A New World: Return (17 page)

“I thought about that as well and I can’t think of a more secure place.
 
However, for the doors or anything else to work, we need the generators, meaning fuel.
 
I know they have a large supply to last for a long time in the event of catastrophe, but getting supplies there will be difficult at best and more than likely impossible in the winter months.
 
Plus, we don’t know what condition it’s in.
 
It could be completely overrun inside.
 
But those are just my humble thoughts on the subject,” I respond.

I look around and am met by silence.
 
Finally a hand goes up asking for recognition.

“Yes,” I say pointing.

“How would we get this wall built?
 
Seems like you are thinking of a large enclosure and that it would take a long time to get built.
 
Almost to the point of being impossible,” Horace says.

“Well, that’s why it will have to be a priority.
 
We’d have to get it built by the end of summer.
 
It shouldn’t take that long if we focus on it.
 
The materials are close by and it’s just a matter of transporting them and getting them in place.
 
We’ll need heavy machinery but I think we can get it done in time,” I answer her.

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but..” I continue on by am interrupted by another voice.

“Where are we going to get the fuel and such for the generator and equipment?
 
We won’t be able to scavenge a lot and it will eventually run out and soon.”

“True but there’s plenty of fuel to be found.
 
We tote a portable generator to hook up to the electrical systems at gas stations and such.
 
We pull the fuel from places like that and then store it.
 
Most of what we’ll need will be diesel and that doesn’t evaporate quickly,” I answer.

“It actually sounds like a good plan to me,” yet another voice chimes in.
 
I see who it is that is talking and asking questions but I don’t know their names as yet.

“Yeah, me too.
 
Sounds as good as any other,” someone else says.

“Anyone else have any ideas on where to go or what to do?”
 
I ask.

“I suppose any one place is good as another considering and this one sounds good enough considering what we’ll be facing,” Bannerman says much to my surprise.
 
Everyone else remains silent although I do see more heads nod in agreement.

“Is everyone good with this?”
 
I ask after giving it a few moments to soak in.

“Hooah, sir,” one voice shouts out followed by others.

I am about to make my usual sarcastic Army comment when the air is split by a shrill scream startling everyone; like an unexpected moment in a horror movie.
 
The scream of terror and fear rises on the still air and echoes off the buildings.
 
It is coming from within the base.
 
The buildings and echoes make it difficult to determine just how far away it is or where it is coming from.
 
Split seconds after the scream, there is the sound of guns being unslung and rounds being chambered from the team.
 
Everyone rises to their feet and looks around for the danger.

“Radios on!
 
Red Team on me!”
 
I call switching my radio on.
 
“Lynn, get Black Team.
 
You and I are the maneuver teams.
 
Everyone else, in teams, take defensive positions away from the aircraft,” I call out.

The scramble of feet on the pavement follows as soldiers establish a defensive line focusing on the buildings, waiting for something to emerge.
 
I do not want a firefight to take place that endangers or has rounds hitting the aircraft.

“Michelle, Bri, Nic, in the aircraft now!”
 
I shout looking over at them.

I move Red Team off to the right side of the defensive line and see Lynn take Black Team to the left.
 
The echoes die away leaving us in the still of the bright morning once again.
 
Robert is standing by my side; I look for any movement and see none.

“Do you want me with you?”
 
He asks.

“No, I want you in the aircraft guarding Michelle, Nic, and Bri.
 
You are their defense,” I respond.
 
I see him trot off and run up the ramp, disappearing into the 130.

“Lynn, you see anything?”
 
I ask.

“Nothing here Jack,” she responds.

A gunshot rings out from within the base and is followed by another scream.
 
Both echo throughout the area with the scream carrying that same fear-filled nature.

“Lynn, Black Team with me,” I say into the radio.
 
“We don’t really have time for this.
 
But what else can we do.
 
Everyone else maintain defensive lines.”

“Roger that,” Lynn’s voice sounds in my ear piece.

“Will do, sir,” the other team leaders say.

“Robert, make sure the aircraft is refueled and topped off,” I say into the mic.

“Okay, Dad.”

Both Red and Black Team move across the ramp, weapons out and ready, the teams alert and with good spacing between each other, eyes looking outward for any signs of trouble or movement.
 
We join up close to the buildings between which are roads leading further into the base.
 
Lynn and I come together with the rest of our teams facing outward in a semi-circle.

“It’s obviously coming from further in but I’m not sure if whatever is going on is moving or not.
 
We have to be alert and ready.
 
Urban rules here.
 
I’ll take the right side of the street, you take the left.
 
Eyes up and watching windows.
 
Watch the corners and building entryways.
 
Cover and maneuver, a half block at a time.
 
No running as I don’t want sound to alert anyone.
 
They must have heard the aircraft but I don’t want them to pinpoint our location,” I say whispering into her ear.

“You got it,” she whispers back.
 
We quickly brief our teams on maneuver and coverage before stepping from the ramp and out into the first street.

Walking onto the first street that crosses in front of the building, I notice that the base here is a lot more open than I was expecting.
 
The base seems composed more of open fields and parking lots than building-lined streets.
 
This gives us a greater distance visibility, but of course that means we can be seen as well.

