“Well, do we need another…team leader?”
This creates an awkward moment. It’s the elephant sitting on the table that we’ve…well, not skirted, but held off. What he’s asking, besides the team leader situation, is what we are going to do about Lynn. Are we going to give her up as missing?
“No. Lynn will be back. I’ll see to that. There won’t be a replacement because one won’t be needed. However, you’ll command in the interim,” I say to Taylor, who nods his reply.
“So…what are we going to do? Do you have a plan, sir?” Horace asks.
I feel the emotions bubbling up again. With a deep sigh, I answer, “No. I don’t have a plan
“How are we going to do that? We lost her trail and haven’t had any sign of her,” Horace asks.
“I’ll drive with the broadcasting teams and open up to see if I can sense a gathering of night runners of the size we recorded. We also take the Spectre out at night and see if we can locate them on thermals,” I answer.
“What then? What do we do once we find where she’s been taken?” Drescoll asks.
His tone is excited at the prospect that we have tools on hand that may locate Lynn.
“Let’s just find her and then we’ll work out the details on how to get her out,” I state.
“What about Greg?” Robert asks. “We’re supposed to meet up with him and we don’t have any way of communicating with him.”
“Greg is just going to have to wait a few days more. I don’t see any way around that. He knows we don’t have an exact timetable and will proceed…” I begin my reply but am interrupted by an image that forms in my mind.
It’s clear and sharp. I’m taken aback by its sudden appearance. I hadn’t opened myself up consciously but, with the emotions swirling inside, I must have allowed it somehow. In my head is a strong picture of Lynn, alive and in the dark. I turn my head sharply to the source and am able to sense exactly where it is coming from — almost due south. It’s sent by a night runner, the presence a strong one. The image is gone just as quickly as it came. I search outward to regain it but it’s gone. Although it has vanished, the source remains firmly entrenched in my mind.
I take in a deep breath, not realizing that I was holding it. The others in the group all stare at me, questioning, as I had abruptly stopped talking in mid-sentence and began staring at the walls.
“Lynn’s alive and I know where she is,” I state, still not believing it myself.
“How do you know that?” Drescoll asks, incredulous.
“I just saw her,” I answer.
“What do you mean ‘saw’? You mean you sensed the night runners who took her?” Frank asks.
“Yes and no,” I respond. “It was an image of her and it was sent directly to me. I can’t explain it really. It wasn’t like it was broadcast but sent directly.”
“What does that mean?” Frank asks.
“I have no idea. But, I know where she is…or may be.”
“So, we go get her,” Drescoll states. “We could use the Spectre and verify with thermals. We can use it to take them out as they come out.”
“Hold up a moment. We can certainly use it to verify the building…but think about it. What has happened in the past when we’ve used the Spectre on large packs?”
The group looks at each other questioningly.
“They moved. We can’t afford for that to happen here.”
“Okay. Then we verify where she is and then we go get her,” Drescoll restates.
“There may not be a ‘let’s’ to it,” I reply.
“What do you mean by that?” Drescoll says, an ounce of irritation edging into his voice.
“I mean, that if there are as many as the videos showed, the teams won’t stand a chance inside. However, let’s not jump to anything until we have more info. I’ll take the Spectre out in the morning and see what we come up with,” I respond.
Knowing that Lynn is alive and possibly where she is, I feel a little better. The sensations of excitement and fear bubble inside me in a chaotic mix. Mostly, I feel impatient. I want to be off right now and begin searching — to head straight into the teeth of those that may be holding her. It has to be from the night runners that took her as there is no way I could receive such a message from Lynn herself.
The exhilaration bounds among the group knowing that she is alive, or, better put, my belief that she is and that I know where she may be. I say ‘may’ because it was just an image and not an actual confirmation. That was going to be the hardest part — finding her. A certain anxiety takes hold because she may be ‘captured’ and perhaps surrounded by thousands of night runners. I may know where she is, but getting her out will be a different story altogether. It may prove impossible.
“What’s the plan for the next few days with regards to activities?” I ask.
I hate even uttering those words, but there’s nothing I can do at the moment about Lynn until we have more information.
“The plan is to continue with the towers and clear the rubble. We’ve felled a fair number of the trees around the outer wall. We’ll begin cutting those up into firewood and storing it in cargo containers. Before winter sets in, I’d like to put wood stoves in the interior to take some of the load off our electrical needs. The plan for the housing is to incorporate wood stoves for heating into those as well,” Bannerman states.
“We also need to clear the taller grass away from the walls. I’m not sure of the impact on the walls if we burn it, but that would be the easier solution,” I say.
“We’ll run a test on a section of it,” Bannerman replies. “If there isn’t any detriment to the walls, we’ll move forward with that idea.”
“I know you’ve been busy, but have you had any luck researching bio-fuels?” I ask.
“We’ll have to make a foray into one of the libraries we’ve kept intact once we can spare any teams. I’ll plan that once we start on the housing.”
“Okay. Anyone else have anything?”
“What about sending one or two more teams out with another Stryker to meet up with Greg?” Horace asks.
I find myself half turning to Lynn to see if we have teams to spare for that, but catch myself.
“Let’s see what we find out tomorrow. We may or may not need the teams to get Lynn,” I state. “Anything else?”
No one responds so the meeting breaks up. I pull Bannerman and Frank aside to take a look at the housing plans. The others head off for their dinner or to find their cots. We pull open plans and begin to go over them. The exhaustion of only getting a little shuteye for the last day and a half is taking its toll, both in my thinking and ability to focus. Stress and lack of sleep are making it next to impossible to think logically or follow a line of thought. Before long, I call a halt.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I know I said I wanted to go over these, but I’m finding I can’t keep my eyes open a moment longer,” I say.
“Of course, Jack, I completely understand,” Frank says with Bannerman nodding in agreement.
I stroll wearily back to my room, stopping at Robert’s place. Knocking softly on the partition, Michelle pulls the blanket serving as a door to the side.
“He’s asleep, Jack,” she says.
“How is he?” I ask.
“He’s exhausted from running around. But, other than that, he’s fine,” she says with a touch of coldness in her voice.
I can’t say I really blame her. I could do a whole lot of apologizing — trying to get her to understand the need to gain experiences and tools to survive — but I’ve never been very good at that. Instead, I say lamely, “Let me know if anything changes.”
“You’ll be the first to know, Jack,” she says and closes the doorway.
With a sigh, I turn and head toward my own room. Lying on the cot, I look over at Lynn’s empty one. Sorrow
