have stayed here regardless,” she answers.
“Let’s take a look around the house,” I say thinking maybe the back door might be unlocked. Even if they aren’t here, we can perhaps find some clue as to what happened to them or where they might have gone.
We walk around looking for open windows or some sign the house is inhabited or was recently. Dry, brown bushes lie against the outside walls along one side, evidence that McCafferty’s parents once tried to give the place some color. As it is, the white house with peeling paint in places sits on the quiet lot keeping its secrets if it has any. McCafferty describes the layout as we progress. It’s basically a large open room containing the living room, dining room, and kitchen on the right with a hall leading to three back bedrooms and a bathroom on the left. It is close to the same layout as other houses we’ve been in. The back door is locked. We complete our circuit around the house with only the small puffs of dust from our footfalls and the heat keeping us company.
Back in front, McCafferty retrieves a key from under a rock lying where the steps and porch meet. The fact that the doors are locked is a good sign with regards to night runners. I don’t want to rely on whether I can sense them or not as fact. I figure if I can shut it away, then so can they. At least that’s what I have to assume. Ugh! I so dislike that word as I don’t like to assume anything but we have to in everyday life to some extent.
With Henderson and Denton against the wall next to the front door and me holding the screen open with my shoulder and aiming inside, McCafferty kneels and inserts the key into the lock. Robert stands behind me ready to enter on my heels. Bri will stay at the door. The house isn’t overly large and too many inside will actually hinder movement and coverage rather than help. We’ve done this so many times together that we each know our place and initial movements so very little briefing is needed. “Remember, McCafferty’s parents may be inside so no itchy trigger fingers. Verify your target quickly though,” is the only thing I need to say.
A click from the door lets me know McCafferty has unlocked it. I scan the area quickly and focus back on her giving a nod. She turns the handle and swings the door inward. Dropping my NVG’s, I am by her in a flash with Robert on my heels. I rush in about ten feet and drop to my knees scanning the large, open room. Robert drops in beside me. A rustle and the sound of boots hitting the wooden entryway floor lets me know Gonzalez, Henderson, and Denton have entered and are behind me and to the right. The coolness of the room is a refreshing reprieve from the heat outside although I don’t notice it much with the adrenaline flow that entering any darkened and strange building brings.
The rustle of clothing stops and the quiet we’ve felt in other houses settles in. Our lasers dance about the room as we search for movement or anything to indicate we are occupying the same space with something or someone else. The room holds silent with no movement. An island sits in the middle of the kitchen and dishes are stacked beside the sink. The dining room table is off to the side of the kitchen. The room has a sense of being lived in and I half expect the TV to be on with viewers sitting on the couch and easy chairs. It doesn’t quite have the loneliness the other houses had but that feeling is still strong.
McCafferty enters and kneels down beside Gonzalez. I get McCafferty’s attention and have her gather close.
“Do you want you and Gonzalez to check out the hall and bedrooms or have Henderson and Denton go instead?” I ask.
I know what happened to Gonzalez in her parent’s house and want to give her the choice in case the same thing has happened here. I don’t think any night runners are inside with the doors being locked but that doesn’t mean they aren’t. It has to be hard not knowing but it would be harder being directly confronted with it. I can’t imagine how devastating that would be to see your parents as night runners and then be the one to have to put them down. For some reason, and maybe it’s only me, it would be easier if someone else did it. On the other hand, I’m also thinking I would rather be the one. I want to give McCafferty the option that feels most comfortable to her.
“I’m good, sir. We’ll go,” she whispers looking around the familiar room.
Henderson and Denton cover the large room as McCafferty and Gonzalez edge toward the hall and check out its length. I stand close behind ready to give additional cover should they need it. Looking down the hall, I see all of the doors are closed which is either another good sign or a bad one. If there are night runners inside, then they’ve learned to operate doors and locks and that wouldn’t be a comforting thing to say the least. I would head over to open the drapes and let the light in but I don’t want the light differential to interfere with our NVG’s. I have mine on because of what Gonzalez said and trying to be less conspicuous.
I watch as the two women enter the hall. Their thin points of light swing from door to door as they edge down the narrow corridor. I keep expecting to hear the familiar shriek or pounding against one of the closed doors but the house remains quiet with the exception of my heart pounding in my chest. I’m sure I’m taking years off my life by the constant adrenaline we seem to use up on an almost daily basis. I used to love that feeling but now it just makes me feel old and tired. I so wish for the peaceful retirement I had going. I guess this is supposed to be a constant in my life for some reason. I can’t imagine choosing this. I must have misread the line I was standing in. I had thought I left this life behind and was settling into a peaceful existence but the world spoke up and said differently. I wonder if I’ll ever reach that point again. I wish I was younger though. It sure would make this a lot easier, I think watching McCafferty and Gonzalez get ready to enter one of the rooms on the right.
McCafferty swings the door open and Gonzalez swings her M-4 side to side clearing the room. I can’t see what kind of room it is but I’m assuming it’s a small one as Gonzalez reaches down a moment later to touch McCafferty’s shoulder. McCafferty closes the door. They cover each room in the same manner with the same result, there’s no one here.
“It’s all clear, sir,” Gonzalez reports as they close the last door.
“Copy that,” I respond. We gather in the open area to ponder our next move. I feel bad for McCafferty that she still doesn’t have an answer but there is the positive that we didn’t find them dead or worse.
“Jack, Greg here,” I hear on the radio.
“Yeah, Greg, go ahead,” I answer.
“We have someone standing in the driveway across the street,” he says.
“Just one? Armed?” I ask.
“It’s just one person and they are armed but just holding their rifle loosely and looking in our direction,” Greg answers.
“Okay. We’re on our way out,” I say. “Keep an eye out for others.”
I step into the bright light and heat. The house was cold in comparison and the change in temperature makes me feel like I’m about to melt. It’s that kind of heat that immediately makes me feel tired and lethargic. The sweat forms instantly, saturating my fatigues under my arms and where my vest is covering. I want to remove the vest just to feel the cooling sensation of the sweat evaporating but that’s not the best of ideas in an unknown area. I remember the times in the desert or jungle when we established our place to hold up and the refreshing sensation of taking my vest off. It’s been a busy couple of days and a nap is sounding like the best thing in the world right now. The release of adrenaline adds to this feeling.
I walk with McCafferty over to where Greg’s and Horace’s vehicles are parked back to back on the dirt road by the entrance. The rest of Red Team takes up positions by the Humvee parked close to the house. Looking into the lot across the road to where Greg is pointing, I see a man standing next to a black pickup truck in the driveway. He is holding a rifle at his side looking in our direction shading his eyes from the sun. Horace is glassing the area with a set of binoculars.
“Anything?” I ask Horace.
“Nothing I can see, sir,” she answers.
“Do you know who that is?” I ask McCafferty.
“Well, that could be old man Edmonds. At least that’s his place. I never really talked with him much,” she replies.
“Well, let’s see what he has to say. McCafferty, you’re with me. The rest of you stay alert and cover us,” I say.
The M-240 on Horace’s Humvee is pointed in the man’s direction but not directly at him. Walking with McCafferty at my side, we cross the road and enter the opposite driveway. The man brings his hand down and grips his rifle but doesn’t bring it up in a threatening manner, just to a more ready position to use if he needs to. Closer, I see he is an older man, perhaps in his late fifties or early sixties. His deeply tanned and wrinkled face makes it hard to tell just how old he is. I am sure the sight of armed vehicles and people in the area aren’t giving him comfortable feelings but I give him credit for his bravery in coming outside to check us out.
