gather outside to watch the wall teams pound the last beam into the ground. Our measurements haven’t been exact and we have to cut the last partitions with a concrete saw but as we all look on, the last partition slides into place.
A cheer rises from the group as the partition settles into place and the crane shuts down. Our wall is built. Four miles of concrete partitions twenty feet high. Our place is as secure as we can make if for the moment. We have a gate spanning the width of the entrance road; two great slabs of steel, which Bannerman managed to locate in a foundry, are bolted into the wall and secured with a steel bar. The gates took some engineering to fit them without handholds that would allow night runners to scale them. The wall itself is set several feet into the ground, thanks to the use of a ditch digger, in case the night runners try their hand at becoming moles. This also adds to the structural integrity of the wall.
Watching the partition slide into place and hearing the cheer, I feel a sense of warmth flow through. I can’t believe we’ve actually done it. I think back to the stresses I had on our journey back and how much of an overwhelming project this seemed. Especially coupled with our having to survive each and every night and gather supplies. We’ve added to our group and built a place to be secure during the night, well, hopefully as it has yet to be tested. We’ve come a long ways from our drifting from airfield to airfield, obtaining supplies and information, and surviving up close and personal encounters with the night runners on a much too often basis.
We celebrate our first night’s rest without the continual hammering at the front doors that night. The peace and quiet we experience is almost as loud in the absence of the constant noise as it was when it was here. We decide for everyone to have the next day off and allow some relaxation and recuperation before we set off on the next phase of our sanctuary. Ah, sanctuary. How sweet that sounds! Robert asks the next morning if he and Michelle can go down to the bay and hang out by the water for the day. Bri asks Robert if she can go along. I tell them I don’t have a problem with that but I want Gonzalez to go along.
“Dad, we can take care of ourselves,” Robert says in response to my request.
“I know you can but you’re taking Gonzalez with,” I reply. “Go ask her is she’s willing to accompany you.”
Robert returns a short time later with Gonzalez, Michelle, and Bri in tow. He asks if I’d like to go along but I know he wants some time with Michelle without his dear old dad around so I make up some excuse for staying. I take Gonzalez to the side and tell her to make sure she keeps them safe; for her to come back at the first indication of something that doesn’t seem or feel right. I tell everyone that Gonzalez is in charge and what she says goes. They depart within the hour with the sun shining down on this glorious beginning of a new day. The wall blots out the view of the immediate area but it’s nice to see it anyway. The mountains still peak above to the east and west.
Their Humvee departs and I watch them disappear over the hill. I look over at the helicopter sitting by itself in a corner of the parking lot and think about taking it up. When out on practice flights, I make sure to drop by Fort Lewis for fuel before heading back so I know it has almost a full tank. The thought of taking it out for a pleasure flight seems appealing with the morning sun casting its yellows rays down and warming the air. It seems like a different place now, almost has a feel of home.
I head back inside after basking for a while in the sun’s warmth and watch several flocks of birds flit about the fields surrounding us. The days are getting shorter now but it is still in the late summer and the shortened days aren’t noticed as yet. I walk over to the base radio area and the maps Frank has set up wanting to check in with Gonzalez. It’s only been a short while since they left and I’m feeling like the worrisome father but I want to assure myself nonetheless.
The radio crackles as I draw near, “Base, Gonzalez here.”
“Base here, go ahead,” Kathy, who is on radio watch at this time, says in return.
“We have a vehicle that has started following us. Large red pickup truck,” Gonzalez’ voice comes through the speaker.
“Tell her to turn around and come back,” I tell Kathy and motion for her to relay the message.
Before she can press the mic button, Gonzalez’ speaks again. “Oh shit, they’re trying to force us off the road,” she says with her voice higher pitched.
Her mic is still pressed but it is evident that she is talking to someone else by the subdued nature of her voice. “Turn the wheel to the…” And there is a click over the speaker as the transmission ends.
Epilogue
He rises as he has on many nights previous. The breathing of his pack within the darkened room fills to his ears, panting with their quickened breathing. He knows instinctually that it’s time to rise; time to hunt.
The past nights have been episodes of the previous ones, searching for the meager food still remaining in the area. The nights recently have taken on some differences. Several times in the night, while running through the night streets, flashes of light reach out from places as they trot by. The flashes startled him and he searched for their sources the first few times it happened but without finding it. Several loud explosions erupt in the distance occasionally. One night, while investigating the source of one of the loud bangs that rang out in the night, he found members of a small pack lying in the street and on the raised concrete sidewalk; their bodies mutilated beyond recognition.
He knew something new was afoot in the area but lacked the cognitive skill to know what it could be; just that it was. He didn’t know if he should be doing something different or if the new sounds or flashes of light were dangerous. Seeing the other pack lying on the ground, he knew that anything that could bring down an entire pack must be dangerous and avoided but he had no idea what it was that did it. Food remained high on his priority list but safety of the pack wasn’t far behind. He did notice the smell of smoke was now predominant in the air making it hard to locate food unless it was close. He once ran across a large area that had been burnt to the ground; the large swath of ash and blackened area stretching far across ahead of him and running out of sight in each direction. He did know, in a way, that the other two-legged ones, possibly the ones the other packs were trying to get at in the large structure a short distance away, were responsible for this.
On this night, as on the others, he makes sure his pack is awake. One male tries to couple with a female as she rises. He grunts, shoulders the male, and sends the image that now is not the time; they must start the night hunt. The other male grunts in frustration but follows him out of the door. They make their way from their lair in back and across the smooth floor. The smells of rot are strong in this large area but he ignores it and makes his way towards the broken door leading outside. Stepping through the broken glass beside the actual doors, the light smell of smoke replaces the stench inside. He stops just outside, hoping for a scent of food close by, and listens. Strangely missing are the shrieks indicating that other packs are still trying to get to the food in the large building a short distance away. His mind momentarily wonders as to the reason why but then is forgotten.
Not smelling any nearby food, he grunts and starts trotting ahead, deciding to start to his right and away from the large enclosure. Too many other packs will congregate there so his best chance of finding food is away from there. A few steps into the parking lot and his world is suddenly and violently intruded upon. A large flash with an accompanying explosion barely registers as he is catapulted forward. He feels himself slam into the ground and all goes dark.
He awakens with a panicked feeling that a lot of time has passed while he has lain in darkness. The fear arises from not knowing what happened; an instinctual feeling of survival. It also comes from not knowing how long he has lain in the darkness and fearing the painful light will be in the sky soon. His head is pounding and he isn’t able to think very well. He reaches out with his mind but can’t sense any others of his pack nearby. He opens his eyes and raises his head. Relief, well, what he feels as relief, enters as he finds it is still night and death from the light in the sky hasn’t found him.
Pushing himself to his knees, he glances around. The other members of his pack lie on the ground around him; lying still; not moving. There is a lingering smell not unlike when the other two-legged ones made those noises with their sticks that caused the death of some of his pack in nights previous. As he looks around, there is a noiseless click in his head. A warm flush rushes through his head. Images and sounds flood through. He grabs his head, not from any pain, but from the multitude of noise that seems to be dancing inside. Another noiseless click
