check over my gear to ensure that I have everything I need and that it’s taped up to prevent any unwanted noise.
The parking lot comes into view and we find a clear spot to land. Robert eases the Kiowa lower, catching himself several times as we begin to drop quicker than he’d like — or that I’d like for that matter. ‘Settling’ onto the pavement would be a misnomer, but we ‘land’ without doing harm to ourselves or the helicopter. The blades above slow as Robert shuts down. We don’t have to wait too long before the Humvees carrying the three teams arrive. We assemble near the front entrance.
“Gonzalez, you’re in charge of Red Team and the overall ground team leader. Enter into position as we did yesterday and give the appearance that you’re about to go further into the building. Don’t go any farther than the edge of the light, though. Sell it, but don’t go overboard. Under no circumstances are you to enter anywhere there isn’t the cover of light,” I state.
“Hooah,” she replies with a smile. “I couldn’t possible send you off without one of those, sir.”
“You should really go down to one of those open mic places,” I reply. “Horace, take your team and find me some wood for a fire. I’ll need some green leafy branches as well.”
“Will do, sir,” she replies.
“Okay, let’s see what we have,” I say.
I open up and push out to the limits of the facility. I’m immediately overwhelmed by sheer numbers of night runners in all areas of the building. They are in both small and large groups and very much aware of me. I’m stunned by their vast numbers and the calm I had shatters momentarily.
I sense one stronger presence on the highest floor near the center of the structure and zero in for a brief moment, marking that area. I then close back down. I recognize the stronger one as the one who sent the mental image of Lynn. I’m guessing that wherever she is, Lynn won’t be too far away. And, as I thought, they are on the highest floor.
“Well?” Robert asks after I come out of my daze.
“I’m going to need more ammo. Hand me a few of your mags,” I answer.
Robert fumbles with his vest and passes me a few which I add to my pockets.
“How many are in there?” Bri asks.
“A lot,” I respond.
Seeing that many night runners on a screen in the air or on video is much different than sensing them close up like this. I don’t know how the teams in the compound held up seeing that many coming at them. I would have screamed like a little girl and run the other way. I almost rethink my idea about thinning them out some but Lynn is possibly in the midst of them and I’m already here. The plan is sound, although I can hear Lynn snorting at the thought that any of my plans are anywhere close to being sound. I remember her asking me once if I just wrote different parts of ideas down on scraps of paper, tossed them in the air, and then the first three I randomly picked up became a plan.
Horace and her team returns, each carrying a bundle of wood. I light a fire on the roadway in front, much like I did at the CDC. I strip off my vest and fatigues, down to my boxers. With a nice glow of coals finally forming, I toss in the first green branches with leaves. Plumes of white smoke drift upward. I step into the smoke and bathe myself in it. I then take out two unscented feminine napkins from one of my pockets to the disconcertment of everyone watching.
“What the fuck, sir?” Gonzalez asks in amazement.
I don’t answer but merely bathe each one in the smoke and place one under each of my armpits, taping them in place.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me… sir,” she adds.
“I like to stay spring fresh,” I state, generously bathing the rest of my clothing and vest in smoke before donning them.
The napkins are to soak up and retain any sweat that may develop without releasing the scent. I thought about using bandages but the smell would still leak out with those. I would say this is an old trick I used before but, to be perfectly honest, it’s something I came up with while sitting on the roof and pondering how to stay absolutely invisible to the night runners. I can’t afford to be found by sight, smell, or sound, meaning that I can’t afford to be found at all.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I say. “Robert, go get the Kiowa warmed up. I’ll be there shortly.”
I walk to the broken entrance door with Black and Red Team in tow. Leaving them outside for the moment, I step inside as I hear the rotors begin turning. It’s time to focus. I don’t know exactly where Lynn is, but I’m guessing she’s on the fourth floor so the roof will be a good entrance. However, I don’t want night runners to be up there waiting so I plan on drawing them to the ground floors. I open up, feeling their overwhelming numbers once again.
“I’m heeeere…and coming to get each and every one of you, you backwards-ass motherfuckers.” I send the visual equivalent out.
I then direct a message to the strong night runner I felt on the top floor — it seems like a female to me for some reason. “I’m coming for you. I’ll be along shortly so save a place.”
With that, I shut down.
“You’re up,” I tell Gonzalez as I pass by her on my way to Robert and the waiting helicopter.
Settling in, Robert lifts us off and we climb for the rooftop. Nearing the maintenance entrance, Robert finds a flat portion of the roof.
Settling closer, he shouts, “Dad, I love you!”
I turn to him. His face is hidden behind the dark shield of his helmet.
“I love you too, son,” I respond and leap out, dropping the few feet to the roof.
The Kiowa revs up and Robert maneuvers up and away. He’ll rendezvous with Drescoll, making it seem like the helicopter took off and departed. That’s my hope anyway. For now, I’m left alone on the roof. I make my way across a couple of ducts to the steel maintenance door. I try it quickly but, as I expected, it’s locked.
Taking a slim jim out, I lever it behind the latch and soon have the door open. I don’t hear any shrieks as sunlight pours into the stairs leading down so I’m reasonably sure this part is clear of night runners. I ease the door closed behind me, letting it shut with an almost silent click. Darkness fills the narrow concrete stairwell leading down into the building, but, with my ability to see in the dark, the stairs show in a uniform light gray. I bring my M-4 up and begin creeping down the stairs. The game is on.
“I’m in,” I whisper.
Two clicks in my ear signal an acknowledgement.
The stairs end with a metal door that opens to what I assume is another stairwell. A small glass window is inset in the door so I’ll be able to see more when I get to the door. Right now, it’s taking one stair at a time downward, careful of any noise. Even a squeak from my shoes will alert any night runners nearby. I can hear well with the transformation that came over me when I was scratched, but I have a feeling they can hear that much better.
Making my way to the fire door, no light shines through the window. Whatever lies on the other side is just as dark. Wherever there are places in shadow, there are chances of night runners. I bring my signal mirror up to the far corner of the small window.
Movement just on the other side of the door sends a jolt through my body and causes my heart to jump. I lower the mirror and take a quick backward step up the stairs, bringing my carbine to bear. Expecting the door to crash open and shrieks to fill the confined space, I wait…ready.
Nothing. There is only the faint smell of body odor and the very faint hiss of feet shuffling across the floor on the other side of the door. I run the quick image I had of the other side through my head — concrete walls with a railing. Yeah, it’s a stairwell landing. I saw at least two night runners; but there might be more. I ease my M-4 down and creep to the window once again. Peering through at a lower corner, I see three night runners milling on the landing. They don’t seem to be up to anything in particular and may just be guarding the door.
One turns directly toward me, although not with the sharp movement that indicates that I’ve been found. Its eyes glow in my vision.
