Taken

Through the Looking Glass

The click coming across the radio is a like a jolt of electricity running through me. I stare at the speaker as if my concentration will force Gonzalez’ voice through it once again but it sits on the desk in silence.

I grab the mic from Kathy’s hand. “Gonzalez, base here, respond!” I say hoping for a reply. Nothing but continued silence.

I drop the microphone on the desk and turning, I yell across the interior, “Lynn!”

Adrenaline, fear, and worry course through me along with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My immediate thought is they’ve run afoul of whatever red truck Gonzalez reported. A dozen thoughts of who, what, and where race through my mind but the most immediate is to get everyone mobilized and for me to get in the air. I start running for the front door and see Lynn pounding down the escalator stairs. I slow to a brisk walk as she joins me.

“Something’s happened to Gonzalez and the kids. Mobilize the teams and get them into Humvees. Start southbound on the Interstate and I’ll contact you. The last transmission from Gonzalez said a red truck was following them. I’m getting airborne,” I say walking briskly to the doors.

“”What happened? Where were they?” She asks in rapid fire succession.

“I don’t know. The transmission went dead in the middle of their report. I don’t know exactly where they are or were but I’ll follow the route they should have taken. Just be on the lookout for either the Humvee or a red truck,” I say reaching the front doors.

“Will do, Jack. We’ll be on the road soon,” she says turning back to the interior.

“All teams, on me, ASAP!” Lynn shouts across the interior.

I do a quick check on my weapons and gear reassuring myself that all is in order and I have enough ammo should I need it. I wouldn’t want to locate the kids only to find I wasn’t able to help them because of my rush. Exiting into the shade of the drive-thru overhang, I spot Greg sitting on the curb apparently enjoying the feel of the sun bathing him.

“Greg, grab your gear, you’re with me. And hurry. I’ll explain when you get back. Meet me at the helicopter,” I say and head across the parking lot towards the Kiowa parked on the far side away from the other vehicles.

Lynn shouts across the lot for everyone to gather. I turn and see Greg looking my direction with a questioning look. I shake my head to indicate he’s to ignore Lynn’s request and follow me. Greg turns, exchanges a word or two with Lynn, and runs into the building. I run over to the helicopter, jump in, and begin the start sequence. Time is of the essence. If they’ve been taken, every minute means another mile or close to it in some direction. It will take time to trace their route in order to locate either them or at least find a starting point. And, if I choose the wrong direction, then that’s a lesser chance of locating them again.

The rotors begin spinning overhead as Greg runs out of the building and jumps in. He dons the spare helmet and I brief him as the rotors come up to speed. Lifting off into the clear morning air, I swing to the south to pick up the Interstate. Tense and anxious, I gain altitude in order to get a longer range of view. I need to find them or catch sight of the red truck soon or this will turn into an area search ordeal with each moment’s passing making the odds of locating them less and less.

I hook up with I-5 to my left and make contact with the base to establish communication. The gray road stretches north and south and is empty of movement. I search for movement and look for the Humvee parked to the side of the highway. Nothing moves except an occasional flash of white from gulls circling in random patterns closer to the bay. I know where the kids were headed so I fly up the Interstate to the exit Robert should have taken to the beach. Very small wisps of brown smoke drift lazily upward from a couple of points indicating some of our area burns are still warm.

The glittering waters of the bay past the outer vestiges of downtown Olympia filter in through the windscreen. The crisscross pattern of streets is empty of movement and mostly empty of vehicles. Some cars are parked in spots on the main thoroughfares but the ghost town atmosphere prevails. I dip the nose forward picking up airspeed as the helicopter responds to my anxiousness to find my kids. A road parallels the bay into Olympia from Puget Sound to the north. I pick up this road after downtown Olympia slides by to my left.

The foundations of burnt houses appear on the left side of the road with a large embankment on the immediate right. No indications of the Humvee or a red truck appear as I slow and we proceed up the road. There is a chance they took a side road after seeing the truck so I’ll check on the roads on top of the cliff after I reach the park where they were heading.

“Where the fuck are they?” I ask in a whisper; more talking to myself than conveying a message.

“Don’t worry, Jack, we’ll find them,” Greg responds hearing my whisper.

“There,” he says pointing.

Ahead, just around a corner of the road, I see a Humvee lying on its side in the ditch. I descend and come to a hover over the vehicle. Nothing is moving on the ground or inside. The front and passenger doors are open on the driver’s side, pointing upward. The vibrations of the helicopter, the rotors turning overhead in a blur, and the wrecked Humvee below us are the only company.

“Is that a red truck cresting that hill?” Greg asks pointing to his left.

I swing the nose around to get a better look. Sure enough, I see the back end of a truck disappear over a hill in the distance across the bay. It’s driving on one of the main roads toward the south end of town. I have a dilemma; check out the Humvee or follow the vehicle. The kids and Gonzalez may still be in the Humvee hurt and needing assistance or they may be with the truck. I look in our immediate area for place to land but see I can’t quite plant it without our rotor hitting some of the burnt structures still jutting into the air. I should be able to find the truck again if we’re quick, especially from altitude. If I’m careful, I can get within a couple feet of the ground without hitting anything.

“Greg, I’m going to get close but you’ll have to jump down and check on the Humvee,” I say looking for the best spot.

“Sure, no problem, Jack,” Greg replies.

I edge down the road a touch and find a spot close to the water where I can edge down. I have to keep over the water’s edge and bring the strut close to the small embankment rising from the inlet. The tide is in so I can’t put it down on exposed land. Greg opens the door and a wash of air rushes inside along with an increase in sound from the rotors slicing through the air. He removes his helmet and, grabbing his M-4, steps out onto the strut. Leaping the two feet separating the strut from land, he lands in a crouch, rises, and rushes over to the Humvee.

I angle away from the shore and watch as he reaches the Humvee. He runs around to the front to peer in then climbs onto the vehicle and looks in the open doors. Looking over to me, he shakes his head and jumps down. As Greg trots back, I edge over to the embankment once again. I feel the helicopter list as he clambers onto the strut and I try to counteract the increase in weight on that side. I’m not familiar with that aspect of flying rotors as of yet so Greg hangs on for dear life as we jostle around and move out over the water. I’m finally able to get some semblance of control and he climbs back in the cockpit.

“Well, that was interesting,” he says settling in and donning his helmet.

“Yeah, sorry,” I reply.

“No worries. I was just wondering if I was going to take a leisurely morning swim.” I chuckle but my anxiousness cuts that short. We turn and head south gaining altitude.

“Base, Jack here, over,” I say into the radio wanting to know where the hell Lynn and the rest of the teams are. There’s not much I can do in the helicopter even should we find the red truck again.

“Base here, go ahead Jack,” I hear Kathy respond.

“Where’s Lynn?” I ask.

“They’re all gathering in the parking lot now, Jack, and should be on their way shortly,” she answers.

“Okay, we’ve found the Humvee and no one is present. We spotted the red truck heading south through town and we are on our way to locate it once again,” I say, also giving the coordinates of the Humvee.

“Roger, Jack, I’ll relay that to her.”

“Thanks, out,” I say as the bay slides underneath us.

Gaining altitude, we head south down the main road where Greg spotted the truck disappearing. I don’t see anything and it underlies the feeling of loneliness the empty town gives off. I look down the side streets and mostly vacant parking lots as we accelerate. If they are speeding away, and they are easily able to so with the empty roads, they could be quite a distance ahead of us so I need to get a closure rate going just in case. It will give us less time to look in the immediate area but my thought is that we can search the area if we don’t find them on the road. At least we will have narrowed it down some if I don’t spot them.

Leaving the town behind, we manage to locate the red truck ahead of us as it leaves the road, turning onto highway 101. I drop down behind the trees and activate the overhead camera system. The camera is located in the housing above the rotors so we can remain invisible while still surveying the area. The truck is heading west to where the highway splits, either heading west to the coast or north up the Kitsap Peninsula, which, by the way, is the way towards my old house.

I hop from tree line to tree line keeping the truck in view. Magnifying the view, I see a couple of people riding in the bed of the truck but I don’t see any sign of Gonzalez or the kids. As we continue to follow at a distance, I see them take the exit heading north.

