A New World 10 - Storm (5 page)

It would be nice if we could just trust people right off the bat and band together for mutual survival. That’s not the world we live in though. Granted, I’m a bit jaded considering what we’ve been through, but we can’t afford to be wrong on a scale like this. With the night runners closing in, the last thing we need is an internal distraction. I would have no problem had we not just exchanged steel.

Walking away from the group, I ask Harold: “Is there a way we can make contact with any of the other survivor groups?”

There is one last part of the deal. The others banded together for survival have to be willing to incorporate the soldiers into their community. They likely have their own cohesion that they’d be wary of breaking. It may be that they won’t allow entrance to any others, which will leave us back at square one.

“I don’t know how we’d do that, Jack. The binder containing the sites doesn’t mention any methods for communicating or their capabilities. We can try the satellite comms on different frequencies to see what we come up with. Other than that, I’d say we have to visit them in person,” Harold answers.

“See what you can do. Your primary responsibility is to get that satellite online. Everything else is secondary,” I state.

“I’m on it. Have you thought about whether I’m staying or not?”

“At the moment, I’m thinking yes. We’ll leave you two or three teams for security, along with the technicians, but that’s not for sure as yet. I need to think on it more. Keep in mind that we need to set up the relay site back at Cabela’s.”

“You could take one or two of the technicians here, along with the equipment. They should be able to set up the relay,” Harold suggests.

“That’s a possibility. For now, just plan on staying.”

Harold heads back toward the control center, leaving just me and Lynn.

“We should begin resting the teams or they’re going to start dropping where they stand,” she says.

“Agreed. We might think about staying the night and heading out at first light. I know
I’m
in no condition to fly, let alone walk another three steps. I would suggest we keep our guests in their quarters as it will be easier to watch them, but I’m sure there are too many reminders inside. Let’s haul the mattresses out and let them spread out in the bay,” I say. “I’ll leave in the morning with the first group and make contact with the ones at Mountain Home. What was that guy’s name we met there?”

“Well, there was Harold,” she comments, the corners of her lips twisting upward with the beginning of a smile.

“I’m going to schedule you for the next open mic night at the comedy club.”

She looks to the ground, peers around behind me, and opens one of my mag pouches.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Looking for your humor. You seem to have misplaced it somewhere,” she wryly says.

“You’re flat out on a roll,” I comment. “Go ahead, get it out of your system. I’ll wait.”

“You’re no fun anymore,” she states, punching me lightly on the shoulder. Okay, not so lightly.

“What do you mean? Why just yesterday, I took you flying,” I return.

“You call that flying? I damn near lost all my teeth with that thing you liberally refer to as flying.”

I smile, for the first time in a long while. I think I actually feel my cheeks crack from disuse. “If you’ve had your fun, what was his name?”

“I think it was Jasper, or Jason; something like that,” she replies.

“Jason, that’s it. Anyway, I’ll take a contingent of fifty soldiers there in the morning. Providing things are still okay there, we’ll fuel up and return,” I say.

“Will we have enough fuel to go there, return, and get home if you can’t refuel?”

“We should.”

“Should? That’s not very reassuring.”

“Okay, yes. We’ll have enough,” I respond.

“You go get some rest, Jack. I’ll go make contact with Frank and let him know we’ll be returning tomorrow afternoon.”

“Wake me in three hours. No longer. None of that ‘Jack needs his rest’ BS. You need some rest as well.”

Walking in search of a place to lie down, I glance around the bunker. A thought I had earlier when we took the shelter resurfaces. One I didn’t carry too far, as there were other priorities; but now that I have some time to think, it seems that this place could possibly offer a better shelter for us. It has almost everything we need already in place. The surrounding area suggests that there are limited night runners inside of twenty miles, with Denver being the closest population center. There is the chance that they will drive outward as they have done in Seattle, which would leave us in the same position. However, there are limited places nearby for them to hide during the day. More than likely, they’ll head north or south of the city. And, the bunker is much better fortified than Cabela’s. I store this away in the back of my mind and plan to talk it over with Frank when we return.

I head back to the conference room where Lynn and I talked and curl up on the floor, falling asleep as soon as my head touches the linoleum.

“Jack…Jack,” Lynn says, waking me with a shake.

“What?” I say, feeling groggy. “What time is it?”

“It’s dusk,” she replies.

“Dammit, Lynn. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” I ask, still tired, and a little irritated.

“You needed your rest,” she answers.

I give up
, I think, feeling every bone in my body ache as I rise.

“Okay, I’m up. What is it?”

“We spotted a vehicle,” she responds, waking me instantly.

“What? Where?”

“It’s at the front perimeter gate. It drove up a few minutes ago and is just sitting there,” Lynn replies.

We make our way quickly to the security office so I can see what she’s talking about. Stepping inside the door, a team member monitoring the cameras points to one of the screens. As advertised, there is a black SUV sitting at the gate with its lights on. Although the sun has set behind the mountains, casting the land in shadows, there is still enough light to see by.

“Okay, do we have any guesses as to who this might be?” I query.

“I don’t know,” Lynn answers. “Whoever it is, from the way they’re behaving, it would appear that they are familiar with this place. Or at least they knew it was here.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask, staring at the screen.

“Well, think about it. We’re in the middle of nowhere and it’s not like we’re parked off the interstate. There isn’t a clue about what this facility is, other than the fencing and mounted cameras. It still takes some doing to get here, and it would be quite the coincidence for someone to just show up. And from the way they just pulled up and parked there, it appears that they are waiting for something,” Lynn explains.

