Taken

look tells me it’s a good thing I didn’t follow through with an earlier thought of hovering right over the top of them.

I shut down and head inside to gather the three teams to meet at our broadcast time outside of Fort Lewis. It’s much the same as yesterday except we head north. We only find five people who answer our call; one husband and wife with their young daughter and two other men in their mid to late twenties. None come from the base but I’m happy to be finding some survivors still existing in the world.

I take Robert and Bri aside that evening instead of heading to the roof so we can go through some additional training. My hope is to pass on what little wisdom and knowledge I have. My overall plan is to combine tracking, stealth, and tactical techniques with some discussion thrown in. This training will now encompass our evenings together but we can still go to the roof when the training only involves discussions. I’m not a master of any of these but, like I mentioned before, you only have to be one step ahead to teach.

The evening is more of a recap with Bannerman telling of progress with the buildings. A lot was accomplished in getting one of the large greenhouses apart and that should be finished within the next couple of days. Several large lumber yards were found, thank goodness for being in the Northwest, and he’ll start hauling the material back the next day. He tells of Watkin’s status and that he should be finished and on his way soon. I’m a little edgy about them staying away for so long seeing there is the very real potential of marauders but I’m sure the sight of the Stryker vehicles will make anyone think twice. At any rate, I’ll be happier when they return.

“When Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie return, we’ll start on the walls around the hospital and housing areas,” Bannerman finishes.

“We found a ham radio and are in the midst of setting it up. That will give us UHF, VHF, and side-band capabilities,” Frank adds.

This is great news as we will be able to hopefully communicate with others, more on the civilian side, over longer distances. Hopefully there will be others set up like us and we can share ideas, experiences, and knowledge if not actually being able to meet. Frank also sets up the next area for us to cover for survivors; that being the south parts of Tacoma. We’ll meet at the Tacoma mall.

Lynn discusses the start of the training. She praises both Robert and Bri as they have taken well to both phases. Bri’s arm still prevents her from participating in any strenuous exercises but it is healing and she seems to be without pain; that is unless she whacks it on a wall or chair.

“There is one other thing I should mention,” Franks says. “We’ve been picking up a little higher reading on the Geiger counter. I take daily readings just in case and it’s been a little higher each day.”

“How much higher?” Greg asks. We all sit up a little taller and this definitely gets all of our attention.

“It’s still way within the safe margin. It’s just that I noticed a higher reading, that’s all. I don’t think it’s worth worrying about but it should be mentioned,” Frank answers. “And monitored.”

“Well, I suppose it could be from the nuclear power plants that fill Europe, the Eastern seaboard, the India/Pakistan region, and the Orient. Their radiation could be drifting on the wind currents and reaching us. I think most of Europe would be completely uninhabitable; if not now, then soon. We’ll definitely have to monitor the readings daily and think about contingency plans if it approaches the danger zone. Honestly, between us, if it gets bad here, I can’t imagine a place in the northern hemisphere that wouldn’t be equally affected. I think we keep this between us for now,” I say.

“I agree,” Drescoll replies.

“Let’s table this for now but keep us informed if it keeps increasing and by what degrees, Frank. If it continues to climb, we’ll have to think about what to do but for now, I think we continue with what we have going,” I add.

I feel like shit when I finally hit my cot next to Lynn. My head is pounding and my whole body aches. It doesn’t quite feel like a flu coming on but it’s not far from it. The thing missing is the associated nausea. We have a lot to do and I can’t afford to be sick. It’s not like I feel I have to do everything and I am completely confident of those around but I still want to be a part of what’s going on. I head off to a troubled sleep thinking it’s just the stress and long days. One day I hope we can achieve some stability where we don’t constantly have to do things in order to just survive. It feels like pushing a big boulder up a hill; always more to do and further to go. We have come a long ways from our jaunting from place to place in the 130 but as we finish one thing, two more jumps into its place.

The morning dawns like the others before it except my restless sleep hasn’t dissipated the aches and pains. My head feels like a drum corps is parading inside. My muscles feel like they’ve been beaten with hammers. Lynn stirs beside me going through her usual routine; clothes, boots, gun. She rises and wakes the other teams for their morning under her tutelage. She eventually heads back to where I haven’t moved a muscle.

“Jack, time to rise and shine,” she says.

My groan says it all. But just in case it doesn’t, I add, “There’s no rise or shine for me. Go have fun without me.”

“Now how can there be any fun without your mug present. If you don’t get up, you’ll be depriving the rest of us of your oh so charming personality,” she replies.

“Yeah, we can’t have that now, can we? But the fact remains that I don’t wanna.”

“Jaaaaaack, come on. It’s another lovely day in paradise.”

“Paradise?! Oh good, have I finally woken up from this horrid dream?” I say rising slowly. The move isn’t the best one as the drummers inside turn the volume up. I’m eventually able to put on my boots and tie them without it feeling like my brain is actually going to pound through my eyeballs. Lynn leans over to give me a kiss on the top of my head and then departs.

I trudge outside and the bright day, with a sun that has just crested the mountains and is sending its warm rays down, doesn’t help my head at all. It seems a little overly bright and I have to squint in order not to become blinded or have my head explode. I’m sure that might ruin many of the others’ morning; watching my head pop. Then again, maybe not. They may in fact cheer and strike up a week long party in celebration. Maybe even make it a national day of celebration in the future. There could be an effigy placed in Times Square with C-4 planted inside the head and set off at the appropriate time. Of course, it’s going to be a long time before Times Square can ever be used again.

Fuck I’m tired, I think realizing the thoughts coursing through my head. I would shake my head to clear the thoughts if there wasn’t the real possibility of my head just flying off. Plus, my neck muscles vote against the idea of moving. I think maybe I should take a day off flying but the idea that there are others out there possibly needing help keeps my feet moving across the sunlit, paved surface. I join the other teams as they form up to train but I’m mostly a bystander on this one. They take off on a morning run but my feet remain firmly planted where they are. Lynn turns to look at me as they take off but doesn’t say anything. My training today will involve me practicing my ‘going to a sitting position.’ This is a mostly overlooked but important training maneuver and I decide to practice it. And it’s a good thing too because I don’t execute it with form and grace but it’s more of a plop. I see I’ll have to work on this maneuver much more in the future in order to get it right.

I sit on the warming asphalt cradling my head until the others return. I decide I am quite skilled in standing and don’t feel like I need to attempt that particular maneuver so I remain sitting as they run through contact drills. They finish at the firing range before going through a quick debrief of the morning. I haven’t budged. The break up and head inside.

“Good training with you this morning,” I say as they walk in groups toward the entrance. I of course call out quietly.

“Are you okay?” Lynn asks squatting beside me.

“Yeah, I think so. I feel like I’ve been hit by a meteor though,” I answer.

“Maybe you should just rest and take it easy today,” she suggests.

“No, I’ll be okay,” I say rising. Apparently I do need standing practice as this maneuver isn’t conducted with any semblance of grace either.

“Jack, you can’t fly in this condition,” Lynn says.

“Well, it’s not like I can really fly anyway. Seriously, I’ll be okay,” I say kissing her and walking over to the helicopter.

I climb in and sit in the seat for a moment. I honestly think about getting back out but, with a sigh, I start the checklist. The headache has diminished to a degree and I don’t have to squint nearly as much. The rotors begin