our cognitive ability.

“So you’re planning to go in alone?” Drescoll asks.

“That’s exactly what I’m planning. You saw the building, we won’t stand a chance entering with teams,” I answer.

“Jack, you won’t stand a chance. If they have planned something, then they know we’re coming. It’s not like the CDC. You had the surprise factor then and still barely made it out by the skin of your teeth,” Frank says.

“We have learned a lot more since then. I stand a better chance because I can tell where they are.”

“But can’t they tell where you are as well?” Drescoll asks.

“True, but I don’t plan to be there when they arrive,” I answer.

“Well, it seems like you have a plan. So what is it?” Drescoll says.

“I was thinking of heading inside the front entrance lobby and opening up to let them think we’re infiltrating from downstairs. We position two teams in the light of the foyer and that’s where they stay, making noise and acting like we’re going to come through that way. Not too much but enough to keep their attention focused. Let the night runners gather there and set whatever trap they have planned,” I say.

“Why two teams?” Frank asks.

“Well, I figure if that one night runner was a guard and not some sleep walker, then we’ll need to be in numbers that will draw and keep their attention. If we put in too few and don’t move, they may think we’re putting in others elsewhere.”

“Where will you be entering then?” Robert asks.

“After opening up with the teams downstairs, I’ll access the building via the roof through the maintenance door here,” I answer, pointing to a rectangular building on the roof itself.

“Okay. How are you going to get on the roof?” Robert asks.

“You…and the helicopter,” I reply.

“Me!”

“Yeah. As long as you don’t smash us into the side or drag me along the rooftop. Think you can do that?” I ask, teasingly.

“No promises,” Robert answers with a tremor in his voice. “Okay, assuming I can get you up there. How are you going to get out? The same way…I pick you and Lynn up?”

“That’s the primary solution with the secondary one being that I get to an outside office and rappel down.”

“Fair enough. How are you going to find Lynn in that building? That’s a lot of space to cover,” Drescoll says.

“That’s where it might get a little tricky,” I state.

“By tricky, I assume you mean time consuming and running into night runners,” Frank says.

“Yeah, something like that. I’d like Black and Red Teams downstairs. Horace, take Blue Team and I may need you to shoot out some windows as a distraction if things start getting a little sporty. Charlie and Bravo Teams will stay in the compound here to provide security. Drescoll, I want you to take Watkins and Bravo Team and hold a short distance away. I don’t want to leave the sanctuary defenseless so I want you to be in a position to respond quickly to either site,” I respond.

“Are we leaving at first light, sir?” Horace asks.

“Close to it. I plan to take the Spectre aloft before dark and park in a high orbit away from the hospital. We’ll use the thermal imaging to see if a large group of night runners leave on their nightly hunt. So far, we only know for sure that one night runner is inside. We’ll land after confirmation and rest in the aircraft, going back up before dawn to see if they return.”

Red Team rests as best as they can for the remainder of the day. The evening and next day won’t allow for much sleep so it’s best to get what we can during the day. There’s not much else we can do. The plans have been made — our gear organized and ready to go. As for myself, there are too many thoughts racing through my head to permit any sleep.

First, Greg comes to mind. While he’s not expecting us to meet him at any specific time, he is expecting us to rendezvous at some point. We can’t leave him stranded out there on the road. I quickly meet with Frank and arrange for him to have Robert and Craig fly out to pick up Greg should anything unfortunate happen to me.

Then there’s the thing with Robert. Although he says he’s fine, the experience I had, and those I’ve heard about and witnessed, leaves me concerned about him. Pestering him about it doesn’t help much and only serves to aggravate him. I feel torn between getting Lynn and staying to monitor my son, however much that would irritate him. I wonder if there will ever be a time when I’m not faced with situations like this.

Following the meeting, I must have looked at him with obvious worry, because he approached and said, “Look, if you’re worried about me and it’s interfering with your thoughts, don’t. It’s healing and I feel fine…truly.”

There is something else bothering me that I need to sort out. I feel like I’ve lost an edge with this whole leadership thing. Previously, I would have felt more confident about going into a place like the hospital. Well, maybe not a place with hundreds, if not thousands of night runners, but I would have centered better. I’ve noticed a change come in that I’m not sure I like. I feel like I’ve lost some my ability to center deeply in a tactical sense, trading some of that away to focus on more strategic matters — the focused calm becoming more chaotic. I am different, and I now understand why others who took on a greater leadership role changed — they had to. I actually felt better about my skills early on in this downfall of humankind. I need to gather that confidence back and do it quickly. Lynn’s life depends on it. With that thought, I feel a settling take place.

I head up to the rooftop to contemplate in silence. I think over my plan for infiltrating and searching the large facility for Lynn. Scenarios play out in my mind, and I cover my actions and reactions. The hard part will be actually finding where she is without running into a nest of night runners. That means eliminating any smells and taping down all of my equipment. She’ll most likely be in the dark, so I’ll have to bring a set of NVGs. I only need the one pair as I’ll be able to see just fine, and I don’t need to pretend otherwise anymore. She’ll more than likely be surrounded by night runners so I’ll have to eliminate them quickly and we’ll need to make our way quickly toward the nearest escape. I’ll bring several flash grenades. That will buy me some time if I encounter any night runners in the halls and for those around Lynn. A hundred different possibilities surface, and I mentally tick off equipment needed for each of them. I’ll need to be able to move fast, so I can’t be too encumbered.

Concentrating on the mission brings some of my old confidence back. The intense emotions I felt over the past couple of days tamp down into a cold, centered flame. I’m able to push other thoughts to the side and focus on the immediate action ahead. Confidence builds. I don’t know how many more times I can do this, but I have at least one more in me.

I glimpse the roof door opening out of the corner of my eye. Robert and Bri tentatively step out and I wave them over. I miss the late afternoons we once spent up here — just them and me talking about nothing in particular. I miss our little training sessions that I have had with them. They’ve learned a lot in the past few months and there may not be much more I can teach them. Most of what they have yet to learn can only be picked up through their own experience.

“Do you mind if we join you, Dad?” Bri asks.

“Not at all. In fact, I welcome it,” I reply.

“If you wanted to be alone, we understand,” Bri continues. Robert nods in agreement.

“No, I want you here. I was just running through various scenarios.”

“Why do you need to go alone? I don’t want you to do this,” Bri says.

“Because I think it’s the best way to get Lynn out. And I won’t be alone, there will be teams downstairs,” I respond.

“You know what I mean, Dad.”

“Yeah, I do. Look, there comes a time and place when a person has to make a hard decision. It is based on something outside of yourself and you have to ask if you’re willing to sacrifice everything for it. In the past, I answered yes to that with every mission. I haven’t told you a lot about those times, and I won’t now. That’s all in the past. However, you have to be willing to sacrifice everything for the things that are important to you…throw it all on the line. In that way, you are able to push fear aside. By doing that, you have the potential to gain so much more in return. You have to think on what goals…what ideas…what things you will sacrifice everything for. In answering that, you will find what is important to you deep down. For me, it’s all about you two and Lynn.”

“What about the entire group as a whole? Aren’t they important?” Robert asks.

“Yes, they are. I have to admit that there would be a lot of hesitation on my part going into a lair of waiting night runners for them, but, if I knew that it would save them, then I would. Losing Nic really hit me hard, and I find myself second-guessing things I never would have in the past. I feel like I’ve lost my edge dealing with all of the endless details that leading a group like ours entails.”

“Aren’t you scared?” Bri asks.

“Not really…at least not anymore. I’m worried, yes, but not really scared. I worry that I’ll make a mistake that will jeopardize Lynn. My one true fear is losing either of you or not being there when you need me. That would be too much to bear. You’ve both come a long way, and I feel comfortable that you can take care of yourselves, but it’s that parental thing and a worry that will never go away.”

“Are you going in alone because you’re worried about making a mistake that will jeopardize the teams?” Robert asks.

“No. I’m going in alone because I think it’s the best chance of getting Lynn out alive. If we go in with teams, we’ll have to orchestrate it as a combat clearing scenario and there’s no way we stand a chance going in there like that. We wouldn’t last very long at all. One person, or a small team for that matter, can vanish if it needs to. That’s hard to do with a group,” I answer.

“Dad, I hate to say it, but isn’t there a time when you have to sacrifice the one to save the many?” Bri asks.

I look up sharply.

“I’m not saying we give up on Lynn, but…” Bri continues, backpedaling some with my look but still asking her question.

“I know what you mean. And yes, there is a time when that has to be done. But you have to be very careful with that thinking. If you show people that you’re willing to sacrifice them for what you determine to be the greater good, how much loyalty are those same people going to give you? How far do you think they’ll go for you? Show them that you’ll go to the limit for them, and they’ll do the same for you. Look at the doctrine that the Air Force had regarding downed pilots. They would send in rescue teams behind lines and into the heart of the enemy, possibly losing some of those teams in order to rescue a single pilot. What did that do? It made the pilots push harder to accomplish their mission knowing that heaven and earth would be moved in order to pull them out. That doesn’t mean you rush blindly into enemy fire in order to rescue someone, but it does mean that you do everything in your power to get them safely out. That single action brings hope to everyone else.”

“I get that. So this whole thing is to bring hope to the group?” Robert says.

