A New World: Sanctuary (12 page)

“Toss yours about mid-way by the shelves to the right.
 
I’ll put mine in the same place on the left,” I say to Robert over my shoulder.

“Okay,” he replies.

“Ready ladies and gents?”
 
We’re in on the flash,” I ask getting nods for answers.
 
Robert edges to my right so he can get into a good position.

“Let’s do this,” I say.
 
We pull the pins and toss the canisters inside and quickly pull back alongside the outside wall.

The metallic clinking of the cans bouncing across the concrete seems to slow time; a prelude to the explosion and activity to follow.
 
Clink…….clink…….clink…..
 
The canisters roll on the hard floor before two simultaneous flashes of light exit the opening accompanied by thunderous bangs.
 
The building walls shake from the explosion of light and noise.
 
Robert and I roll immediately around the corner and into the building taking our places in the middle.
 
Henderson and Denton roll in immediately after us with Gonzalez and McCafferty on our heels.
 
Our lights pan over the rafters, top of the shelves and along the sides of the interior.

Seeing nothing, Robert and I proceed up the middle at a quick walk checking our front and sides.
 
The noise of something sliding along a shelf to my immediate right is followed by a scream.
 
A burst of gunfire comes from my right rear.
 
I turn to see Denton with his carbine pointed upward to the shelf immediately to the right.
 
Looking upward, I see the last vestiges of blood spraying the air as a night runner tumbles off the top of the shelf, hitting the shelf across the lane before continuing its fall and slamming into the aisle floor.

“Keep moving,” I say with the night runner remaining motionless on the concrete.

The interior is hot, stifling, and stuffy from the sun hitting the metal walls all day turning the inside into a sauna.
 
This is barely noticed as the moment fully occupies my mind.
 
Reaching the dead night runner that had fallen from the rafters, a flash of movement appears in my peripheral to the right front.
 
A night runner darts from a darkened corner and runs into the semi-glow emitting from the headlights.
 
Our long shadows on the floor from the light blends with the shadow of the night runner.

Robert’s light catches it full on and his M-4 barks on full automatic.
 
His rounds stitch across the metal wall to our front, going through the thin sheet metal.
 
Pin points of light show where his bullets encounter the metal and punch through.
 
The points of light catch up and merge with the fleeing night runner, hitting it on the arm, shoulder and then head.
 
The night runner is thrown sideways into the far end door with a loud, clanging thump.
 
It hangs there a moment before collapsing to the ground against the door.
 
Another quick burst issues from his M-4 and the rounds streak for the slumped night runner.
 
The steel impacts the flesh with solid thuds spraying blood in patterns on the door, both above and to the sides of the now very dead night runner.
 
There are small tinks of metal on metal as some of his rounds pass through the body and hit the door itself.

Thin rays of light, picking up small motes of dust, shine into the building from the bullet holes where Robert chased the night runner with his rounds.
 
I’m thankful I didn’t decide to use the NVG’s as all of the light differentials in here would most likely have rendered them ineffective and actually could have been a hindrance.
 
I step over the dead night runner at my feet and continue further into the shop.
 
I want to clear the building before any disoriented night runners that may be remaining can gain their composure and assault us.
 
Any advantage the flash bang gave us will be wearing off quickly if it hasn’t already.

Passing the third lane between the shelves, I quickly shine the beam of my light down the aisle picking up a night runner heading my way.
 
My M-4 is already pointed in that direction by my keeping the barrel in line with my eyes.
 
I fire a short burst into the creature launching toward me.
 
My first round impacts on the left side of its chest, the bullet catching a rib and shattering it, spreading the pieces of bone along with the now fragmented round into the chest cavity.
 
The bone and metal tear through the vessels and lung.
 
The light blue, denim overalls absorb the blood flowing from the entry wound creating a splotch of blood.
 
The second round hits just below the left clavicle, destroying the bone before exiting out of the back.
 
A third round hits the night runner square in the throat and sprays blood in all directions.
 
I feel the splash of it hit on my cheeks and forehead.

The momentum carries it on towards me.
 
I side step to the right bringing the stock of my carbine around hitting the back of its head with a hard whack as it passes by me.
 
It tumbles to the floor beside me.
 
I stomp my boot down solidly against its neck as it hits the floor feeling the neck break and shatter beneath my heel.
 
It spasms twice before falling limp.
 
I wheel around quickly checking the lane again only to find it empty.

We reach the far door without encountering any more night runners and I have Red Team form a semi-circle around the closed door.
 
Their lights pan around the room like mini spotlights shining from an event as I undo the latches on the side of the door.
 
I move the night runner’s body to the side and raise the door, blinking with the increase of light from the afternoon sun that pours into the shop.
 
The interior is now fully lit with the lanes only shades of gray.
 
We head back down the interior in the same formation ensuring the shop is indeed clear.

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Robert stands behind his dad with the olive drab canister in his hand, waiting for the word to toss the flash bang.
 
He hopes for a good toss as he doesn’t want to screw up as he has been given the chance to become part of the team.
 
