way, they won’t go hungry if they are unable to hunt for some reason. He knows that the prey they chase down spoils easily so maybe he could send packs out to gather some of the alternate food to store at the lair. Yes, he will see to that on subsequent nights. Tonight, they will journey farther away and find another lair. They will be hungry, but tomorrow night, they will be out on the hunt again.
Alan wakes and finds himself standing on the first floor of the compound that took him in a while ago. For a moment, he is confused and not sure how he arrived here. This isn’t the first time he’s suddenly found himself away from his small cubicle in the middle of the night. Many other nights have been ones full of nightmares in which he wakes drenched in sweat and wondering where the strange visions came from. His dreams have been filled with images of running endlessly through the night and ghastly moments of tearing into the bloody bowels of living people. His terror-filled nightmares end with him suddenly bolting upright and shivering uncontrollably. His blankets are crumpled and lying on the floor, his pillow soaked from night sweats.
Other nights have ended just like this one, waking in some part of the building confused and disoriented. In a way, this is better. He isn’t stuck with the sickening images. On nights like this one, he has the distinct impression he was on his way out and doesn’t know why, only that there is that definite pull to do so. That is the one thing that fills him with dread.
With the disoriented feeling fading, he makes his way back toward the escalator and his cot. The people here have treated him well since finding him outside of the gates. The memory of that day resurfaces and he relives those terror-filled moments when fleeing from those shrieking creatures in that dark building. The others here filled him in on the changes in the world. Those still seem like a fairy-tale story but waking in that dark room with the overpowering, musky odor of sweat and unwashed bodies lying next to him… his inability to see clearly but fleeing from those pounding footsteps and ungodly shrieks… launching into the daylight only to find himself alone. Night runners the ones here call them. And they tell him that they believe he might have been one of them. That’s the part that seems so far-fetched.
Waking the few times downstairs, like he did tonight, reminds him of waking in that room. For the first few seconds when he does, he thinks he’s back in that place. Fear fills him and he feels that he must flee. He hopes time eases his dreams and he finds a time when he doesn’t wake in a different place. Lying back on his cot, he hopes the dreams don’t return and that he can actually get some sleep. The one thing more frightening than the images of his dreams is that, on waking, he has the sensation that he actually enjoyed the experience within his dreams; he hates the thrill he remembers feeling.
Cressman watches as Alan returns upstairs. It’s not uncommon for some people to become restless and stroll through the building during the night. She’s noticed Alan walking around quite a few of the nights she’s been on watch. Thinking nothing of it, she returns to watching the entrances.
The dark outside gradually lightens with the coming day. We only managed a few hours of sleep, but for one of the first times out at night and sheltering in a 130, we aren’t bombarded by shrieks and slams against the fuselage from night runners. It was almost scary with its silence. Seeing the thousands of night runners show up on our screens and the suddenness of it makes me believe they are gathering in greater numbers. I guess that’s a natural evolution. I mean, we are doing it, I think watching from the cockpit as the overcast morning gradually lightens.
I’m still awed by the sheer number of night runners in the area.
The coming of the day reminds me that we’ve made it through another one. We’ve managed to keep one step ahead for yet another turn of the world. And last night, we managed to hit them and hit them hard. At least in our immediate area. Their numbers here make me wonder what it is like in the bigger cities. I can’t imagine the size of gatherings, say, in the Seattle area. Seeing the gathering like the one last night makes me feel that the odds of finding any other surviving souls are drastically low. Yet, we continue to find them in the oddest of places.
A fearful thought occurs,
With the day light enough to venture outside safely, we make our way to the vehicles. We’ll resupply the Spooky and ready it for another night of work before we travel back south. Driving over and maneuvering the heavy shells from the armory into the back of a supply truck, we manage to restock the AC-130. I pull the tapes and close up the aircraft feeling the tiredness of the long day yesterday and the flight last night. What we saw raises many questions but it was also encouraging to see that we were able to push the night runners farther away. It also felt good to be able to take the fight to them. Perhaps if we can keep that up, we can keep them off balance gaining us more time to fortify. I even think about just taking the Spooky aloft and observing their behavior over a few nights. Any intelligence we can gather will only aid us.
The exuberance we had on the first night out is replaced by one of weariness as we drive south back to Cabelas. I see that same tired look in Robert’s eyes as he rides along beside me but there is also a presence of a certain light. Pride… the sense of accomplishment… confidence, all shine through. I also noticed the ease with which Bri carried herself. It’s as if she was born to be in that seat. And her confidence with her training and experiences has shown itself as well. Glancing into the back, I see she is leaning her head against the door with her eyes closed — fast asleep. I hate this world that I have to bring them up in but I couldn’t be more proud of them. This is a very dangerous environment we find ourselves in but they have adapted well. Again, I hope we find a measure of peace before the constant stress begins to show itself outwardly. We can’t afford to make big mistakes. I can’t afford to make mistakes.
Nearing the off ramp that will take us to Cabelas, I wave at several semis with their accompanying escorts heading in the opposite direction. I’m guessing they are on their way to the distribution center to pick up supplies for Captain Leonard and his crew. The feeling of a nap grows stronger as we draw closer. There is still the debriefing for our flight and then meeting with the group to talk over the night’s events, but then it’s oblivion for me.
I pull in and park seeing people in the training phases on the firing ranges. It won’t be long until we have another group graduating. Then, depending on what Lynn sees, we may be able to increase our team numbers. With the view of the massed night runners last night, we could definitely use as many as we can get. I climb out of the driver’s seat with my bones feeling like they are made mostly of jello. My flight suit smells as bad as I feel. I think that is the only thing keeping me awake right now. Kind of like carrying my own smelling salts. Lynn walks over from one of the training groups and greets me with a hug.
“I love you, Jack, but you’re making my eyes water,” she says into my ear.
“Awww… that happy to see me, eh?” I reply.
“Well, I am but I guarantee that flight suit of yours is going to run away screaming when you take it off. I take that back, it’s already screaming and it will only run away.”
“It’s my new anti-personnel device,” I say, chuckling.
“Congratulations. It’s working. Now go shower and I’ll meet you inside shortly. I’m guessing you want to get the group together to meet,” she says, pulling away with a kiss.
“Yeah. It was an interesting night and I want to get everyone’s take on it before I slip into a coma. See ya in a few,” I reply.
Lynn nods and trots back to the training group. With Robert on one side of me and Bri on the other, we head inside. I’ve seen it a hundred times and thought about it as many, but seeing them walk along with M-4s over their