“What’s the plan?” Greg asks.

“I think for now we’ll just tail them until the teams arrive. I’m not sure what their response will be if they see us, especially if they have Gonzalez and the kids. And, there’s really not much we can do while they’re moving. We’ll determine their destination and go from there,” I answer and see him nod his reply.

“You know, we could pull ahead of them and take out their radiator and tires as they approach. Just a suggestion,” Greg comments.

“Yeah, I thought of that but we don’t know how many of them there are nor what will happen to Gonzalez and the kids if that happens. There are too many variables right now. The truck could even flip,” I reply.

“Jack, this is Lynn over,” I hear coming over the radio.

“Yeah, Lynn, this is Jack, go ahead,” I respond.

“We’re outbound with five teams. I left Alpha, Bravo, and Green behind with Drescoll in charge. What’s the situation?” Lynn asks.

“We found the Humvee. Did Kathy give you those coordinates?” I say in way of answering.

“Yes, Jack, I have ‘em.”

“Okay, send one team there and search the area. We’re turning north on Highway 101 following the truck at a distance. We’re about thirty minutes ahead of you. Keep coming and we’ll find out where they’re going and formulate a plan at that point,” I say.

“Copy that, Jack, we’re on our way,” Lynn replies.

Greg and I continue to tail the truck as it progresses along the highway. We watch through the camera-provided images on the screen, until the truck disappears from view, then pop up and find another vantage point behind trees or the occasional building along the way and repeat the process. At one point, we draw close to where Nic is buried and I send a mental prayer her way, the sadness of missing her fills me and makes me all the more anxious to get Robert and Bri back. If anyone harms them, they’ll find a world of hurt on both themselves and everyone they know. I’ll absolutely rain pain and destruction on their world.

“If they took them, Jack, they’ll pay,” Greg says as if reading my thoughts. I look over and realize we aren’t that much different in our ways of thinking or experiences. We’ve talked some and I know he’s seen some pretty serious things himself. It’s good to have him along and to know that Lynn is not far behind. Looking at the truck in front of us, racing along the road at a pretty good clip, the people inside have no idea what is behind them. If they did, they wouldn’t have done what they did — if they did anything that is.

I wonder how long they’ve scouted us or what they know, I think as we hop behind yet another stand of trees. It’s apparent they must have been watching us and I think back to those movements on earlier trips this way when I felt uneasy. We watch from a distance as they go past the first Shelton off ramps and then exit at the third one leading to the north part of town. Looking on, I see them turn by the high school and I take notice of the fenced-in grounds. Wooden observation towers have been recently erected in the corners and at various intervals. Guessing this is where the truck is headed, I turn on the recorders, making sure to keep the truck in sight but also making sure I record the entire area.

As guessed, the truck turns and passes through gates into the high school complex itself. I maneuver slightly and zoom in. The truck stops by what I remember as the main office building. The two people in back hop out of the bed and open the doors. Zooming in closer, I watch as they pull Robert and Gonzalez from the rear seats. It appears they are either sleeping or unconscious and it’s all I can do not to race to their location and erupt in a frenzy. I know that I can get them back now that I have a location but I’ll have to play it smart. I continue to watch as Michelle and Bri are pulled out in the same manner, although Michelle looks as though she can walk with some assistance.

My heart beats faster and my anger rises seeing them like that. Greg reaches over and grabs my arm. I hadn’t noticed but I had edged the helicopter closer as if it could feel my desire to swoop in and get them.

“Easy, Jack, we’ll get them. They have to be okay or they wouldn’t have bothered carrying them this far or handle them like that,” he says not releasing his grip until I stabilize the helicopter once again.

“I know, thanks,” I reply taking a deep breath.

Grabbing the mic, I say, “Lynn, this is Jack, over.”

“Go ahead, Jack,” Lynn responds.

“What’s your location?”

“We’re just passing that creek before the casino,” she answers.

“Okay, stage there. It looks like they have some sort of encampment here. I need to analyze it more. We’ll come up with a plan afterwards,” I say.

“Okay, Jack, we’re staging off the road and will await your call,” Lynn replies.

“I want to get a look at the other side and get a recording of the entire camp,” I tell Greg.

“Okay, it looks like we can sneak around to the east and cut behind that far tree line,” he responds pointing to a band of trees in the distance.

The camp around the high school itself is surrounded by a chain link fence with barbed wire encircling the top. Constructed back a little from each corner is a built up, covered observation platform. An overhang stretches around the exteriors and it looks as if the ladders can be pulled up creating bunkers that can’t be scaled easily. To the extent that I can see from this vantage point, the platforms are also constructed at intervals around the perimeter and the corner ones are manned. A string of pole-mounted lights also line the perimeter with what appears to be small spotlights on the towers themselves.

“Okay, let’s try and sneak around that way,” I say agreeing with Greg and wanting to get a recording of the other side as well.

I swing the nose around to the east keeping below the camp’s line of sight and far enough away that I believe the sound of our engines and rotor won’t be heard. Hopping over various tree lines and buildings, we make our way around, looking ahead through the camera before our next hop.

“Whoa, what’s that?” Greg says as we settle behind one particular line of trees.

I look down at the screen and see movement in a large clearing ahead in the distance. Working with the zoom controls once again, I see people scattered across the field. Some appear to be working on fields that have obviously been plowed while others seem to be working on structures in various states of construction. The people, for the most part, appear unarmed with others standing around are obviously armed. Yellow school buses dot the entrance.

“What’s that look like to you?” I ask Greg. I have my own ideas from years of experience in the field but perhaps my view is biased.

“Well, it could be that those standing around are keeping guard and a watch out for those working in the fields and buildings, but I would think they would be more on the perimeter if that were the case. Instead, they seem to be focused inward so my best guess is they are guarding the people working. Their stance and positions are more in line with people guarding prisoners,” he says after looking at the screen for a moment.

“That’s what I think as well. That sort of fits in with the apparent attack on Gonzalez and the kids,” I reply.

“Yeah, it does fit in with the overall theme. So do you think they’re capturing people to work on their farm or whatever it is up there?” He asks.

“So it would seem,” I answer. “Let’s work our way further south and east around this and come at the camp from the north.”

“Sounds good to me. I count about twenty guards and at least fifty people working. It’s hard to get an exact number from here,” Greg says.

“That’s about what I have. It would be hard to assault with the guards inter-mixed the way they are,” I say edging the aircraft back after recording the scene.

“Yeah, there might be some collateral casualties depending on the guard’s reactions,” he replies.

“Let’s see what we can see from the other side and regroup,” I say hating to even voice those words. I am wanting my kids back and to see how they are but know that this has to be played right. Rushing in could make it much worse. We swing further south and I relay the latest information to Lynn along with my thoughts.

“Okay, Jack, just don’t get it in your mind to go in and play hero,” she responds.

“No worries, we’re just going to get video and survey the camp,” I say.

“I know you, Jack, just make sure that’s all you do. We’ll be standing by,” Lynn says.

Edging around the entire area, we come up on the camp from the north, stopping a distance out but where we can get an effective picture of the layout from the this side. It looks pretty much like the south with towers and fencing. The only difference is the fence’s closer proximity to the buildings as opposed to open fields on the south side. I’m not sure how they are keeping the night runners away just using a chain link fence but they’ve survived this long so they must be doing something right.

Completing our surveillance, I circumvent the camp to the west wanting to get an overview of the entire surrounding region. I’m pretty familiar with the area but I want to get a better picture and leave the recorder on as we pass by on our way back towards Lynn. I feel very reluctant to leave and I have a knot in the pit of my stomach but I know it’s for the best. Still leap-frogging along, I set the camera on thermal looking for any outriders from the camp remembering the movements I saw previously. Nothing shows up but in the event they do have people watching the roads, I know back ways in to avoid them. I let Lynn know we’re on our way back and eventually spot the heated outlines of the Humvees in the distance parked on a side road.

“Lynn, let’s regroup back at base, look at the footage, and go from there,” I say coming to a hover close by.