He feels tense with nervousness and moves the canister up and down, testing its weight to coordinate his mind with the physical aspect in order to make a good toss inside.
 
The past few days have been a roller-coaster of feelings, emotions, and dealing with the feeling as if this is all a dream – both good and bad.
 
The bad is obvious but there is a part of him that has wanted to be able to test himself in a stressful situation.
 
To prove himself as it were.
 
Doesn’t get any more stressful than this
, he thinks looking at the entrance and waiting.

“Ready ladies and gents?”
 
We’re in on the flash,” He hears his dad say by his side and Robert nods his answer.
 
He then edges to the right, directly beside his dad, so he can get into a good position.

“Let’s do this,” his dad says.
 
He pulls pin and tosses the canister inside, quickly pulling back alongside the outside wall.

He hears the cans bounce across the concrete floor and tenses, anticipating the explosion of light and sound.
 
He has never seen a real flash bang go off, other than the movie renditions, so doesn’t know what to expect.
 
So far, a lot of things that have happened have been so different than he imagined.
 
The detail necessary to survive along with the fear, nervousness, and sheer adrenaline rush of actually being in combat.
 
Some things just taking over naturally.
 
That is the greatest surprise of all, the automatic responses coming regardless of the fear.
 
Standing ready, anticipating the coming explosion and subsequent entry, he feels a deep thankfulness for all of the time he spent with his dad.

Light flashes out of the open entrance accompanied with a thunderous roar.
 
Now, that’s like the movies
, he thinks as he sees his dad rise and rush in.
 
Robert follows directly beside him with his M-4 up and ready.
 
His light pans around the front and to the side catching only shelves and equipment.
 
Walking further into the building, gunfire erupts directly off to his right and behind him.
 
The sudden noise startles him and he turns quickly to his immediate right and catches a night runner falling to the floor with a heavy thump.
 
Denton stands in his peripheral with his carbine raised.

“Keep moving,” his dad says and Robert focuses on his area once again.

He walks beside his dad and it feels like the old times when they were out in the woods playing airsoft, stalking behind the opposing team lines together.
 
He feels a quiet confidence come over him.
 
The times with his dad, whether adventuring into the woods together hiking and biking, camping, or airsofting, has given him a solid and deep confidence in his abilities.
 
He carries a certain calm inside that comes from this.
 
The only break in this solid feeling is his wanting to prove himself.
 
He doesn’t want to let anyone down.

A sudden movement to his front; a shape detaches itself from the shadowy depths and catches his attention.
 
The shape transforms itself into a night runner as it runs into the light cast by the Humvee headlights.
 
He quickly raises his M-4 and begins firing at the quickly moving creature.
 
The carbine kicks against his shoulder and he sees pinpoints of light materialize just behind the fleet night runner.
 
He instantly knows these are his round drilling through the wall and he hasn’t put enough lead on the darting shape.
 
With his finger still pressed down on the trigger, he moves his barrel to his left, walking his rounds quickly towards the night runner.
 
He sees the small points of light catch up and the sound of his impacting rounds changes from a metallic pinking to the more solid thuds of steel hitting flesh.
 
The night runner is thrown to the side against the metal door and slides downward.
 
He thinks he sees it still move and puts another burst into the slumped body.

Robert looks from the still body to his dad who nods at him with the affirmation of a good job.
 
He feels the self-confidence in himself solidify even more from that nod and the realization that he acted in a quick and decisive manner; keeping in mind that he needs to lead his target a little more and throws that knowledge into his bag of tricks.
 
His dad steps forward again and he walks to keep in line.
 
Another shriek penetrates the still and hot interior followed by a subsequent burst of gunfire from his dad.

He turns quickly to see his dad step to the side as a night runner stumbles into view.
 
He watches his dad deliver a stroke with his M-4 to the back of the night runners head and watches it fall to the floor.
 
His dad then raises his boot and brings it back down on the neck of the fallen body; the crunch and crack of its neck shattering sounds.
 
He watches the night runner twitch before it becomes still and blood begins to surround it on the floor.

They reach the far end door and he mans a small perimeter with the rest of the Red Team as his dad opens the door, flooding the interior space with light.
 
That light brings a sense of relief.
 
One, because he senses that this particular action is over, and two, because the fear and nervousness he felt regarding whether he would let anyone down has been answered.
 
A certain pride wells up within knowing he acted well and, for the first time, he feels very much a part of the team.

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“McCafferty, will you pull the Humvee around to the front,” I say as we reach the end of the building where we started.
 
“Call the others and have them come back.”

“Yes, sir,” she responds.

“Gotta lead ‘em huh?”
 
I say chuckling to Robert as we walk back to the front along the outside with the sun in our eyes.

“Yeah, it startled me and I thought I had enough of a lead,” he answers with a chuckle of his own.
 
“I saw I was hitting behind and just swept over to it.”

“Well, they’re pretty quick but that’s the way to do it.
 
Just keep in mind not to let the kick lead you up and over it.
 
You got it and that’s what counts.
 
Plus, nice making sure it stayed dead.”