these places for more than food. Light bulbs will need to be replaced; toilet paper, all types of odds and ends. Being inside, I think we may need to wait to clear buildings of this size until after we’ve built the wall and we bring all of the entire teams. I table that in the back of my mind.
This is very different from sneaking around in buildings in times past. That was a very different philosophy altogether. Here we have to keep a perimeter and back then the perimeter merely moved with us. Wherever we happened to be, that was the perimeter. I glance at Robert standing nearby as he stares intently down his aisle and above him.
“Okay, Watkins, we’re in place. Start gathering items from the first aisle,” I say pressing the throat mic.
“Copy that, sir,” he responds.
The sound of a cart being wheeled slowly inside seems to screech across the interior like a fingernail on a blackboard. I cringe at the noise but it can’t be helped. If we hand gather the items, then we’d take forever and I’d rather be in and out quickly if at all possible. I make another mental note to check the carts and maybe even have some oil on hand. I see the two Alpha members disappear down the first aisle. The squeaks end, start, and end again as they venture down the aisle filling the basket. They eventually make their way back and to the entrance door, repeating the process with the second, third, and fourth aisles.
The two gathering goods come to Robert and he heads down the aisle, disappearing from my view. I feel apprehensive about him being in here. I know he’s a man but he’s also my kid. I don’t suppose I’ll ever get used to this. I trust him implicitly but this is almost too much to watch. The sound of the cart being wheeled down the aisle does its start and stop as items are gathered. My heart is pounding within the confines of my chest. I want to be done and out of here. I can’t believe we’re going to have to do this so many more times. Our equipment makes it easier but the stress of being inside a building that is possibly inhabited by night runners puts me on edge.
I glance down my aisle and see a flash of movement past the opening at the end. A soft padding of feet across the floor accompanies the quick darting of a shape across the opposite aisle opening. I immediately know what it is. A night runner!
“Night runners,” I call into the radio. “Pull back.”
As if the radio call was a signal, shrieks fill the interior. Or perhaps it’s that they realize they’ve been discovered and that the game is up; perhaps planning on trapping us within but now their presence is known. The screams seem to come from everywhere at once; to the front along the back lanes, to the right from the depths of the store, to the left from the bakery and deli counters. I swear it even seems to be coming from above. A glance verifies it’s just the incredible volume rebounding off the ceiling.
Night runners pour into the aisle in front of me and I hear a multitude of footsteps pounding across the floor to my right. The soft bark of M-4’s, firing to my immediate right from Henderson and Denton, verifies night runners in that direction. Their gunfire rises momentarily above the howling. The night runners streaking my way are packed shoulder to shoulder and I fire a couple of bursts into their midst. The first two drop immediately and are pushed to the floor from the ones behind.
Henderson and Denton are at my position keeping us from being overrun from the side. Increased fire is testament that night runners are appearing in other locations as well. I fold back with Henderson and Denton to Robert’s aisle. The two gathering the items are backtracking as rapidly as they can but are also blocking the exit. Robert is on the other side of them firing quick bursts into the night runners pouring into his aisle.
“Move it!” I yell to the Alpha members that are moving much too slowly for my taste.
Constant bursts of fire from Robert is keeping the night runners at bay for the moment but there are more behind and he’ll have to reload soon. Light flashes off the assorted goods on the shelf beside him from his rounds reaching out to the creatures in front. They drop in the aisle, forming a small mound, but others replace them as they push onward. He backs along with the other two but the night runners are closing the distance.
“Stay here,” I say to Henderson and Denton who are kneeling at the corner of the aisle dealing their form of destruction to any who come streaming out into the lane from the far aisles.
The suddenness of the attack is startling and close to overwhelming. I direct Denton to cover the aisle I was in, so they don’t just round the corner on us, and move into the aisle. My son is up ahead and, although moving back slowly, he is clearly trapped. I take one step into the aisle and see his mag leave his receiver. He gropes for another at his vest pouch and then they’re on him. The foremost night runner slams into him and knocks him off balance. Another, just behind the first, runs into him and knocks him to the ground. They both go down on top of him and I hear him yell; startled, fearful, and perhaps pain. They’re on top of my son and bent over him. I lose it!
“Make sure everyone gets out,” I yell to Henderson and become oblivious to all else.
I race up the aisle replacing my own mag, passing the two backing quickly out. My focus is on the night runners bent over Robert. Time and motion slows. He is writhing under the two night runners on top of him as he tries to gain some leverage on them. They are too well situated and bent over him. I chamber the first round with a flick of the bolt release. I hear Robert scream in pain and feel the kick from my M-4 as it delivers the first rounds. They streak out for the night runners clawing and biting my son. The first bullets impact one of the night runners on top of the head with the others entering the back of its head and back. A small splash of blood sprays out from where the round hits on top with a larger shower erupting into the air above it as my second round takes off the back of its head. It slumps down on top of Robert and rolls to the side.
I quickly shift my aim to the next one; the thin beam of my aiming sight coming to rest on top of its head as well. Robert’s hands are on the side of its head trying to keep it away but I see his grip weaken. Light flashes and my next rounds are on the way. I’m oblivious to this as my entire focus is on getting to Robert. Nothing else matters. A similar pattern of blood gushes from the second night runner and it slumps on top of Robert.
“Get up!” I yell sending another burst into night runners trying to take their fallen pack members’ places.
He tilts his head backward looking in my direction but doesn’t move any more than that. His goggles have been knocked clear and I see his wide eyes looking back at me with fear and pain written in them. A night runner goes down at Robert’s feet but another fills the gap immediately. I switch to semi in order to conserve rounds. Reloading will force me back and I may lose him forever if that happens. And that’s not going to happen. A rage built on fear erupted upon seeing my son go down and now it builds even higher with the thought of being pushed back. I take steps forward spitting out single rounds. A steel net of determination tightens down in my mind. I will reach my boy! There is nothing that will interfere with that.
Night runners go down as rounds strike their bodies, either injuring or putting them down for good. A small mound begins to build. The line of creatures isn’t able to advance but neither is there any room gained either. I step next to Robert’s head and look quickly down.
“Can you get up?” I ask delivering another round into a night runner seeking to get closer.
There is no response but he continues to look up into my eyes. I see a large chunk of flesh has been ripped from his neck and blood is spilling to the floor his head. Fear, panic, and anger continue to rage through my system but it is at a level below a certain calmness. It is the fuel that is keeping my ability, determination, and actions going. The overriding calmness, well, more actually a lack of emotion, is the source that directs those actions. They combine to create a wall that no night runner will break; a wedge between me and my son on the ground that no one will overcome. The combination makes it so no other result is possible. I kneel beside him continuing to deliver rounds into the waiting night runners, their screams echoing in my ears. I plan to drag Robert while keeping the creatures at a distance. I look down at his eyes quickly, locking with his gaze, and see the life leave his eyes. His head lolls to the side and the pooling of the blood beside him slows. I reach quickly down, firing the single rounds one-handed into the mass just feet away. Feeling on the side of his ruined neck, I can’t discern a pulse.
“Noooooo!” I scream. My scream, enhanced by the terror and sudden grief, the emotion that was riding below the threshold erupts, and rises far above the shrieks and sounds of firing already filling the interior of the building.
I look up towards the entrance door and see the faint outline of light radiating in that direction. My vision centers on that small piece of light. The edge of my vision darkens, forming a tunnel with the faint light centered
