A New World: Conspiracy (10 page)

“We’re ready to commence back here,” Robert
says.

“Roger. Can you spare Lynn?” I reply.

“Yeah. She’s monitoring the low-light TV and
I doubt we’ll be needing that.”

“Lynn, there’s a ringside seat up here. Want
to come up and watch?”

“On my way,” she states.

I wait until she is standing at my shoulder
and looking out of the side window.

“Robert, you’re cleared to engage.”

I feel a slight vibration in the airframe as
the M102 105mm howitzer sends its payload downward. Below, the
shell impacts into the side of the facility with a crash. Smoke,
with pillars of yellow flame mixed in its depths, billows away and
up. The trees near the building bend from the blast and debris
rockets outward. Chunks of concrete, brick, and metal rebar land in
a fan pattern across the area, some hitting vehicles in the parking
lot. The section above where the shell crashed into the building
falls on itself in a pile but is lost behind the billowing
smoke.

I feel a second vibration as another shell
punches downward. Another section of the hospital is hit with a
fiery explosion as the ordinance collides with the structure. I
glance back at Lynn and see a small smile on her lips as she
watches the shells tear into the hospital. I would reach out to
sense the night runners inside but I don’t want to feel their fear
or their pain. I keep that part of my mind locked down.

Before long, Robert ceases fire. Looking
through the smoke pouring from the devastated facility, the thermal
images show a complete ruin. As the smoke clears, I see the
destruction. The hospital is nothing more than piles of rubble with
some portions of ruined wall structures standing amongst the tumble
of stone and distorted metal. Twisted metal rebar sticks out of
some of the crumbled walls. Pillars of smoke pour skyward as fires
smolder in the ruins.

Looking at the ruins, there is no way any
night runners could survive, unless they were buried deep in some
basement. If that’s the case, they’ll have a hard time digging
themselves out. I open up and sense nothing. My senses in this area
aren’t entirely reliable, especially from altitude it seems, but
there isn’t a flicker from below. There isn’t any use in continuing
as we’ll just be pounding some of the larger debris into smaller
rocks. And, we don’t have an unlimited supply of ammunition.

We secure the stations and make ready for
the second part of our mission, finding the sniper’s team members
that I believe lie hidden in the area somewhere. If they’re close,
they will have heard the thunderous destruction of the hospital
below and know something is up. The thought that we should have
looked for them first surfaces, but there isn’t anything we can do
about it now. I was focused on taking out the night runner lair
before night fell. Lynn squeezes my shoulder and gives me a smile
before making her way aft and back to her console.

“I’m going to climb higher and set up a grid
search pattern to the south. Robert, have all monitors on. We’re
looking for vehicles without a coating of grime, tracks,
people…anything that looks like there might be someone around. My
guess is that they’ll be encamped a distance from the city to
minimize the night runner threat. Look for barricaded buildings or
something similar. Speak up if you see anything that looks slightly
out of place,” I say.

With that, we turn south, leaving the
destroyed night runner lair smoking behind.

* * * * * *

For the second time this day, Michael is
awakened from his slumber. This isn’t the panicked waking that the
previous one was, but more of something that gradually pulls him
from the dream world to the waking one. He is groggy at first and
rolls over to fall back asleep, noticing many of his pack within
the large interior are restive as they too have come awake. His
eyes open as he realizes there are images of pain and fire entering
his mind.

He pushes himself to a sitting position. The
low noise of his pack jostling around the interior increases. Many
rise to a sitting or standing position as the images fill their
minds as well. Waking more, Michael reaches out and knows instantly
the images of fear and death are coming from where Sandra’s pack
was. He senses, through the minds of the distant pack members, the
explosions that are rocking the lair. He also senses the agitation
that is sweeping through his own pack.

Fear of the unknown thing that is tearing
the lair apart emanates strongly from the far pack. Flashing images
of individuals running through the halls to escape. Multitudes are
running randomly, hoping to escape the fire and destruction. Floors
and walls rock, knocking many off their feet. Images of plaster
falling from the ceiling enter Michael’s mind. Other brief pictures
are of entire hallways disappearing in a tumult of falling debris.
Members from the far pack vanish from his mind, never to
return.

