A New World: Sanctuary (9 page)

“Hey,” I say interrupting her yells.

“What?”
 
Lynn asks turning around.

“I love you,” I say so that only she hears.

“I love you too,” she says.
 
Smiling, she turns and picks up where she left off.

I gather Red Team, Bannerman, Frank, and all of the others who are coming with me – meaning my family, Kathy, Little Robert, Kenneth, and, of course, Mike.
 
I give them a rundown on our plans.
 
I have them follow me to the transport truck and begin issuing gear ensuring everyone has one of the M-4’s and night vision goggles.
 
I also distribute the infra-red aiming units.
 
We sort through the black fatigues and tac vests and head into the aircraft in shifts to change.
 
I issue the gear to Red Team, Bannerman, Wilson, and Robert taking one of each for myself.
 
I gather a few spares, set them in the Jeep, and send Red Team into the open hangars to gather any sets of tools they can find.

I have Nic, Bri, and Michelle also find dark fatigues that fit and head in to change after everyone else finishes.
 
They haven’t changed in some time and I’m sure they would like to regardless of what that clothing may be.
 
While they are in the aircraft, I wave Robert over to join me and we walk over to the base operations building, slinging my new M-4 across my back.
 
I also keep my current one because I know it is sighted in and want it handy just in case something comes up.

The black uniform and vest are soaking up the heat as the sun’s rays stream down.
 
In the shadow of the building and with Robert at my side, I peer in the glass panel set in the door, checking out the hallway beyond.
 
The hallway, as before, is partially lit from the radiated light through the glass panels.
 
Nothing is moving and I open the door.
 
Stepping inside, I look into the weather shop to my immediate left through a sizable pane set in a wooden door.
 
The interior is well-lit from light filtering in through the large windows on the building’s front.
 
The room looks the same as before.
 
A small amount of dust is gathered on the floor.
 
I don’t see any tracks in the dust so know that this room has not been entered since my last visit.

I proceed in.
 
Dust stirs faintly from the breeze created by the opening of the door.
 
Robert is behind me as I walk into the room proper.
 
A rank smell of decomposition rises to my nose; not overpowering but it is unmistakable.

“Whew,” Robert says quietly.

“I know.
 
That’s something you never get used to.
 
I’m guessing it must be the ones I shot in the back room last week,” I say waving my hand in front of my face, trying to fan the smell away.

We walk over to the desk amid the dust and odor of death.
 
Peering over the counter, I see a variety of phone books off to the side.
 
I can barely reach them over the counter but paw through, pushing some to the side until I come up with on for the Olympia area.
 
Grabbing that one, I bring it up and look through until I verify there is a place in the area down south that has the type of security doors I am thinking about using as our main line of defense at Cabela’s.

I take the phone book and we exit onto the ramp.
 
The girls have finished changing by the time we arrive back.
 
The noise of voices and doors shutting permeate the area as the other teams get ready to head out on their search.
 
Vehicles start up and proceed off the ramp individually, heading off to the areas Lynn assigned them.
 
My thoughts go with them and I hope we can find those still holding out; hoping also there are a few of them.
 
It’s a funny thing, sometimes I think we have quite a few people with us, and, other times I think we are woefully inadequate.
 
Billions of people have been reduced to, well, as far as I know, us.
 
That is mightily mind-boggling.

The last of the vehicles depart, their sound fading into the early afternoon.
 
Mullin’s second group is left behind to guard the transport trucks.
 
I leave instructions with them to make sure the aircraft is closed up before departing.
 
I look around at Red Team, currently setting large cases of tools in the back of a Humvee along with some of the ammo cases, and those going with me.
 
I have to tell you, it is very strange seeing Nic and Bri dressed in black fatigues.
 
The dire situation we are in comes into a greater light seeing them clad like that.
 
It really makes me realize how far we have come and also how far we have to go.
 
Without the services we have become accustomed to, we will slide further into another potential dark age.
 
That could be either a good or bad thing.
 
All I know is that it will be different.

Piling into the Humvees and the Jeep, we begin our own trip.
 
I have Mike jump in the back of the Jeep and Robert climbs in the passenger side.
 
The 130 is sitting on the ramp with the rear ramp still open and the sun’s rays reflecting off of the surface of the wings and fuselage.
 
With a last look around and giving the old bird a silent thanks, I close the door and drive off the ramp heading to the armory; the three Humvees carrying the others in my wake.

We stop briefly at the armory and take measurements of the doors.
 
Looking at the hinges, it will be work getting them out but not impossible.
 
They are basically bolted into the thick concrete walls.
 
We’ll just have to make sure we have the right tools.
 
Those we gathered from the hanger should suffice.
 
And of course lots of people to lift them and something to transport them.

Gonzalez and Henderson were based here prior so know the way to one of the firing ranges.
 
We drive that way with the sun slowly making its way across the western sky and me trying to will it to stop.
 
It doesn’t listen.
 
We manage to make our way to one of the ranges and park close to the firing line.
 
I step out and dust eddies around my boots as they hit the ground.
 
The range itself is surrounded by trees with the all-too-familiar dirt berm set up on the far end.
 
Several covered sheds dot the firing line with individual positions marked with small, white, box-like indicators.
 
The range itself is quite wide but the downrange targets are shorter, which is okay as our engagements have been short range ones and its best to sight in at the engagement distances we’ll be facing.

