blinds pulled down, and a set of darker brown, double doors near the center. The rest of the building is just the featureless concrete block.
Pulling up to the doors, I peek inside a small window inset into them. There isn’t enough residual light inside so whatever is behind is hidden from sight. I test the door on the left and find it swings open a touch with a light pull. Henderson and Denton have taken up a position in front of the doors and slightly off to the side with their weapons, while not quite to their shoulders, ready to be brought up quickly. Gonzalez and McCafferty stand ready by the far doors and Robert stands behind me.
I swing the doors open not really expecting anything to come rushing out, at least in the form of a night runner, but our readiness stems from our need to be constantly alert for anything. It’s good to keep in that mode regardless of the situation and it helps to reinforce the training as well. We are becoming closer as a team and little exercises like this, even if necessary, are important in that regard.
Nothing comes rushing out but our ears are peeled for any sound. In times prior, there were instances of shrieks or movement with the opening of doors, giving us a clue that night runners were inside. We are attuned to listening for those first sounds of surprise as we intrude upon their domain. The building radiates the same quiet inside that it shows outside. The light penetrates through the open door showing the first few feet of a cream- colored linoleum floor.
Sunlight catches particles of dust disturbed by the opening of the door and they dance just above the surface of the floor. Radiant light casts a deep gloom past the doorway fading to a deep black further in. Air from the cooler interior brushes lightly against me as it seeks the outside. The air carries a musty odor but it is only the scent of disuse rather than the stronger body odor of any night runners. The tiled floor has a light covering of dust on the surface and I can’t discern any tracks or other marks.
Within the gloom, I barely make out wooden equipment racks with helmets resting on top of locker-style cabinets below. Stations to test the helmets reside just inside the door to the left and right. The room appears to be fairly open with the lockers occupying most of the space. A wall to the immediate left extends about twelve feet into the room with the room opening more to the left past its end. The room also opens up to the right directly from the door. It’s pretty apparent this is an aviation equipment room. I’m hoping there is an operations desk somewhere inside with manuals. I would check the lockers close by but I never kept the actual manuals in my equipment locker so wouldn’t expect others to either.
I am hesitant to even go inside as it is darkened and the possibility of night runners looms large. There aren’t signs that there are any but that doesn’t mean there isn’t. The items I would like would be a benefit but aren’t vital.
“Are we waiting for something, sir?” Gonzalez asks from across the doorway.
“Just listening and not sure we should even venture in. The manuals aren’t that vital,” I answer.
She peeks her head around the corner of the door and looks in. “We should be okay in there, sir.
“Okay, but we confine ourselves to this room. Any noise or sign of this building being inhabited and we’re out immediately,” I say.
“Hooah, sir,” she responds with a grin knowing how much I like “hooah.”
“Henderson and Denton, take the right side. Gonzalez and McCafferty, straight ahead. Robert and I will cover the left. We’ll be on NVG’s. Check your radios on and one in the chamber,” I say taking a breath.
The familiar tension of entering a darkened building again grips my insides. I’m hoping there will come a time when we can just leave the dark buildings alone and let the night runners have them. Of course that will happen when the buildings fall down with age but that is a long ways off. Perhaps we’ll knock them down when we gather everything we need from them or at least the ones around us. It is part of a “denying the night runners a sanctuary” strategy that runs through my mind from time to time; clearing the area around us. I have no hope of ever clearing them entirely or having some “take back the country” idea as that would be literally impossible with our current personnel and the immensity of that kind of undertaking. We just need our own little place to be safe in and in which to grow.
I nod after we don our goggles and make sure our radios are working. Henderson and Denton dart in the open door to the right; coming to a rest a few feet in and focusing on the right. Robert and I are hard on their heels drawing to a point where the wall makes a corner and continues to the left. I feel the grit from the dust under my boots and take note that it could be slippery in places. The sounds of Gonzalez and McCafferty entering penetrates my senses, both feeling and hearing them draw to a stop beside me. The door slowly closes and shuts with a subdued clink. The room is now only lit by the green glow of our goggles.
I peek around the corner and see a wide aisle between the start of the lockers on my right and the wall to my left. The aisle extends the length of the room, ending at a chest high counter that begins at the wall and runs across my line of sight. A large whiteboard fills the wall behind this station which I hope is the operations desk. If so, then my search for the manuals may be a short one. A small fraction of light emits from the blind-covered window at the desk illuminating part of the whiteboard and counter top. Two doors open up to the left with large- paned windows set in the wall beside them.
“Okay folks, we’re heading to the counter to my front. We’ll stagger with Robert and me in front clearing the aisles to the right and the offices to the left as we go. Gonzalez and McCafferty, you follow behind watching to the right. Henderson and Denton, follow and cover the rear,” I say quietly into the radio.
“Copy that, sir,” Gonzalez responds with a whisper.
“Gotcha covered, sir,” Henderson says.
I turn to Robert at my shoulder, “Stay right behind me and cover the aisles to the right. Make sure you cover on top of the lockers as well. I’ve got the offices to the left and the front.”
“Okay, Dad. I’ve got ya,” Robert replies.
I edge up to the first plate glass window to my left feeling the dust slide under my boots as I glide along. It has the same feeling as being in a tomb long ago forgotten. I guess I’m not as used to the feeling of everyone being gone as I thought. My mind is still associating all that I see with activity and the lack of it causes a small disconnect. The chill in the air, after the warmth outside, adds to the feeling of being in a place that doesn’t seem to want me in it. It’s like it is also traumatized by the same feeling of being left alone and abandoned and wants to merely be left by itself in its pain.
Peeking in the corner of the glass while keeping my senses in tune with the surrounding environment, I look for any movement or night runners within the small office. The only thing inside is a desk wedged in the small enclosure with various papers and a calendar littering the top of it. Besides a couple of chairs behind and in front of the desk, the office is empty.
A quick check down the aisles across from me shows them clear as well. Our best early warning system will be noise and I heighten my senses along these lines. If night runners were to emerge from the aisles without us being prepared, we will be quickly overwhelmed due to the close proximity with which they would become visible. The desk is only about forty feet away but it seems both closer and farther. The light from the window should give us some protection once we reach it.
I sidle to the next window listening to the soft sounds of movement behind me as the others move up. The building is deathly quiet. The sounds of our boots sliding along the grit on the floor and soft sound of cloth rubbing together sounds unnaturally loud within the room. I edge up to the next office and peek in to find the same; a small desk with accompanying chairs and a scattering of paperwork.
I edge quietly up the main aisle and past the aisles between the lockers; checking each as I come to them. The only sight is a place where pilots would gather their last thoughts prior to heading out for their flights; a place where they would think about the upcoming mission while gathering their gear. A chance for a short time alone, wrapped in a bubble with others gathering gear nearby, to finalize thoughts for the flight ahead.
So far, so good. Our scent hasn’t aroused any night runners, there’s no sound of anything scuffling about, and no shrieks of discovery. That doesn’t mean they aren’t lying in wait or further in the building, but we seem to be clear for now. The distinct locker room smell that I’ve associated with a group of night runners is absent. That also doesn’t mean I can relax my guard. We’re in their territory now and I’ve been surprised far too many times to relax inside a darkened building.
The tension is strong; my senses wrapped tight around me with a small part of my mind still questioning the decision to enter. The one good thing is that I don’t feel the sense of the room closing in and waiting with bated breath. There’s still the aspect of a weight within the darkened room but it doesn’t feel like an explosion waiting to happen; it doesn’t feel like we’re being watched.
