A New World: Awakening (40 page)

Peering in, I see an empty hall like the others.
 
Apparently preacher man feels secure with his bodyguards, assuming that’s what they are, only being close by.
 
I open the door quietly and make my way down the room as on the lower levels; increasing hell’s count one soul at a time.
 
I reach the last door and peek in.
 
Sure enough, it’s the one who thinks he was called to purify the earth.

He is standing with a woman on her knees in front of him.
 
He has a handful of hair and a gun to her head.
 
I can’t go in like the other rooms.
 
If I take him out, he could have a responsive twitch and shoot the woman.
 
I swing the door open and step inside with my M-4 aimed at his head.
 
The woman turns her head to glance at me and preacher man whips his around.

“Who the fuck are you?”
 
He asks angrily.

“I’m the last person you want standing in this room with you,” I answer.

“Put that gun away or I’ll call my guards,” he says not releasing the woman or moving the gun from her head.

“You mean the ones who are soaking the bed sheets with their blood,” I say.

“You’ll never make it past the others,” he says; his eyes widening a touch with fear.

“This is just not your day for being right, is it?”
 
I say.
 
His eyes widen further.

“Stay back or I’ll shoot her,” he says thrusting the gun harder against the woman’s head.

“Go ahead.
 
She means nothing to me.
 
It’s you that I’ve come for,” I reply.
 
“But I tell you what.
 
You have two doors to choose from.
 
One, you can shoot her and I shoot you, or two, you can release her and I let you go.
 
A life for a life either way.
 
You choose.”

The door closes.
 
His eyes dart around the room fearfully, as if a way out will appear, before coming back to rest on the end of my suppressor only a few feet away and pointing unwaveringly at his head.

“If I let her go, you’ll let me go?”
 
He asks.

“Yep,” I answer.

“Okay, I choose door number two,” he says.

“That’s the one I’d pick,” I say.

He releases the hold on her hair and removes the gun from her head.
 
The woman scrambles to her feet and backs away from him wrapping her arms around her body.

“Ma’am, go into the hall and wait for me there,” I say.
 
With a look at the man and then at me, she scurries past me and out of the door.

“Nice and slow, set it on the ground,” I say nodding at the gun he is holding at his side.
 
I track his every move waiting for any quick movements as he kneels slowly and sets it on the floor.
 
He then stands back up.

“Are you clean and pure?”
 
I ask.
 
A confused look crosses his face.

“Yes, I am,” he answers with a quivering voice.

“Good.
 
Then that’ll make your transition easier,” I say.
 
The confused look continues.
 
His eyes then widen as he catches my meaning.

“But you said….” he stammers backing up.

“I lied,” I respond.

The bright flash highlights his open-mouthed fear as if caught with a camera.
 
Part of his brain, which once held his very confused and warped thoughts, splatters on the concrete wall; his life-giving blood streaking down to the floor.
 
The muffled gunshot lifts him from his feet and slams him into the sink against the wall.
 
He falls to the side slumping over the steel toilet.
 
Fitting end
, I think gathering up the woman’s clothing and leave the room.

The woman is squatting in the far corner by the door with her arms wrapped around her; her body shaking.
 
“Is…
 
Is he?”
 
She asks with a trembling voice.
 
I nod setting her clothes on the floor beside her.

“Good,” she spits.
 
“All of them?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply turning around so she can get dressed and to keep an eye on the far door.

She finishes quickly and we head down the stairs to the other women.
 
There could still be others patrolling that we missed so I remain alert.
 
Gathering the women, we start back through the building with me clearing the route and them behind me.
 
One of the women still occasionally sobs but we make it to the roof stairs without encountering anyone.
 
I let Greg know we are coming up and we trudge upward stepping out onto the roof.
 
I take a deep breath in anticipation of feeling the refreshment of the chill night air.
 
I do get my breath of fresh air but forgot about the dead cattle in the distance.
 
The air that rushes into my mouth and nose is tainted with the undertone of thousands of dead, rotting carcasses.
 
It’s only a little better than the stifling and stale air inside.
 
The ambience of the building is thick with the horrors of what went on inside.

The sky is clear and the moon casts light downward making for good visibility.
 
The wife of the man looks around the group huddled together on the flat roof.
 
With a cry of discovery, she runs to where her husband sits.
 
He stands and they embrace.
 
He flinches with her tight hug from his injuries but folds his arms around her.

“You made it,” Greg says as I move over to him.
 
“Does that mean the bill has been delivered?”

“Paid in full,” I answer.

“Good.
 
You look like a mess,” he says eying my face.

“I feel like a mess,” I say.
 
There is the release of tension in finishing what we came to do.
 
The adrenaline ebbs and an overwhelming tiredness replaces it.
 
“I’m going to lie down and rest.
 
Keep an eye on the door.”

“Will do,” he replies.
 
We are interrupted a few times by the men and women coming over to thank us.

“Thank us later, we’re not out of here yet,” I reply a couple of times.
 
A shriek sounds out from far away, like the faint howl of a coyote on a still summer night; almost forlorn.
 
I feel adrenaline try to enter into my already tired system but exhaustion has set in.
 
All heads turn toward the distant sound.
 
We all know what that sound is and it strikes dread in all of us, especially as we are all outside.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” I say to Greg.

“Might not be a bad idea although I kinda like it out here,” he replies.

“Yeah, me too but that could change in a hurry,” I say.