I have everyone attach the aiming devices and make sure the suppressors are attached.
 
The M-4, as do others weapons, has a different ballistic trajectory with a suppressor attached so it’s important we sight in with them on.
 
We spread out on the firing line and I give a lesson on the operation of the aiming devices and SpectreDR sights.
 
I gather the spare carbines I threw in the Jeep and hand them to Nic, Bri, Michelle, and Mom.

“Dad, what?”
 
Nic says holding the carbine.

“You need to learn and I’ll be more comfortable knowing you have them and can use them.
 
I’ll show you how they work and the nuances,” I say assigning them places on the line next to the rest.
 
They had a small lesson with the M-16 back in Kuwait but I want them to become more proficient.
 
I hand the remaining spares to Kathy and Kenneth.
 
Little Robert is a little young to be handling a weapon of this size so I leave him out.

I give the okay to commence firing.
 
The soft sound of suppressed rounds being fired on semi-automatic fills the air.
 
I make sure the girls’ and Mom’s carbines are set on semi and show them how to sight in using the SpectreDR – how to change the magnification and to make adjustments until the reticle is matched to the bullet impact point.
 
After getting the sights correct, I have them switch to the aiming device, setting it to the visual laser.
 
The infra-red laser will track the same point as the visual one.
 
I let them shoot through a couple of mags until they become comfortable firing the M-4.
 
I show them how to change magazines and to reload individual mags.

Robert lies on the ground next to us, popping a round and then making an adjustment on the sight.
 
I see him fire a few rounds without stopping to adjust and then nod with satisfaction.
 
He goes through the same process with the aiming device attached to the top, front of the rail; nodding once again as he becomes satisfied with his settings.
 
With the girls now feeling somewhat comfortable, I kneel with Mike at my side and begin sighting in my own M-4.
 
We switch to the M-9’s and begin the sighting-in process again.
 
The sounds of firing eventually diminish and come to stop.

“Everybody good?”
 
I ask in the ensuing silence.
 
A smattering of “good here” and nods answer.

We disassemble and clean our guns, teaching how to break the weapons down and clean them to those that don’t know how, at covered tables set to along the rear of the long firing line.
 
Reassembling them, we pile back into the vehicles and chase the sun, beginning our journey out of the base and toward the Interstate south.
 
We retrace our route back to McChord wanting to go out of the gate there.
 
I would take the more direct route to the gates of Fort Lewis but I remember those gates being blocked.
 
I’m not sure how blocked they are and what it will take to clear a route so I take the route I know is open.
 
Time still weighs heavily on me and I don’t want to come across anything else that will impede our progress.
 
We come to the guard booths, once again having to traverse over and around the now highly decomposing corpses, just as the phone in my pocket vibrates.

“Are you coming?”
 
The text appears.
 
Yes, it’s from Kelly.

I radio Lynn letting her know we are exiting the base and heading south.

“Okay, Jack.
 
Be careful.
 
See you soon,” she replies over the airwaves.

“Roger that.
 
You too,” I reply.

The afternoon is passing quickly as I begin typing my response to Kelly.

“We’ll be leaving in a few hours.
 
Thinking around eight tonight.
 
Might have to stay the night.
 
Have water and scent-free candles handy.”

The phone vibrates again a short time later as we are coming up on the outer gates.

“That late?”
 
Ugh, I swear
, I think starting to reply.

“I’m moving as fast as I can.
 
You can drive up if you want,” I text back.

“No.
 
We’ll wait for you here,” Kelly texts.

“Okay.
 
Call you when we’re on the way,” I type and press the send button.

Hitting the Interstate, we turn southward once again.
 
This is beginning to feel like I’m driving a mail route.
 
The sun is far too low in the sky for my taste given all that needs to happen between now and when it dips below the western horizon.
 
I can almost literally see it shoot across the sky.
 
Continuing south, we drive past the lower marshlands of the Nisqually Basin.
 
The tide is out and the mud flats are revealed.
 
Cranes line the water edge, standing elegantly on their long legs and occasionally dipping their beaks when they find something that interests them.
 
I look out over the waters of the South Puget Sound, glistening and sparkling with reflections of the sun on its surface, and see a bald eagle sitting on a tall post jutting out of the water.
 
The eagle leaps from the post and soars across the water, climbing higher into the afternoon sky.
 
My heart goes out and I wish I could soar along with it.

Climbing the hill on the far side of the basin, with the exit we want lying just ahead, I look anxiously ahead.
 
The tops of the fir trees lining the tall embankments sway slightly in an afternoon breeze.
 
I see the Humvee directly behind me trudge up the slope in my rear view.
 
Cresting the hill, I take the exit and turn onto a recently paved road.
 
Passing by two round-a-bouts and taking a side road, I turn into the drive leading to the outdoor store.

The store is hidden by a slope in the long driveway, slowly showing more of itself the closer I get; first the green, metal roof, then the large yellow sign before the reddish-brown, wooden building comes fully into view as we top the small hill.
 
Large paved parking lots encircle the area around the store with light poles set in a scattered pattern throughout.
 
The building exhibits both the feeling of hiding danger behind its walls and one of safety.
 
The danger comes from my experience within buildings and the safety from my thought that this will provide a sanctuary for us.