“In a way, yes. For me, it’s all about getting Lynn out, but, it has that side effect for the group. Our sanctuary has been challenged and we need to respond. Look around. There’s a fracture amongst those here that is fueled by fear. You can feel it in the very air. We need to close that and give reason for hope once again…hope that we can survive this thing. There is a decreased energy. It feels like some have lost their hope and it’s just a matter of time before we fall. Survival is a mindset. Yes, skills are important…but, without the mindset that you can survive, you won’t, no matter what skillsets you may possess. Most of everything you do is mental. If you believe, and I mean truly believe, then you will overcome any obstacle in your life. We need something concrete to hold onto. We need to tell ourselves that, no matter what happens, we’ll come out alright in the end. If we are able to get Lynn out, to retrieve that which was taken from us, then that may restore the hope that we can defeat the night runners and survive.”

“Okay. I get that as well. But, isn’t there a converse angle. If you go in and…well…won’t that drive everyone deeper into their fear?” Robert asks.

“That’s why we don’t fail,” I answer.

“So, getting Lynn out is a kind of metaphor.” Robert states.

“In an overall sense, yes. But for me, as I mentioned, it’s all about getting Lynn out.”

“Dad, why did they take her in the first place?” Bri asks.

“You know, I’ve racked my brains and haven’t come up with a plausible answer. I’m puzzled as to why they didn’t press the attack when they were already in, but I can’t think of a single reason. The bottom line is that, if she’s there, I’m going to get her. That’s all I really know,” I answer.

We talk for a while longer, the conversation shifting from topic to topic as most of our chats generally do. We watch crews come and go in the parking lot below. I feel better about the coming night and day. By this time tomorrow, Lynn should be back with us. The very thought brings that butterfly feeling. Off to the side, we catch sight of Drescoll and McCafferty standing together. I feel like an interloper as we watch them in silence. They talk for a while and then wander off hand in hand.

“I don’t know why they are trying to keep that quiet…the whole place knows,” Bri says.

I chuckle. “Yeah, that’s the way it always seems to be in a small community. They’ll be the last to know that we know. Alright, let’s go try to get some rest. It’s a busy night and day coming up.”

With the sun sinking below the horizon, we set up a high orbit offset from the hospital. The higher orbit is so the sound of our engines won’t spook the night runners. We need to ascertain clearly whether they are in the facility in large numbers or whether we’re merely chasing a ghost.

The land settles into darkness. We have both the low light cameras and thermal running. Soon after night falls on the land below, we pick out a white blob emerging from the front of the hospital. We’re too high to be able to pick out individual figures running under the stars, but from the size of the white spot, they are coming out in numbers. The spot fades as the night runners fan out into the darkness. We have our indication that the building does indeed house a large lair.

“Should we engage them and thin them out a little?” Robert asks.

“No. That may make them move tonight and we can’t be certain that Lynn isn’t among them,” I answer.

I have to admit that seeing the numerous night runners emerge makes me want to take them out. We’ll come back during the day after we get Lynn out and knock the place flat. Although I also hate taking out a hospital with all of its medical gear and pharmaceuticals, we can’t pass up an opportunity to take out a large lair.

“We have what we came for. Let’s land, catch some shuteye, and come back before dawn,” I add.

We see the same thing in reverse as we orbit before the first rays of light appear on the eastern horizon. The screen shows white several times as the night runners return in waves from their hunt. The stage is set for the coming day.

Landing as dawn touches the ground, we gather our gear. Robert and I will take the Kiowa while the rest of Red Team drives to the hospital where we will meet up with Taylor and Horace. The rotors spin up, becoming to a blur overhead. Robert lifts the helicopter shakily off the ground which, in my mind, significantly lowers the odds of my making it safely to the roof.

“Are you okay there?” I ask.

“Hey, I said no promises,” he replies.

We steady out as we gain altitude and head toward the Capital Medical Center. I take a few deep breaths to bring back the calm I had the afternoon prior. Drescoll radios that he is on the way to a laager site and will arrive shortly. He’s bringing one of the Strykers that we laagered at the compound in case we need the extra firepower. I check over my gear to ensure that I have everything I need and that it’s taped up to prevent any unwanted noise.

The parking lot comes into view and we find a clear spot to land. Robert eases the Kiowa lower, catching himself several times as we begin to drop quicker than he’d like — or that I’d like for that matter. ‘Settling’ onto the pavement would be a misnomer, but we ‘land’ without doing harm to ourselves or the helicopter. The blades above slow as Robert shuts down. We don’t have to wait too long before the Humvees carrying the three teams arrive. We assemble near the front entrance.

“Gonzalez, you’re in charge of Red Team and the overall ground team leader. Enter into position as we did yesterday and give the appearance that you’re about to go further into the building. Don’t go any farther than the edge of the light, though. Sell it, but don’t go overboard. Under no circumstances are you to enter anywhere there isn’t the cover of light,” I state.

“Hooah,” she replies with a smile. “I couldn’t possible send you off without one of those, sir.”

“You should really go down to one of those open mic places,” I reply. “Horace, take your team and find me some wood for a fire. I’ll need some green leafy branches as well.”

“Will do, sir,” she replies.

“Okay, let’s see what we have,” I say.

I open up and push out to the limits of the facility. I’m immediately overwhelmed by sheer numbers of night runners in all areas of the building. They are in both small and large groups and very much aware of me. I’m stunned by their vast numbers and the calm I had shatters momentarily.

I sense one stronger presence on the highest floor near the center of the structure and zero in for a brief moment, marking that area. I then close back down. I recognize the stronger one as the one who sent the mental image of Lynn. I’m guessing that wherever she is, Lynn won’t be too far away. And, as I thought, they are on the highest floor.

“Well?” Robert asks after I come out of my daze.

“I’m going to need more ammo. Hand me a few of your mags,” I answer.

Robert fumbles with his vest and passes me a few which I add to my pockets.

“How many are in there?” Bri asks.

“A lot,” I respond.

Seeing that many night runners on a screen in the air or on video is much different than sensing them close up like this. I don’t know how the teams in the compound held up seeing that many coming at them. I would have screamed like a little girl and run the other way. I almost rethink my idea about thinning them out some but Lynn is possibly in the midst of them and I’m already here. The plan is sound, although I can hear Lynn snorting at the thought that any of my plans are anywhere close to being sound. I remember her asking me once if I just wrote different parts of ideas down on scraps of paper, tossed them in the air, and then the first three I randomly picked up became a plan.

Horace and her team returns, each carrying a bundle of wood. I light a fire on the roadway in front, much like I did at the CDC. I strip off my vest and fatigues, down to my boxers. With a nice glow of coals finally forming, I toss in the first green branches with leaves. Plumes of white smoke drift upward. I step into the smoke and bathe myself in it. I then take out two unscented feminine napkins from one of my pockets to the disconcertment of everyone watching.

“What the fuck, sir?” Gonzalez asks in amazement.

I don’t answer but merely bathe each one in the smoke and place one under each of my armpits, taping them in place.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me… sir,” she adds.

“I like to stay spring fresh,” I state, generously bathing the rest of my clothing and vest in smoke before donning them.

The napkins are to soak up and retain any sweat that may develop without releasing the scent. I thought about using bandages but the smell would still leak out with those. I would say this is an old trick I used before but, to be perfectly honest, it’s something I came up with while sitting on the roof and pondering how to stay absolutely invisible to the night runners. I can’t afford to be found by sight, smell, or sound, meaning that I can’t afford to be found at all.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I say. “Robert, go get the Kiowa warmed up. I’ll be there shortly.”

I walk to the broken entrance door with Black and Red Team in tow. Leaving them outside for the moment, I step inside as I hear the rotors begin turning. It’s time to focus. I don’t know exactly where Lynn is, but I’m guessing she’s on the fourth floor so the roof will be a good entrance. However, I don’t want night runners to be up there waiting so I plan on drawing them to the ground floors. I open up, feeling their overwhelming numbers once again.

“I’m heeeere…and coming to get each and every one of you, you backwards-ass motherfuckers.” I send the visual equivalent out.

I then direct a message to the strong night runner I felt on the top floor — it seems like a female to me for some reason. “I’m coming for you. I’ll be along shortly so save a place.”

With that, I shut down.

“You’re up,” I tell Gonzalez as I pass by her on my way to Robert and the waiting helicopter.

Settling in, Robert lifts us off and we climb for the rooftop. Nearing the maintenance entrance, Robert finds a flat portion of the roof.

Settling closer, he shouts, “Dad, I love you!”

I turn to him. His face is hidden behind the dark shield of his helmet.

“I love you too, son,” I respond and leap out, dropping the few feet to the roof.

The Kiowa revs up and Robert maneuvers up and away. He’ll rendezvous with Drescoll, making it seem like the helicopter took off and departed. That’s my hope anyway. For now, I’m left alone on the roof. I make my way across a couple of ducts to the steel maintenance door. I try it quickly but, as I expected, it’s locked.

Taking a slim jim out, I lever it behind the latch and soon have the door open. I don’t hear any shrieks as sunlight pours into the stairs leading down so I’m reasonably sure this part is clear of night runners. I ease the door closed behind me, letting it shut with an almost silent click. Darkness fills the narrow concrete stairwell leading down into the building, but, with my ability to see in the dark, the stairs show in a uniform light gray. I bring my M-4 up and begin creeping down the stairs. The game is on.

“I’m in,” I whisper.

Two clicks in my ear signal an acknowledgement.