Shrieks from Michael’s own pack echo as they
share in those images. Some run around the interior as terror from
the distant pack enters their minds. Michael’s own fear is mixed
with frustration because he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to
send some message that will help, but he doesn’t have a clue as to
what that should be. The faraway lair is coming apart and he
doesn’t know why. He does have the deep sense that the two-leggeds
are responsible but has no idea how. The only thing that comes to
mind is that thing that deals death from the night sky.

With the images storming into his mind,
Michael looks up at the ceiling far overhead. He dreads that the
destruction he is witnessing in his mind will come to his lair
next. If it does, there is no place they can go. Heading outside
into the bright, painful light is certain death. Thankfully, the
lair that is being destroyed is some distance away. He anxiously
stares at the ceiling while the other pack vanishes from his mind
by the tens and then the hundreds. Soon, there is not a single
flicker of life left that he can sense.

The rest of his pack settles down after the
last of the images fade from their minds. They feel his
apprehension and huddle in corners or in groups, waiting for the
same to happen to them. Whimpers and moans fill the vast, darkened
interior of their lair and Michael wonders what Sandra has brought
upon them. He thinks, belatedly, that he should have killed her
when he had the chance. Whatever destroyed her lair is far more
than he can deal with. Michael no longer thinks of his place as a
sanctuary. He thinks again that he and the two-leggeds can’t
inhabit the same area. The answer, however, remains elusive – run
or attack?

Time passes without the concussive noise or
destruction arriving. Michael begins to relax, and the pack
eventually drifts back to sleep. Even though the other pack didn’t
come close to the numbers he has, he knows numbers won’t mean a
thing if the lair is attacked like that. Sandra’s demise and the
way the two-leggeds accomplished it escalate the danger of them.
The destruction of the lair, and in such a short period of time,
intensified this feeling ten-fold.

* * * * * *

“Dad, turn um…to 210 degrees. I’m picking up
something on the thermal. It may be nothing, but it’s the most
we’ve seen so far,” Robert says over the intercom.

We’ve been running a grid search, but in a
seemingly random pattern for the last hour. The pattern is random
so that, if there is someone on the ground, they won’t know we are
searching for something. We’ll appear to be on a training flight.
If we were to crisscross the area, it would become abundantly clear
we were in an active search mode. We need to hurry though, as there
isn’t much time before we need to head back for Allie’s ceremony.
The sun is lowering and will hit the horizon soon.

I turn toward the heading given by Robert. I
don’t want to head directly at what he found as that would be
obvious as well.

As we near the area, I look to the monitor
and see where Robert has zoomed in. On the screen is a standard
looking farmhouse with an attached garage, complete with an oak
tree in front providing shade and an equipment shed and barn
nearby. Switching to the thermal imaging, I see what drew Robert’s
attention – a heat signature emanating from the garage. It’s faint
but there, and brighter than anything else we’ve found. It’s lucky
today is cooler or we might have missed it entirely. Of course, it
could be anything, but any heat registering would have to be
something; either a sign of some other survivor(s) or from the team
we suspect is in the area.

“I’m picking up some tire tracks in the
driveway,” Robert reports.

Switching back, I look at the zoomed
displayed image. There is a definite disturbance in the dirt
driveway. It’s hard to tell if they are definite tire tracks, but
something has disturbed the otherwise smooth surface.

“Keep an eye on those buildings,” I say,
setting an orbit around the small farm.

I radio base to update them and have three
teams head south with the rest placed on standby. I don’t know if
we’ve actually found anything, but if we have, I want to be ready
to hit it quickly. Only three teams are sent since I don’t want to
leave the sanctuary undefended considering what has happened. We
may have only found some random heat source, and the suspected team
may actually be closing in – if there is anyone at all.