“Copy that,” she responds. I see soldiers gather in the vehicles and turn back towards Olympia.

Greg and I are mostly silent on the quick flight back to Cabela’s. My mind is racing through ideas and scenarios, keeping some and discarding others. What I really want to do is sneak into the encampment and bring Gonzalez and the kids out. I store that away. I am eager to get back and get a plan underway. My landing on the hard surface is indicative of my anxiousness as I compress both Greg’s and my spine with the firm landing. Team members left behind to guard our sanctuary are gathered outside waiting to hear any news. I’m sure they have been monitoring the radio but we didn’t really say much over it.

The rotor winds down slowly, far too slowly for my liking but they eventually come to a stop and I hop out. I pull the tape from the Kiowa and walk to the crowd gathered. Giving a quick synopsis of what we found, I stroll inside and gather several camp tables together in the middle of the first level. I ask Bannerman for a laptop from the several he has acquired during team outings for supplies along with a VHS player we acquired from Fort Lewis. Hooking up the player to the laptop, I plug the tape in and test it. The imagery isn’t exactly like the high definition we had become used to in the last years before the change in the world but it is clear enough for what we need.

Greg and I, along with others looking in over our shoulders, begin to go through the recorded footage, waiting for Lynn and the other teams to arrive. We begin mapping the encampment to the best of our ability on a large sheet of wrapping paper Bannerman procured. Frank begins taking notes as we discuss the layout.

A surge of engine noises drift in through the open doors signaling the arrival of the other vehicles. The faint sound of doors banging closed follows shortly thereafter. Lynn and the other team leaders crowd around the small screen as the images are replayed numerous times. The camp layout is eventually put down on the paper and plotted along with the outlying farm. The farm, while looking through the images, has a similar chain link fence surrounding it. There doesn’t appear to be any of the tower structures nor do any of the structures appear to be living quarters. From the buses parked at the only entrance, it’s apparent they drive over to tend to the fields from the nearby high school.

“Well, thoughts?” I ask after watching the video replays for about an hour.

“Looks like they have about thirty armed guards between the camp and the fields. There may be more depending on whether they have shifts and a night watch,” Lynn says starting off our conversation and planning process.

“And those lights along the perimeter indicate that the camp is lit at night, assuming of course they are functional and have power,” Drescoll chimes in.

“I noticed the guards at the field weren’t paying too much attention to the perimeter but more focused on the people working. But that is only from a moment’s observation,” Greg says.

“And all that is working with some basic assumptions, that they are treating the people as prisoners and using them like slave labor. If our assumptions are incorrect, and I’m not saying they aren’t, then we could be making a big mistake,” Horace adds to the conversation.

“I think we’ll have to work with the assumption that they aren’t up to any good with the way they ran Gonzalez, Robert, Michelle, and Bri off the road. But I could also be biased here,” I say in response. My gut clenches with the thought of the kids still being held captive and being taken like that.

“I agree,” both Drescoll and Lynn say.

“Until we know otherwise, we’ll have to operate with what we know,” Lynn adds.

“Agreed. I see very few options. One, assault both places at once. Two, assault the main compound and wait for the buses to arrive and take them as they come in. Three, conduct a night assault on the compound. Four, take the farm, then the compound and hope they don’t radio in advance. We could use a jammer if we find their freqs and if they are using radios. Five, infiltrate at night and either bring Gonzalez and the kids out or take everyone out. Assuming they need rescuing that is. Six, pull up and negotiate. Or, we could do any combination of these. It basically comes down to an assault, infiltrating, or talking to them,” I say.

“With the assault, we could consider the use of Bradleys or Strykers but that would up the risk to others around,” Lynn adds.

“I would love to go swooping in there and have it over and done with quickly but we don’t know what their reaction will be with the people they have. I hesitate to use the word “captured” but that’s the only way I can think of it considering what happened on the road. It would seem they capture others to use them for their slave labor,” I say.

“We can’t forget about the night runners. That pretty much leaves night operations out of the question,” Franks adds rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“True. We don’t know what they’re doing about those. Those fences won’t keep any night runners out for long, especially with the gaps between the towers,” I respond.

“How about using the M-110’s? We could sneak up pretty close to the field, have teams take out those they can from a distance using the silenced 110’s, and then assault with frequency jammers in place,” Greg mentions.

“All great ideas. Everything depends on what their reaction would be towards the assumed prisoners. Will they turn their guns on them? And there is also the variable of collateral casualties with a direct assault. I think we should take a small team and observe to find patterns. I think we’ll come up with a better plan if we take a closer look for a short time,” I say.

“So, what are you thinking then? Take the helicopter and observe daily?” Lynn asks.

“No, I was thinking more of taking a small team and observing. I know a hill that overlooks that area with plenty of cover. Plus, there’s a back way in so we can get into position without being observed. I also want to know what the night runner activity is like at night and how they’re dealing with it,” I answer.

“And that small team wouldn’t happen to include you would it?” Lynn asks knowing fully well that I intend to be a part but voicing her concern in a roundabout way.

“Um, yeah, I was thinking I would take Red Team to scout it out for however long and come up with a plan based on what we find,” I reply. “Oh, and I’ll be taking Greg along. I’d take you but we still need to get a lot done here before winter sets in.”

“Now why is that such a surprise?” Lynn says with a grin. And with that, our gathering breaks up.

I notify the rest of Red Team, giving them a synopsis of what happened and what our plan is. We begin loading supplies in the back of the two Humvees we plan to take. We would fit in one but two is better in case of a breakdown — two is one, one is none. Plus, we’ll need room to stretch out as I don’t know how long our little excursion will take. I am terribly anxious to get going and be there as if my proximity to the kids will help.

Finished with loading gear, Lynn, Bannerman, Frank, the team leaders and I gather. The goal is to talk about our next phase hoping to secure long-term survival needs and prepare for the winter months. We have plenty of MRE’s and food we’ve scavenged but we will still have to scavenge more from the darkened buildings if we are to make it through. Water shouldn’t be a problem as long as we have power. The sun won’t be as prevalent and with the days getting shorter, we’ll be relying more on the generator if the sunlight won’t keep the batteries charged through the solar panels. We also need to begin building fencing for cattle and horses along with stables, barns, a greenhouse, chicken coops, and farming areas.

“Bannerman, were you able to get spare parts for the water pump?” I ask opening our meeting. I want to hurry this up so I can get a move on but I know this is important to our ultimate survival as well.

“I did. I also have spare solar panel replacements in case we lose some,” he replies.

“Good. I figure if we lose a generator, then we can pick one up and just replace it rather than tinker with it,” I say.

“I already have a couple unbolted and ready to go,” Bannerman says to which I nod.

“Frank?” I ask wanting to hear what he has from his end.

“Well, we’ve picked up a lot of night runner bands and they seem to have settled down to a specific area but there are still roving bands. I haven’t been able to isolate anything down as yet. There isn’t a particular pattern emerging from any of the bands although it does seem that the major streets are utilized to a great extent. The band sizes seem to change from time to time with no pattern there either. I think the roving bands we see are moving because of food. My guess is that their food is becoming even scarcer within the city, especially with us picking up other survivors in the area. We’ll probably start seeing them move out into the country. We’re continuing to set traps but finding they’re being tripped with less frequency. Our cameras have picked up a couple of packs trying to scale the walls at night but their visits are infrequent. As far as we can tell, they’re pretty much leaving this area alone for the time being,” he reports.

We seem to have reached a status quo with regards to the night runners. They have the night and we have the day. We still have to tread into their dangerous domain for supplies and will still need to do that, regardless of our food stores. Hopefully the trips will be less frequent once we get our long-term food needs in order. Thoughts of clearing the area of night runners still runs through my mind but the enormity and anxiety over the kids is my most prevalent thought right now. At least I know where they’re at and that gives some relief; not much, but some.

“Okay. So, what’s our priority then?” I ask. I know my thoughts but I want to hear their concerns as well.

“Well, I’d like to get the wind turbines and water tower in place so we don’t have to rely on the generator so much. The diesel, even with treatments, isn’t going to last much longer. We basically have until next summer and then our mobility will be decreased substantially. That is unless we want to explore Bio-diesel options. That will require more trips into buildings for supplies and growing crops specifically for that purpose,” Bannerman answers.

