daylight and I imagine the ones in the prison could be out scavenging. Being this close, there is an increased chance of having them coming or going while we’re in the open. That’s not a comfortable feeling. And that’s aside from them keeping an outpost. I don’t see any cars in front of the buildings but that doesn’t really mean anything.
I take one more look at the buildings looking for any sign that they are being inhabited in any way. Grime covers the glass windows in front. There aren’t any smear marks of someone trying to wipe them clean so that’s an added bonus. I look up and down the highway to the north and south. I don’t see anything but the shimmers could hide vehicles in the distance.
“It’s now or never,” I breathe to myself.
With a deep, stabilizing breath, I rise and begin another rush across open ground. I quickly gain the first set of railroad tracks and cross with the gravel crunching under my boots. I notice the tops of the tracks are still shiny from a lot of use but that will change when the rains come. Looking as I cross, they stretch in a straight line to both sides and merge in the distance; eventually vanishing in a haze.
The gravel gives way to packed earth as I make my way to the hardtop road. I keep expecting winks of light to materialize from the buildings ahead but they remain as before; seemingly empty and quiet. The heat radiating from the ground increases as I step onto the concrete of the highway. My boots clomp on the road that once carried a stream of cars and semis. Now, I’m the only one to intrude upon its surface.
I’m across quickly and duck inside a driveway entrance between two sides of a fence. I fall to my knees again panting from the exertion in the heat. The buzzing of the flies is only faint now and the intense smell dissipates to a degree. Either that or I’ve become used to it and that’s not something I want to become used to. The tower looms ahead. It looks like we’ll have to clear another yard behind the building in front of me and then we’re there. I call clear and the others cross one at a time without incident. It already seems like hours since we left. I check my watch.
“We have forty minutes until we have to head back so we’ll have to make this quick,” I say and report back to Horace on our progress.
I feel the strain of being close but not sure of the outcome. It surely can’t be the tension McCafferty must be feeling. I feel both loose and tight at the same time; tension with an underlying calmness. We’ll have to go slow especially being so close to a major intersection. On the other hand, we don’t have a lot of time to spare. The warmth is taking its toll as well. In black fatigues and vest, I feel my energy being sapped by the minute. I know this is the place where mistakes can be made and try to keep my mind sharp. Taking a drink of water, I rise and head across the dirt parking lot to the building’s corner.
The large lot is filled with mounds of scrap metal. Mobile cranes with large magnets attached dot the yard. Wrecked cars line one entire side. This place would be quite handy if we had a smelter. I don’t have time to ponder the possibilities as we need to get to the tower undiscovered, climb it, and see if we can see over the prison walls less than a half mile away. Hopefully all of that will keep me within the undiscovered realm as well.
We move from pile to pile advancing into the yard itself. The piles keep us hidden from view of the roads on either side. We eventually come to the end of the mounds of scrap. Ahead is another building with the water tower sitting close to its side. A larger freeway lies on the other side of the building. We advance slowly to the base of the water tower. I pick up the sound of a car motoring down the road approaching from our right. The whirring of the tires on the hot pavement mixes with the low hum of the engine.
“Car approaching, take cover,” I say in my throat mic. There’s a scramble as we dart behind the building nearest the highway.
The sound of the vehicle increases but I don’t see anything on the road as I peek around the corner of the building. I hope it isn’t bouncing off the large aluminum buildings and actually approaching from behind or side. I look around and see a couple of thick bushes against a fence to our rear. I point and we dash across burrowing into their midst. I lie on the ground at the very edge of the bushes and am able to see a section of highway. There’s still no sign of any car but I can still hear it grow louder. Greg gives me a little tilt of his head. I hold my fingers to my lips and he gets the message.
Lying on the ground increases the heat radiating to my body and I feel grit inside of my fatigue top. My belt line itches from the heat and dirt and the limbs of the bushes are prickling my skin where they touch. All in all, I’m not comfortable. The heat is even masking the adrenaline. I’m so ready to be done with this and go home.