The stairs end with a metal door that opens to what I assume is another stairwell. A small glass window is inset in the door so I’ll be able to see more when I get to the door. Right now, it’s taking one stair at a time downward, careful of any noise. Even a squeak from my shoes will alert any night runners nearby. I can hear well with the transformation that came over me when I was scratched, but I have a feeling they can hear that much better.

Making my way to the fire door, no light shines through the window. Whatever lies on the other side is just as dark. Wherever there are places in shadow, there are chances of night runners. I bring my signal mirror up to the far corner of the small window.

Movement just on the other side of the door sends a jolt through my body and causes my heart to jump. I lower the mirror and take a quick backward step up the stairs, bringing my carbine to bear. Expecting the door to crash open and shrieks to fill the confined space, I wait…ready.

Nothing. There is only the faint smell of body odor and the very faint hiss of feet shuffling across the floor on the other side of the door. I run the quick image I had of the other side through my head — concrete walls with a railing. Yeah, it’s a stairwell landing. I saw at least two night runners; but there might be more. I ease my M-4 down and creep to the window once again. Peering through at a lower corner, I see three night runners milling on the landing. They don’t seem to be up to anything in particular and may just be guarding the door.

Well, Jack, it’s go through them or find another way in, I think, watching them for another few seconds.

One turns directly toward me, although not with the sharp movement that indicates that I’ve been found. Its eyes glow in my vision.

Oh shit! I didn’t think about having eye shine, I think, quickly ducking away from the window. That could be a problem.

The choice is still before me, though, through them or another way. If I fuck it up and they shriek, this way will be lost. I’m not so far into the building or so far away from the exit that I worry about getting out. It’s just that this is the best way to the fourth floor.

I ease my M-4 down and draw my suppressed M-9. The quickness with which I’ll have to take down the three night runners in close quarters mandates the use of a sidearm. I quietly set my hip upon the swing arm of the fire door and put the length of my lower arm on the door itself. I peek through the corner of the glass once again — keeping my eyes averted — and watch the night runners out of my peripheral. There is one that is just on the other side of the door. I want it to move away before I swing the door open. It wouldn’t do to have the door crash into it and for me not able to slide through. I might as well press down on an air horn and light a flare.

The night runner eventually shuffles to another position. I see them glance quickly downward as one. Gonzalez must be making her ruckus — it’s obvious there is some sort of communication between the night runners. Taking a deep breath to center, I push on the arm. The door swings open. The night runners turn their heads abruptly toward me, but it’s too late for them. I’m already through and the first round has left my suppressor.

Spray coats the other two night runners as my first round collides with the nearest night runner’s forehead and smashes its way through its skull. The enclosed area flashes with more subdued strobes of light as I fire more projectiles into the two remaining, startled night runners. My last bullet slams into the nose bridge of the third night runner before the first hits the floor with a soft thud. I turn and catch the door before it clicks back into place, hearing the last of my cartridges clink on the landing. Holding the door slightly ajar, I focus on the bodies lying on the cold concrete. Two of the downed night runners’ extremities twitch for a moment before the three of them lie completely still.

Splash patterns cover the walls and puddles form around the still bodies from the dark liquid of their life blood leaking out. I cover the door leading from the landing to the rooms beyond and the stairs leading downward. Nothing emerges into view. Holding the maintenance door open with my foot, I quietly tear off a small strip of duct tape and tape the latch open. Easing the door closed, I test it to ensure my path back to the roof is unimpeded.

I holster my sidearm and ready my M-4. The door leading from the landing opens away from me which is good news. I plan to rope the doors below me in the same manner I did at the CDC to seal off my backside. That way, I’ll know that my route to the roof, once I reach the stairs, will not be infested with night runners.

The stairwell itself is like most others I’ve encountered. The stairs lead downward against one wall to an intermediate landing with the other set doubling back and heading down to the third floor. This one is a little wider than the others and doesn’t have a center wall — it’s completely open which allows an unimpeded view.

I edge to the railing and, using my signal mirror, I take a quick look downward. I’m immediately met by the sight of two night runner faces peering up — one from the floor immediately below me and another from the second floor. Their expressions appear more inquisitive than alerted.

Shit! How could they know something is going on? I think, withdrawing the mirror.

I suppose the quick flashes of light could have tipped them off or it could have been the bodies slumping to the ground. I can’t believe they could have heard anything, though. Even the cartridges hitting the floor barely made a sound. It had to be the light. I move the mirror once again just barely over the edge. The one on the floor below me is still peering upward, but from a different vantage point.

I keep the night runner in view, holding the mirror to keep it from being seen, and ponder my options. I could wait it out until they settle down, take them out and then do the same for the second floor. That’s if I want to seal this stairwell off, which is the ideal solution. My second option is to proceed through the door and begin my search for Lynn on the fourth floor. I’m not overly fond of leaving night runners at my back and possibly blocking my best exit route. The third option is to abandon this entrance point and find another.

All have their pros and cons. When in doubt, go with the first. I take a last look at the night runner below, who is now periodically shifting its glance toward my landing and the one below it. I take out a coil of 550 cord and quietly loop it around the swing arm of the stairwell door leading to the interior. I then tie it off to the railing making sure not to be spotted from the curious night runner below. Even though I plan to enter through this door, I need to seal it for the moment to keep my backside clear as I progress down. If I’m caught in the stairs, I’ll have a clear passage to the rooftop.

With the time it took to tie off the door, the night runner below has apparently lost interest in me. I’m not sure what alerted the both of them, but they appear to have calmed down. Training my carbine to the extent I can toward the third floor, I begin stepping down the stairs with my back against the outside wall. I’ll have to take out the night runner on the third floor before I arrive at the intermediate landing. I’ll be completely exposed there if I don’t.

I creep downward, checking at my foot placement before I put my full weight on it. Any slip or shuffle will be heard. The fact that they don’t know I’m here attests that the smoke trick is working. Now to keep steady — no creak of boots or knees or sling jostling. I’m just a mist moving silently through the darkness.

I stop prior to reaching the halfway point. The one night runner has left the railing and is standing in front of the third floor door with its back to me. I don’t want to take it out from here because the flash would be too easy to see from the second floor. I could quickly take out the one I see on the second floor, but there could be more than one present. I don’t have a clear enough view to verify a definite number.

I keep the red dot of my SpectreDR centered on the night runner as I step onto the landing. If it turns, I’ll be directly in its line of sight. Stepping slowly, I edge near the outer wall. My dot stays glued to the back of its head. If it gives the faintest indication it is going to turn, I’m firing. A single shot directly into its head and then quickly rushing forward to focus my sight on the one downstairs.

My heart beats solidly, my system flooded with adrenaline. I take in short breaths to keep my system in check. I only use my peripheral and my parallax view to keep the dot centered. Looking directly at the night runner will cause it to turn because it senses something not quite right. Small step by small step, I make my way across the landing.

Glancing to the second floor, I only see the lower legs of a night runner. There could be others. I make it across to the next set of steps. The night runner, just a scant few feet away moves. I freeze. My middle finger tightens on the trigger, close to the point of the trigger break.

It growls and lifts its nose, sniffing the air. Great, I’m caught — it smells me. It then shuffles to the side, all the while facing toward the door. Clad in a tattered t-shirt and jeans that are mostly shorts at this point, I don’t see how it can smell anything beyond its own stink. The stairwell reeks of them. Then, of all things, the night runner reaches around and scratches its ass. It apparently really itches because it takes some time to complete the task.

It would be amusing if not for my current situation — inching down a stairwell filled with night runners, in the midst of a large lair. The night runner shuffles once again and resumes its stance. I ease the pressure off of the trigger and place my foot on the next step. I inch closer, careful not to brush up against the wall. If I can sneak near enough, my plan is to use my knife. This will be tricky, and I contemplate just taking the shot, but I don’t want Mr. Curious downstairs to see another flash. The first one may have been written off but a second will surely cause an alarm.

The night runner below is panting and I see its head drop forward before snapping back up. It dawns on me that this is their nighttime and the one near me is falling asleep. That bodes well. Slowly and carefully, I creep ever closer with each step, taking an eternity to place each foot.

Its head drops and doesn’t rise by the time I take two more steps. Only a couple more to go until I’m level with it. I begin moving to the side to keep out of its range of vision should it snap alert again. This will keep me more to its back.

I set my foot on the level floor. Quietly lowering my M-4, but ready to bring it back at a moment’s notice, I reach down and draw my knife. I’m committed now. If it does come awake and turn, I’ll have no option but to lunge and try to keep the ensuing struggle down to a low roar. And hopefully it won’t let out a shriek of alarm in the process.

I’m surprised it can’t hear my heart racing. It’s about all that I do hear — the thudding of blood under high pressure pounding in my ears. I come up directly behind the night runner and rise slowly from my crouch, being careful not to make any sounds. A sudden move on the night runner’s part will alter where my knife enters.

I reach quickly around to cup its mouth and pinch its nose as I thrust my knife under the rib cage, driving upward into its kidneys. I feel the warm gush of blood pour over my hand as the night runner stiffens in my grasp. It contorts its body away from my knife in an effort to escape the extreme pain. I keep pressure on the knife and twist repeatedly. It only takes a few moments and the night runner goes limp. I ease it to the ground, removing my knife.

A shriek erupts from the landing below me, echoing off the concrete walls of the stairwell.