“Okay, we’ll need to research how to create that as I have no idea, well, next to no idea, what that process entails. Bannerman, will you see if someone knows about that. I suppose we could raid a bookstore or library and see if we can come up with something there as well,” I say.

“Personally, I think we need to get the food supplies and greenhouse going. The sooner we can get that established, the sooner we can stay out of the buildings. At least to a greater extent,” Drescoll offers.

“I agree. I think that should be our priority. I believe we are in a good position now to start building for the long-term. I’m not in disagreement with our need to create alternate water and power supplies but we have that now. We need to keep in mind that the night runners may be adapting to this new world as well and we don’t know what that means. We’ve seen their ability to adapt quickly to situations in fights and don’t know how that will translate to other things. The timing is right for getting our food supplies in order before something else comes up. That’s what I think anyway,” Frank says in support of Drescoll.

“I’m not saying we don’t need that. We just need those other things as well and I’ll be more comfortable knowing we have a more long-term solution to getting our water supply. That could be the turbines or Bio-diesel. Food, we can hunt for if necessary but if we lose our water supply, then we may find most of our day spent around gathering enough of it,” Bannerman replies.

“How long would it take to get the turbines and water tower in place?” Lynn asks.

“Good question. Both Frank and I have discussed it to a degree and we think maybe three months all told. That’s disassembling one, hauling it back, and setting it up. That’s a conservative estimate but it’s better to plan that way. Another factor is that, as of now, we only have a little time left with usable fuel. After that, hauling anything is out of the question,” Bannerman answers.

“How many people do you think you’ll need?” I ask.

“Well, the nearest wind turbines we know of are down in the Columbia Gorge so travel there daily isn’t an option. So, we’ll need security, equipment; meaning cranes and transport vehicles, and teams to operate the equipment. The same teams could do the dismantling. The security is because they’ll have to stay down there until it’s finished. How long is anyone’s guess. I would say three teams minimum depending on how much security you want them to have. The security would have to include night shifts so my thinking is, one team dismantling and loading, one team for day security and one team for night security,” he answers.

“That would leave us with five operational teams here. I think we could get along with that. What do you think Lynn?” I ask.

“I think we can manage but, if we do this now, remember you’re taking one team with you. That leaves us precious little for any other operations. The people we picked up will be able to help with building and such but they won’t be ready for any combat-oriented aspects for some time,” she replies. “I also have to say I’m not all that keen on leaving those teams out for an extended stay. I mean, if I’m hearing this right, they’ll be gone for three months?”

“No, I don’t think they’ll have to be gone for that long. Most of the time mentioned will be setting the turbine up on this end and attaching it directly to the pump,” Bannerman answers.

“Then how long do you see them being out on their own? We won’t be able to respond quickly if they need help,” Lynn says.

“Honestly, I don’t really know what it will take to dismantle one. I can’t see more than a week. If it takes longer than that, then we’ll have a different set of problems and the project may be more complex than we’re capable of doing. We can always put a time limit in place and if they aren’t finished by that time, then they come home,” Bannerman answers.

“I’m a little more comfortable with that. If they do go, then we should head north and pick up some Stryker vehicles for them to hole up in during the night and for added protection,” Lynn says.

“I agree. I’m not terribly comfortable with them being so far away from help, especially considering what we just had happen. And the radios might be spotty if functional at all. We need to think about getting longer range, more effective communications set up prior to sending them down. Maybe set up UHF with remote antennas on a hilltop. The gorge itself will make it hard to get radio signals in and out of,” I add.

“That might work. I’ll talk to Corporal Taylor and see if he has other ideas as well,” Lynn says.

“Okay. So, is everyone in agreement about doing both then; looking into a wind turbine and finish setting up shop here?” I ask. Everyone nods in agreement.

“Lynn, I’ll leave you to it,” I say giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Greg, you’re with me. I’ll go find Red and we’re off.”

“Jack, can I talk to you for a sec?” Lynn asks.

“Sure, babe,” I answer. “Greg, find Red and I’ll meet you out there.”

“Sure thing,” Greg responds.

“What’s up?” I ask with Greg’s boots clicking across the floor on his way out.

“I’ll come right to it. You’ve been a little distant since Nic. I know that was hard and you’re still hurting inside, but you’ve shut me out, or at least starting to. I want to be a part of the solution, not someone to keep at arm’s length. I just miss being close like we were,” she says.

I sigh heavily thinking she’s right. It’s just the way I am to a degree. When something hurts like that, I tend to keep everything at a distance until the pain subsides. A defense mechanism I guess. And now with the kids, well, the walls are wrapped pretty tight. Lynn continues looking into my eyes knowing that I’m thinking. She knows I like to take my time answering questions like that.

“You know, you’re right and I’m sorry. I just don’t want to feel that kind of pain again and I’ve been insulating myself against it. And now, well, it’s doubly so. I’m sorry, hon, it wasn’t right and I’ll try,” I say wrapping my arms around her and bringing her close.

“I’m not so sure I really like this new world,” I whisper into her ear. “I’ve done nothing but make mistakes and it’s eating a hole in my gut.”

Lynn pushes away but not out of my arms. “Jack, you know very well that’s not true. We’ve all made mistakes but that’s expected with all of the unknown we’ve had to deal with. I think we, and that includes you, have done a fine job getting us to this point. We’re alive and that’s what counts.”

“Nic isn’t,” I say softly.

A tear forms in her eye. “I know, Jack, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean, well, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I meant to say that we’ve come through a lot and I don’t think we’ve made mistakes doing it. We’ve just had to deal with some pretty majorly fucked-up shit and made the best decisions with what we knew. Ask anyone here and they’ll agree that you’ve made great choices. Now get the fuck out of here before you make me cry,” she says pushing away.

“Oh, and Jack, don’t go in there by yourself, please,” Lynn adds.

“I can’t promise anything but I won’t do anything rash. How’s that?” I ask.

“I guess it’ll have to do,” she answers leaning forward to give me a kiss which I happily return and hold her close once again. Separating, I tell her I think I’ll take all of Greg’s team along with Red to scout with if she thinks she can spare them.

“I’m glad you’re taking more and don’t feel you have to, or can, do this alone. We’ll be just fine here. What about taking a Stryker or two yourself?” She asks.

“Too big and noisy. We’ll be fine but I’m taking three instead of just the two Humvees,” I answer.

“Okay, Jack, I love you,” she says as we part.

“I love you too.”

I meet Greg close to the entrance and inform him of the change. He heads off to gather the rest of Echo Team while I inform Red Team of our plan. Emerging from the building into the brightness of the sunlit morning, feeling the light, fresh breeze as it drifts across the tall brown grass of the adjacent fields, I see Bannerman standing with his face skyward, letting the sun fall on him. I am hesitant to interrupt his obviously serene moment. He has done so much to help after our rocky start that he deserves any moment of serenity he can get. I do feel an anxiousness wanting to get a move on but I know that feeling of peace and those times where you just want to experience the moment and let it fill you. I wait until I see him take a breath and sigh. Coming out of his reverie and looking around, he sees me standing to the side and nods.

I had a thought emerging from the building and approach. “Wish we could just take this day to relax and enjoy this sunny day,” I say.

“Yeah, perhaps someday we’ll be able to do that once again. I hope so anyway,” he says. “But you didn’t come over just to discuss wishful thinking, did you?”

“Well, yes and no. Under different circumstances, yes, but I was wondering if there were any fiber-optic snake cams in the crates we gathered from the armories?” I ask.

“Yeah, we found some unpacking the crates. We only have four but we could find some additional ones I’m sure if you need them. How many do you want?” Bannerman asks.

“I’ll take the four we have now,” I answer. “Also, we could use some of the walkie-talkies from the store if you could drum some of those up.”

“I can do that. Let me go get them. I’ll be right back,” he says.