Looking down, I study the setup. The house
itself is far away from any others and a ways outside of Olympia.
It’s nestled in a small valley amongst the hills of the Capital
Forest. There don’t appear to be any fortifications, but this seems
like a place that would be devoid of any night runners. It looks to
be a calm and peaceful place that I’m sure was someone’s dream home
before the world went to shit.

“Vehicle emerging from the barn…make that
two,” Robert calls out.

On the scope, I see two vehicles charge from
the barn. The first barges through the flimsy barn door with a
second one emerging on the heels of the first before the splinters
of the wooden door have finished falling.

“Permission to engage?” Robert asks.

The vehicles appear to be Humvees painted in
a woodland camo pattern.

This surely has to be them
, I think,
watching the vehicles make a dash for a road leading deeper into
the forest.

The actions surely indicate this is who we
are looking for. I’m not sure there would be anyone else who would,
one, make a run for it with us flying overhead, and two, be driving
military-style vehicles.

I take a second to answer as the Humvees
draw closer to the wooded area.

“Permission granted,” I reply.

We can’t afford to let them get away. We’ve
already lost one valuable team member to them and can’t afford that
they might take another shot at us.

I sense more than hear the 40 mm cannon open
up. The ground around the lead Humvee erupts in a flurry of dust
and smoke as the rounds strike around it. The vehicle flips over
frontwards like it hit a tripwire and lands on its top, skidding to
a stop after a short distance, its wheels spinning in the air.

A second later, I hear Robert issue the
order to engage the second vehicle. Another flurry of dust strikes
send it into a sideways skid.

As the dust settles, I hear Robert, “We have
two runners from the second vehicle.”

Tracer rounds streak downward from the 25 mm
Gatling gun. Again, the ground is chewed up around first one, and
then the second runner. Through the thermal imaging, two bodies lie
unmoving on the hard-packed earth. Dust slowly settles to the
ground around the bodies and vehicles, but not another thing is
moving.

I contact Horace to inform her of our
contact and give her the coordinates. She informs me that she and
two other teams are about twenty minutes out. We continue to circle
and monitor the house for any further movement. From all
appearances, we won’t be asking questions of the sniper’s
teammates.

With Horace due to arrive in five minutes, I
have Robert direct a single 105mm shell into the house and another
into the barn. The house and barn fly apart from the concussive
hits from the howitzer, scattering wooden shrapnel into the yard
and surrounding fields. If there were others inside, any info they
may give is not worth the risk to our team members. We have the one
shooter and have lost enough for one day. If we didn’t already have
one to garner info from, I may be thinking differently. And, if we
hadn’t lost Allie, I might also try to capture another. However,
her loss has hit me hard. Every life is valuable. We can’t afford
any losses if we are to survive.

We circle looking for any others that may be
below. A line of dust rises as Horace and her column of vehicles
turn onto the dirt road leading to the small farm. They dismount
away from the ruined house and barn with the weapons of the Humvees
and Stryker she brought trained on the structures. They approach
and start going through the wreckage, finding nothing of value.

They take a cautious approach toward the
destroyed vehicles. Without taking any fire, they search the
vehicles, finding five dead and two badly wounded but unconscious.
They go through the wreckage without finding anything of value,
gather the bodies, and return to base. We search without finding
anything else by the time we need to return. Horace calls a short
time later and informs us that the two wounded have succumbed to
their injuries.

The warm but humid day becomes chilly by the
time we arrive at Cabela’s. The mood is somber as the crew of the
Spooky and I walk into the main building. Milling quietly, the
others of our compound have gathered on the first floor. Near the
front doors, a casket resides on several sawhorses. Inside lie the
bodily remains of Allie, her soul having already departed to her
next destination. Seeing the casket, I wonder if it’s just a small
matter of time before we all meet a similar fate…
are we just
operating on borrowed time? Is this thing we are doing, trying to
survive, just the last dying gasp of humanity?
Drescoll stands
close to the concealed casket, staring down at it. His eyes are
unfocused and it’s obvious his mind is miles away.