Fuck! What?! I think, quickly replacing my knife and looking over the railing.

Two night runners are running up the stairs, both looking over their shoulders directly at me. I raise my M-4 and, placing the selector switch to auto, I send a burst into the first one. My rounds hit it in the shoulder and then head as the streaking projectiles stitch upward. A mist of blood fills the air and saturates the wall from the force of the bullets striking. The night runner stumbles forward and then slams face first into the stairs. Its body begins a slow slide back down the steps.

I focus on the second, sending a stream of bullets. They impact with solid thuds into its arm, shoulder, and head. The darkened stairs light up as each bullet leaves with a muted coughing sound. The night runner is slammed against the outer wall before it slumps slowly to the steps. The shrieks fade leaving only the light metallic plinks of spent cartridges bouncing on the concrete.

The silence lasts only a moment. I hear doors below thrown open and night runner screams once again permeate the enclosed stairs. I have no idea what alerted the night runners below. If anything, I was quieter than before. Whatever the reason might be, the gig is up. I can’t see how many are entering below me and I don’t plan on sticking around to find out. Even if there aren’t many now, there certainly will be soon. I race upward taking two steps at a time, heading for the stairs to the roof.

I hear the third floor door slam open behind me. I have half a floor head start and I hope that’s enough. I have to outrace however many just entered for a floor and a half. I’m thankful I took the time to tie off the upper door as I could easily become trapped, the end of which wouldn’t be pretty. As it is, I’m not out of the woods yet.

Rounding the corner, I glance at the stairs behind me. Several night runners have already gained ground on me. While I leap two steps upward, they are taking three.

These fuckers are fast, I think, redoubling my efforts. And with a fucking quick response time. They must have been just on the other side of the door.

I reach the top and throw the maintenance door open, wishing I had left the top one open. I would be safe at this point had I left it so. Well, like a lot of “shoulda, woulda, coulda,” things, that thought is totally worthless now.

I hear the night runners on the stairs close behind me. I hold my carbine and blind fire down the stairs. It slows me some, but I need space in order to make it to the top. I’m too old for this shit, I think, sending rounds down the stairs. The steps light up as each round exits the barrel. I hear screams of pain letting me know that at least some of my bullets are hitting. I bring my weapon back up and push everything I have into pumping my legs faster.

The narrow, concrete path is a cacophony of noise. I sense the night runners beginning to close the distance once again. The door ahead seems like an impossible distance away. I feel like I’m running endlessly through a narrow tunnel but the end remains the same distance away.

Just as I think I won’t get there in time, the door suddenly looms directly ahead. I lower my shoulder and slam into it, hitting the latch at the same moment. The door gives and opens to bright sunlight. The shrieks turn to screams as sunlight hits the night runners crowded in the stairs. I would like to say it is with a sense of satisfaction that I hold the door open and let the full light of the day fall upon them, sending them falling to the steps and writhing in agony, but in all actuality, it is a grisly scene to watch.

It is with a feeling of mercy that I start shooting into the large group thrashing on the stairs. It’s not that I mind killing the night runners, not in the least, it’s just the way they are dying. No animal should suffer needlessly, that’s just plain cruel. Before long, the screams cease. Bending over and placing my hands on my knees to catch my breath, I let the door swing slowly closed.

While I catch my breath, I go over the events trying to come up with how they knew I was there. I was quiet and it was apparent they weren’t able to smell me. I also made sure to stay completely closed to them. Ruling out these impossibilities leaves only one plausible explanation, it must be from the same manner that I can sense them and vice versa. The ones below must have sensed their brethren ‘vanishing’ from their minds. This may be something that happens all of the time now or they may just be at a heightened state of alertness and therefore looking for it. As strange as that may sound, it’s the only reason I can come up with. They became curious when they sensed the night runners on the fourth floor ‘disappearing’ and alarmed when it happened again. I know I’ve sensed, from time to time, that some vanish from my mind for a while only to reappear later. Perhaps, at first, they merely thought that was what happened with the first group but knew something was wrong when I took down the one on the third floor.

If that’s true, I may have to change my strategy. It could be useful in certain situations if used as a diversion, but otherwise, sneaking through buildings filled with alert night runners and taking them out along the way may be a thing of the past.

Sandra senses the two-legged one on the lower floors. She doesn’t understand the message she receives from him, but tension, mixed with a version of excitement, fills her. Placing her pack in rooms along corridors, putting a majority of them on the ground floor, she sends an image of the one to her pack reaffirming her earlier command to take him alive. Any others, they can kill. She also sends a message to bring the female to her.

The door to her room opens. Outside, a deep gray only a shade lighter than the total blackness of her room reveals a hallway. More night runners enter. They approach and grab her, lifting Lynn to her feet and she is hauled down a gloomy hall.

She is still nearly blind as the interior of the building is as dark as her room was. Sensing that she has entered another room, one much larger than the one she has been kept in for however long, she can see dim shapes of several night runners scattered about. In the center of the room stands one night runner apart from the others. She is taken to one side and feels the strong grip of a single night runner holding her arms. A voice rises out of the murk.

“You will wait there and not struggle or try to escape. If you do, you will die.”

Lynn is startled beyond comprehension to hear a night runner actually speak. The voice is obviously female and comes out harsh, coarse, and sounding raw, like she isn’t used to it, but it’s vocal and in English. The very thought that the night runners have advanced to this level sends a new measure of terror through her and rocks her to her very core.

Putting two and two together, she is guessing that the teams have arrived to free her and the night runners are very much aware that they are here. Comprehension dawns that the night runners may be using her as bait to trap the teams.

But why? she thinks, feeling the strong grip around her biceps. The teams were already trapped inside of Cabela’s.

Faint shrieks from somewhere inside the building grow in volume and break her train of thought. The thought that Jack and the teams are coming steadies her. The initial shock of hearing a night runner speak ebbs.

“You do understand that you are the one who is about to die,” Lynn says, directing her speech at the dim shape of the female night runner.

“I said be silent. He will be here soon. His place is here and he will come to realize that in time,” the night runner replies.

The night runner’s statement stuns Lynn. She realizes what this one is up to. She isn’t trying to trap the teams, she is trying to trap Jack. And thinks he will stay with them…with her. How a night runner can think along those lines and have that kind of attraction is something she truly can’t fathom.

This bitch is fucking psychotic, Lynn thinks, wondering just how something like this can come about.

“Crazy bitch…” Lynn begins to say.

“I said be silent,” the night runners screams, interrupting.

Lynn hears a menacing growl from the one just behind her and feels its grip tighten around her arms. She halts any further statement and, instead, glares at the female night runner standing in the murky shadows of the room.

“I’m back on the roof,” I radio.

“What happened, sir? Are you okay?” Gonzalez asks.

“I’m fine. I don’t really know how, but they found me,” I answer. “Robert, I’m going to need a hundred feet of nylon rope. Fly it up to the roof and kick it out.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” he replies.

“Gonzalez. I’m going to need Horace around on the back side of the building. On my command, I need her and her team to shoot out some windows as a distraction. Have her team remove their suppressors. We’re going to need all of the noise possible.”

“Copy that, sir. Break. Horace, did you copy that?” Gonzalez says.

“On our way. We’ll be waiting,” Horace responds.

I hear the Kiowa approaching, and before very long, it swoops in with Robert at the controls and Drescoll in the empty seat. As Robert brings the helicopter into a semblance of a hover, Drescoll opens his door and tosses a coil of rope out. He then gives me a quick nod and they accelerate away, the noise fading into the distance. A hushed quiet descends.

I take the rope to one side of the roof. Looking over, I see several sliding office windows on the tops floor. The front of the building has the larger paned windows which would make getting in through them much more difficult and noisy. That’s the exact opposite of what I want. I secure one end of the rope to one of the many pipes and test it to make sure it will hold. I then toss the rope over the side so that the length is adjacent one of the windows.

Looping the rope twice through my D-ring and holding a lower length at the small of my back, I reverse and step backward on the edge, letting the rope play out as I lean back. I then begin to rappel down the brick wall. I don’t have to go far to reach the window on the fourth floor. On the inside, horizontal, slatted blinds have been pulled down over the window preventing me from seeing inside. Anchoring my feet firmly on the wall, careful not to cast a shadow across the opening, I hold on to the rope above me. I then bring a measure of the lower length and tie it off just above the D-ring. This will allow me to use both hands and keep me in place.

I attempt to raise the window but find that it’s locked. I kind of figured it would be. The day has just been that way, and I hope that I’m using up all of my bad luck early on. I’ll need to have some of the good kind if I make it farther in. I’d rather have it more difficult now and easier later than the opposite…unless this IS the easy part. I really hope not.

I tape the glass in place. Taking my knife out, which is sticky with night runner blood, I begin to slice into the wooden slat holding the pane of glass in. It’s slow going initially due to my wanting to keep the noise down, the optimum being none. I manage to get a piece removed and it’s easier going from there. The glass pane is finally free.

Removing the tape, I wedge the pane out. I think about just dropping it to the ground as I’m not concerned about noise on the ground level — and it may actually help — but I have Horace on the other side who will provide that soon. Instead, I hold on to it and ease my hand in, slowly pulling the blinds open. Light streams inside, revealing a small room with two desks, cluttered with stacks of paper, near each side wall. A door in the middle of the inside wall leads out. Aside from the clutter, it’s empty. Being an outside room, I wasn’t expecting any night runners within. I inch over to the sill and ease the pane of glass inside.