My thought is that the people at the compound have to communicate in some fashion and would most likely use walkie-talkies using generic and open frequencies. I want to use the radios to monitor their calls if they are in fact using those. Anything to get a better picture of what we are facing. Waiting for Bannerman to return, in a similar manner that he was, I relish the warmth bathing my face. The knot in my stomach doesn’t allow complete relaxation. The tension and worry inside feels like every muscle in my body is clenched.

“Now, Jack, you aren’t planning to go in by yourself or anything, are you?” Lynn’s voice asks behind me, interrupting my reverie.

“Someone’s been telling on me,” I say without turning.

“Bannerman might have mentioned a thing or two,” she says.

“Not planning on it, but if the opportunity presents itself, I want to be ready,” I answer her question.

“Jack, that’s your way of saying yes,” she says as I turn toward her.

“Seriously, I am not planning on anything but getting a better look at what we are facing, but if there’s a chance of getting Gonzalez and the kids out, I’m taking it. Believe me, I’m not going to jeopardize their safety to alleviate my own anxiety,” I say.

“What about the others in the compound?” She asks. “And before you answer, I know the kids and Gonzalez are the priority, but the others deserve a chance as well.”

“I’m not completely heartless and have given them some thought as well. My hope is that we can find a way to get everyone out, assuming of course that we’re right about what’s going on, but the kids come first,” I answer. “And Gonzalez.”

“Just be careful, Jack, and I know they come first. I want you to come back as well,” she replies.

“I will, hon. I will,” I respond and give her another kiss. “I want more moments with you and I’m not looking to depart this world so soon. Even if it is a rather fucked-up one right now.”

Echo Team, with Greg in the lead, emerge from Cabela’s with their gear and head towards one of the Humvee’s with Red Team, or what is left of them, gathered by it. Bannerman follows shortly on their heels and hands the fiber-optic cams and radios over for which I thank him. We talk about switching our tactical frequencies. If the kids and Gonzalez were taken, then our radios will be in the marauder’s possession giving them ears into our conversations. We settle on a primary and secondary frequency.

“Okay, time to go. I love you,” I say to Lynn.

“I love you too.”

With that, we pile in the Humvees, the diesel engines cranking over and spilling their throaty roar across the still parking lot. Small amounts of dark smoke exit the exhausts and drift on the morning breeze before dissipating altogether. The day has warmed the interior of the vehicles and I feel a trickle of sweat roll down my neck and a slight sting as it crosses the still open scratch on my neck. I usually heal quickly but this one doesn’t appear to be closing anytime soon. I put my hand to the bandage covering the wound. I have been pouring antibiotics over it daily and taking them as well. At least it stopped oozing, I think remembering that night in Portland and how close we came to becoming just another pile of corpses in some remote location. The periodic headaches, which I have associated with the slow-healing wound, have diminished to an extent as well.

Shrugging and forgetting about it as we pull out of the lot, I set my mind on the task ahead. The tension centering in the pit of my stomach tightens as my thoughts center on what lies ahead. I would like nothing more than to take some Strykers and Bradleys and wipe the people, who took my kids and possibly harmed them, off the face of the earth. I know that isn’t the solution but that doesn’t alleviate my anger, worry, or desire.

We turn south on the Interstate, staggering our small convoy in case others happen to be around. I thought about taking the helicopter and proceeding ahead of the group to scout for anyone watching or waiting, but that would mean I would have to return and proceed on my own presenting an easier target. It must have happened so fast, with Gonzalez and the kids, that they didn’t have a chance to get on the M240 mounted on top. That would have taken care of the truck in short order. I’m actually surprised the truck took on a Humvee to begin with but they must have planned it well and given them little time to respond. With that thought, I radio the others following to make sure the guns are manned at all times as we transit.

I shake my head. I should have thought of this earlier and made it a priority. I guess I wasn’t thinking other survivors would do something like kidnapping and felt that the day was relatively safe. Not anymore. Any dealings with any other groups will be treated very cautiously. We will have to be as cautious during the day as we are at night. I mean, as if it isn’t dangerous enough with night runners, we have to deal with this as well. That is seriously messed up.

I have Greg, in the third Humvee, take a large lag position as we turn onto the highway heading toward the encampment. I want to be able to catch anyone following or at least be alerted if we are located. The plan is to take the back roads, mostly power line roads, and get into a position on a hill overlooking the compound. The hill is far enough away and forested so we shouldn’t be seen if we are careful but it will allow us to observe.

I plan to keep two of the Humvees on the back side of the slope with one just on the edge where we can observe from the relative safety of the enclosed vehicle at night. I’m not sure what the night runner activity is but I don’t want to be caught out after dark. We should be safe enough with the Humvees locked down. Of course, if the night runners do find us, they’ll also be giving away our position to those in the camp. I’m hoping they haven’t ventured this far outside of the cities as yet but I keep Frank’s evaluation in mind; that they’ll be moving out into the country to hunt. Hopefully they already aren’t doing so.

We pull off the road, head a short distance up one of the side roads, and pull onto a power line service road. McCafferty is driving and we slow to a crawl so we don’t kick up a dust trail. The fine dirt covering the road doesn’t have any fresh tracks so I am moderately convinced no one is using or monitoring this road. Greg reports our tail clear as he enters the road a short time later. I’m not sure of the patrol pattern, if any, by the people at the camp but it certainly wouldn’t do for them to come across our trail if they happen along the side road. I radio Greg to find some large, leafy branches to tie just behind the rear tires of his vehicle. This should partially erase the tracks of our vehicles or at least not make them as apparent. Being the trail vehicle, this should cover all of our tracks. It will stir up more dust but if we go slowly enough, it should be negligible. My main concern is the noise as we creep along but there are hills between us and the main road which should hide any sound we are making. If they’ve posted lookouts on the taller hills, we will be spotted though. I turn on one of the walkie-talkies and set it to scan.

Every once in a while, as we slowly thread our way through, around, and over hills, a burst of static or a hint of a word comes through the radio in my hand. I notice it stops at channel seventeen each time. I take a second one out and set it to that channel while allowing the first one to continue scanning. The day is heating up and, with our vests and full uniforms, it causes sweat to form under our armpits and a drop or two to run off our brows. The bandage on my neck becomes soaked and the stinging brings awareness of the scratch from time to time. The sun shines brightly through the dusty windshield and seems a touch overly bright. Not the distinct brightness like when I had the “vision” outside of the Safeway, but still a touch intense.

Our wheels continue to turn slowly on the dusty road as we pass tower after tower; the steel monoliths no longer doing the job they were designed for, or, I should say the large, heavy lines they are supporting aren’t. The towers now sit as remote reminders of a time past; forgotten in the hills through which they wander. We eventually arrive at the bottom of the hill I plan to observe from. I have McCafferty edge off the road and maneuver through the trees until we come just below the crest. I get out and walk to the top, being careful not to silhouette myself against the skyline. The location provides an open view but the trees give enough of a cover so we can remain concealed. I guide McCafferty to a piece of flat ground from which we will be able to view the encampment. The two other vehicles pull alongside just behind the crest.

We gather branches around the area and throw them around the Humvees to conceal them further. A big concern is any glare from the windows reaching the compound. I’ll keep the windows covered during the day on the camp side to prevent the sun from hitting them at the wrong angle and giving our position away. We’ll rotate shifts. Two will be outside observing through binoculars and another two monitoring the radios. We’ll monitor the walkie-talkie radios and record our observations with times and activity. The shifts taking the night positions will rest during the day and observe from the lead Humvee at night. We’ll close up the vehicles at night and keep the windows up. This is to minimize our scent being transmitted outside and to ensure we are secure in case any night runners show up. Hopefully any scent we do leave during the day will have dissipated. We will also make our restroom activities a good distance from our location.

With the vehicles concealed but still allowing easy entrance, I radio base to let them know we’ve arrived. With the rest of the team, I climb to a place where we can overlook the camp with ease, crawling the last few yards. We won’t be able to make out the farm because it lies in the distance to the east beyond several tree lines. We may have to head over that way later but that will take some time to sneak over unseen and I don’t want anyone to get stuck outside after the sun sets. The initial look through the binoculars is as I remember it. The fence with the rolls of barbed wire along the top, the wooden towers built a little ways back from the fence with lights mounted, and pole-mounted lights at intervals along the perimeter.

