interesting thing is the lack of towers and parapets along the perimeter. The wall is certainly tall but the place seems self-contained. There doesn’t even appear to be places for the inmates to be outside. All in all, the place is huge. Not as large as the Madigan complex but it’s daunting to look at. There’s no way we can assault this place with the teams we have and perhaps not with all of our teams.
I draw a quick diagram and make notes as we observe. We don’t have time for an extended recon to note patrols, times, listen to frequencies, or observe any patterns. We have just a few scant minutes before we have to head back. Another walled complex sits to the south of the main prison. There are nine red-roofed buildings that lie within that place. The roofs look like they are corrugated and may even be made of sheet metal. Those buildings do not give the appearance of being able to house prisoners but maybe it’s a less secure one.
“Well. It looks like it’s either a small force entry or none at all,” I say still glancing through a set of binoculars.
Greg is looking through a set of his own. “That’s what I think,” he says. “It’s getting over that wall that’s going to be the hard part. At least there aren’t any towers and it doesn’t look like those walls can be manned. Even if I had a grappling hook and it could latch on, I can’t throw one forty feet high. Can you?”
“Yeah, not so much,” I say. “There is another way in though.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Greg asks.
“I don’t know. Mine involves silk,” I answer.
“Then we are thinking the same thing.”
“Are you trained in HALO — High Altitude, Low Opening — jumps?” I ask.
“I went through the free-fall school at Bragg but haven’t done it in a long time,” he answers lowering his binoculars and looking at me.
“That’s alright. I haven’t jumped in a while either,” I reply with a smile. “It’ll be a hoot but we have to figure out what to do after we come crashing out of the skies into the yard. Or roof.”
“And where will we get the equipment? Bragg’s a long ways away from here and most likely in a radiation zone,” Greg asks.
“They used to teach the PJ’s — Para rescue jumpers — out of Kirtland. I bet there’s still some equipment housed there,” I answer.
“And the chutes were packed when?” Greg asks with a look on his face asking if I’m serious about this.
“Probably in the 70’s,” I answer.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I hope so,” I reply with a chuckle. Greg’s face doesn’t indicate he is getting warm, fuzzy feelings about this.
“Actually, there used to be PJ’s who were stationed there to help train us,” I add before his face falls too much further.
“And that was when?” He asks not at all convinced.
“In the 70’s,” I answer. The look on his face makes it difficult to keep a straight face and keep quiet.
“Just kidding, man. Well, it’s the only way I see in so we can take a look and see if there is any equipment there. And yes, check the tags,” I add. “If there isn’t any, then it certainly doesn’t look good for getting in. Even if we were to get some heavy artillery, we can’t go bashing our way in. We’d make it worse for those inside.”
“Yeah, I really don’t see another way. I really don’t see a way in even if we manage to get past the walls unless we set down, and I use that term loosely, on the roof and go through an access hatch. That structure on top may even house a maintenance door,” Greg comments.
“You know, some prisons have underground passageways for maintenance crews to circumvent portions of the buildings and areas that house prisoners and for guards to move about. I bet his one does as well. That compound to the south looks interesting,” I say. “And abandoned.”
“I don’t see any vehicles around it. You could be right,” he says.
“I wonder if there’s a tunnel between the two facilities,” I say.
“Maybe but we only get one chance at this and if there isn’t we’re pretty screwed for getting in,” Greg comments.
“Yeah, that’s true. So it’s the main compound then,” I say making some final notes.
“I think so. If we can find some equipment and IF the chutes were packed recently,” Greg says taking another look at the compound.
“Yeah, if on both accounts. I’m not too keen on finding out how high I can bounce,” I reply.
“You may not bounce you know. You may just crash through the roof opening a hole for me to float gently through and rescue everyone,” he says with a chuckle stowing his gear.
“I’m glad to know if I collide with the roof at high speed that it may benefit you. You be sure and tell me if there are any more things I can help you with,” I say.
“You’ll be the first to know,” Greg responds.
“We’ll have to plan on how to get out of there if things don’t go well but we can do that back at base. Right now it’s time to get out of here,” I say.
“Lead on,” Greg says.
An Angel’s Wings Unfurl
Michael wakes in his darkened lair ready for another night’s hunt. He thinks again he may have to move as the food supplies have been scarce and harder to find. Sensing other packs in the area waken, Michael represses the urge to call them together. He is still sorting through these new images and doesn’t feel the time is right.
The lair has a chill to it that has been getting more so with the passing of the nights. The passage of the days when he has rested has been fine but he knows he will have to find a warmer place soon or find a way to keep warmer. His pack members provided warmth by huddling and he knows he may have to call the others together before he is ready. The survival of the packs is paramount.
Michael walks out into the familiar store proper heading towards the broken glass door and the night. The hunt and sating his hunger awaits. He notes, as he lopes down an aisle, that some of the objects on the shelves have fallen to the ground. He mistimes one of his steps and his foot comes down on a bag lying on the floor. The bag crunches under his step and, with a small popping sound, objects are thrown from it. He continues on toward the night’s hunt.
A few steps later, a scent reaches his nose. It’s a new smell and one not altogether unpleasant. It’s not like the musty scent of prey but has a sweeter odor. Stopping, he looks back at the broken bag and the contents that are scattered on the floor. He walks back sniffing at the air. Kneeling, Michael picks up one of the objects and brings it to his nose. There is some familiarity associated with the small object he is holding in his hand, something that he feels he should remember but it hangs on the edge of understanding. He knows he should recall what this thing is but the more he thinks about it, the farther away the understanding retreats.
Bringing the object to his mouth, he licks it. The sensation on his tongue is startling and he recoils slightly at the taste. It tastes so different than the food he has hunted every night. There is not the sweetness of biting into flesh or the taste blood. Or of course the actual thrill of the hunt. He licks at the object again, this time not recoiling as much. Taking small bite, the crunch feels like the crunch of bone but not as hard. He chews another small piece. The crunch and salty taste is both familiar and unfamiliar. Michael puts the whole object in his mouth and bites down. It’s not as tasty as prey but it’s not that bad. He grabs more and begins eating.
Finishing the ones scattered on the floor, he looks around for more. He picks up the bag and more spills out. He eats those before finally pouring the entire contents on the floor and devouring them. Looking to the shelves, there are more of the same packages he stepped on along with different looking ones. Michael grabs a bag and sniffs it. It doesn’t have the same odor. As a matter of fact, he can’t smell anything coming from it. He drops it on the ground and slams his foot down on it. The same crunching and pop occurs spilling more objects on the ground. The same sweet aroma spills out with them. He eats the contents of the bag as before noticing his hunger abates but is not entirely sated.
The shelves around him are a little empty but there are some of the bags. He now knows these contain food of some sort. Again, it’s not like the thrill of the hunt but it is food. Walking down more aisles within the darkened