Okay, let’s try this again, I think, releasing the knot and silently entering the room. This room will now be my escape and sanctuary.

“I’m in on the south side, fourth floor. Horace, go ahead with your distraction,” I say, removing the rope from my D-ring.

Automatic gunfire drifts through the open window as Horace and her team opens fire on the hapless windows. I step over the carpeted floor to the door and take out the fiber optic snake camera, sliding it under the door. The low light image shows an empty hallway stretching in both directions with wooden doors placed at intervals. The hall dead ends to the left after a short distance but continues for some length to the right, with intersecting hallways branching leading deeper into the building. The floor is linoleum, typical of most hospitals — I’ll have to move slower in order not to make any noise on its harder surface. Most importantly, though, the hall is clear of night runners.

Replacing the camera, I ease the door open. Light flows from the room casting a rectangular beam on the floor and opposite wall but only for a moment. I quickly enter the hall, softly closing the door behind and crouch in the hall with my hand on the knob, waiting to see if the intrusion of light was noticed. The hall remains quiet in the chilly gloom.

I have an idea of where I need to go — where I sensed the one stronger presence. I’m not sure if that means Lynn will be there, but it’s a place to start. I don’t have the exact location locked in my mind like I did pinpointing the hospital. It’s more like a small, centralized area. I don’t know why this is but it’s all I have.

Dust covers the entirety of the hall and is clear of foot prints or trails. That’s a good sign as it shows this place isn’t being used. I don’t know how long the night runners have used this place as their lair, but I’ll take good signs where I can find them. It also lets me know that Lynn isn’t in this part of the building, if she’s here at all. That is still a possibility.

I mark my entrance room’s location, both in my mind and by drawing an ‘X’ on the door and the walls beside it with my knife. I inch away from the door in a crouch, heading silently for the first branch leading farther into the interior. I pass several closed office doors. I’m not concerned about having to check them as there aren’t any prints in the dust.

Crossing the hall and crouching next to the corner, I slide my mirror around the edge near ground level. The hall stretches long past my vision, fading away into darkness. I hear the soft padding of feet. At another intersection down the corridor, a pack of night runners pass by from left to right. The last two halt at the crossing and peer in my direction. I tense, thinking I’ve been found in some other way not known to me. One bends slightly to peer closer as if the few extra inches will gain it additional sight. It straightens and sniffs the air. The others that passed by return.

I make ready to turn and bolt back to the room. If I am indeed found, I don’t know how else I’ll be able to penetrate the lair and find Lynn. Without using the teams in an assault, which would be doomed to failure before it really began, I’d be out of options. The one straightens and looks down the hall in the other direction. After a moment, they start walking, vanishing from the hall in the direction they were originally heading.

Great, I think, Just fucking great! They appear to have roving patrols that I can’t take out without bringing the hundreds in these halls upon me.

I take a deep, calming breath. It’s not that I thought this would be easy but I never thought I’d have to do it handcuffed. With a last look, I replace the mirror and scoot across the opening. I want to keep to the outside as much as possible in case I have need of one of the outside offices. If I do have to use one to escape, I hope I pick one with an outside window associated with it. I’d be plenty fucked if I was being pursued and ran into a janitor’s closet.

The other reason for using this outside hall is that it remains bare of tracks. I’ll keep to it as long as possible. I stop after a few steps and press against the wall. I pick up the sound of panting seeming to come from just up ahead. The hall remains empty so it’s probably coming from the next branch leading away. I listen closely thinking it might be the group that passed just moments earlier. From what I can hear, it’s only one; but relatively nearby. And one might as well be a hundred.

I pause, tensing for flight in case it rounds the corner. If it does, this then becomes a fight and flee scenario. Time passes, measured by thoughts and plans rather than seconds. I could go back and began traversing the interior via the first corridor. That will make it riskier as I will have to leave the protection afforded by the outside offices. There is still a ways to go to reach the area I have set in my mind. I’ll have to start inward soon but the longer I can be near an outside escape, the better.

The panting gets neither louder nor fades. The night runner is stationary and shows no sign of leaving. I inch forward, thankful that the hall is clear of any obstacles. The closer I creep, the louder the breathing. With each step, I think about the hall behind me. I may have no choice but to turn back. Nearing the corner, I stand and look in one of the pictures lining the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass shows a single night runner in the next hall close to the opening and facing away from me. The way forward appears blocked. I slowly steal backward until I’ve put some distance between me and the lurking night runner. It looks like I’ll have to go deeper into the building sooner than planned and into the teeth of the night runners.

I make it to the first branch and look down its length with the mirror. The night runners that passed by earlier are at the juncture once again. Apparently their ‘patrol’ doesn’t carry them far. That’s good and bad. Of course, the bad part is that they now stand in my way. I check my watch. It’s still early morning. Not too much time has passed since first entering but it seems like it should be afternoon already. I have plenty of time before the day says good bye. That doesn’t mean I have forever but it means I’m not rushed.

I’ll wait and monitor both directions to see how long the patrol takes to reappear, if they actually leave that is. They are milling about at the juncture of halls and don’t appear in a hurry to move on. I crouch at the corner for a full ten minutes, occasionally glancing over my shoulder to make sure the other night runner is behaving. The ones in the hall don’t move on. It’s either take out the one night runner and hope the others don’t ‘feel’ it die or create a distraction. Although a distraction causing noise will possibly create an avenue through which I can slip, it will bring too many others into the general area.

With a sigh, I ease back down the hall. I plan on taking out the night runner and then listen to see if the others begin making their way in my direction. If that happens, it’s into one of the offices and out of the window. A new thought forms. If I were to render the night runner unconscious, would it fade from the others? I don’t think sleep causes this as I’ve felt night runners in buildings during the day before. I’m running out of options, so it’s something to keep in mind.

I ease quietly up to my previous position, looking in the reflection. The night runner hasn’t moved. As far as I can tell, the hall beyond it is clear. As with the others, the stink emanating from the night runner is almost enough to cause my own blackout.

Taking another deep, calming breath, I slip around the corner. I come up behind the night runner. Reaching around, I cover its mouth and pinch its nose closed while driving my knee into its back. I pull backward to remove any leverage. I pinch its neck, placing my thumb on its carotid and press the larynx on the opposite side with my other fingers. This effectively cuts off the blood supply to the brain.

The night runner struggles momentarily but doesn’t have any leverage as it is bent backwards. After about five seconds, its struggles subside and it goes limp in ten. I catch the sagging body in my arms and listen. There’s no eruption of noise or sound of running feet. It doesn’t appear that the night runner was able to get a message out.

I have about a minute before the night runner starts coming out of it. I drag the body into a nearby office and lay it on the floor. I then take out my knife and, with the hard haft of the instrument, strike the night runner in the head just below the temple and again in the neck just below the ear. This strikes several large nerve bundles which then send an electrical storm of signals to the brain, rendering it ineffective for about twenty minutes.

When it does come to, it will be disoriented and sporting a monstrous headache. It will be able to communicate, though, and bring its friends running, but I don’t plan to be anywhere close to here in twenty minutes. Besides, it not like I had a choice. I listen attentively once again but all seems just as before, tensely quiet.

I radio the teams, “I’m just checking in to let you know that I haven’t become a mid-morning snack. Proceeding farther in.”

“Good to know, sir. Good luck,” Gonzalez replies.

I ease out of the room and close the door. The closed door is to prevent an early discovery from any other prowling night runners who might happen by the area. If that happens, I might not be far enough away. When the unconscious night runner does awaken though, I’m sure it will start pounding on the door. This may work on the positive side and create a diversion. The hallways are empty in both directions, but I notice the one leading off into the interior has trails through the dust indicating that it is used. I continue down the outside one knowing that I’ll have to start into the inner part of the facility soon though.

I snake along the corridor, sneaking to the next junction. I listen carefully but don’t hear or smell anything other than a lingering scent that pervades the entire building. Reaching the corner, I inch my mirror out. This hall has silver roll carts parked at intervals against the walls. At the next corner up, the walls give way to what appears to be a nursing station. I’m obviously coming out of the office portion of the building and into one more associated with patient care. The thing that catches more of my attention is another pack of six night runners farther down the hall and heading in my direction. They are on the far side of the junction but heading toward it. I pause waiting to see what they’ll do. I no longer have all day. When that twenty minutes passes, I want to be well away from here.

The night runners reach the intersection and turn to the right. I slip into the hall and begin sneaking down its length. It dawns on me that this is the first time I’ve seen night runners actually walking. Each and every time in the past, they’ve either been loping or flat out running.

Crouched, I silently step down the hall. I have to keep more to the middle to avoid the carts. Some of them have clear flasks and assorted utensils while others have covered food platters. All have thick coatings of dust upon them. I’m about three quarters of the way down when I pick up the soft sounds of feet approaching, coming from the left. I quickly duck behind one of the carts. I’m no sooner hidden when the first night runners enter into my limited view. With only twenty feet separating us, one stops and sniffs the air. Others join it until five of them are standing almost on my toes.

Of course the others would pick this time to move, I think, hearing the blood rush in my ears.

