The flat roof is covered with large and small antennae towards the front along with the rotating arm of the radar. From her vantage point, she sees almost the entire encampment with its lines of tan convex buildings in neat, orderly rows. Main avenues divide the groups of buildings and lead to the various zones of the camp. Far off in a corner of the camp, she can make out a section of storage containers piled on top of each other and vehicles are scattered throughout. In some places, she sees what appear to be very small shapes of bodies lying on the avenues and small alleys between buildings.
An ocean of sand stretches outside of the camp in each direction, merging with the horizon in all directions. Other than the occasional bird flitting here and there and the group standing around the Humvees on the ramp, there is not a thing moving. The only sound disturbing the surreal quietness around her is the generator running some fifty feet below her and out of sight against the containers.
Lynn leaves the roof and steps into the room once again, closing the trap door behind her. “We’ll have to locate someone up there at all times in shifts to monitor the area and look for survivors during the day and for security at night,” she says looking at Drescoll.
He nods and looks around the control room. “It’s going to be a bit crowded in here.”
“Yeah, not much we can do about that,” she says stepping out of the room and onto to the walkway signaling the group, standing on the ramp watching her activities, over.
With the rest of the group gathered about the control room with standing room only and barely enough room to fit them all, Lynn addresses Major Bannerman. “Sir, we’ll have to set up in shifts with a small security team for night that will sleep during the day. By day, we’ll monitor the surrounding area and scavenge for any weapons, ammo, food, water, medical or other supplies we may need. During the day, the night security team can sleep on the bunks. At night, we’ll have to stretch out as best as we can on the floors. We’ll give it five days and rethink our strategy should no one show up.”
“Sounds good, Sergeant Connell. I’ll leave the details to you,” Bannerman says.
Lynn then leads Specialist Taylor to the main console. “Can you work these and teach others how to do it?” She asks.
“Piece of cake, Sergeant,” answers Taylor.
“How many soldiers do you need to man the radios 24/7?”
“Well, considering we won’t have a lot of communication to handle, I think two others for three shifts of eight hours should suffice.”
“Okay, pick two and teach them what they need to know,” Lynn says stepping over to the side of the control room and looking out of the windows to the single strip of gray asphalt serving as the camp’s runway.
Gazing down at it, she thinks both wistfully and longingly, I hope you are doing okay Jack and I hope you come. The odds of both seem very remote to her at the moment; I mean, they talked about events such as this but only really as a means to fill the time and for fun. Would he really jump in an aircraft and fly half of the way around the world to pick me up? And, that is assuming he is still alive, and if he is, will he just gather up his kids and call it good? Suddenly, home and the hope of getting out of here seems very, very remote. With a heavy sigh, she turns back toward the group and begins making assignments.
Assignments are made to bring the weapons and supplies into the tower from the Humvees and to scavenge diesel for the generator. The supplies are placed in the office along with the extra weapons and ammunition. After the diesel is brought and off-loaded, the Humvees are parked close to the fence facing away but not close enough to be used to vault over the fence. The gate is then locked and the stairs raised as the sun descends toward the flat, sandy horizon; becoming to a giant ball of fire as it sinks closer to the horizon. The decision is made to leave the generator on in order to keep the radios alive. Although its noise may be an attractor, it has been running continuously for some time and therefore is not something significantly out of the ordinary.
The last vestige of the sun disappears below the horizon, signifying the end of another day. The soldiers within the tower prepare quick meals and settle in for the evening. Darkness comes quickly as it is wont to do in the desert and Lynn climbs out onto the roof with the night watch. She posts two guards on top with one more inside alongside the night radio operator. Settling down on her belly near the edge of the roof, she gazes out over the encampment. The street lights along the major avenues and roadways shine down on the emptiness casting their circular patterns of light on the sandy ground below. In a few buildings, lights shine in the darkness creating the image of a small city in a seeming normalcy of night. Here and there, rectangular patches of darkness show where the small generators powering those areas have either failed or are depleted of their fuel.
The ramp itself is lit by large banks of lights around the perimeter illuminating most of the ramp but leaving some areas near the middle in darkness. Looking towards the runway, Lynn sees the white lights of the runway stretch away to the left and right terminating in red lights toward each end. The blue lights of the single parallel taxiway, coupled with the runway lights, create an image reminding her of Christmas. Focusing back toward the camp, she sees an occasional flash as small groups of figures dash beneath the street lights. Off into the distance on the far side of the camp and close to the barracks, several shrieks rise into the air above the encampment faintly reaching Lynn’s ears.
Lynn brings the binoculars from the tower to her eyes and focuses on one group of figures as they dart through the lights. They are running close together in a pack-like formation seemingly intent on something. What that intent could be is unknown to her. She notices that each group she spies in her magnified view seems to run from place to place. In none does she notice any individual walking as they transit. The only exception to this is when they seem to stop to investigate something, whether that is a door or building or something lying in the road. When investigating something, they still seem to maintain a pack-like stance with none venturing off but each one conducting its own individual action within the pack.
With one group she is watching, they appear to be investigating a building door, seeming to mill about. One of the creatures looks suddenly to its left and she sees its mouth open up; the shriek it emits reaches her ears a second or two after. The entire group breaks into an immediate run in the direction indicated by the one who emitted the shriek. It comes to Lynn that the shriek could be their form of communication and seems to indicate a discovery in some fashion or another. She makes one other interesting discovery and that is the other groups seem to respond to the shriek as well. The shriek seems to inform others and they react as if it is a calling as well; much like wolves or coyotes will in the night with the discovery of food.
She scans around and finds the area around her seemingly vacant for the present moment. Bringing the binoculars skyward, she attempts to find any moving points of light to indicate aircraft in the vicinity but is only met with the bright diamonds of stars twinkling back. Handing the binoculars to the soldier lying next to her, she scans the fence perimeter with her mark one eyeballs. The fence and the ground directly below her are well lit from lights shining downward from positions about half way up the tower. This way, the area can be lit without affecting the vision of the controllers.
“Wake me if you see anything unusual or if any of the creatures ventures close. I’ll be at the bottom of the trap door stairs,” she says rising.
“Yes, Sergeant,” the Private responds as Lynn reaches to grab her weapon and descends down the stairs into the control room to settle into her sleeping bag.