Apparently they don’t like road trips much.
We plunge into the gloom of the night and push off the base, speeding down the Interstate heading northeast. I am fairly sure we won’t be encountering bandits trying to block the road as we travel through the inky hours of darkness so we hasten down the four-lane highway without a worry of being ambushed. Committed as we are, time is now of the essence. Greg and I pour over maps under the light of a red lamp, plotting the best route to the school. The maps are only street diagrams so I have no idea what we’ll encounter when we get there.
The teams sit in hushed silence, crunched together on the seats along the wall, each lost in their thoughts. They rock slightly in the vehicle as the driver guides us along with the use of night vision. The hum of the diesel is felt through our boots. The miles pass silently by.
As we near a road that will give us a more direct route, I call Sergeant Reynolds. “What’s your situation?” I ask once we establish radio contact.
“We’re holding them back so far, sir, but when we run out of ammo, that will change in a hurry,” she answers.
“Where are you located within the school?”
“We’re in the main building on the third floor. You’ll see it straight ahead when you pull into the main entrance. It will be the one that is being swarmed. I’m assuming it will be apparent which one from the outside. We’re holding a hallway just outside a classroom that we have the kids hiding out in. We had the stairs blocked but they broke though that earlier this evening. I think we’ve sealed the windows in the room effectively, but I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to hold,” she answers.
“Okay, sergeant, we’re just a few minutes out. Will you be able to move to our location if we set up a perimeter?”
“Not with the kids in tow, sir. I think we’d be easily overwhelmed if we tried to,” Reynolds replies.
“I guess we may have to come to you. We’ll analyze it from the outside when we arrive and let you know what we come up with,” I say.
“Roger that, sir. Faster would be better.”
“We’ll do what we can, Reynolds. Just hang tight a little longer.”
The road we selected doesn’t have an actual off-ramp so we exit onto a grassy shoulder and power up a slope. Traveling at high speed, we arrive at a “T” intersection. Across the road is a large refinery. A dirty white sign, seen in the glow of the night vision optics, hangs loosely on a fence denoting this as the ‘El Dorado Refinery’. It would be rather nice to actually be able to operate one of these plants. That and to operate one of the finer grade oil plants. That would take care of our fuel situation but I, nor anyone else in our camp that I know of, has the first clue about how they work.
We are soon passing a large campus to our left. When Reynolds mentioned school, I assumed that she meant a high school or something similar. The complex we are about to pull into is a college campus. Not that it changes anything but the area is huge. I’m glad she was fairly clear on what building they are in. Of course, it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out by the scene before us as we turn into the main entrance.
Ahead, just as advertised, sits a central building just off the main lot. The structure looks like one of those four foot ant hills that has been kicked — night runners are swarming everywhere. They are climbing up drain pipes and entering through broken windows and doors. There must be hundreds of them with more running across the parking lot to join the mass. I’m guessing the sound of gunfire within is drawing them but it’s not like I can tell Reynolds to stop shooting.
Some of the night runners break off at the sight of us and head in our direction. I’m sure they can’t hear us as it’s difficult to hear ourselves breathe, even from this distance. The ear-splitting shrieks are filling the night. Radio communication will be hard if we have to go any farther into the tempest ahead.
“Verify that you’re on the third floor?” I ask Reynolds.
There’s a pause. “That’s affirmative, sir, third floor,” she answers, sounding out of breath.
“Take care of those coming at us, then sweep the ones off that are on and around the building. Stay clear of the third floor,” I say to the gunner, slipping to the side to give him room.
“Copy that, sir. They’ll be clear shortly.”
I notify Reynolds and her group that we are commencing fire on the building but staying clear of the third floor. The shrieks outside, with so many night runners eager to get at their prey, are amazingly loud. I’ve heard a mass of night runners in a building before, but this is as deafening as I’ve ever heard. It’s not the low intensity sounds that you can feel in your heart; it’s the high-pitched ones that you can feel crawling across your skin. The very walls vibrate.
The whine of the turret turning and then the staccato firing of the .50 cal firing overhead barely register above the screams. I watch on the monitor as long streams of fire reach outward into the night. The devastation when the heavy rounds, each loaded with a tremendous amount of kinetic energy, hit flesh and bone is grisly to watch. It’s like watching a train wreck — gruesome yet you can’t tear your eyes away from it. Bodies are propelled backward when bullets hit the center mass and when they hit arms or legs, the limbs separate. Heads disappear in a bloody mist.
The night runners heading toward us all go down in a row, one after the other, as the large bore machine gun overhead sweeps through them. The ones near the campus building turn in our direction as the gun opens up. Night runners on drain pipes or crawling through windows look back fearfully as their approaching ranks simply cease to exist.
“How many do you estimate inside, Reynolds?” I ask as the firing ceases and the turret whines once more, lining up with new targets.
“I’m not sure, sir. There are a few in the hall, but I can hear a lot more on the stairs and floors below. We’re down to our last few mags,” she answers.
“Are you at the front, rear, or side of the building?”
“The front, sir.”
“Do you have any rope by chance?” I ask.
“No.”
It’s now that I wish the Stryker had one of those high-lift ladders like a structural fire engine. Getting them from the windows while keeping a suppressive effort on the front would be the best solution but it’s not one we have.
I quickly consult with Greg. “It looks like we’ll have to go inside. Just taking care of the ones out here isn’t going to do it as they’re running low on ammo.”
“That sucks, but if it’s what we have to do, then it is. How do you want to do it?” he asks.
“I figure we can clear the front and back the Stryker to the entrance doors. Blow them apart and lower the ramp right into the entrance foyer. The Stryker will block the runners from getting around and to us. Leave the driver and gunner to keep the front clear. You take your team and maintain a close perimeter inside to keep the Stryker clear of any night runners. I’ll take Red Team and sweep upstairs, taking extra ammo. Once we reach the soldiers, we’ll have additional firepower to fight our way back down. If we run into too many on the way, well, then we tried and have to figure something else out.”
“One team and three floors filled with night runners. That’s not the optimum solution, Jack.”
“I don’t see any other way. If you have another, please share it,” I respond.
“Unfortunately, I don’t,” Greg says. “Do you mean you are taking Robert and Bri through the building with you?”
“You are going to attract a lot of attention with the Stryker so I don’t really see a ‘safe’ place, so yes, I’m taking them,” I reply.
“Your choice, Jack.” Again, with that.
I turn and give a quick rundown of the plan. To Red Team, I brief, “Gonzalez, you and McCafferty in front. Henderson and Denton, keep our back sides clear. Robert, Bri, and I will take the middle to lend support where needed. We’ll be in a moving perimeter. Stack on corners. If we come across any open doors, we’ll be closing them to try and keep our backsides clear. Anticipate that any number of night runners inside will be heading toward the Stryker and we may bump into them. Remember, there is no ‘hiding’ from them so we engage any we
