A New World: Sanctuary (41 page)

The suddenness of the attack is startling and close to overwhelming.
 
I direct Denton to cover the aisle I was in, so they don’t just round the corner on us, and move into the aisle.
 
My son is up ahead and, although moving back slowly, he is clearly trapped.
 
I take one step into the aisle and see his mag leave his receiver.
 
He gropes for another at his vest pouch and then they’re on him.
 
The foremost night runner slams into him and knocks him off balance.
 
Another, just behind the first, runs into him and knocks him to the ground.
 
They both go down on top of him and I hear him yell; startled, fearful, and perhaps pain.
 
They’re on top of my son and bent over him.
 
I lose it!

“Make sure everyone gets out,” I yell to Henderson and become oblivious to all else.

I race up the aisle replacing my own mag, passing the two backing quickly out.
 
My focus is on the night runners bent over Robert.
 
Time and motion slows.
 
He is writhing under the two night runners on top of him as he tries to gain some leverage on them.
 
They are too well situated and bent over him.
 
I chamber the first round with a flick of the bolt release.
 
I hear Robert scream in pain and feel the kick from my M-4 as it delivers the first rounds.
 
They streak out for the night runners clawing and biting my son.
 
The first bullets impact one of the night runners on top of the head with the others entering the back of its head and back.
 
A small splash of blood sprays out from where the round hits on top with a larger shower erupting into the air above it as my second round takes off the back of its head.
 
It slumps down on top of Robert and rolls to the side.

I quickly shift my aim to the next one; the thin beam of my aiming sight coming to rest on top of its head as well.
 
Robert’s hands are on the side of its head trying to keep it away but I see his grip weaken.
 
Light flashes and my next rounds are on the way.
 
I’m oblivious to this as my entire focus is on getting to Robert.
 
Nothing else matters.
 
A similar pattern of blood gushes from the second night runner and it slumps on top of Robert.

“Get up!”
 
I yell sending another burst into night runners trying to take their fallen pack members’ places.

He tilts his head backward looking in my direction but doesn’t move any more than that.
 
His goggles have been knocked clear and I see his wide eyes looking back at me with fear and pain written in them.
 
A night runner goes down at Robert’s feet but another fills the gap immediately.
 
I switch to semi in order to conserve rounds.
 
Reloading will force me back and I may lose him forever if that happens.
 
And that’s not going to happen.
 
A rage built on fear erupted upon seeing my son go down and now it builds even higher with the thought of being pushed back.
 
I take steps forward spitting out single rounds.
 
A steel net of determination tightens down in my mind.
 
I will reach my boy!
 
There is nothing that will interfere with that.

Night runners go down as rounds strike their bodies, either injuring or putting them down for good.
 
A small mound begins to build.
 
The line of creatures isn’t able to advance but neither is there any room gained either.
 
I step next to Robert’s head and look quickly down.

“Can you get up?”
 
I ask delivering another round into a night runner seeking to get closer.

There is no response but he continues to look up into my eyes.
 
I see a large chunk of flesh has been ripped from his neck and blood is spilling to the floor his head.
 
Fear, panic, and anger continue to rage through my system but it is at a level below a certain calmness.
 
It is the fuel that is keeping my ability, determination, and actions going.
 
The overriding calmness, well, more actually a lack of emotion, is the source that directs those actions.
 
They combine to create a wall that no night runner will break; a wedge between me and my son on the ground that no one will overcome.
 
The combination makes it so no other result is possible.
 
I kneel beside him continuing to deliver rounds into the waiting night runners, their screams echoing in my ears.
 
I plan to drag Robert while keeping the creatures at a distance.
 
I look down at his eyes quickly, locking with his gaze, and see the life leave his eyes.
 
His head lolls to the side and the pooling of the blood beside him slows.
 
I reach quickly down, firing the single rounds one-handed into the mass just feet away.
 
Feeling on the side of his ruined neck, I can’t discern a pulse.

“Noooooo!”
 
I scream.
 
My scream, enhanced by the terror and sudden grief, the emotion that was riding below the threshold erupts, and rises far above the shrieks and sounds of firing already filling the interior of the building.

I look up towards the entrance door and see the faint outline of light radiating in that direction.
 
My vision centers on that small piece of light.
 
The edge of my vision darkens, forming a tunnel with the faint light centered within.
 
I feel myself being pulled and stretched towards the light.
 
I swoop towards the entrance as if being pulled through a tunnel; the light growing brighter as I draw closer.

I’m suddenly standing outside feeling a slightly dizzy.
 
Fear, panic, and grief consume me.
 
I’m shaking my head as if to clear the dizziness.
 
I look around and see the members from Alpha and Red Teams standing around me as if waiting for instructions.
 
Most importantly, there is Robert standing beside me.
 
I notice the clarity in the definition of the things around and the aspect of it seeming to be overly bright is gone.
 
I feel confused but then realize everything that just happened was in my mind.
 
It feels like waking from a nightmare and finding everything is as it should be.

“Are you okay, sir?”
 
Watkins asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say shaking my head once again.
 
“We’re going to find some other place to shop.”

