A New World: Awakening (24 page)

The large lot is filled with mounds of scrap metal.
 
Mobile cranes with large magnets attached dot the yard.
 
Wrecked cars line one entire side.
 
This place would be quite handy if we had a smelter.
 
I don’t have time to ponder the possibilities as we need to get to the tower undiscovered, climb it, and see if we can see over the prison walls less than a half mile away.
 
Hopefully all of that will keep me within the undiscovered realm as well.

We move from pile to pile advancing into the yard itself.
 
The piles keep us hidden from view of the roads on either side.
 
We eventually come to the end of the mounds of scrap.
 
Ahead is another building with the water tower sitting close to its side.
 
A larger freeway lies on the other side of the building.
 
We advance slowly to the base of the water tower.
 
I pick up the sound of a car motoring down the road approaching from our right.
 
The whirring of the tires on the hot pavement mixes with the low hum of the engine.

“Car approaching, take cover,” I say in my throat mic.
 
There’s a scramble as we dart behind the building nearest the highway.

The sound of the vehicle increases but I don’t see anything on the road as I peek around the corner of the building.
 
I hope it isn’t bouncing off the large aluminum buildings and actually approaching from behind or side.
 
I look around and see a couple of thick bushes against a fence to our rear.
 
I point and we dash across burrowing into their midst.
 
I lie on the ground at the very edge of the bushes and am able to see a section of highway.
 
There’s still no sign of any car but I can still hear it grow louder.
 
Greg gives me a little tilt of his head.
 
I hold my fingers to my lips and he gets the message.

Lying on the ground increases the heat radiating to my body and I feel grit inside of my fatigue top.
 
My belt line itches from the heat and dirt and the limbs of the bushes are prickling my skin where they touch.
 
All in all, I’m not comfortable.
 
The heat is even masking the adrenaline.
 
I’m so ready to be done with this and go home.

The sound gets louder and I see Greg nod indicating he can hear it now as well.
 
Robert or McCafferty are out of my sight as they are burrowed in an adjacent bush.
 
The noise changes to the sounds of the car slowing down.
 
I pick out sounds of other engines.
 
There’s more than one and possibly three.
 
The slowing down isn’t a good sign.
 
Either we’ve been seen and a call went out or they are slowing to make a turn.
 
The only right answer is for them to make a turn away from us towards the prison.
 
Any turn toward us or if we’ve been spotted is bad news.

A white pickup truck, going slow, comes into view on the section of road I can see.
 
Another green pickup is right on its tail.
 
Both of the beds appear to have boxes and miscellaneous gear stacked in them.
 
Both trucks vanish in front of the building and they sound like they are slowing more.
 
I wait for the crunch of the tires hitting the gravel and dirt parking lot in front of the building.
 
A third truck comes into view and disappears.

The sounds from in front increase as the trucks begin picking up speed.
 
They fade slowly until disappearing altogether.
 
I realize I’ve been holding my breath and let it out slowly.
 
I feel grimy from the sweat, dirt, and still pervasive smell.
 
A long cold shower sounds so good that I almost wish for the storms to come back.
 
We wait a few minutes longer to see if the trucks come back our way.
 
If they are heading to the prison, they could just be dropping stuff off and return heading on another supply run.
 
We just don’t have the time to wait though.
 
I don’t want to put us at risk but if we’re going to have a look, we have to do it soon.
 
There are only the faint caws, cackles, and screeches of the distant birds.

“Robert, McCafferty.
 
Keep watch from the rear of the building.
 
If anything happens, radio Horace and get yourselves back.
 
Greg, you’re with me.
 
We’re out of time.
 
Let’s climb this monstrosity and get an eyeful,” I say into the radio.

We scoot out of the cover and dust ourselves off quickly.
 
I feel a branch go down the back of my shirt.
 
It’s just one more annoyance that is forgotten quickly as we run across the small back lot to the side of the building again.

“I’ll go first.
 
Follow when I’m half way up,” I say shouldering my M-4.

“I hope you climb better than you run,” he responds.

“I’m feeling a little gassy.
 
I hope you enjoy your climb,” I reply and take off for the ladder rungs.

I set my feet on the first rungs and reach up.
 
The heated metal instantly sears through my gloves.
 
It’s like holding a boiling pot of water with a dish towel.
 
It doesn’t melt my skin directly to the rungs but it still feels like my hands are going to catch on fire.
 
Looks like I will be scurrying up as it’s hard to hold any one rung for long.
 
I start upward.

Thoughts of being seen vanish as I make my way up.
 
I just concentrate on each rung and climb as swiftly as I can.
 
Each time I put my hand on a rung it seems hotter than before.
 
It’s actually a race to see if I can make it to the top before my hands blister and start smoking.
 
I try to set my boots on the rungs lightly as I don’t want any ringing if there is someone in the area.
 
I finally emerge through a hole in the grating of the catwalk and kneel just around the side of the tank keeping it between the prison and me.
 
Greg’s head eventually pokes through.

“That was fun,” I say still trying to fan the heat off my hands.

“Yeah, you got that right.
 
You’re quite the little monkey,” he replies.

