They emerge from the aisles almost before she knows it. Multiple night runners pour into the open space ahead and jump from the stacked crates forming a waterfall of leaping figures. A horde of shrieks and screams grows exponentially overwhelming any other sound. The space in front of the two teams fills quickly. The area is lit by quick and continuous strobes of light as the soldiers open fire. The leading night runners fall to the ground adding screams of pain to the clamor. More bound over the fallen.
“Start pulling back in line now,” Lynn calls over the radio.
The level of noise echoing inside is deafening. Shell casings bounce on the concrete surface but go unheard. Magazines clatter as the soldiers reload. Mouths open to call “reloading” but the words are lost amidst the thunderous roar of the night runners. Step by step the teams fall back, splitting as they make their way between the vehicles. Even though night runners fall to the ground by the dozens, due to their numbers, they slowly close the gap.
Lynn clicks the mag release dropping yet another empty mag to the ground. Slamming in a fresh mag, she continues to add her fire into the advancing mass of night runners. Another step backward takes her to the rear of one of the trucks. A thin beam lights the area in front of her causing the night runners caught in its path to throw their arms in front of their faces. Those caught in the widening beam fall to the ground writhing in agony. Slowly but surely, the band of light grows. The ones behind and on the sides turn and flee.
The shrieks diminish in volume as the night runners race back into the darkness of the warehouse leaving their dead and dying behind. Daylight pours in lighting the front of the building. The injured night runners, crawling slowly along the floor, scream in pain and slump to the ground. Lynn raises her goggles and, with a look to ensure the attack is over, turns to see Blue Team push the sliding doors the rest of the way open.
Turning back, she shouts, “Anyone left alive, make your way to the doors.” Nothing but several shrieks returns her call.
“Okay, let’s get the fuck out of here,” she yells.
Walking outside, the day looks the same, taking on a surreal aspect. The gray clouds still hover just above the tall roof just as they did when she entered. She feels the intense adrenaline begin to ebb leaving her feeling weary. They’ve made it through yet another encounter. She sees Jack with the rest of Red Team and Greg with his team standing in front. Huddled together off to the side, she spies the five sailors she saw exit the aisles. Of the twelve who went in, they are the only ones who made it out. With a heavy sigh, she gathers everyone up and begins a slow walk to meet Jack who is standing ready with the rest of the teams to back her up if she needed.
I watch as Lynn and the other teams fold against the outside wall by and open doorway ready to enter. A faint, solitary shriek drifts upward from the building. I think about calling Lynn and having her return but she’s the one there and it’s her call. Her core instinct to help others worries me at times as I know her propensity to put herself in danger in order to assist those in need. However, I also know she cares deeply about her soldiers and won’t put them in a position that will risk them unnecessarily.
The tension that was so prevalent just moments ago subsides as we all focus on the warehouse, watching the scene about to unfold. Glancing at Captain Leonard, I see his eyes narrowed in concentration. I wonder if he thinks that we are still trying to interfere or if he believes we are truly trying to help. Perhaps he realizes he made a mistake and is looking to see the outcome. I’m guessing he cares about his people so it may be he just doesn’t realize the danger he sent his people into.
I listen as Lynn briefs the teams and watch as she readies herself and steps inside. I feel anxiety in the pit of my stomach as she disappears knowing full well what possibly waits inside. I’m sure my call telling Lynn that there are night runners inside is going to raise a few eyebrows. I noticed Leonard’s quick glance when I made the call. I said that in the clear over an open channel so everyone is going to run that through their minds. But there’s no way I’m going to hold something like that back when it can help. That’s Lynn down there. It’s all I can do not to run over and be the one to go inside. If it comes up, I suppose I’m going to have to explain that radio call. Perhaps it’s time to tell the command group.
The other teams rush through the open door one by one, flowing like a black wave until they vanish into the dark opening. I feel a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach watching the last of them disappear knowing well the fear and dread of being in a possible night runner lair. I’m thankful for the distribution center in that we can very much limit any further excursions into darkened buildings.
Minutes pass with only the short radio calls from Lynn to the other teams and some calls requesting information on those inside. One comes that grabs my attention. It is one I was rather expecting to hear at some point given that night runners are holed up within the warehouse building.
“Black and Charlie team, hold up. I have something to my front. Standby,” I hear Lynn say.
Another minute and then, “I have two night runners and a dead body three meters to my twelve o’clock in front of the truck,” Lynn whispers on the radio. “Keep alert for others. Mullins, can you get a shot at them?”
I look to Captain Leonard and say, “If you’ll excuse me, I have my people to attend to.” He turns his head briefly to nod before gazing back to the warehouse.
I take a few steps and hear from behind me, “Captain Walker, we’d be happy to help if you need?”
Turning, I see one of the SEAL Team members standing slightly off to the side. Captain Leonard turns sharply to the Chief but doesn’t say anything.
“We can always use the help, Chief… Krandle is it?”
“Yes, sir,” Krandle responds.
“Like I said, we can always use the help but we don’t have any spare comm gear or NVGs,” I say.
“I understand, sir” Krandle says with a nod.
Leonard looks at the chief with a hard stare before returning his focus back to the large cream structure that his men are currently in… along with our teams. I tell Frank and Bannerman to wait with Leonard and make my way to where Greg is standing with Red and Echo Teams. They are more relaxed but still in their covered positions behind the vehicles and manning the weapons. Greg walks to meet me.
“You’ve heard the calls?” I ask to which he nods.
“I want us to be in a position to support Lynn if they run into trouble,” I say.
“Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. Any worries about the boys in white?” Greg asks nodding toward the Captain and the sub.
“Not for the time being. I’m not sure their Captain is a big fan of me. I don’t think he believes what is going on but I don’t think they’ll cause any problems. I think he’s trying to digest it all just like we had to,” I answer.
“That can’t be easy.”
“No and I’m not sure I have yet.”
“That’s because you’re an old man,” Greg says.
“At least I didn’t fall out of the ugly tree and get hit by every branch on the way down,” I respond.
“Look who’s calling who ugly,” he replies, leaning over me trying to be intimidating.
“Hey, I’m not the one kids point at and mistake for a sea cow when swimming… just sayin’.” Humor is one way we disperse the tension of knowing our team mates have entered a night runner lair.
Lynn’s call of, “Night runners on top of the crates,” interrupts our little tete-a-tete prompting action on our part.
“Red Team, Blue Team, form up on me,” I shout.
We form up and begin trotting toward the distant warehouse. As we draw closer, my throat tightens and heart rate accelerates hearing a din of shrieks emanating from within. I head toward the open side door when I see the large doors begin to slide open. The sound of shrieks increases through the thin aperture that is growing wider by the second. It’s hard to make out who is pushing the doors apart but I see a full team shoving on the large, heavy doors. The screams within change in tone from rage to screams of pain.
With the doors mostly open, I see Lynn and several of the other team members that entered standing in a line deeper inside the building. Scores of night runners lie scattered on the gray painted concrete floor. Some caught in the light arch in pain before slumping back to the ground. A group of five men huddle together outside off to the side. I observe Lynn lower her weapon and shout something into the interior. She stares into the darkness waiting for something. Finally, she shouts, “Okay, let’s get the fuck out of here,” and turning, she heads in my direction.
As she draws near, I see the weariness of the post-adrenaline phase of combat etched in her eyes. There is