I don’t know if this was a clairvoyant vision or a product of my own imagination but there’s no way in hell I’m going inside this store, especially with Robert.
 
The grief still sits inside me but is overshadowed by an overwhelming relief that he’s still okay.
 
It could be that our senses are no longer flooded with a barrage of messages or external sensations and our minds now allow for more subliminal aspects to filter in.
 
We don’t have to filter out so much “noise” and that perhaps allows our minds to “see” better.
 
Whatever it is, what I saw and felt was real to me and we are not going inside.

“Whatever you say, sir,” Watkins replies.
 
“Where are we going?”

“We’ll call Frank and see what stop-and-robs haven’t been searched.
 
We’ll hit a few of them,” I answer.

I would mark this place as off-limits but the vision, if you can call it that, may be limited to this space and time and only with the associated people involved.
 
We turn and head back to the Humvees, radioing Frank and gathering additional places to go.
 
No one says anything nor do I see weird looks.
 
Anyone who has known combat or trained understands and appreciates those second-sight senses; respects them.
 
We always listened to those perceptions and they merely became another sense while we were out on a mission.

We spend the day hopping from small market to small market and fill the transport vehicle in the process.
 
The stores we venture into are free from any night runner signs and, staying cautious and alert, we don’t encounter any within.
 
The clouds thicken as the day goes on until the sun is merely a brighter spot in the sky.
 
It looks like the front has won out after all.
 
It’s not cloudy or dim enough to worry much about the night runners yet but, regardless, we make a call out for the teams to be on their toes.
 
I’m not too happy about the soldiers driving the trucks to be by themselves but our limited manpower gives us no other option.

Smoke billows in the distance throughout the day as the burn teams tackle another area.
 
At times when stepping out of the Humvee close to the large, rising column of dark smoke, I hear the sound of someone calling over a loudspeaker.
 
The individual words can’t be heard but the sound is unmistakable.
 
It’s the teams calling out ahead of the burns to see if there are any survivors in the area.
 
Only once do I hear the actual announcement.

“This area is scheduled for a burn.
 
If there’s anyone alive, we can provide shelter and food.
 
If you need assistance, let us know in some way.
 
Again, this area is scheduled for a burn….”
 
The voice then drifts off as whoever it is turns, gets farther away, or something comes between us blocking the rest.

We return to our sanctuary with the light beginning to fade from the day.
 
The smoke from the fires is lending a yellowish-brown cast to the clouds and light.
 
Two of the trucks, loaded with concrete partitions, pull in ahead of us and park by one of the cranes to offload.
 
The teams with the wall have made tremendous progress and the wall now stretches several hundred feet from where they started this morning.
 
If we can continue to make this kind of effort, we’ll be finished long before the summer and good weather leaves.
 
More importantly, we’ll be finished when we still have longer days in which to get the rest of our place in order to prepare for the winter months.

The priority is still with the wall, but I see our next will be keeping enough fuel on hand for the generator and to prepare for the eventuality for when we won’t be able to use it.
 
I still feel we’re under the gun somewhat but looking at the partially built wall, stretching across the now torn up and dusty field, gives me a sense of satisfaction.
 
The feeling and experience I had earlier in the day still sits inside and I’m thankful for it.
 
I’m reminded that there’s a fine line between the satisfied feeling I have now and the total, mind-shattering grief it could have been.

The next day is mostly a repeat of the last with the exception that the mission is centered on short-term fuel gathering and storage.
 
Bannerman mentions the vast amount of diesel we are running through.
 
The semi’s and cranes suck down a tremendous amount.
 
We rig a fuse panel insert onto the towed generator that we can hook into a main building bus panel and travel around to a few gas stations; some we visited yesterday.
 
There are many fire stations in the area and we pick up a couple of tenders (trucks designed to carry a large amount of water), empty them, and pump the diesel into them.
 
We denote “diesel” on the side so, if we decide to opt for this solution for other fuels, we won’t mix them up.
 
I decide on using the fire trucks as opposed to tanker trucks as they have the ability to both pump and siphon.

The wall stretches further by about the same amount as the day before when we arrive after the end of the day.
 
Robert, Bri, and the other civilians we picked up start their training the next day.
 
Bannerman found Lynn her bulldozer somewhere and a long row of dirt lines one end of the field forming a berm wall.
 
She has her shooting range.
 
The neighborhood burn teams have located and brought in four additional survivors.
 
They were holed up in a barricaded house at the end of a cul-de-sac.
 
They mentioned they were running low on both food and water and were hesitant to venture forth to find any with their low numbers.
 
This gives hope that there are others and we’ll continue to look for them as best we can.

We open the doors the following morning to a cloudy and drizzly day.
 
There is a hesitance on keeping the doors open as I don’t know how the cloud cover will affect the night runners.
 
There aren’t any in sight but we delay the start to our day, sending patrols out to verify that the streets and areas are indeed still ours.
 
They come back and report that there are no runners in sight so our day proceeds.
 
Robert, Bri, and the others begin their training under Lynn with some help as needed by the standby team, which happens to be Red Team today.