A New World: Sanctuary (8 page)

We proceed further into the armory, slowly checking every inch until I at last see the rear of the building.
 
Nothing shrieks or jumps out at us.
 
I didn’t expect anything from the locked condition of the building but assuming something can get you or those around you killed.
 
I turn us around and head back to Watkins.
 
Exiting, I look at the vehicles and do one of those face-palm slaps.

“Watkins, can you bring the transport to the entrance and shine the lights inside?
 
That’ll help us see to inventory and gather what we want.
 
I should have thought of that right off the bat,” I say shaking my head with my own stupidity - or at least my own lack of thinking.

“No problem,” he answers and directs Calloway to go get the truck.

I notice the distinct lack of salutations with the exception of towards each other, well, among the enlisted.
 
Can I still call them that?
 
Well, now that I think about it, it is really only gone when addressing me.
 
I certainly don’t mind, just noticed, that’s all.

Calloway drives the truck to the entrance, lighting up the interior with the headlight beams.
 
I have Watkins keep two of Alpha outside to maintain security around us and we head in.
 
Now that I’m not searching for night runners playing hide-and-seek or seeking to serve me up on a plate, I see the treasure trove we have.
 
Lines of M-4s are in racks on the left.

I walk over to one, grabbing it from the rack.
 
Looking at the selector lever, I feel the delight of a kid getting the exact present he wanted at Christmas.
 
It’s an M-4A1 – fully auto with an integrated rail system.
 
Dozens of them line the wall.
 
Looking closer in the light cast by the idling truck, I see they are all equipped with SpectreDR sights.
 
My thrill level increases substantially.
 
These are optics that provide for close range and ranged capabilities.
 
This means this armory has the latest and greatest special ops modules.
 
I turn toward the large cases stored in several of the shelf units.
 
They must contain the remainder of the modules and I hope they are fully equipped.
 
If so, the modules will have suppressors, night vision sights, and infrared aiming devices which are meant to be used with night vision goggles.
 
I set the carbine back in the stand.
 
I want to take it right there and then but choose to keep the one I have for the moment as all of these weapons will have to be sighted in.

“Wow!”
 
Robert says beside me holding one of the carbines.

“Yeah, we kinda struck the mother lode,” I say with a grin.

“Let’s load up all of these,” I say turning to Watkins pointing out the M-4s.

I walk further toward the back along the weapons racks as the soldiers begin carting the M-4s out.
 
Next to the racks of M-4s, I come across two dozen M110s – semi-automatic sniper rifles firing 7.62mm rounds and fitted with 3.5 x 10 scopes.
 
Most of our engagements have been close quarters but I’m not about to turn these beauts down.
 
You never know when something like this will come in handy and it’s not like we are severely limited on space or limited to one overhead bag.
 
I imagine we’ll pretty much clean this place out.

The rest of the tour has goodies in every location.
 
The large cases do indeed have the module packages for the M-4s and dozens of cases have Gen3 dual eye/dual tube (binocular) night vision goggles along with attachments and batteries.
 
Other cases have M-9s with suppressors.
 
One of the biggest finds, at least in my opinion, were the individual radios with throat mics plus unit radios helpful for transmitting across distances.
 
There are large boxes with ACU, Multi-Cam, and black clothing in a variety of sizes.
 
We also find a multitude of Ranger Green, ACU, Multi-Cam, and black tactical vests complete with a variety of modular attachments.
 
Crates upon crates of ammo for all weapon types are brought out and loaded, including C4 and grenades of all sorts; flash bangs, smoke, tear gas, and your regular, every day blow stuff up types.
 
All in all, there’s everything I imagined and more.
 
We haul everything out, even taking the racks after removing the bolts holding them to the floor, filling the transport truck almost to capacity.

The sun is at its zenith as the last case is loaded.
 
The clang of the truck tail gate closing echoes across the silent enclosure.
 
I call Lynn letting her know we are finished here giving a quick rundown of what we found.
 
She replies that they are about finished with two of the armories and about to head over to gather clothing.
 
We agree to meet back at the aircraft prior to searching for survivors so we can coordinate efforts – making sure to cover everywhere without duplicating efforts.

I feel oddly invigorated rather than the tired feeling I thought I would have.
 
Perhaps due to the stress I feel but that usually makes me feel more tired and have less energy.
 
It could be that there is so much to do and having things to do gives me energy – depending on what it is.
 
It may also be that we have found these great tools that will even things up slightly.
 
It’s not that the things we have found will make the difference or really increase our capabilities much, but there are items that will make it a little easier for us.
 
For one, with our night vision gear, the infrared aiming devices will add to our capability in darkened buildings.

We secure the armory doors and gate, sliding the locks back into place without being able to actually lock them, and climb into our respective vehicles.
 
The area comes to life with sound as the engines are started.
 
Our small convoy begins our drive back to the ramp trying to retrace our route.
 
We only have to turn around once after missing the correct turn to McChord.
 
We finally pull onto the tarmac and park off to the side of the aircraft.
 
The 130 sits on the ramp looking sad and forlorn as if it knows it has completed its last journey but knowing that its final trip was perhaps the most important one in its long life; able to retire with pride.

