the trigger, he moves his barrel to his left, walking his rounds quickly towards the night runner. He sees the small points of light catch up and the sound of his impacting rounds changes from a metallic pinking to the more solid thuds of steel hitting flesh. The night runner is thrown to the side against the metal door and slides downward. He thinks he sees it still move and puts another burst into the slumped body.
Robert looks from the still body to his dad who nods at him with the affirmation of a good job. He feels the self-confidence in himself solidify even more from that nod and the realization that he acted in a quick and decisive manner; keeping in mind that he needs to lead his target a little more and throws that knowledge into his bag of tricks. His dad steps forward again and he walks to keep in line. Another shriek penetrates the still and hot interior followed by a subsequent burst of gunfire from his dad.
He turns quickly to see his dad step to the side as a night runner stumbles into view. He watches his dad deliver a stroke with his M-4 to the back of the night runners head and watches it fall to the floor. His dad then raises his boot and brings it back down on the neck of the fallen body; the crunch and crack of its neck shattering sounds. He watches the night runner twitch before it becomes still and blood begins to surround it on the floor.
They reach the far end door and he mans a small perimeter with the rest of the Red Team as his dad opens the door, flooding the interior space with light. That light brings a sense of relief. One, because he senses that this particular action is over, and two, because the fear and nervousness he felt regarding whether he would let anyone down has been answered. A certain pride wells up within knowing he acted well and, for the first time, he feels very much a part of the team.
“McCafferty, will you pull the Humvee around to the front,” I say as we reach the end of the building where we started. “Call the others and have them come back.”
“Yes, sir,” she responds.
“Gotta lead ‘em huh?” I say chuckling to Robert as we walk back to the front along the outside with the sun in our eyes.
“Yeah, it startled me and I thought I had enough of a lead,” he answers with a chuckle of his own. “I saw I was hitting behind and just swept over to it.”
“Well, they’re pretty quick but that’s the way to do it. Just keep in mind not to let the kick lead you up and over it. You got it and that’s what counts. Plus, nice making sure it stayed dead.”
Gonzalez walks over to Robert and pats him on the back. “Nice job in there. Good shooting,” she says with a nod.
“Thanks,” Robert says with no small amount of pride surfacing. He is walking a little straighter and I can tell he is beaming.
The vests add to the heat of the day and, with the sun shining upon us and the after effects of the adrenaline, sweat is streaming down our cheeks and forehead. The others pull up in the vehicles parking in front. I pull the Jeep into the now lit shop, stopping just shy of the night runner bodies lying on the floor. Several already-made security pull-down doors line the wall to the left.
“Will you see if there are some that will fit what we need?” I ask Bannerman and point to the doors.
“You bet,” he answers and heads over to the doors with Frank.
I see Mom, Nic, Bri, and Michelle with Robert and assume they are seeing if he is okay. He is using his hands while talking and I watch him as he describes the action. Michelle moves closer to him and gives him a hug as he apparently finishes his story. The rest of Red Team squats by the entrance door, taking a rest and talking amongst themselves.
“We found some that will work,” Bannerman says coming up behind me. “We even found the mounting brackets and hardware.”
“That’s great. Let’s load them onto the Jeep rack,” I say and motion for Red Team to help.
“We even found some shutters that should work for the windows,” Bannerman adds.
“Even better. Will they fit in the Humvees?”
“They should,” he says.
“Okay, let’s get loaded up and head back.”
“Are you okay?” Mom asks walking over from Robert.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine thanks,” I say.
“I was worried when we pulled up and I saw blood on your face,” she says staring at my forehead.
“Oh,” I say wiping an arm across my face but only manage to smear it more because of the sweat already there.
We finish loading the doors on the Jeep and the shutters in the Humvee, tying the doors down with 550 cord. Piling back into the vehicles, we caravan back to Cabela’s, arriving just before 1630. The sun is wending its way across the sky quickly and I’m thankful for the summer days allowing us longer periods of daylight. This would have been impossible if all of this happened in the winter. I am still worried about getting finished here and being able to get down to Portland to help Kelly. So much to do and seemingly so little time. The night will come, whether I want it to or not, and with it, the night runners. If we don’t have a secure place by the time the sun goes down, we’ll be screwed. We can head back and stay another night in the 130 but I’d rather not.
The Rat’s Nest
I’m a little concerned that Lynn hasn’t shown up yet. We’ll have to clear this building or at least see if it can be cleared. We have enough people to do this but the inside doesn’t really support a section by section clearing. The open interior and the fact that a second floor overlooks the main floor won’t be an easy task if a multitude of night runners are housed within as the footprints seem to indicate.
I turn my phone back on and check on Kelly’s text. She wanted to know if I was on my way so I text back “soon.” While the others offload the equipment and lay them on the ground, I lean against the Jeep staring at the structure waiting for an answer or plan to spring forth. The only thing I know at this point is that it will be dark inside so the NVG’s and gear we picked up from the armory will be extremely useful. All of the nooks and crannies created by the rack of clothes and shelves of equipment scattered throughout the facility will make it very dicey to keep all angles covered. I wish I could tell better just how many are inside by the tracks near the door but that just isn’t possible. If they were made in the dirt or some other soft substance, then yes, but the fact that they’re all over each other and made with dried blood makes it a difficult task. I’m rather hoping they aren’t in the numbers they were in the CDC. If they are, then we are in trouble and might have to find another place. I was really hoping this would be easier.
A plan for the inside begins to form in my mind just as I hear the sound of approaching vehicles. Turning around, I see the nose of a Humvee cresting the hill on the long driveway. This is followed by a host of other vehicles behind. Lynn has arrived. I notice the transport trucks piled high with equipment as the convoy pulls up and parks in the large lot by the other vehicles. Doors opening and closing resound across the lot.
Lynn steps up and tilts her head to the side quizzically looking at me.
“You have blood on you. Did you go in anyway?” She asks referring to my promise not to go into Cabela’s without the rest of the teams.
“Nope,” I answer wiping my face with my arm once again. “Better?”
“Yeah,” she says and looks over at the doors by the Jeep. “I take it the building where you obtained those was occupied.”
“No, um, yeah,” I answer.
Lynn gives a soft sigh before saying, “Jack!? I can tell I’m going to have to be very specific in getting those promises.”
“Well, we needed the doors and really couldn’t wait,” I say. “Any word from Craig?”
She hangs her head and shakes it. “No, but I left a note by the aircraft before we left,” she says. I don’t say anything since there isn’t really much to say.
We stand in the afternoon sun briefing each other on the different events that occurred during the day. The search teams found five soldiers and six civilians holding out in various locations on the military installations. Lynn
