see the prison from here. Let’s edge up and pick the best route to get closer. Try to ignore the pens as you won’t like what you see there,” I say. We crawl up to the edge of the gully.
“Fucking — A,” I hear Robert breathe. “That’s just disgusting.”
“Told you not to look,” I say. Robert looks over with a weird expression. I realize he was whispering to himself and I shouldn’t have been able to hear it. I just give him a shrug and break out the map for us to study.
“There are two major freeways that come together in a “Y” on the other side of the yard. The only buildings I see in the area are the cattle pen buildings near the highway to the west and some in the “Y” between the highways. I’m thinking the prison is sitting in a field on the other side where the roads meet,” I say. “Ideas?”
“We could use the cattle pen buildings to mask our approach and see what we see from there. Maybe even go on the roof but that will mean going through some of those last cattle enclosures,” Greg suggests.
“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of that,” I reply.
“We could skirt the pens using the buildings to cover our approach and see how far we can get. At least we’d be closer,” Robert says.
“True enough. We’re certainly not going to see anything from here. Stay low and quiet. We’ll use the buildings and trees to mask our approach as much as we can. Keep an eye on the road and your ears open,” I say. I’m still not all that keen on getting close to all of those dead cattle. I can’t even imagine the diseases that must be prevalent.
We head away from the gully crouching and angling towards the slaughter yard but mostly using the sparse cover of trees as best we can. The ground beneath our feet is more like baked clay rather than actual dirt and radiates the heat of the day upward. The gagging stench follows us with every step. I breathe through my mouth to alleviate the smell but it makes it seem like I can taste the thousands of dead cattle. I use the buildings as a shield against prying eyes that may be at the prison. The sparse trees end less than a quarter of a mile from the highway. From here, it’s flat, bare ground. I still can’t see the prison but that was the plan for the approach anyway. I halt beside the last tree and listen. The others drop to their knees as well covering our sides and rear.
There’s only the constant, faint buzz of the flies and the cry of birds. The area from our location to the rear of the buildings is only a small one but it is in the open. If anyone happens by while we are traversing, we will be easily seen. The only option if that happens is to drop down and hope we only look like a dark spot on the ground. From the looks of it, we are going to have to cross one of the pens to get to the buildings after all. The dead cattle seem to cover every inch of the ground and the air above them is filled with clouds of flies. The birds are concentrated towards the middle of the slaughter yard so travelling through any of the pens on the side won’t create a disturbance. It’s now that I wish I could fly like the birds pecking away at the corpses; or at least hover. I wave Greg, Robert, and McCafferty forward.
“We’ll cross one at a time. I’ll make for the fence. McCafferty, you’re next. I’ll call for you when I’m there and the coast is clear. Robert, you’re third and then Greg. If we hear anyone approaching, drop down and make like a black hole,” I whisper. The others nod their understanding. I want Greg last as I don’t want Robert alone in case something happens. My priorities still remain the same.
“See ya on the other side,” I say rising.
I rush across the open field feeling very naked. There’s no use trying to be slow or stealthy at this point. If anyone is watching, they’ll see me regardless of how fast or slow I’m going so the key is to keep my time in the open held to a minimum. I feel my boots striking the hard ground as I transit keeping an eye out for any movement. Beads of sweat form from the additional exertion and the hot air is hard to breathe. My stomach is still doing leaps from the sight and smell of the yard and running isn’t helping that at all. I’m too old for this shit, I think drawing close to the wired fence enclosure.
I notice a narrow strip of land situated between two pens that is free of the black lumps that used to be cattle. It leads directly to a small dirt lot behind the buildings. I alter my path making directly for it. I’m thankful for the lack of any shouts of discovery or shots ringing out. That would really suck out in the open. It seems like it takes forever to reach the far side but I’m there in about two minutes. Two minutes in the open can seem like an eternity. I go to my knees next to a gate breathing hard. I gag twice from the stench. The run across field in the heat doesn’t help this but my stomach settles back to being only slightly nauseous.