As I step out of the Jeep, Mike runs out of the back of the aircraft and across the ramp.
 
I squat and put my arms around him as he licks my face, his hind end swaying from side to side.
 
We are bonding well and he acts like I haven’t seen him in months rather than a couple of hours.
 
I stand staring off at the hills of the Cascades waiting for Lynn and the other teams to arrive.
 
The hills are a subdued blue and partially hidden behind a haze.
 
The other nice thing, if one can think of nice things associated with such a loss of human life, is that the air will clear up.
 
I remember looking at those same hills many, many years ago and I could see them with such clarity; able to see the actual trees residing on their slopes.
 
Now, they are just a blur of color.

I begin to feel a touch of impatience just standing here.
 
With all there is to do, standing idly makes me feel like I’m wasting time.
 
I want to be doing something but, honestly, there isn’t anything to be done at this time.
 
I know Lynn is moving as fast as she can and what she is doing is important, but I am eager for her to get here and for us to be off.
 
We still have the search to do.
 
It feels like I am running in molasses – time is passing but I’m getting nowhere.
 
Looking around, my vision settles on the transport truck filled with items looking like Santa’s sleigh.
 
All I need is reindeer to attach to the front.

Time passes slowly and Lynn finally calls that they are finished and on their way.
 
My impatience has increased to the point that I want to start pacing just to do something when I hear the sound of the convoy approaching.
 
The sun overhead passes its highest point and begins its downward trek, beginning the second half of the day, by the time the first of the vehicles enter the ramp.
 
They are all in a line as they transit the ramp and pull up next to the already parked vehicles, shutting down individually as they park in a row.
 
The sound of doors closing resonates in the still of the early afternoon and brings finality to their arrival.

Lynn’s face falls slightly as she looks around the ramp obviously hoping to see Craig’s jet.
 
I feel her heartache and wish I could just make the jet appear.
 
She gathers herself and walks over, giving a rundown of what they found and brought.
 
Her face is streaked with dirt where the sweat has evaporated.

“How do you want to do this?”
 
Lynn asks referring to the search for survivors.

“I think we should head off in teams and assign areas to each one.
 
Have them cruise through their areas slowly, calling out and making noise as best as they can,” I answer.

“I’ll stay here with the others who aren’t assigned to teams in case someone shows up, alerted by our noise,” I continue purposely not adding that I am also staying to wait for her brother and mom.

“Okay, I don’t have a map to go by so I’ll just give general area assignments if that’s okay with you,” she says.

“Sounds good to me.
 
How long do you think it’ll take to cover the entire area with what we have?”
 
I ask.

“I would guess two hours to do it right,” she replies.

“Two hours!?
 
Fuck!
 
Well, it can’t be helped and if we’re going to do it, then we should do it right,” I say with my impatience coming to the front.
 
Lynn shrugs and smiles, not taking it personally, knowing that I am just frustrated.
 
It’s a tight smile but a smile nonetheless.

“Okay, would you mind making the assignments and I’ll just find a rock to go hide under.
 
It’s almost 1300 now so have everyone make sure to be back at 1500.
 
The day is moving on and we need to get to Cabela’s, let alone to get Kelly.
 
I would like to distribute the gear and go to the firing range to sight in the weapons but now I’m not sure we’ll have the time to do that,” I add.

“No prob.
 
I’ll see to it.
 
There’s plenty of light left so we should be okay,” she says.

“I know.
 
I’m just impatient.
 
Sorry.
 
If we have to, we’ll stay one more night in the aircraft but I’d rather not.
 
I would suggest I head down with a couple of teams to clear the building and meeting you there later but the place is huge and we would be too vulnerable searching it with so few of us,” I say just as a light bulb goes off in my head like an explosion of light.
 
I withdraw inside thinking of possibilities, completely oblivious to my surroundings.

“Whatcha thinking?”
 
Lynn asks noticing my withdrawal and bringing me back to the present.

“I was thinking I could take Bannerman, Wilson, and Red Team and just scout the area.
 
We could also take the measurements on the entrance doors and go find some security doors that we’ll be able to mount.
 
I’m thinking of the ones you pull down and lock.
 
We could head over to the armory first and see if those doors might work as well,” I say.

“Sounds like a good plan if you want to do that,” she replies.

“Yeah, I think we’ll do that.
 
I want to head back to the armory to take measurements and see how hard it will be to remove the doors.
 
We’ll then head off to the range to sight in our weapons and meet you at Cabela’s.
 
We’ll be out of radio range so we won’t be able to communicate but call and when you get close.”

“Okay.
 
Don’t you go in without the rest of us there, Jack,” Lynn says looking directly into my eyes.

“I won’t,” I respond.

“I mean it, Jack.
 
I know you so promise me you won’t,” she says keeping the direct eye contact.

“Okay, I promise.
 
We’ll just scout around.
 
We’ll leave you our transport so you can hand out the equipment prior to your heading to the range.
 
I think we should use the weapons and gear we pulled out of the Special Forces armory.
 
There’s enough to go around ten-fold.
 
Leave a team here on the ramp,” I say.

“Just remember you promised,” she says.

I know.
 
I’ll be good.
 
Just leave us three Humvees.”

“Okay, Jack,” she says and turns, beginning to issue instructions.