A New World [7] Takedown (14 page)

You have to be kidding me
, I think, sweeping my binoculars over the others in one position or another.

Some are wearing camo while others are in a motley array of clothing. All have bandanas tied around their heads.

“What do you want to do, Jack?” Greg asks.

“Fuck it. Let’s see what they want,” I answer.

“Are you actually going out there?”

“I guess so. From what I can see, they’re all kids,” I reply.

“Kids with guns. Don’t forget that.”

“Not to worry, there isn’t a chance I’ll forget that.”

I’ve seen enough child soldiers to last me a lifetime. They’re more dangerous than adult soldiers in a lot of ways. Their reasoning process is different. Once they taste the power they hold over others by way of a gun, they tend to use that reasoning process in most of their interactions. Of course, that’s what they are used for. They’re easily brainwashed and an easy source of loyal troops for warlords. Where regular soldiers may have a cognitive ability and a sense of morality, child soldiers are generally fiercely loyal no matter what and have little sense of moral thinking about what they are doing.

That may not be what’s going on here but, if there isn’t any adult supervision around, and I’m assuming there isn’t from the looks of things, then they may have stepped down that path. The skulls and dolls make a little more sense now.

Setting the binoculars down, I secure my M-4 to my back, and walk toward the kid standing on the path. I have my Beretta handy if I need it. If they were going to fire on us, then the kid wouldn’t have stepped out. This is for show. I keep an eye on the kids in the tree line. They are, to a soul, watching me as I approach. I know Henderson and the Stryker are keeping a close eye on them as well and will call if they see something untoward happening.

I approach to within a few feet. The kid is trying to maintain a fierce face, but I can tell he’s nervous. I know this because of his eyes and the fact that he keeps shifting his weight from foot to foot. He may not be used to dealing with a heavily-armed adult. His eyes keep traveling to the assorted knives strapped to my vest and legs, the grenades peeking out of their pouches, and to the barrel poking above my shoulder. I don’t really have my friendly face on either. I’ll have to look into changing that someday.

Taking a deep breath through his nostrils, he looks up at me. He realizes he has to show authority in front of the others or he’s out. Those are the rules. I’ll see where this goes.

“This is Golddigger territory and you’re intruding,” he says as his opening line. This is a play that has to be acted out.

“Listen, son, we are just here to—” I start to say.

“I’m not your son. We don’t want you here,” he interrupts loudly.

I see how this is going to be played out. If he gets us to go away with his fierceness, then his place in the group grows. Or perhaps this is how he deals with everything now. However, being interrupted by a kid, teen or not, grates on me.

“I see the first thing to go is manners. And yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear…son,” I reply.

I see the anger infuse his eyes, his scowl deepens. He’s still nervous and really doesn’t know what to make of someone not being afraid of him because he has a gun. Truth be told, I’m a little nervous standing out here as well, but I don’t dare show it. After all, anything can happen and he may not be posturing.

“I don’t think you understand. With a wave of my hand, I could have you shot,” he states.

“Hmmm…well…that would be a pretty big mistake.”

“Oh yeah. How so?” he asks, defiantly.

“Because of them,” I answer, pointing at the teams behind me.

“Ha, I know how many you have and we outnumber you.”

“Perhaps so, but you might want to take a closer look. Those are highly trained soldiers with automatic weapons. And that,” I say, pointing, “is a Stryker armored vehicle with an automatic .50 caliber turret. You’re just a bunch of kids with hunting rifles. What chance do you think you would have?”

He looks around me to the soldiers poised in firing positions. I notice a change cross his face as he thinks of the ramifications of actually taking us on. He pulls back and puts on his game face again.

“About having me shot…I wake up each and every day with the concept that it’s a good day to die. How about you? Did you wake up this morning with that same thought? I hope so, because if you do one foolish thing, then that’s what’s going to happen. You will have observed your last sunrise,” I state.

His face goes through a variety of contortions. This obviously wasn’t going the way he wanted or was used to. I would ask after their parents, but I don’t think I really want the answer to that. I’m pretty sure they aren’t around anymore for whatever reason – although I have my suspicions – or they would have made an appearance by now.

“We aren’t just a bunch of kids. We’ve made it this far and will continue to survive. We don’t need or want anyone else…especially adults. You’re lucky I’m letting you leave peacefully. That’s if you leave now.”

Now, I don’t remember saying anything about leaving, but I will. If there was any thought of asking them to come with us, it’s gone. It would take a lot of deprogramming and I’m no expert at that. They would be unruly and refute any adult authority. However, there is a heart-mind thing going on inside. The heart says bring them and they’ll adapt over time, but my mind says there’s no way I’d want them in the compound. They could change over time if surrounded by adults but…

I don’t get the thought finished before he continues. “You’d better hurry before I change my mind.”

I take a step forward, noticing his eyes go wide with fright. I glower down on him. “I don’t take kindly to being threatened. You obviously have no idea what would happen if you tried anything. You may get a shot off, but this place would be torn apart and it would be over in about twenty seconds with dust settling on your bodies before you could chamber another shell. We’ll leave, but you might want to watch who you threaten in the future. You’re lucky you’ve caught me on a good day.”

With that, I turn and begin walking back toward the Stryker. There’s a part of me that feels bad for just leaving them here, but I don’t really see how they’d come short of kidnapping them. And they wouldn’t take too kindly to that. No, unfortunately, it’s best just to leave them.

There’s so much more I wanted to ask, like how they are dealing with the night runner threat, parents, others in the area, that sort of thing, but now I’m just tired. I’m sure the answers wouldn’t be to my liking anyway. I have a feeling I know what skulls are lying down in that pit, but I don’t want to know for sure. Right now, I just want to climb out of this dark fairy tale and move on.