My panting is loud but I listen past it for any sounds that my transit was noticed. It’s hard to hear over the perpetual buzzing that is louder now that I’m right next to the thousands of dead cows. I still can’t see the prison from here but look into the dusty lot behind the buildings that is filled with semis and cattle trailers. There are also hundreds of pallets littering the yard. The building itself appears to be a large headquarters or office building with an attached warehouse. I see some of the freeway that runs just in front of the buildings. It’s all quiet except for the birds and flies in the background and there’s nothing moving in the area.
“Okay, McCafferty, it’s clear,” I say.
I see a small dark shape rise from beside a tree and begin to dash across the open field. There’s a shimmer from the heat waves masking McCafferty to an extent. It seems like she is running in place and her dark shape doesn’t grow any larger for the longest of times. She suddenly materializes half way and grows larger by the second until she plops down beside me panting. She gags for a second and then regains her composure.
“You know, sir,” she says catching her breath and talking between pants, “I’ve lived here for what seems like forever and never knew this place was this big.”
“I’m not sure how anyone could live within a hundred miles of this place. It smells now but it must have smelled bad before as well,” I reply before calling Robert over. The same scene is replayed twice again before Greg slides down beside the fence.
“I see your running skills haven’t improved,” he says finally catching his breath.
“I see you still want to lock your teeth on my ass in a biting motion,” I reply. The lack of additional sounds indicates our little adventure can continue.
“Let’s make our way down this lane and through the yard to the far corner. Single file and keep your spacing,” I say.
We rise and open the gate wide enough to pass through. The buzzing of the flies is annoying, much like mosquitos buzzing in a tent, but we are nearing the prison and the irritant is put to the side. We skirt piles of pallets, some stacked and some just strewn, and make our way to the rear of the building near the corner. Feeling the heat radiate from the aluminum-sided building, I crouch and peek around the corner.
The highway looms close with additional buildings across the way nestled between the north-south freeway just in front and another that branches off heading west. Between some of the buildings, I catch the first sight of the prison walls in the distance. Yep, they’re prison walls; tall and concrete. A wide field devoid of any obstructions surrounds it. I take a look through the binoculars, shielding the lens with my hands to prevent any glare reaching out as the sun is in front of me. Heat waves shimmer in the distance obscuring a clear look at the prison. I also glass the buildings across the freeway but I don’t see anything more out of the ordinary than usual. Nothing is normal these days. There is one thing across the road that does catch my attention and I wave Greg over.
“Hmmmm… Nice. A water tower. That is rather handy,” he says following my finger. “Now if we can just get there and climb it without being seen.”
“That would be the ideal result. I figure the heat waves should keep us partially hidden,” I respond.
There’s only one thing really keeping us from gaining an advantage of height to observe and that is the open road in front of us. If the ones in the prison are keeping an outpost, the buildings across from us would be ideal for that. There is also the fact that part of our route across the highway may be visible from the prison itself. I’m hoping the shimmers will help keep us hidden. The water tower is only about a half mile from the walls and, once we begin climbing the tower, we’ll be in the open once again. The ladder leading upward to the catwalk lining the top runs up one of the outside support posts and is in the open. Luckily, it is on the backside of the tower away from the prison.
“Okay. Same as before. We’ll cross one at a time in the same order. Greg, if I’m spotted or rounds start getting exchanged, get out of here. Start heading back with Robert and McCafferty and have Horace meet you. We’re not in a position to duke it out with twenty or thirty others,” I say. “I’ll meet you when I can.”
“You got it,” he replies.
“Okay, here goes nothing,” I say and edge to the very front of the building.
Two sets of railway tracks are directly in front with a wide dirt median separating them from the two lane highway. It’s not quite as far as the wide field we came through but it’s a sprint. I’m hesitant about crossing. It is
