Captain Leonard stares at the radio. He can’t believe what he just heard and imagines he is on the receiving end of some hoax. Perhaps some kid has tapped into the UHF emergency frequency and is playing a game with him. Although, the situation onshore and on the usually busy waterways lend credence to what he just heard.
“Captain Walker, stand by one,” he says, trying to keep any disbelief from his voice.
He wills himself to hold the microphone steady. Although there is only the communications officer in the radio room with him, it wouldn’t do to show any nervousness.
“Go fetch the Blue Team leader and bring him here,” Leonard directs the communications officer.
“Yes, sir,” the officer says and leaves quickly.
Captain Leonard mulls over what he has heard and compares it with what he has seen. The two seem to mesh into a consistent story but the story it presents is a far-fetched one. It’s as far-fetched as the one the Blue Team leader told him upon his return from the Philippines. It’s still too far from the reality Leonard left for his mind to wrap itself around. He has been trained to think outside of the box for many years but to return to this? There must be a different plausible explanation but he decides to keep his mind open to any possibility. He wouldn’t have made it through the cold war intact if he wasn’t able to do so.
“Chief Petty Officer Krandle reporting as ordered, sir,” Leonard hears the Blue Team leader report at the door to the radio room.
“Come in Chief. I want you to hear this,” Leonard says. CPO Krandle steps into the room making the tight compartment even more cramped with his bulk.
“Captain Walker, would you please repeat what you just said?” Leonard says into the radio. The words come back just as before.
“Would you please describe these night runners as you call them?” Leonard says.
“They can only operate at night or in darkness, as I mentioned, and they hide out in darkened buildings during the day. They have a paler skin than normal with darker blotches haphazardly spread. They have great night vision, can seemingly hear better than us, are faster, more agile, and stronger. And there’s one other thing you might want to be seated for, we are a source of their food.”
Chief Petty Officer Vance Krandle listens to the words transmitted over the tinny speaker by his head. The words coming out send shivers down his back. He thinks back to his previous mission, the images of Gold Team being overrun and going down under a horde of pale skin people without weapons. The remembered images flash through his mind like a movie on fast forward. The recalled screeches and screams from the buildings and jungle cause goose bumps to sprout on his arms and the hair on his neck to rise. The memory of their chase through the jungle with the hordes on their tail. He remembers the look of disdain Captain Leonard had given him when he debriefed but he knows what he saw and he heard.
Every night he lay in his bunk searching for a different answer, for a more plausible one, but the images were too real. Hearing words that validate his memories is both comforting and shocking. There is a degree of comfort knowing he hasn’t lost it but the shock that what he saw is happening, or happened, on a world-wide basis is almost too much. They lost a good team and his leader to this. His jaw hangs open with the realization that there may be less than one percent of the population left and these things he encountered are roaming across the world he once knew. The fact that they could no longer be at the top of the food chain leaves him shaken.
“Chief Krandle,” he hears, shaking himself out of the reverie the news created.
“Aye, sir,” he responds automatically.
“Do these… things… sound like what you encountered?” Captain Leonard asks him.
“Aye, sir, they could be the same. At least the description matches,” he answers.
“Did you see these things actually start eating Gold Team?” Leonard asks, looking him in the eye with deadly earnest.
“Sir, it happened so quick that I can’t be sure but it did appear that way,” Krandle replies.
“Very well, Chief, you’re dismissed,” Leonard says.
“Aye, sir,” Krandle responds and turns to go.
“Chief,” Leonard says as he is at the door. Krandle turns.
“This is not to be discussed with anyone,” Leonard says.
“Aye, sir,” he replies.
“Oh, and Chief, thank you,” Leonard says.
“For what, sir?”
“For bringing your team back safely,” Leonard says.
“Thank you, sir.”
Chief Krandle heads back to the crew mess where he was downing some of the worst coffee he has ever had with the rest of his team. Ducking through hatches which always seemed too small for his size, he thinks about the ramifications of what he just heard
“What was that all about?” His assistant team leader asks as he steps through the hatch to the crew mess.
“Nothing. The Captain had a question,” Krandle answers.
“When are we getting out of this steel coffin?” His point man asks.
“I don’t know. This isn’t the week the Captain sees fit to brief me on his decisions,” Krandle replies. “But if I had my say on the matter, we’d have left fifteen minutes ago.”
Captain Leonard stands in the cramped radio room, although it’s not as bad as it was when CPO Krandle practically filled the room on his own. The possibility of the radio communication being a practical joke left his mind the moment Krandle verified what was said by what he’d witnessed. To Leonard’s mind, that leaves very little else to explain what has happened. Either he accepts what he has heard from two different sources, trusted or not, or he has to give into a large conspiracy. And that seems even more far-fetched than anything else.
He stares at the mic in his hand and, for one of the first times in his life, feels at a loss for words. With his communications officer standing by his shoulder, indecision grips him. Should he brief his officers and come up with a solution or trust this Captain Walker. He feels like surfacing the boat and standing on the deck looking over the shoreline, waiting for an answer to float across the gentle waves. He can always turn around, take his boat back out, and lose himself under the sea. But if this is some elaborate ruse, he could lose command of his vessel and his career will swirl down the drain. He makes his decision.
“Captain Walker, this is Captain Raymond Leonard, commander of the Santa Fe. What exactly did you mean when you said we are their food source?”
“Captain Walker, would you please repeat what you just said?” I hear and repeat what I told them. I’m assuming that whoever I was talking to had someone else listen in.
“Would you please describe these night runners as you call them?” The voice says after giving them the cliff notes version again.
“They can only operate at night or in darkness as I mentioned and hide out in darkened buildings. They have a paler skin than normal with darker blotches haphazardly spread. They have great night vision, can seemingly hear better, are faster, more agile, and stronger. And there’s one other thing you might want to be seated for, we are a source of their food,” I tell them.
There is a significant pause on the other end. I can only imagine how startled they must be feeling. Well, startled is an understatement. I’m not even sure I would believe what I was hearing if I were them. The squelch breaks again.
“Captain Walker, this is Captain Raymond Leonard, commander of the Santa Fe. What exactly did you mean