The sound gets louder and I see Greg nod indicating he can hear it now as well. Robert or McCafferty are out of my sight as they are burrowed in an adjacent bush. The noise changes to the sounds of the car slowing down. I pick out sounds of other engines. There’s more than one and possibly three. The slowing down isn’t a good sign. Either we’ve been seen and a call went out or they are slowing to make a turn. The only right answer is for them to make a turn away from us towards the prison. Any turn toward us or if we’ve been spotted is bad news.
A white pickup truck, going slow, comes into view on the section of road I can see. Another green pickup is right on its tail. Both of the beds appear to have boxes and miscellaneous gear stacked in them. Both trucks vanish in front of the building and they sound like they are slowing more. I wait for the crunch of the tires hitting the gravel and dirt parking lot in front of the building. A third truck comes into view and disappears.
The sounds from in front increase as the trucks begin picking up speed. They fade slowly until disappearing altogether. I realize I’ve been holding my breath and let it out slowly. I feel grimy from the sweat, dirt, and still pervasive smell. A long cold shower sounds so good that I almost wish for the storms to come back. We wait a few minutes longer to see if the trucks come back our way. If they are heading to the prison, they could just be dropping stuff off and return heading on another supply run. We just don’t have the time to wait though. I don’t want to put us at risk but if we’re going to have a look, we have to do it soon. There are only the faint caws, cackles, and screeches of the distant birds.
“Robert, McCafferty. Keep watch from the rear of the building. If anything happens, radio Horace and get yourselves back. Greg, you’re with me. We’re out of time. Let’s climb this monstrosity and get an eyeful,” I say into the radio.
We scoot out of the cover and dust ourselves off quickly. I feel a branch go down the back of my shirt. It’s just one more annoyance that is forgotten quickly as we run across the small back lot to the side of the building again.
“I’ll go first. Follow when I’m half way up,” I say shouldering my M-4.
“I hope you climb better than you run,” he responds.
“I’m feeling a little gassy. I hope you enjoy your climb,” I reply and take off for the ladder rungs.
I set my feet on the first rungs and reach up. The heated metal instantly sears through my gloves. It’s like holding a boiling pot of water with a dish towel. It doesn’t melt my skin directly to the rungs but it still feels like my hands are going to catch on fire. Looks like I will be scurrying up as it’s hard to hold any one rung for long. I start upward.
Thoughts of being seen vanish as I make my way up. I just concentrate on each rung and climb as swiftly as I can. Each time I put my hand on a rung it seems hotter than before. It’s actually a race to see if I can make it to the top before my hands blister and start smoking. I try to set my boots on the rungs lightly as I don’t want any ringing if there is someone in the area. I finally emerge through a hole in the grating of the catwalk and kneel just around the side of the tank keeping it between the prison and me. Greg’s head eventually pokes through.
“That was fun,” I say still trying to fan the heat off my hands.
“Yeah, you got that right. You’re quite the little monkey,” he replies.
“I notice you weren’t exactly taking your time either,” I say.
“No, that I wasn’t,” he says chuckling.
“If I’d have known they made that ladder out of molten lava, I would have chosen differently,” I state.
Not wanting to have any more contact with the metal but having to, we both lie on the heated catwalk grating and edge forward until the prison comes fully into view. We are higher than the walls and can see inside readily. From this height and angle, the heat shimmers aren’t nearly as bad.
The complex is huge. One extremely large, single story central building sits in the middle of the compound with two buildings on either side of it. The side buildings are made up of three six-sided sections connected to each other in line with four thin rectangular wings jetting out from the end of each one. Those two buildings look to be three or four stories tall and connect to the main building via an enclosed pathway at ground level. Another very large building is connected to the main one as well. There are several HVAC units at ground level and van-like trucks parked at a loading bay attached to the second building.
The pickup trucks we observed earlier are parked next to the cargo trucks with several other vehicles. The