“Mount up. We’re leaving,” I say upon reaching the Stryker.

“Are they coming with us?” Robert asks.

“No.”

“Did you ask them?” Bri questions.

“No.”

Greg merely tilts his head then shrugs.

“I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, let’s get back to the 130 and plan tomorrow’s leg,” I say.

Leaving the Jeeps behind, we mount the Stryker and depart to chants of “Golddiggers” coming from the trees.

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The transition from being out cold to consciousness is abrupt. It’s oblivion one moment and awareness the next. Startled, she opens her eyes. The surrounding darkness is so complete that she isn’t sure that her eyes are open at all. She consciously blinks, feeling her lids contact each other. There isn’t any change in the blackness. For a moment she thinks she is blind but then the darkness resolves itself into dark grays and shadows. Stiff, sore and feeling like a drum corps is playing in her head, focus sharpens. Lynn fully wakes.

Inside of her throbbing head, the memories of her last moments surface. With a panicked feeling, she runs her hands along her body performing a quick check. Her uniform is stiff in places from dried blood but nothing feels out of place. Putting her hands on the hard, cold surface beneath her, she begins to push herself up. A growl comes from nearby causing her to instantly freeze. A jolt of electricity runs through her body. She’s heard that growl before and, sitting here in the almost complete darkness, the sound fills her with fear.

The musky scent of body odor fills the area. Expecting to be immediately attacked, she launches into action. Rising quickly, she turns toward the growl. She grabs for her M-4 but finds nothing. Reaching to her hip, she finds that her sidearm is also missing. With mounting fear, she gropes for her knives. They too are gone. The low growl becomes more menacing – if that is even possible. She’s in a darkened building after being attacked by night runners and there is no more threatening sound than that of one close by.

Ahead of her, a thin line near the ground is just a shade lighter than the surrounding gloom. She notes the door as she braces for an attack. Within the deep gray of the room, she sees five darker shadows near the door.

Night runners
, she thinks,
not moving but poised for action.
Whatever happens, I’ll go down fighting
.

The shadowy figures don’t move. Time seems to stop. Lynn and the night runners face each other, neither knowing what the other will do. The fact that they don’t launch at her is perplexing. She’s never faced any night runners when they didn’t immediately attack with whatever number they had. Surely the five of them aren’t afraid of her. Ordinarily, five would attack even if she had all of the teams here. Comprehension dawns that they were in the room with her when she was out. If they meant to harm her, they wouldn’t have hesitated just because she was unconscious. The sheer fact that she is still alive baffles her even more.

The thought of the teams brings back the memories of the night runners breaking in and attacking Cabela’s. She can’t piece together her last visions of night runners overrunning her position and her being here now. She feels that she should be able to span the gulf between her memories and the present situation but she isn’t able to. Another growl interrupts her thoughts. She tenses, anticipating an attack but the night runners maintain their position by the door. She takes a step toward them. All five give a low, warning growl.

Okay, that didn’t work. I guess I’m not going to just walk out of here
.

Lynn takes a step back and the growls cease. It’s apparent to her that she isn’t going to be attacked so she relaxes a little. Confused, sore, and tired, Lynn sits back in her original position, her mind cycling through a million thoughts.

Are they alright?
she thinks, regarding those within the sanctuary.
Did they manage to fight the night runners off, or did they fall as she did? Are there any others captured? How, and why, am I still alive? What in the fuck happened?

It’s apparent that she is a prisoner and the night runners stationed at the door are guarding her. For the life of her, she can’t figure out why in the hell she is captured. Just a few moments ago, she would have thought the very idea of capture would be far beyond the thought processes of any night runner. The fact that she is being held by night runners doesn’t alleviate her tension. If anything, it multiplies it. She’s alone, doesn’t know where she is – only that she is in a darkened room surrounded by night runners, and she doesn’t know if anyone else made it out alive. Her heart sinks and a tear creates a muddy streak down her cheek.

At least Jack wasn’t there and is therefore alive
, she thinks.

The thought of Jack and not knowing if she will ever see him again makes her heart sink even more. At this particular moment in time, she feels very lonely and frightened.

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Arriving at the 130 in the late afternoon, I watch as Robert goes over the coordinates for the next leg of our flight. Our next stop is McConnell AFB, Kansas. The very thought of the base reminds me of Lynn. I miss her. I’m glad this will be my last trip out. I don’t like being away from her. I know my constant journeying doesn’t sit well and I don’t blame her. I wasn’t such a fan of her deployments either. Although, that was her job and these are, well, more voluntary. I just have a hard time not being there if others are putting themselves at risk. Of course, this puts me into a quandary as I don’t like constantly leaving Lynn. I honestly don’t know why she puts up with me, but I’m happy she does. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

I’ve thought about putting aside the leadership role many times and perhaps it’s time I did. I’ve noticed my constant tiredness and wonder if I’ve lost my edge. Maybe it’s just the weird day. I don’t know. Not so long ago, I would have laughed at the kid and walked away rather than engage in a pissing contest with a fourteen-year-old. Of course, my sweet Nic was alive then and the world, as shitty as it was sometimes, was a better place. As much as I want to look for the families of the soldiers, I want to be back to what I consider home equally as much.

Watching Robert calmly check the figures in the nav computer brings a sensation of pride. I mean, it’s always there, but I guess I’m just feeling emotional. I know, weird, right? He has come so far in this strange new world we find ourselves in and has adapted remarkably well. As has Bri. I think on how diverse the survivor groups are that we’ve encountered - some unraveling at the seams and others maintaining well. Without societal norms guiding us, core aspects are rising up and manifesting themselves in different ways. Yeah, today has put me in a strange mood. Robert finishes and sits back with a sigh.