I don’t have the time for them to have a tea party here with the unconscious night runner going to waken in a few minutes. They’re so close I swear I can hear each particle of air being sucked into their nostrils. My thumb rubs against the selector switch while my finger caresses the trigger guard. Each nerves tingles and stands on end. My face pulses with the increase in blood pressure. My whole body vibrates with tension. Every muscle is taut. The risk of discovery is great at this close range. Any whisper will be heard, any molecule of sweat escaping, smelt. I keep my eyes averted and watch them in my peripheral. One of them looks almost at me, its eyes glow in the gray sending an involuntary shiver up my back.

That’s seriously messed up and is, by far, the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.

Seconds become hours as they stand in the middle of the connecting hallways. If I’m discovered, they’ll be on me in seconds flat. I focus on my body, willing it into perfect stillness. Shortening my breaths, I concentrate on keeping them silent. I crouch behind my dubious cover, tensed and ready to spring into action. If they so much as hiccup or blink wrong, I’m unloading on full auto and getting the fuck out of here. Out of the corner of my eye, I keep a watch on each face, watching for that recognition of discovery.

It doesn’t come and the five night runners reverse their direction down the hall. As they vanish around the corner, I feel my muscles relax. I want to blow a sigh of relief but restrain myself. I give it thirty seconds and ease out from my cover. With two groups roaming the halls, and who knows how many others elsewhere, I’ll have to move quickly between them.

I steal to the corner and use my mirror to look both directions. The pack that was just here is moving away. The other one has moved to the edge of my range of vision. I verify the closer ones are looking the other direction and scoot quickly across the intersection. If I was to wait and they hung out at their previous location, there would be a greater chance that one of them would be looking in this direction when I crossed.

I make my way swiftly and quietly down the hall, passing more wheeled carts and doors. I’m definitely committed now having made my way through their first pickets. I don’t think their movements are deliberate nor do they appear to have a timed aspect to them. That makes them even more dangerous. There’s no predictability to their actions. They could be anywhere at any time. I haven’t observed them long enough to come to determine that for sure but it’s just a feeling I get. I had placed the night runners into an animalistic category which I probably shouldn’t have. They seem to have some capability to think on a higher than rudimentary level. One thing I do know, they certainly do react fucking quick.

More footsteps ahead. Damn, this place is busier and has more patrols than a state of the art command facility. Of course those didn’t have hundreds of night runners prowling around either. The paths through the dusty floors attest to the frequent use of this area. I check my six to verify that my rear is still clear. I’m worried about the time. I still have a ways to go and must get out of this area soon. In a few minutes, when the night runner comes to, it’s going to get a lot more crowded here.

I’m adjacent to a pair of swinging metal doors with small windows inset into them. I move to the side and gently push one of the doors open. Slipping quickly inside, I ease the door closed and slide the fiber camera under it. A night runner turns the corner into the hall just as I get the first picture. More follow behind until ten of them are in the corridor. They begin walking my direction. I silently withdraw the camera until it’s barely under the door and press close to the wall. I won’t be able to see out of the small windows to observe their passage but I’ll be able to see their feet.

I’m thankful for the hard floors. If this were a carpeted area, I’d never hear them approach. I’m struck by how silently they do move. There’s no chatter or loud outbursts. There’s nothing to tell they are even there except for the sound of their walking. I wonder if I would even hear that if it weren’t for my elevated hearing. Of course, anyone in the team can be quiet when they want but the night runners seem to do it naturally. I’m beginning to like them less and less — their abilities at least. Though it’s hard to dislike them more given the hate I already have for them.

As I wait for them to come level with me, I look around the room I’ve found myself in. It’s a larger exam or operating room. Equipment covers almost every inch of the room with a bed/table in the middle. A large light hangs from a swing arm from the ceiling directly over the bed. As with the initial hallway, the floor is clear of tracks. The night runners apparently don’t use rooms in this area, or this one at least. They surely must use some so I don’t automatically log all rooms as safe areas.

Looking back to the tiny screen, I see feet passing. I’m blocking any light escaping from the unit with my body but in such a manner that I can still see it. The night runners pass and I push the camera farther into the hall, first checking the way they came for any stragglers and then focusing on the pack that just passed. They don’t turn but continue across the intersection. I don’t have time to wait for them to exit the hall or return as I am now under a time crunch.

I withdraw the camera and ease the swinging door open. I poke my head out and verify that the group is still proceeding down the hall away from me. None of them are looking back in my direction. I guide the door closed and cover the remaining length of hall quickly but quietly. After checking around the corner in both directions, I glide around it to the right. I’m getting closer. The important thing is that I’m putting distance between myself and the unconscious night runner.

I pass several more patrols in the next few halls, ducking into rooms when the situation warrants. I sit in one such room waiting for a pack of seven to pass when I hear a faint shriek echo down the previously silent passageways.

Someone woke up grouchy, I think, waiting to see what the reaction of the night runners will be.

Just outside of the door, other screams follow the first and I hear feet scrambling away as the pack respond to the sound of alarm. Faint screeches join in from farther away.

“Jack…sir. Are you okay? Horace reports hearing a few faint shrieks on the upper floors,” Gonzalez asks.

“Just peachy, thanks. I think a night runner I put down for a nap just woke up cranky and its friends are racing to it full of care and concern,” I reply.

More feet pound down the hallway just outside of my door heading in the same direction as the others. Their screams make the door I’m next to vibrate with their intensity. Several more groups follow. I have two choices. I can either wait out the storm until they calm down or proceed while they are busy at the other end of the building. I imagine they will be racing up and down the halls once they can’t find anything other than a groggy night runner barricaded behind a door. This also may be my chance to make some headway while this part of the building is more or less empty.

I wait a quick minute and slide the camera under the door. The passage is clear.

“I’m moving on,” I add.

“Copy that, sir.”

Sticking my head out of the door, I don’t hear running feet coming my way. I do hear faint ones farther away in the direction from which I came, but nothing ahead. The good news is that the ones behind me aren’t growing any louder. I’m close to where I sensed the one who sent Lynn’s image but I’m still not sure of the exact location; on the upper floor in the middle of the facility makes sense, though. I begin to wonder if I shouldn’t start checking rooms in this area. Time is of the essence. Those which raced by will return, either because they are searching the halls or because it’s where they initially were. Either way, they’ll be back…and sooner rather than later.

I stalk to the next juncture and take a look around the corner. Four night runners stand outside a set of double steel fire doors.

Now, that’s odd. Why aren’t they screaming down the hall like the others? I think.

The answer is readily apparent. They stayed because something important is behind those doors. I up my estimate of their ability to think and their discipline. They are so unpredictable. In some ways, they are like a pack of feral animals without reasoning that only exist to attack– relentless and ferocious in nature. In other ways, they exhibit human tendencies and abilities in thought and action. Maybe it’s that each is diverse in their own way, individualistic. The genetic changes could have affected each of them differently. I previously just lumped them into a single category. I’ll have to change that way of thinking.

That thought is moot, however, as I intend to erase their very existence from the face of the earth. Now, how to lure or take out the four night runners at the doors without bringing the entire horde upon me? I pull back into one of the first rooms behind me.

“Gonzalez, Jack here,” I whisper into the radio.

“Gonzalez here. Go ahead, sir.”

“Have Horace shoot out some of the windows on the top floor of the north side,” I say.

“Will do, sir. Give her about two minutes to get into position.”

“That will be perfect, thanks. I’ll give three clicks when I’m ready.”

“Copy that. Three clicks,” Gonzalez replies.

I choose the north side because I don’t want the ones already on the east side to transit this area and I want the four in front of the doors to head away from me. It wouldn’t be in my best interest to have the entire contingent of night runners on the fourth floor to run through my position. That would kind of defeat the purpose of a distraction.

I check both directions to make sure it’s clear and ease back into the hall. Crouching at the corner once again, nothing has changed. I’m not very comfortable having night runners in the halls behind me but they are still making a racket some distance away. That doesn’t mean they won’t be spreading out or returning soon though.

“We’re in position,” Horace radios.

I press the mic three distinct times. Faint sounds of glass shattering and gunfire drift down the hall. Watching the night runners, I see them tense and turn abruptly toward the sound but they don’t move.

“Again if you please, Horace,” I whisper.

I hear more muffled sounds of shattering glass and firing. The shrieks behind me increase in volume as does the sound of running feet.

Move dammit, I think, trying to will the four night runners into action.

With a combined shriek, they take off running away from me. One set of the double doors slams open, startling me, and six additional night runners run out into the hall. They pause for a second, looking both directions, and then run after the four.

Screams and feet slapping on the hard floor continue to increase in volume. I glance behind me to see several night runners pass the hall an intersection away. They go by quickly, but I hear more following. Several more pass a few junctions down. It’s only a matter of time, and a short one at that, before they enter the hall I’m in. I stay in my position wanting to give them a chance to get some distance from the room. I have a gut feeling this is the one I’m looking for. If it’s not, then I’ll fold into one of the side rooms and wait for things to calm down and rethink my strategy.

When the six night runners have nearly faded from my sight, I slip silently around the corner and creep up to the doors. The double set of steel fire doors open outward with no windows, the fiber camera barely fits under it. I don’t have much time. I shield the glow as the screen comes to life. Inside, I see several long tables and chairs that give the impression of a large lunch room. A long counter lines the back wall and, standing near the middle of the room, is a single night runner looking off to the side.