The difference is that, looking at the perimeter lights, I see now that they are the lights construction crews use working on the roads; generator-powered and able to cast a great deal of light outward. It remains to be seen just how much of the perimeter is lit at night. There are people in the corner towers; two to each tower. We’ll see whether they man all of the towers at night or randomly selected ones. There are a few armed people walking outside close to what used to be the main office building in the center of the campus. Very few others are seen anywhere. No sign of Robert, Michelle, Bri, or Gonzalez. Thoughts of taking over the compound during the day and setting into the others as they arrive settle in and I stow them in the back of my mind. We’ll just have to see what patterns emerge. My guess is that a majority of the guards and the others are at the fields working. There may also be night shift personnel resting. Whatever plan we come up with will have to minimize variables that could cause collateral casualties. It may be that I go in and just pull the kids out prior. Time will tell.

There is very little traffic on the radios but it appears they are using channel seventeen at the moment. Whether that changes on a daily basis or they also use others for different communications remains to be seen so I leave one on scan just in case. I don’t like burning up two sets of batteries at once as I don’t know how long we’ll need to be here but the need to gather any and all information dictates the necessity. We still don’t know if our assumptions are correct and it could be as easy as walking up to the front door and introducing ourselves. That we will be introducing ourselves is a given, it’s just a matter in which form.

The shadows are at their shortest as the day transitions from morning into afternoon. We edge away from our lookout location and set up camp. Looking around the area, I decide on a slight change of plans with regards to our shifts. I want someone overlooking the back road in the direction we came and also further ahead. I send two in each direction to find a concealed spot in which to observe the dirt road. With two overlooking the camp and two monitoring the radio traffic, there are two left for the night shift. I should have brought another team but any increase in numbers would mean an exponential increase in sound and smell in the area and leave less at base to accomplish the other things we need. We’ll just have to make do with what we have.

My anxiety hasn’t lessened any as I don’t have a clue as to how the kids are doing but I feel better being here and at least I’m doing something. We’ll have a better idea about how to proceed with a few days of observation. I’m especially interested in how the night goes. The fences they have won’t stop night runners for long, especially with the length and how close to town it is, but it’s obvious they’ve managed so far somehow. My initial thought is a night operation but the night runners make this a very risky proposal. Thoughts circulate in my mind around a multitude of ideas including bringing in an AC-130 and just leveling the perimeter. My worry leads to all sorts of options but I throw many of them out knowing that sheer firepower may not be the solution here.

With everyone in place, it’s now a waiting and observation game. Nothing much changes during the day. We observe people heading into Wal-Mart at one point and emerging again carrying boxes. They are apparently using the store as a storage facility of some sort. My guess is food and other supplies. Several trucks and vans are in the school parking lot but none are used during this first day. Late in the afternoon, while I am taking a shift observing the camp with Greg, a large red truck drives up the highway from the north and pulls into the gate leading into the parking lot. Lying on my stomach, I set the binoculars in front of me and shoulder the M-110. Rotating the scope setting to 20x, I see three men emerge from the cab.

I center the cross hairs on the driver as he swings the door closed. His upper torso and head fill my sight with the juncture of the hair-thin lines centering on his face. The silencer on the end makes the barrel a little heavy but not to the extent that I can’t keep it steady. I feel Greg’s arm lightly touch my arm as my finger caresses the trigger guard.

“Not to worry, Greg, I’m not taking a shot. Just making myself feel a little better by centering on that asshole’s head,” I say without removing my eye from the scope. “Besides, it would be a long shot with the suppressor attached. Still, I’d like to put one in the groin and call it poor bullet drop compensation.”

Greg removes his hand with a chuckle as I follow the three men across the lot where they meet up with several others emerging from the office building. An apparent conversation is held. One of the men pats the driver on the shoulder and all of them head inside. My finger caresses the trigger observing the obvious “job well done” pat on the shoulder. With the semi-automatic nature of the 110 and the fact that they wouldn’t hear a shot, I could take out at least four of them before they knew what was happening. This knowledge does little to alleviate the deep-seated anger that rises from seeing the pat. Job well done my ass, I think as they disappear into the single story structure.

“Did you notice several of them toting M-4’s or at least some variant?” Greg asks.

“Yeah. My guess is they are AR-15’s picked up locally but we’ll have to assume they’re autos,” I answer.

The afternoon passes on towards evening. The heat that had built during the day begins to cool as the sun descends to the top of the hills behind us. The shadows of the trees envelop us as they stretch to the east. The birds, which have only uttered the occasional call, begin their evening chorus and take flight searching out their evening meal. Squirrels hop from tree to tree above. Scratching sounds fill the forest on occasion from the squirrels climbing or descending the trees, their tiny claws gaining footholds on the bark.

Our binoculars pick up a convoy of school buses heading towards the school from the direction of the fields and turn into the lot. We note the time and count twenty-four armed guards exiting first followed by sixty-three people. They are followed by another guard contingent who shepherd them into various buildings. From the gym and classroom buildings, another group of people appear in the open area on our side. It takes on the appearance of a prison yard with people in the middle milling around and guards on the perimeter keeping a close eye.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but did they just separate the males from the females after they exited the buses and herd them into different buildings?” I ask Greg while still observing.

“That’s what it looked like to me. They took the males into that roundish building and the females into that long, rectangular building,” he answers.

“That roundish building is the gym and pool. I believe that rectangular building is where most of the classrooms are. So, they appear to segregate genders? Interesting,” I comment. Thirty minutes later, the ones gathered outside are guided into what used to be the school lunch room along with the other prisoners from all of the buildings.

“Guess it’s dinner time,” I say.

“Guess so,” Greg responds.

Following their apparent dinner, everyone is herded into the gym for a short time and then the females are brought back to the classrooms. There is still no sign of the kids or Gonzalez. The tower guards are exchanged and, close to the sun disappearing over the hills behind us, the rest of the wooden towers are manned. The faint sound of generators reach us and the perimeter lights turn on shortly thereafter.

“Okay, time for us to get our own bite to eat and close up shop,” I say standing and brushing off pine needles and dirt.

“Sounds good,” Greg says rising as well. “We’ll compare notes and times with any radio calls.”

I pull in the outlying guards. We gulp down our meager dinner while taking a look at the radio logs and compare them with our observations. We remove the tarp from the windows and the night shift takes over, continuing to watch the camp from the Humvee windows. We gathered a fair bit during the afternoon but not enough for any pattern to emerge. The night should prove interesting though. I’m almost eager to see what happens. This will make a huge difference in what we do. If we have to go in during the day, I’m thinking we’ll take the camp first and wait for the buses. With the guards so close to the prisoners, that will be a risky proposition to say the least. At no time did I notice the guards separate, which means there is a high potential for collateral casualties. Maybe we’ll have to take the field out first or a two-pronged attack. I’m just not sure at this point.

I stay up with the night shift to observe the night activities. We parked the Humvee so that we can see into the camp from the cab and laid branches across the top to disguise the silhouette. The vehicles are sealed in case any night runners appear in our location. If we have to, we’ll start up and leave. Night descends slowly, blanketing the area first in the blue shadows of dusk as the sun vanishes behind the hills, casting reds and oranges in the sky, deepening to the brilliant orange-red of the sunset as the sun says its goodbye to the day. Darkness envelopes us as our time of relative safety ends. With little surrounding light to blanket them, the stars twinkle brightly overhead against the velvet sky.

The camp itself is bathed in the same darkness as ourselves. I see the gray outlines of the buildings within a field of surrounding blackness. The perimeter lights cast arcs of light outward to a considerable distance, illuminating the fence and surrounding area in a crisp silver-white light. The lights leave no areas of darkness except a small area on the west side where the trees have been cut back. A small gap in the light protection exists. Not a big one and more of a gray shading than complete darkness, but a gap nonetheless. However, spotlights, either handheld or mounted, stab out into the area from the towers. Their lights venture further into the darkness than the perimeter lights reach.