“I notice you weren’t exactly taking your time either,” I say.

“No, that I wasn’t,” he says chuckling.

“If I’d have known they made that ladder out of molten lava, I would have chosen differently,” I state.

Not wanting to have any more contact with the metal but having to, we both lie on the heated catwalk grating and edge forward until the prison comes fully into view.
 
We are higher than the walls and can see inside readily.
 
From this height and angle, the heat shimmers aren’t nearly as bad.

The complex is huge.
 
One extremely large, single story central building sits in the middle of the compound with two buildings on either side of it.
 
The side buildings are made up of three six-sided sections connected to each other in line with four thin rectangular wings jetting out from the end of each one.
 
Those two buildings look to be three or four stories tall and connect to the main building via an enclosed pathway at ground level.
 
Another very large building is connected to the main one as well.
 
There are several HVAC units at ground level and van-like trucks parked at a loading bay attached to the second building.

The pickup trucks we observed earlier are parked next to the cargo trucks with several other vehicles.
 
The interesting thing is the lack of towers and parapets along the perimeter.
 
The wall is certainly tall but the place seems self-contained.
 
There doesn’t even appear to be places for the inmates to be outside.
 
All in all, the place is huge.
 
Not as large as the Madigan complex but it’s daunting to look at.
 
There’s no way we can assault this place with the teams we have and perhaps not with all of our teams.

I draw a quick diagram and make notes as we observe.
 
We don’t have time for an extended recon to note patrols, times, listen to frequencies, or observe any patterns.
 
We have just a few scant minutes before we have to head back.
 
Another walled complex sits to the south of the main prison.
 
There are nine red-roofed buildings that lie within that place.
 
The roofs look like they are corrugated and may even be made of sheet metal.
 
Those buildings do not give the appearance of being able to house prisoners but maybe it’s a less secure one.

“Well.
 
It looks like it’s either a small force entry or none at all,” I say still glancing through a set of binoculars.

Greg is looking through a set of his own.
 
“That’s what I think,” he says.
 
“It’s getting over that wall that’s going to be the hard part.
 
At least there aren’t any towers and it doesn’t look like those walls can be manned.
 
Even if I had a grappling hook and it could latch on, I can’t throw one forty feet high.
 
Can you?”

“Yeah, not so much,” I say.
 
“There is another way in though.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
 
Greg asks.

“I don’t know.
 
Mine involves silk,” I answer.

“Then we are thinking the same thing.”

“Are you trained in HALO – High Altitude, Low Opening - jumps?”
 
I ask.

“I went through the free-fall school at Bragg but haven’t done it in a long time,” he answers lowering his binoculars and looking at me.

“That’s alright.
 
I haven’t jumped in a while either,” I reply with a smile.
 
“It’ll be a hoot but we have to figure out what to do after we come crashing out of the skies into the yard.
 
Or roof.”

“And where will we get the equipment?
 
Bragg’s a long ways away from here and most likely in a radiation zone,” Greg asks.

“They used to teach the PJ’s – Para rescue jumpers -
 
out of Kirtland.
 
I bet there’s still some equipment housed there,” I answer.

“And the chutes were packed when?”
 
Greg asks with a look on his face asking if I’m serious about this.

“Probably in the 70’s,” I answer.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I hope so,” I reply with a chuckle.
 
Greg’s face doesn’t indicate he is getting warm, fuzzy feelings about this.

“Actually, there used to be PJ’s who were stationed there to help train us,” I add before his face falls too much further.

“And that was when?”
 
He asks not at all convinced.

“In the 70’s,” I answer.
 
The look on his face makes it difficult to keep a straight face and keep quiet.

“Just kidding, man.
 
Well, it’s the only way I see in so we can take a look and see if there is any equipment there.
 
And yes, check the tags,” I add.
 
“If there isn’t any, then it certainly doesn’t look good for getting in.
 
Even if we were to get some heavy artillery, we can’t go bashing our way in.
 
We’d make it worse for those inside.”

“Yeah, I really don’t see another way.
 
I really don’t see a way in even if we manage to get past the walls unless we set down, and I use that term loosely, on the roof and go through an access hatch.
 
That structure on top may even house a maintenance door,” Greg comments.

“You know, some prisons have underground passageways for maintenance crews to circumvent portions of the buildings and areas that house prisoners and for guards to move about.
 
I bet his one does as well.
 
That compound to the south looks interesting,” I say.
 
“And abandoned.”

“I don’t see any vehicles around it.
 
You could be right,” he says.

“I wonder if there’s a tunnel between the two facilities,” I say.

“Maybe but we only get one chance at this and if there isn’t we’re pretty screwed for getting in,” Greg comments.

“Yeah, that’s true.
 
So it’s the main compound then,” I say making some final notes.

“I think so.
 
If we can find some equipment and IF the chutes were packed recently,” Greg says taking another look at the compound.

“Yeah, if on both accounts.
 
I’m not too keen on finding out how high I can bounce,” I reply.

“You may not bounce you know.
 
You may just crash through the roof opening a hole for me to float gently through and rescue everyone,” he says with a chuckle stowing his gear.