I pan around and there, near the left wall, is Lynn. From this angle it’s hard to tell, but it looks like there’s another night runner directly behind her and holding her. My heart leaps at the sight of Lynn. I’ve found her and she’s alive. The problem is that I won’t be able to get a clean shot on the night runner holding her from this angle should I enter here. There’s another set of double doors behind and to the side of the night runner holding Lynn. Shrieks continue to fill the hallways.

It’ll be a tight shot on the night runner holding Lynn if I enter through the other set of doors, but the angle will be better. I withdraw the camera and swiftly head to the farther corner. The shrieks and cacophony of noise filling the halls allows me to move faster without the sound of my movement being heard. A quick peek around the corner shows more night runners streaking past an intersection just ahead.

I wait for a break and slide into the hall. I lie on the floor near the doors to minimize my silhouette to those that may flash by. If they turn down the hall, I’ll readily be seen though. I’m close but not there yet. I can’t fuck it up now by being hasty but I do need to be quick. I slide the camera under the door to verify nothing has changed. The two night runners haven’t moved. The one in the middle is tilting its head to the side as if trying either to hear something or puzzle something out. I don’t really care which as long as it isn’t calling the building full of night runners to this location.

Another pack enters the junction and pauses. Five night runners glance in all directions and begin sniffing the air. My heart freezes. I’m too close to be found out now. Fear that I have made it this far only to be discovered at the very door surges through my body. My heartbeat thumps against the cold, hard floor. My M-4 lies on the floor next to me but I don’t dare move. Any motion will be seen. Their eyes occasionally cast that eerie glow as their heads turn from side to side searching for something. The chances of them turning down the hall I’m in and consequently seeing me are high.

“Quickly, Horace, I need more gunfire into those windows,” I whisper.

I can’t hear the gunfire through the din of the night runners shrieking and running rampant, but I know Horace begins firing by the way the heads of the ones nearby turn sharply. They streak off to the side vanishing from view. I breathe a quick sigh of relief and rise, gathering the camera and my carbine. This is it, go time.

With one hand on one of the door handles and a finger caressing the trigger guard, I pull gently on the door to verify it’s unlocked. It thankfully is. With another calming breath, I swing the door wide open and step inside, raising my M-4.

The angle on the night runner holding Lynn is sufficient to get a clean shot. It turns its head toward me. The only thing that maneuver does is to allow it to see the muzzle flash that ends its life. The night runner’s head snaps back as my single round penetrates its hard skull, sending a spray of gore across the back of Lynn’s head. Blood flies from its nostrils and mouth as it falls heavily to the floor, bouncing off a table and knocking over a chair.

Lynn ducks to the floor as the flash of my shot fills the room and the grip on her is released. Faster than I could ever imagine, the night runner in the middle of the room turns, screams, and takes a lunging leap toward me. I bring my carbine around to center my dot on it. As quickly as I move, it seems to move faster; but I only have to move my barrel inches, whereas it has to move feet. My dot centers on its chest as the night runner, her greasy hair flowing behind her, prepares to launch into the air at me.

I squeeze the trigger three times, sending high speed projectiles out of my suppressor. Each finds its target and rips through flesh and bone. Some of the bullets hit bone and splinter, tearing through the soft tissue of the lungs before exploding out of the back. Splintered bone follows the path of the bullet. The night runner’s vocal scream of “Noooooo” fades to a gurgle. She falls to her knees and reaches out a hand.

“I warned you that I was coming,” I say, my barrel trained on the night runner’s head and finger hard on the trigger.

“You were meant to be with us…with me. You were mine.”

Convulsing, blood pours out of her mouth and nose in a torrent. The shine of her eyes fades and she slumps forward onto her face.

What the hell was that all about? I think.

Aside from being stunned upon hearing a night runner verbally speak, what it said confuses me. However, there are more important things to take care of at the moment. There will be time to think about it and analyze it later — at least I’m hoping there will be a later. I turn to see Lynn kneeling on the floor, her head looking left and right.

“Lynn, are you okay?” I ask. Shrieks permeate the building.

“Jack?”

“It’s me, hon. Stay put. I’ll be right there,” I say, walking quickly to the female night runner.

I nudge her over with my boot and am a little sickened to see her slightly extended belly. It also sends a shiver up my spine knowing they can reproduce. The night runner’s eyes are open and staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing. I swiftly go to Lynn’s side and put my hand on her shoulder.

She flinches at my touch and I realize she is completely in the dark. I take out the NVGs and place them in her hand. She quickly dons them.

“I love you,” I say into her ear. I pull her to me and we hug each other tightly.

“Thank you. I love you so much,” she responds.

With the escalating screams filling the passageways outside, I pull back, hand her my sidearm, and a coil of 550 cord.

“We’re not out of this yet. We need to hurry and seal these doors. Tie them like we did at the high school. You take that set of doors,” I say, pointing to the set I just came through, “I’ll take the other.”

She turns and shakily walks to the set of fire doors. I run to the other set and begin lacing the cord around the swing handles, tying the two together. I barely complete the knots when pressure is put on the doors as night runners on the other side try to pull them open. I turn to see that Lynn has hers tied off as well. I make additional loops to give added strength. Assured that the doors will hold for the time being, I walk over to Lynn. I want nothing more than to embrace her hard again. It felt so good to hold her once more and feel her body pressed against mine. I didn’t know if I would ever see her again and didn’t want to let her go. Warmth floods my heart at the sight of her. With the night runners trying vigorously to enter and shrieking ferociously, we’ll have to put that off until we get outside.

The doors rattle in their frames as the night runners, more than likely angered by the demise of their pack leader — at least I’m assuming the dead female was just that — try to gain entrance. We are far from being out of the fire and may very well have just stepped into it.

“Is everyone okay?” Lynn asks, clearly exhausted and spent from her ordeal.

I can’t even imagine what she must have gone through — first attacked, then kidnapped and held in a lair of night runners. That has to be anyone’s worst nightmare.

“Yeah, everyone is fine.”

“So, what now, Jack?” Lynn asks, eyeing the shaking doors.

“Yeeeeeah…about that?”

She just starts laughing. Hearing her laugh at a time like this makes me think that being held by the night runners made her lose her mind …wait, I hope that didn’t that come out loud? No…good.

“You didn’t think this all of the way through, did you?” she asks, still chuckling.

“Yeah, I did. It’s just that…well, did you have to be in the exact middle of the building. Couldn’t you have chosen an outside office? That would have been helpful on your part,” I joke.

The night runners go at the doors with a renewed frenzy. The combined noise of those gathered outside now makes it hard to even hear a shout. The cord wrapped around the handles, although strong, won’t hold forever. The night runners will eventually manage to rip the doors from their very hinges.

I radio the teams letting them know that I found Lynn and our current predicament. I’m going to have to come up with something soon or, instead of riding off into the sunset on a white horse, we’ll end up like a Shakespearian tragedy.

“What can we do to help, sir?” Gonzalez asks.

The noise from outside of the room prevents me from hearing all of what she said. After several tries, I finally hear the entire message.

“Prayer might help,” I reply.

“Copy that, sir, one prayer on the way.”

I glance up at the ceiling. The roof is only a few feet over our head but it might as well be a hundred miles. Even if the teams had explosives on hand, they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint Lynn and me well enough to blow an effective hole in the roof. I certainly don’t have anything that will blast through the concrete overhead. Besides, judging by the weakening doors, we wouldn’t have enough time to set up anything anyway.

However, the ceiling does give me an idea and one I should have thought about a while ago. The hard ceilings have crawl spaces between it and the concrete slab that house the piping and conduits necessary for building operations. The spaces aren’t large in most cases but they are navigable. The only problem is that fire walls could block our path. The good thing is that this type of ceiling is more structurally sound than a plain drop ceiling and will support our weight better. I just hope the night runners don’t discover the crawlways.

“Do you feel strong enough to crawl in the ceiling?” I ask Lynn, knowing she must be tired and her energy level low.

“I’ll manage,” she replies.

We head to the far corner of the room. With my selector switch on auto, I send bursts into the ceiling, angling them so any ricochets don’t come back our way. I stitch a large square pattern in the corner. I move one of the tables under the spot and place another on top of it. Moving a third table next to the stacked ones, I create a large stepping stool of sorts.

I climb up and bash next to the holes with the stock of my M-4. A square chunk of ceiling falls to the table showering me with white dust. The banging of the doors grows stronger and is barely heard over screams so loud that my ears begin to ring. The night runners are slowly but surely forcing the doors open through sheer strength, determination, and numbers.

I boost Lynn into the limited space above. Replacing my mag and strapping my M-4 tightly, I hoist myself though the hole. The space is large enough to get through at an almost doubled over crouch. Small diameter metal and plastic conduit hangs down from the concrete slab overhead sharing space with rectangular aluminum HVAC ducting. The path is blocked by a concrete fire wall to the east, toward the front of the building.

Keeping as quiet as we can, we wriggle through and over conduit to the wall on the other side of the hallway. We won’t get very far in any direction due to the fire walls but at least we can get out of the trapped room. Pipes and ducting heads from the main channels and bends ninety degrees down into rooms. It’s pretty easy to tell rooms from hallways because of the layout of the conduits.

The noise from below vibrates the ceiling causing dirt particles to jump up and down. The hallways were chilled but here, in the confined space above, it’s a lot warmer. I feel grit in my hair and on my exposed skin as we make our way slowly south. Soon we butt up against another fire wall. We have no choice but to go down.