Several very faint shrieks reach our location, seeming to come from further to the south towards town. The night runners are out. This is the part that I’m most interested in seeing. The lights stabbing out from the camp won’t harm the night runners, at least that I know of. Perhaps it’s the brightness of the lights that keeps them away although our lights in the buildings didn’t seem to bother them in the least. I focus my binoculars on the area just outside of where the perimeter light boundary is.

“There. Can you see them? Just on the outside of where the lights reach,” I ask Henderson who is sitting beside me monitoring the area as well.

“I don’t see a thing, sir,” he answers.

“They’re right there. Five night runners milling just outside of where the light ends on the south end,” I say directing him to where the night runners are.

“Still don’t see a thing,” he says as he reaches for the night vision binoculars by his side.

I don’t understand why he can’t see them. I distinctly see their gray shapes moving back and forth in a parking lot across the street from the camp. I certainly can’t see them with the same clarity that daylight affords, but their gray outlines are clearly visible.

“Oh, yeah, there they are,” he says focusing the night vision binoculars on the area I indicated. “How in the world could you see that?”

“They’re faint but pretty clear,” I answer wondering how bad his night vision has to be not to see them.

I am thinking the light beaming from the stars overhead is enhancing the light in the area. I grab for another pair of night vision binoculars and the area becomes even clearer through the greenish glow. I don’t know why the night runners aren’t attacking the fence as I’ve witnessed them do many times before. They seemed to be relentless in their attacks but here they are just milling around. Occasionally one bends forward with its mouths agape, apparently issuing its all too well-known shrieks; the shrieks again faintly reach our ears moments later.

One of the night runners steps into the light. A spotlight immediately focuses on it and a flicker of light emits from the closest tower. The night runner is flung back into the darkness and the sound of the shot echoes a split second later. The other night runners turn and flee, vanishing behind a building as they run further into a residential area of town. My thought is that the night runners have learned not to go close to the camp at night and prefer to find easier meals elsewhere. An occasional shriek resounds through the night but is not as prevalent as I would have thought. I am thinking that the people in the encampment may have cleared out an area and have been alert enough to take on any who enter into the light at night. I am also guessing there weren’t that many night runners here to begin with and the people in camp haven’t seen the hordes we have witnessed. If night runners were here in the numbers we have seen, those fences and towers would have quickly been overwhelmed.

The fact that the night runners are staying away from the camp may be both a benefit and a danger to us. The benefit is that we may still be able to conduct a night operation against the compound. However, if there are still a lot of night runners in the area, they may be venturing out into the country for food which means possibly out our way. The fact that there is some loitering in the shadows on the edge of the light may make that a danger zone if we try to infiltrate through that area. I’ll have to see what happens on subsequent nights as a one-time thing doesn’t mean a pattern. The night runners coming close to the camp may just be an out-of-the-ordinary event. We listen to the radios as the towers check in seemingly every hour on the hour. The only exception to this pattern of radio calls is when one of the towers reports the sighting and shooting.

I turn it over to the night shift and head into the back to rest. My headache has returned but is only a light throbbing. I lay back but rest doesn’t come easy due to my anxiety and the night passes with only restless bouts of sleep. By morning, my headache has diminished and the faint glow of the dawn appears in the eastern sky. My back is sore from sleeping on the hard metal of the Humvee. I’m way too old for this, I think making sure the area is clear and slowly exit. I work the kinks out as the sun begins to crest the mountains sending rays of light streaming through the gaps in the trees. Wisps of mist rise from the plants and forest floor where the light strikes. Summer is ending and fall is near.

I check in with the night shift to find they really have nothing out of the ordinary to report. The pattern of check-in calls from the towers holds to form and there is no report of additional night runner sightings. They did hear faint shrieks throughout the night but nothing emerged within their range of visibility. I grab a quick bite and down it with a swig of water. Throwing the tarp over the vehicle once again, I head with Greg over to our previous observation point, settling onto the ground. The chill of the ground seeps through my shirt causing an occasional shiver to run up my spine.

With the coming of the sun, we observe people being guided into the old lunch room. The pattern of the morning resembles the events of last evening except in an almost reverse order. Lunch room, gym, and then they are herded onto buses. The buses exit through the gate and disappear eastward. I don’t see any of the kids or Gonzalez boarding the vehicles which adds to my worry. If I could at least see them, I would know they were alright. Others are brought outside into the fields in the same manner as last night.

Peering through the magnified lens of the binoculars, I see Robert, in black shirts and pants, gathered with others in the open field by the gym. Taking another look, I see Bri, Michelle, and Gonzalez. My anxiety is relieved to a great degree seeing them whole and what I assume to be okay. Robert walks with a limp when they move around and Gonzalez rubs her shoulder and head from time to time. A guard heads over to their group and, after what I assume is a discussion of some sort, they separate. The sight makes me want to head down right now and get them but sanity prevails. At least I know they are alive. I watch as they are led back into the buildings after about an hour outside.

“I’m going back to get some rest. Looks like I may be a little busy tonight,” I say to Greg lying by my side.

“Planning a little excursion are we?” Greg asks setting his binoculars down and looking my way.

“Perhaps,” I answer.

“Want some company?” He asks.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. But thanks. Besides, I need you here just in case,” I reply.

“Lynn’s going to piss herself when she finds out,” he says with a little chuckle.

“She’ll only find out if someone tells her,” I respond.

“Well, if you don’t make it back, she’s gonna kinda know,” he states.

“If that happens, then I won’t have to worry about it,” I say mimicking his laugh. “I’m not going to do anything rash. I just want to get a look and see what their setup is inside.”

“Yeah, heading inside an armed camp alone and venturing into possibly secured buildings isn’t doing anything rash,” Greg says turning back to his binoculars. “Just kidding by the way. I totally get it.”

“What about the night runners?” He asks turning back to me once again.

“Well, I figure I’ll edge up to the tree line to the west just on the edge of the demarcation area of the lights at dusk and wait for dark before moving in. I’m hoping there won’t be any activity that close. If they show up and they aren’t too great in numbers, I’ll hopefully be able to take care of them. If there are too many, I’ll head into the lights and hope the guards help out. Then you’ll be rescuing five instead of four,” I answer, still wary of my plan.

“Thought this one through all the way, have you?” He asks rhetorically with another laugh.

“Maybe not so much,” I answer with a quiet laugh.

I pat him on the shoulder and tell him I’ll send someone to take my place. Greg nods and I crawl backwards until my silhouette won’t be seen from below. The closest Humvee is just behind and I send another Echo Team member up to Greg. Before lying down on the ground warmed by the sun reaching through the trees, I gather items I’ll need for my evening excursion. Besides ensuring my mags are loaded with ammo and dumping the shell in the chamber — night moisture and cold can warp the round inside the chamber — I stack my night vision goggles, a fiberscope, a chemical spray designed for breaching fences, and a few scraps of metal wire. I also gather some of the scent eliminator gathered from Cabela’s. I won’t be able to make a fire to eliminate my odor here so it will have to do.

With my things for the evening gathered, I stretch out on the soft fir needles of the forest floor. My mind does its normal pre-operation thought patterns of visualizing scenarios that I will likely encounter and my reaction to them; or how to avoid them altogether. A ray of sun slanting through a gap in the trees strikes my face. My eyes are closed but I feel the warmth. With thoughts racing through my mind, I can also hear the occasional movement of the team members and forest creatures around. A “cawing” of a crow, most likely resting on one of the branches close by, echoes throughout our little hideout. An infrequent, quiet burst from the radios, as someone from the camp or fields makes a call, intrudes on the stillness of this late summer day.

As the day slowly passes, I drift in and out of sleep or actually more of a deep form of relaxation. The area is quiet and has the feel of a slow, lazy day. I could just soak up the warmth if it were any other situation. I still feel the knot in my stomach making me restless. I want to do something just to ease some of the tension and make the day go by faster but I know that resting, even if I don’t get a lot of sleep, is for the best.