“Of course, duh.” I state, feeling a little dumb. “That doesn’t bode well. If that’s true, they would have to be part of the facility. But why not just drive in? Why are they just sitting there?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Lynn comments.

I have the team member zoom in on the window. I see a silhouette in the driver’s seat, but without details.

“Did anyone leave the vehicle?” I ask.

“Not that we saw, sir,” the team member responds.

“All right. Pan the area on thermal,” I order.

Although the day was warm, we are situated on an upper plateau, and with the sun down and the land cooling, the thermal imaging will pick up anyone around.

Nothing shows on the thermal except a single person sitting patiently, waiting for something, or someone. I have the cameras across the entire perimeter switched to thermal. There is the possibility that it could be a distraction to focus our attention to the front. I can’t fathom who would consent to being the bait though, especially considering what this place was. Between the thermal and low-light images, there isn’t anything to be seen. That may not mean there isn’t anything out there, just nothing that comes into view. I make a mental note to have the tall grass outside of the fencing cut back or burned.

“I want you to keep watch to the sides and rear. It’s possible that one of the other bunkers was manned, or another that we don’t know about could be located nearby. The previous occupants could have signaled in some manner, either when they found out we were inside or sometime afterwards. Call Harold and have him check the logs,” I order. “If anything went out after the takeover, there goes the reliability of the technicians.”

Turning to Lynn, I say, “We’ll use four teams. We need to figure out the vehicle bay doors and exit. I’d like to use some the .50-cal Strykers, one team per vehicle. A Stryker will position itself on each flank with one approaching the gate directly. I want one to wait by the bunker exit to deal with any other threat that pops up. If we’re engaged, we retreat and go on lockdown. I’m sure that whoever it is knows the capability of the facility so we need to watch for anti-armor. I wish we had radar, but we don’t so we’ll need to keep an eye out above us as well. At the first sign of trouble, even if it’s just a feeling, we withdraw.”

“All right, Jack. Keep in mind that puts us with more than half of our teams above ground. It could be that the SUV parked out there is to pique our curiosity and draw us out. I don’t think they could have put teams near enough without us seeing them during the day, but, like you mentioned, they could have aerial assets.”

According to everything Harold found, none of the other assets were brought online, making such an attack from the air unlikely, but the thought isn’t a very soothing one. Harold informs us that he looked through the comm logs and doesn’t see any indication that a message was sent out, either before or after we took the facility.

“Okay, well, fuck it. Let’s go see what our guest wants,” I state.

“Which teams do you want to use?” Lynn asks.

I can tell that she’s still not comfortable with us heading out from the security of the bunker, but I’m sure she’s also as curious to see who arrived as I am.

“I’ll leave that to you, but I’d like you in the backup vehicle near the bunker; and stay out of sight. I’ll approach the gate.”

I expect the usual "discussion" from Lynn about my taking point, but she just nods.

Maybe she’s just given up
, I think, giving her a quizzical look.

“You don’t listen to me anyway, Jack,” she says, noticing my expression.

The teams load into four of the Strykers. Lynn’s team is a couple members shy due to injuries and I elect to leave Robert and Bri behind. They both argue with my decision but I point out that they are needed to fly the 130 back should something happen. The flaw in that logic is that, if something should happen, and we encounter something that could take on armored vehicles, the teams will be trapped inside the bunker, effectively rendering the 130 a moot option. I keep that little tidbit to myself.

Steel rods release the thick bunker doors with a loud clunk. The doors part in the middle and slowly swing open. Beyond, a ramp slopes upward to another set of doors. The second set opens and I see that we are in one of the larger buildings we identified earlier as group one. Sliding open a large door on the side of the building, a track-filled roadway leads toward the front gate. The wind has blown a fair amount of dust across the road, but even so, it’s apparent that a large number of vehicles transited sometime in the recent past.

Those must be from the company that set out after Greg
, I think, climbing back into the Stryker.

With the whine of the Stryker’s diesel engine revving, we proceed out of the enclosure. I have Denton pause momentarily to see if we become engaged. My heart rate climbs, envisioning our vehicle being targeted and a weapon leaving the rails. Fully expecting the clang of a hit, the lack of it is almost alarming.

We button up tight just in case and proceed down the road. Two armored vehicles exit on our tail, each angling across the field to take up flanking positions. In the last light of the day, dust trails leap into the air as the Strykers race past as we approach the front gate. I can’t see the actual gate from our current position, as it’s some distance away; however, setting the camera on its highest setting, it’s not long before it comes into view.

I bring us to a halt. The land is cast in a bluish-gray gloom as the sun sets lower behind the Rockies. Using the low light function, I see the two large gates that serve the entrance. Just beyond, the SUV is still parked behind a glare of headlights. I can’t imagine who would be sitting outside with darkness approaching. Whoever it is, they’ve certainly learned by now that nighttime brings night runners. While there may not be any in the immediate vicinity, I can’t fathom anyone wanting to be out when night falls.

The good thing is, we haven’t been attacked. That’s a plus. The radio comes alive with the other two Strykers reporting that they are in position.

“Do you see anything?” I ask.

“Nothing, sir. We’ve scanned the area but there’s nothing in sight,” they both report.

Calling the security room, I get the same; nothing found.

We start slowly forward. The thermals depict the twin beams of light from the parked vehicle and the faint silhouette of the person inside. I’ve kept our lights off in order not to pinpoint our position. If we are being targeted, it won't make a difference, but why make it easier? Pulling to within hailing distance, we halt again. Opening the overhead hatch, I stick my head out while keeping one eye on the monitor, the crosshair of the .50 cal centered on the windshield.