I take out my heavy LMF knife and punch through the ceiling where I calculate a room to be based on the piping and by tapping. It wouldn’t do to escape from the room only to drop down into the same hall as the gathered horde. I imagine the night runners must stretch a considerable distance in the hall to either side of the room we were in. Even though the screeching of the night runners will most likely block out the noise of my suppressed M-4, the confined space makes using it a little unwieldy. I carve out another square, not quite finishing the opening. Grabbing a section, I lift it up, lay it beside me, and peer into the room.

We’ve come upon a small office. An elongated desk occupies one wall, with two rolling chairs next to it. Workstation monitors and a pile of folders sit on the desk’s surface.

“Are you okay?” I ask Lynn, to which, she nods.

I edge my legs into the hole, making sure I don’t knock anything over, and drop onto the desk. I then help Lynn down. We aren’t out of it yet but at least we have a little breathing space — hopefully.

A door exits into another hallway out of view of the main hall crowded with night runners. However, with the number of night runners, the hall on the other side of the door could easily be filled with them. I ease the fiber scope under the door, careful to check for feet prior to inserting it all of the way out into the corridor. It’s empty for the moment, but the shrieks still shaking the walls let us know that the night runners are still very close. I also can’t assume that all of the night runners in the building are actually at the door. There may be many others hunting the hallways or rushing to join.

“Okay…it’s clear. We’ll creep along and make sure each hallway intersection is clear. I’ll lead. If we’re discovered, we make a run for the east side. Those are the closest outside offices which will give us access to daylight. That’s our goal,” I say, putting the scope away.

“Let’s do it,” Lynn says, readying her sidearm.

I ease the door open and, with a last check, we slip silently into the hall. I don’t know how long we’ll go undiscovered. I’m not sure that the smoke still covers my scent and I know they’ll smell Lynn. I just hope they are so focused on the doors that it will go unnoticed. We glide down the halls, avoiding the empty gurneys and rolling carts crowded against the walls.

At the first corner we come to, I look down the hall in both directions. Toward the room we escaped from, several packs of night runners are running to and fro in frustration, attempting to find a way in. They are some distance down the passageway but there’s no way we’ll be able to cross here without being seen. I notice a change in the tempo and tone of the shrieks. The night runners that are visible all turn and look in our direction. As one, they begin streaking for us.

“They’re onto us. Straight ahead, go!” I yell, grabbing a grenade at my vest.

Pulling the pin, I let the grenade fly down the hall toward the night runners quickly closing in and take off after Lynn. I catch her just as we cross through the next juncture. A rocking explosion temporarily drowns out the screams. As I have the greater firepower, I take the lead in case we encounter any night runners that attempt to block our path. I glance behind and see night runners pouring into the hall behind us. I ready another grenade.

“Right at the next intersection,” I shout.

I toss the grenade behind as we near the crossing. The turn is to take us out of the hall so we don’t get peppered by shrapnel. As we turn, five night runners enter the corridor at the junction ahead of us. We are charging toward each other and the distance quickly dwindles.

I raise my carbine and begin firing bursts into their midst just as the grenade goes off behind. The first two go down as if tripped, hitting the floor hard. Still, we race toward each other. Another burst sends a night runner crashing into a rolling cart, tipping it over and spilling its contents to the ground with a crash. I hear two gunshot reports over my shoulder and watch as the two remaining night runners fall. The first flips backward with its feet in the air and the other follows in the same manner a split second later making it look like the two executed a poorly timed synchronized swimming maneuver.

We push past the bodies and turn left as we make our way once again to the east. The halls are filled with such a volume of noise that it seems like a physical presence — which, technically, I guess it is. Doors fly by as we streak down the passage. The grenades slowed the night runners, but they are catching up again. It’s a race for outer offices. It’s one I’m not sure we’re going to win.

As we pass another hallway crossing, I glance left and see night runners streaking past just one hall over. Some stop and turn after us with others surging ahead. They’re faster than we are so there’s a good chance they can draw ahead and trap us. The doors at the far end of the hall draw closer. I feel the toil of the morning beginning to take hold. One can rely on adrenaline for only so long before the body wilts, and we’ve been at an all-out sprint. My breath is starting to get ragged despite my best attempts to push my body on. I don’t know how Lynn is holding up as well as she is. That’s one thing I’ve always admired about her — her toughness.

Crossing yet another junction, I see an unlit sign indicating a stairwell with an emergency exit sign next to the door. This must lead to the stairs I initially attempted to enter. I curse the fact that the door is still tied off or we’d be able use it to escape to the roof. Looking left, night runners are halfway down the hall coming toward us. If these were from the same group that we passed a junction ago, they are gaining a half hall’s length on us with each intersection we pass through. That means we’ll collide head on at the next intersection with the others who plowed ahead. With the night runners now close on our trail, we’ll be trapped between the two groups.

There’s only one more hallway passage after the next intersection between us and the outer offices. We’re so close but if those night runners gain entrance ahead of us, we’re done for. The next crossing looms with the scream of the night runners just behind us shaking my very fillings. It’s so loud that it vibrates my skull. Lynn is running beside me as we near the next intersection. The moment that will tell whether we make it or not is fast approaching. The night runners will either enter the hall ahead of us or we’ll streak by barely in front of them. If we make it through however, it doesn’t guarantee that we’ll make it to the outer offices. It just means that we’ll be alive for just a little longer.

I grab one of the carts as I pass and pull it into the hall behind us in an attempt to slow those on our heels. Even as loud their screams are, I hear the cart clatter as several night runners trip over it. The intersection looms…my breathing is ragged. As we close on the corner, I see the first movements of night runners an equidistance away in the intersecting hall. We’re about to collide into each other at top speed.

I open up and push the pictorial equivalent of ‘Noo! Stop! Death!’ out with force. It’s the only thing I can think of. Any slowing to shoot will only allow the ones behind to catch us. Grenades are not an option due to our proximity and, with the fuse time, even though quick, it will still allow those closest to be past it when it goes off.

The night runners closing from the side slow with startled expressions. Lynn and I race by. They are quick to recover though and resume the chase, colliding with those that were directly behind us. This gives us just a touch more breathing space. I begin tossing the occasional cart and IV stand against the wall into the hall behind. I raise my carbine and fire at the handle of the door directly ahead seeing rounds splinter the wood of the jamb and around the latch.

Lowering my shoulder, I smash into the door at full speed, only slowing as I hit the solid object. It gives under my momentum, crashing inward. I see blinds pulled down over a window, similar to the ones in the office through which I entered. Slivers of light leak through the minute openings. My momentum into the room slams me against a desk. I feel my thighs immediately bruise from to the impact. Ignoring the pain, I reach up and pull on the hanging cord. Sunlight streams into the room.

Two night runners that crashed into the room with us fall to the ground with agonizing screams of pain. Yeah, it was that close. The others pull back from the light, some with screams of pain and others with shrieks of frustration. We’ve made it. I bend over with my hands on my knees, panting heavily.

“Are you okay?” Lynn asks between gasps of breath, her hands also on her knees.

“I’ve been better,” I pant.

With the night runners still screeching just outside of the open door, and having caught a little wind, I raise the window and radio the team. I can hear the elation in their responses.

“Now, let’s get out of here,” I say, rigging Lynn up with a spare D-ring and tying a length of 550 cord off around a heavy filing cabinet.

I test the weight as it wouldn’t be cool to come through what we did only to fall forty or fifty feet upon exiting. We rappel down the side into the midst of the others gathered around the snaking end of the cord. Everyone gives Lynn hugs along with heartfelt ‘welcome backs’. All rank is forgotten. Drescoll, his team, and even Robert have come to welcome Lynn back.

I look at Bri. She is standing nearby with tears streaming down her cheeks. She runs over and throws her arms around me. I feel her tighten her hug and begin sobbing.

“Dad…I was so scared,” Bri says through her sobs, her voice muffled against me.

With the continued shrieks of night runners drifting out of the open window above, I wrap my arms around her and hold her close.

“I love you, Bri,” I say.

“I love you too, Dad.”

She pulls away after a moment and wipes the tears from her cheeks, spreading dirt across them. Robert even steps in and gives me an embrace.

Lynn turns from the others, and, without saying a word, wraps me in the tightest hug I think I’ve ever had. I hug her back fiercely, feeling warmth course through my body. I cannot even begin to describe how happy I am that she’s safe and I can hold her again. I can feel the weight she has lost. Her ordeal must have been horrific. It’s time to get her back so she can clean up, eat, and rest.

“Thank you again, Jack. I love you so much,” she whispers in my ear.

“I love you so very much, Lynn.”

We release each other, too soon in my opinion, and I tell the others to load up and return to Cabela’s. Red Team stays as they’ll be our ride home.

“What about the helicopter?” Robert asks. “Are we flying it back?”

“I suppose we should,” I say, hearing the other vehicles start up and pull away. “You ride with the others, I’ll fly Lynn back.”

We begin walking through the knee-high grass growing on the hospital grounds. The others are behind me with Robert nearly at my side. Away from the walls and nearing the sidewalk, I release my nearly spent mag. Fumbling, I drop it. Robert reaches down to pick it up.

“I’ve got it,” I say, stooping to retrieve it.

I feel a pressure of air and hear an all too familiar ‘zip’ pass over my head. Warm liquid splashes on the back of my neck and in my hair. A sharp report follows.

“Sniper,” I yell, instinct taking over.