“Disregard the urban rules scenario,” I say into the mic to Lynn.
 
“We’ll go in a staggered formation with Red Team in the lead covering ahead and left.
 
Black covers ahead and to the right.”

“Roger that,” I hear Lynn say through the radio.

We start down a street leading further into the base.
 
Large parking lots spread out from the road to small buildings with large, grassy fields between them, brown from a summer without much water.
 
All is still except for us moving down the sides of the two-lane road stretching out ahead of us.
 
The climbing sun shines down; heating the pavement beneath our feet and making us feel warm beneath the tactical vests we donned on exiting the aircraft.
 
I pat the full magazines in their respective pouches, seeking some assurance from them and remembering the stress and fear of running out just a day before.
 
Was it really only that long ago?
 
It feels like a distant memory
, I think scanning the road ahead and the buildings to the side.

Coming up on the first intersection, another two-lane road branches off to the right.
 
Once again, the roads and areas are not reminiscent of apocalyptic scenes from the movies.
 
Cars are not piled up on the road or in ditches.
 
Bodies are not scattered about.
 
Smoke is not billowing from every structure or vehicle.
 
It is very much like an early Sunday morning.
 
Very few cars or people to be seen.
 
Well, in our case, no people.
 
With the exception of the scream.
 
Riding on the still air, I make out a murmur of a voice coming from ahead and to the left.
 
Still seeming a distance away, but heard nonetheless.

“We have voices ahead and right,” I whisper in the radio.
 
“Unknown number.”

“Copy that,” Lynn replies.

“Let’s cut down this road to the left. Red Team switching to the right side,” I add.

“Copy.”

We cross the road as Black Team takes up position on our left and slightly behind.
 
A small building, the standard military prefab type, blocks my view of anything further in to the right.
 
It is a small building so I will be able to see around it shortly.
 
We continue our cautious advance.
 
Passing the building, a parking lot opens up beside it; lined with trees on the two farther sides.
 
The voices, now distinguished as a distant shouting, can be heard coming from either in the trees or on the other side of them.

“Lynn, on me,” I say.

Black Team crosses to our position where we are kneeling in a line along the road, concentrating on the area to our front but without neglecting our sides and rear.

“If I would hazard a guess, I would say that the voices are coming from the other side of those,” I whisper to Lynn and point to trees about 500 feet away.
 
Oh for an ACOG scope
, I think as I would love to be able to see a little better what lies in those trees.

“Skirmish line across the lot and halt just inside the trees if we don’t encounter anything,” I say.
 
“If we take fire, provide cover and we’ll leap frog quickly back behind that building.”

“Got it,” she says with a nod.

We spread out in a skirmish line and start across the lot, weapons at the ready and safeties off, ready to pour steel downrange with a moment’s notice.
 
The only sound is the increasing volume of yelling to our front.
 
I cannot make out the words but it is definitely human and, from the sound of it, there is a little tension going on or else, why would anyone be yelling.
 
And, it is getting pretty easy to tell it is part of a conversation.
 
It will not be too long before we can figure out what is going on as we near the trees ahead.
 
So far though, nothing has come out to greet us and I am thankful to this point that there are not angry bees buzzing about and striking us.
 
Who knows what reaction someone would have seeing a line of armed personnel coming at them alert and ready?
 
Most likely shoot first.

We reach the trees safely and take up defensive positions within them.
 
Upon entering, it becomes pretty apparent that this grouping of trees is not that wide.
 
They do stretch away to our right some but we are not going to have cover for long.
 
Just visible through the trees is a parking lot and the voices are now becoming faintly distinguishable; however, the trees prevent us from hearing and understanding the actual words.
 
A small paved walkway makes its way through the trees from our left to right marking what, at another time, would have been a pleasurable walk under the trees.

“Let’s move forward to get a better look but don’t leave the tree line.
 
Set up just inside,” I say into the mic.

“Roger.”

We all stand and begin moving quietly and slowly forward in our skirmish line, still alert for anything around us.
 
Crossing the walkway and reaching the other side, we settle into covered positions.
 
Before us, a large parking lot leads to a brown, two-story building across from us.
 
Only seven cars are parked in a row on the left side but we have a clear line of sight to the building.
 
There, in the lot close to the building, eighteen men stand in a semi-circle before the main building door.
 
It is from this group that the shouting is coming from.
 
Standing by the door is what appears to be a woman with her arm wrapped around a child by her side, pressing him close to her in an obvious protective nature. She is holding her other arm out toward the men standing there, giving me the impression that she is holding a pistol although I cannot tell for sure from this distance.

“Lady, drop the gun and we won’t hurt the child,” I hear one voice call out from the group of men.

Well, that’s enough for me
, I think noticing they didn’t include her in the offer of protection.
 
Maybe I have watched too many movies but I have also witnessed this type of scene far too many times.
 
Bosnia and the horrors there come to mind.
 
I can remember the many times we would be up in the hills overlooking and observing towns being taken over and wiped out.
 
Seeing genocide happen through a 20x scope.
 
The ugliness that people can do to one another is amazing.
 
Yes, evil does walk the world.
 
And watching the poor women, well, I would rather not describe the atrocities there and shove those memories from my mind.