I really don’t want to move again but I’m sure our scent is being carried on the night air.
 
We are still a few hours away from dawn and not out of danger yet.
 
Greg and I gather everyone up and head inside.
 
There are a lot of bumps and some curses as the others shuffle and grope in the dark.
 
We find a large room close to the bottom of the stairs and hole up for the night.

The rest of the night passes without incident.
 
I take the first aid kit and administer what I can to the man who was beaten and whipped.
 
We get little rest although Greg and I take separate watches in order to try and recoup some of our lost sleep.
 
At daylight, we move through the tangle of corridors until we find a way out into the sunshine.

We walk around the large prison structure until we find the loading docks.
 
The walls cast shadows deep into the compound from the low lying sun of the morning.
 
Several pickup trucks are parked in the loading area.
 
There should be enough to bring everyone out but if not, we’ll scout the area and find others.
 
Horace and the teams should be about an hour or so away if they left at daybreak.
 
I would open the rear gate but I’m not sure these people didn’t have friends that might show up.

The sky promises another clear and brilliant blue day.
 
That of course means another warm one.
 
My eyes feel dry and gritty with the lack of sleep but we’ll hopefully be here only one more day.
 
I feel so grungy but that isn’t an entirely new feeling, just one I didn’t really want to be having in my later years.
 
During the wait, I let the ones who were held captive know about our place and that they are welcome to come with us.
 
If they want to stay, we’ll make sure they get to where they want to go.
 
Most take us up on our offer wanting to leave this place and the horrid recent memories.
 
Some have family in the area and opt to stay.
 
There are plenty of weapons inside and I offer up a team to escort them in when they arrive.

Greg radios and communicates with Horace as the sun rises to the top of the wall.
 
They aren’t far away and arrive at the rear gate ten minutes later.
 
We lift the big bar holding the gates shut and the teams drive in.
 
Bri exits and runs over to give me a big hug.

“I’m so glad you made it, Dad,” she says.

“I’m glad to see you too, sweet Bri,” I reply.
 
Robert strolls up shortly after.

“How was it?”
 
He asks.

“It was okay,” I answer with a shrug.
 
Yes, we do have that in common.

“Daaad,” I hear a shout and look up to see McCafferty running to the group of people gathered off to the side.

“Allie,” I hear her dad call back.

I give Horace a brief description of our encounter and the plan to take some of the others with.
 
I ask Greg to take Echo Team in as an escort for the ones staying to gather up weapons if they want them.
 
Some are reluctant to venture inside but he gathers a few and they disappear into the building, returning a while after.
 
We gather the ones going with us, twenty-two in total, and start allocating pickups with drivers and riders.

“What about using one of the cargo trucks?”
 
One of the soldiers from Blue team asks.

“That won’t work,” Robert answers.
 
“We have to go around that one town and those cargo vehicles won’t make it through the fields.”
 
It makes my heart proud to have him analyze this in that manner.

“Did they bother you this time through?”
 
I ask.

“No, no sign of anyone, sir,” Horace answers.

McCafferty, the dirt on her face streaked by just wiped tears, walks over with her dad trailing just behind her.

“Sir, thank you,” she says.

“No worries at all.
 
I’m just glad you found your dad,” I say.
 
She continues standing looking a little uncomfortable.
 
I tilt my head to the side inviting her to say whatever is making her uneasy.

“Sir, I know this isn’t really appropriate, but may I?”
 
She asks with a quiver in her voice and holding her arms to the side.
 
I’m confused by what she is asking but only for a second.

“Of course, I’m not a rabid dog,” I say shouldering my carbine.

McCafferty gives me a quick hug.
 
“My mom didn’t make it but thank you for finding my dad, sir,” she whispers choking back a sob.
 
I’m surprised the smell of my fatigues doesn’t make her pass out but she withdraws mostly intact.
 
Her dad steps up.
 
We introduce ourselves and he shakes mine and Greg’s hand.

“Thank you both so much.
 
And thank you, Jack.
 
For taking care of my precious Allie.
 
I want to thank this Sergeant Connell as well when we get back.
 
You have no idea how much this means to me,” he says.

“Sir, you have no idea how many times McCafferty here has pulled our bacon out of the fire so our making sure she’s happy and safe is more a matter of self-preservation,” I say.
 
“You have quite the warrior here.”

We brief our order of travel and plans for the return trip.
 
The ones staying say they can find their way so we leave them a couple of the trucks and depart.
 
The drive back to Canon AFB is uneventful and we arrive with the sun overhead.
 
Miguel and his group are waiting on the ramp standing around a myriad of vehicles.

The afternoon is spent searching for the ammo bunkers.
 
We eventually find them located near the airfield itself but away from the base buildings – for obvious reasons.
 
We transport crate after crate and load them into the AC-130.
 
We have a lot of people and a lot of ammo to take so we opt to leave the Humvees here.
 
The 130 can carry quite a lot of cargo but its capabilities aren’t endless.
 
Besides, there are plenty of Humvees at Fort Lewis so they won’t be missed.
 
The heat is no different from the other days and I’m thankful for the evening which brings cooler temperatures.
 
We flight plan our return trip and plug the info into the flight computers.
 
Robert will lead when we depart in the morning with me tagging along in an extended formation.
 
I am absolutely exhausted by the time the sun touches the western horizon.
 
I just hope we have a pleasant and uneventful flight back.
 
I am so ready to be home.
 
I think of Lynn and the longing becomes even more pronounced.