The shadows of the trees and power line structures slowly transit across the ground as the sun moves across the blue sky and eventually fall to the east. I rise and brush the dirt and needles off. It will take me a couple of hours to make my way down to the tree line. Moving slowly and in the deepest cover I can find will help keep me from being spotted. Plus, I want to give myself some additional time. We haven’t spotted patrols heading out from the camp but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. The only thing we observed leaving the compound, besides the buses, is the red truck heading out of the gate just after everyone was shepherded back in. Arriving too early will also increase my chances of being spotted so I may have to lie up a short distance away and wait for dusk.

I am eager to be off and I gather my gear. I already notified the team members of my plan which they seemed to take in stride. I edge up to Greg to see if anything of interest transpired while I was resting.

“Nothing much,” he answers. “The group came out again around noon and went back in an hour later. Other than that, it’s been pretty quiet.”

“Okay, I’m off. I’ll be back a little after dawn,” I tell him. “I want to be out of the camp prior to dawn and lay up again until the sun breaks.”

“Sounds good, Jack, we’ll be waiting for you. Give a ring if you need any help and good luck,” he says.

Giving a last minute check, I head off to the north. I don’t want to head toward the camp directly from our position so I plan to circle around to the north. I’ll then cut over to the spot I identified on the west side of the fence. This will take me north of the Wal-Mart and enable me to circumvent it. The greatest risk will be crossing the highway as it is wide open at that point. I’ll have to see what it’s like when I get there and may have to lie up and cross close to dusk. The sun will be in anyone’s eyes looking out from the camp so that is in my favor.

I walk slowly to the north keeping just below the hilltop. The air is still beneath the tall trees. It isn’t old growth timber but they do stretch a ways toward the blue sky peeking through the tops. The silence is encompassing. An occasional flurry of activity, as something scampers through the brush at my approach, is all that accompanies me. The smell of the firs and cedars releasing their scents reminds me of my love of the woods and outdoors. The ground is dry so I take care of my footfalls in order not to snap branches under my boots. The hill ends and begins a descent towards flatter land on the same level with the camp and surrounding area.

Beginning my descent, one of the team members on guard waves from behind a tree where he is keeping watch on the dirt road further up from our camp. I wave back and continue down the hill. Passing the outpost, I slow and begin to take my time on the descent. I move a few yards and pause, listening and watching the surrounding area for any sound or movement. The sun heads further down toward the horizon to my left. The warmth it sent down during the day is trapped beneath the trees causing beads of sweat to form on my brow and trickle down. Near me, a couple of birds flit from branch to branch as if following or leading me; they wait until I am adjacent to them and then take off to the next branch a few trees ahead. I am sure they are trying to lead me away from their nest but it’s nice to think they are just keeping me company. I see the dirt road following the power lines through occasional gaps in the trees and then it disappears altogether as it and I take different paths.

I arrive at a point I think is adjacent to where I want to be and start a zigzag path keeping in the general direction of the camp. This allows me to pause at each turn and observe my back trail. If I had others with me, the last person would erase the signs of our passing. Solo, it would divert my attention from observing as I move and it would take forever to reach my location. I come across a few game trails but nothing anyone has used. No tracks or sign of passage so I’m reasonably sure the people from the camp don’t come out this way but if they hunt during the day for game, anything is possible.

The trees thin and I see clear sunlight where they end just prior to the highway. I ease up to a position just inside the trees and glass the area to my front on the other side. It appears much the same as on mine; a stretch of tall grass next to the two-lane highway. I search for some time looking for movement. If they are watching this part of the road, they are keeping well-hidden. It is only a little over three hundred yards to the camp perimeter from here so I decide to wait for the sun to get a little lower in the sky before venturing further.

As I wait, the sound of a vehicle approaching penetrates my little hideout. I am nestled behind a downed log next to a tree. Peeking out as the sound increases, I observe the red pickup truck pass by. The sound then diminishes. I barely see a part of the overpass leading from the highway to the north part of town but it is enough to see the truck momentarily as it crosses. The noise of its engine fades and then disappears entirely. I figure this is as good a time as any to cross. The sun has lowered to just above the hills to the west. Nighttime is approaching.

“What in the world am I doing?” I say softly to myself thinking about being out at night.

The night runners aren’t fun when in a group. Being out solo with no place to go is a nightmare. I think back to Greg’s comment about not thinking this all of the way through. At this moment, I’m not so sure I did. It sure seemed like a good idea at the time. With a last listen and look across the road through the scope of my M-4, I rise and creep to the very edge of the trees. The tall grass waves very slightly from a gentle evening breeze; almost unnoticeable. The gray highway stretches left and right out of my line of sight. I would prefer to cross on a corner but seem to be short of those right now.

Hearing nothing, I rise and proceed at a crouch through the tall grass raising the stalks behind me to minimize my trail. Gathering myself at the edge of the road, I dart across when I’m reasonably sure the coast is clear. Heading through the grass on the other side, I make for the opposite tree line and settle in just inside. I look back and see a trail through the grass on this side. It just looks like a small game trail but if anyone is looking for something like that in particular, they’ll know someone passed recently. The trail will disappear by morning as the evening moisture weighs the grass down. When it rises in the morning with the coming of the sun, my passage will be completely obscured.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you run like the exact opposite of a gazelle?” Greg asks through the radio.

“Congratulations! You’re the next contestant on kissmyass,” I respond pressing the mic.

“Good thing I shaved nice and close this morning then,” he replies.

“Hope you have plenty of Chap Stick handy,” I return.

“Greg, this is Lynn,” I hear on the radio and think uh oh.

“This is Greg, go ahead, Lynn,” I hear him respond. I want to crawl deep into a hole right now.

“I heard your last transmissions, is Jack going in?” Lynn asks.

“Who said I was talking about Jack?” Greg replies.

“Because I know how he runs. Is he going in?” I hear her ask again.

“Well, um, yeah,” he answers. Thanks for the sell-out, I think but with a kidding aspect. As a team, we can’t hold anything back and I should have let her know.

“How many are going in with him?” She asks. I’m not worried about anyone else hearing our conversations as our tactical radios don’t have a scan function. We switched frequencies so anyone would be hard-pressed to find our current one. Lynn knows this as well or wouldn’t be asking for information like that.

“Hang on, let me count,” Greg responds. “One.”

“One! Are you kidding me? He’s going in alone again. Jack, this is Lynn, over,” Lynn calls. I press the mic and make static noises.

“Jack, I know better than that. Nice try,” she says as I release the button and stop transmitting.

“Hey there, hon. Sorry, little trouble with the radio cords,” I say.

“Uh huh. I can’t leave you alone on the playground for a minute can I? What are you doing and why are you going in alone?” She asks.

“I’m just going in for a look around, that’s all,” I answer.

“I know your ‘that’s all’, Jack. It means you’re going in with a half-assed plan and will wing it if something happens. Jack, really, be careful, okay?”

She knows me too well, I think. “I will. I promise. I’ll call you when I get back,” I reply. I don’t hear a response but picture her words, “fucking men,” as she strolls briskly away from the radio.

I sigh and wait for a moment listening and looking to see if my crossing has been observed. Assured that I wasn’t seen and am the only one in the vicinity, I edge back out along my trail in the grass to the edge of the road. I backtrack, again raising the stalks to the vertical position erasing my trail; or at least making it less visible. Close to the trees, I gather several clumps of grass. I find a concealed place to hole up in until dusk approaches. Separating the grass stalks, I remove my vest and insert them into the back molle straps, taping them into place before donning the vest again. I spray on the scent mask making sure to run it through my hair and hoping the odor of the people in the camp helps mask my individual scent as well. I wrap a shemagh around my head. I use the shemagh outdoors depending on the circumstances. If there is a chance of a chill out, not only does it keep you warm but it also minimizes the steam emitted when breathing out in cold air. The cloth traps the moisture and minimizes any visible breath. Every little bit helps.

The air chills as dusk begins. The sun once more gives warning that its time is drawing to a close. I rise from the bushes and slowly make my way to the edge of the trees. I see the chain link fence through gaps ahead and look to make sure I’m close to where I saw the limited gap in light coverage.

“I’m at the edge of the tree line between the second and third towers,” I radio Greg.

“Copy that, Jack. Good luck and call if you need,” he responds.