running, I glass the surrounding area with a pair of binoculars. I see nothing but tall brown grass growing in patches by the edges of the taxiways and ramp. The rest is dry, dusty fields. Nothing moves except an occasional dust devil rising in the air from a breeze moving through the area. Robert sends out additional unanswered radio calls and we eventually shutdown. The rear ramp is lowered and the Stryker untied and driven out. It too shuts down and quiet settles over the area. Even the birds and other wildlife that might be around are silent.
“Well, how do you want to handle this?” Greg asks as we gather around the Stryker.
“We can’t all go. I figure we’ll leave three of your team with Craig and the others. It might be a little cramped but we’ll take the rest of your team along with Red Team. The town is about fifteen miles to the southeast along that highway,” I say, pointing to a two-lane road just on the other side of the perimeter fence. “I don’t like leaving so few but I don’t see that we really have a choice.”
I would really like to take the full teams. The Stryker won’t carry all of us but we can always pull a vehicle from the depot next to the ramp. I don’t want to leave the ones we picked up in Mountain Home unguarded though. I don’t really know them and someone full of conspiracy shit may do anything if spooked. The 130 is our only way out of here. Well, quickly, that is. It’s a helluva drive to the next base with any aircraft and I’m not about to quick learn one of the Huey helicopters parked on the ramp. The last “first” helicopter lessons weren’t pretty. Plus, with the 130 being our only quick departure plan, I do not want to leave it completely unguarded. We’ll only be a short distance away and can respond quickly if called. I wish we had brought another team but I also didn’t want to leave the compound short-handed. We’ll make do with what we have, which always seems too few.
“Is all of Red Team going?” Robert asks, standing just behind me.
“Yes, you are going,” I reply.
“And, ahem, me?” Bri asks.
With a heavy sigh, I respond, “Yes, you can go, but you stay right with Gonzalez.”
“I will, Dad,” Bri says.
“Gonzalez?” I say, questioning with a raised eyebrow.
“No worries, sir. The princess warrior and I will be just fine.”
“I’m not shitting here, Bri. None of this ‘I think I’ll climb on top of the aircraft and shoot night runners’ shit,” I state.
I’m not very happy about taking them along but I’m even less happy with leaving them in this world unprepared and inexperienced. I would keep Bri by my side but I know I’d be far too protective and not allow her to gain any experience.
“Okay, Dad. I promise no climbing on the aircraft,” Bri replies.
“I mean it, Bri,” I state.
“Okay, Dad, sheesh… sense of humor much?” Bri responds with a smile.
Seeing her smile melts my heart but I’m also reminded of another smile that I miss so much. I just want to duct tape Bri in foam padding and set her in a room. Maybe even a padded room. It’s much the same thought I had when I thought about her dating. However, I know that has the same odds of happening as keeping her from dating has. And that is less than zero. However, I never thought of arming her if she dated. Seeing her now with her M-4 slung over her shoulder, perhaps I should have. That would have kept the hormone-induced fifteen year old boys at a distance. Hmmmm… food for thought.
“No, sense of humor nil. Now get your gear together and ready to saddle up,” I say.
Loaded up, we drive through a chain link fence surrounding the airfield, across a narrow ditch, and up onto the highway. Dry, barren fields line the road, with the occasional farm house and outlying buildings here and there, as we make our way to the southeast. Some fields have tall grass growing but for the most part, they are dry and barren. We pause at the entrance to each farm house looking for anyone around but come up empty, just like the road we are traveling. We are headed for the small town of Belt where one of the soldiers has parents.
Dust has blown across a lot of the road masking it completely in some places. The earth is slowly taking back its own and I wonder how long the roads will be distinguishable. I imagine the dusty places with little rain will be the first to disappear as the blown sands and dirt shift. The rainy part of the country will keep this at bay for a while but they will eventually crack with moss and plants retaking them. Over time, the outskirts of the cities will fall into ruin and vanish in a similar manner. Small towns, like the one we are heading to, will be the first to go.
Reaching Belt Creek Road, we make a left. The road parallels a narrow creek lined with small trees and dense bushes. A little farther, we pass under a railroad trestle and, although faded, it is spray painted with the usual graffiti. On the other side, the town begins abruptly with a few residential houses stretching off to both sides of the road. One larger white building has “Harvest Moon Brewing Co” on its side.
The road curves ahead and the soldier tells me that it turns into the tiny downtown area with a small number of shops lining the street. He goes on to say that his parents live on the east side, on the other side of a stream that runs through town. The only way to get there is by going through downtown and taking a bridge across. I halt the Stryker before the turn and lower the ramp to disembark. I want to find out if we can see or hear anything prior to jumping into the middle of the town.
Standing on the cracked pavement with high grass and trees surrounding the few houses along the street, I hear the swish of a breeze as it blows through the grass and tree limbs. The late morning sun shining down belies the chill in the air. The larger stream lies just a short distance to the side and burbles as it makes its way along its tree-lined path. Over the top of these close sounds, I hear what sounds like a shout. Yes, it’s definitely a shout.
“Did you hear that?” I ask those around me.
“I don’t hear shit. Are your spidey senses tingling, sir?” Gonzalez replies.
“No, listen. I swear I hear something,” I say. I understand I can hear better than the others but it seems so loud that I’m sure they must be able to hear it as well.
I hear a muttered, “….super powers….”
Turning to Greg, I tell him, “Shut the Stryker down. I think I hear something and want complete quiet.”
“What?” He says, incredulously.
“Shhh… just do it,” I say.
The hum of the Stryker vanishes and I strain to hear anything carried on the breeze. There, it’s faint but I definitely hear shouting from around the corner. I can’t distinguish what is said but it’s definitely a human shout. I tell the others.
“Red Team, on me. Greg, you stay here with the others. We’re going to creep to the corner and see what we can,” I say.
With red team following, I step into the tall reeds of grass in one of the yards. It isn’t quite as tall as me so I creep through at a crouch. The small field of grass stretches all of the way to the corner and seemingly beyond. I cross a narrow walkway leading to a foot bridge spanning the stream and continue. Looking to my rear, I see Robert spaced behind me with the shadows of the others in trail. I part the grass ahead slowly not wanting to make a trail or to let anyone ahead know we are coming by any obvious grass movement. Slow step by step, I make my way to where I can see down the street into the heart of the very small town. I halt and the others crouch facing to the sides.
Grabbing a few stalks of grass to stick in my boonie hat and top of my vest, I rise slowly to a point where I am able to see just above the top of the grass. I bring the binoculars up ensuring I shield the front lenses with my hands. Not too far away is what looks like a pub with the entrance to a parking lot adjacent to it. A couple of other store fronts line both sides of the road. In the open lot, a couple of pickup trucks are parked with several people behind the beds and hoods aiming hunting rifles and assault weapons toward a store across the street. I count eight, but from shadows that appear and the shouts, it appears there are more out of sight from us in the lot itself.
From all appearances, it seems the ones outside have a group trapped in the store. I see a couple of barrels sticking out from windows facing the street. There is shouting from both sides but I still can’t make out individual words. In most situations, there are the good guys and the bad guys. Sometimes though, it’s good guys versus good guys and sometimes bad against bad. It’s hard to tell which is which just rolling up in the middle of something. One thing I do know, there are survivors here. It does seem like the small towns may have a higher survival rate but that hasn’t really shown itself to be an exact trend as yet.
