Twenty feet in and keeping their outer perimeter, a canvas covered supply truck blocks her immediate path. She turns the rear corner quickly and aims inside. Her barrel tracks left and right as she searches the interior. Fully expecting a shriek and a night runner to launch at her, she is relieved when the truck turns up empty. Fuck I hate this, she thinks skirting the rear of the vehicle. I just fucking hate being in these fucking buildings. Stupid motherfuckers! Why did they have to come inside?
More murmurs of conversation arise from amongst the stacked crates as the teams make their way cautiously to the front sliding doors. Lynn wishes once again that those inside would just keep quiet. They’ve been lucky so far with the night runners and she is actually amazed they haven’t been set upon yet. Before, it didn’t take long until the night runners were aware of them and assaulted. The fact that there are night runners inside yet they haven’t attacked makes the quiet all that much more eerie. Surely they must smell them by now.
“We’re at the doors, first sergeant. They look motor driven,” Horace reports. Looking toward the short distance separating her from Blue Team, she eyes the large doors. From what she can see, they seem to roll on sizeable tracks.
“There must be a manual override. We’ll hold here for a moment. See what you can do. Break. Jack, Lynn here,” Lynn whispers into the radio.
“Go ahead,” Jack replies.
“We’re inside by the large doors trying to see if we can get them open. I can hear the other group deeper inside. Any idea exactly how many sailors are in here?” She asks.
“Standby,” Jack replies.
“Lynn, there are twelve crew members inside,” the answer comes shortly.
“Copy that. Thanks, Jack.” Several thumps interrupt the tense silence farther to the rear of the vast, dark interior.
“Okay, we’re advancing up to the front of the vehicles. Mullins, you’ll take the left and keep in line with us. Horace, keep trying the doors. You’ll be in reserve. If something happens, pull Blue Team to the open door and hold a perimeter around it. We’ll fold back to you. Remember, we have night runners in here but there are also twelve sailors. Verify your targets,” Lynn says.
With a positive response from both of the other teams, she spreads Black Team out and begins to advance slowly online. She observes Charlie Team advance and keep pace. Green laser beams dart in amongst the vehicles and over the crates beyond. Lynn keeps her head moving searching for the targets she knows are within. Step by step she moves forward, her heart beating harder and faster with each movement. Without the large door opened, her goal is to get to the sailors quietly and escort them out.
The air within is chilled and heavy with tension. Or perhaps that is her tension radiating outward to the surrounding environment. It becomes harder to pick up her feet the farther in she goes. The air feels thick and increases the more she moves inside. It’s as if the very darkness itself has substance. She knows the intense adrenaline rush and dread of being inside a night runner lair. She also knows that it’s easy for the fear to take control. If that happens, she’ll be useless or dangerous to the others. With a deep, calming breath, she takes another step.
The randomly spaced supply trucks make it impossible for them all to remain within sight of each other. She steps between two trucks parked in line with each other. One other Black Team member follows her but now she can’t see the others to either side. Scanning ahead, Lynn sees a dark spot on the ground just in front of the vehicle to her left. Looking closer, she notices it looks like a dark puddle with rivulets spreading out in several directions. She pauses and hears a wet sound coming from just in front of her.
“Black and Charlie team, hold up. I have something to my front. Standby,” she says.
Going to one knee silently while keeping her M-4 at the ready, Lynn looks under the truck toward the front. Her heartbeat picks up even more and jumps into her throat at the sight. Lying on the ground just under the front bumper is a person dressed in the jeans and work shirt of a navy crew member. A flashlight lies beside the unmoving form illuminating the side of the body. Dark stains cover the shirt and ground beside. While the sight of the body startles her, it’s the movement around the body that causes her to tense up.
Lynn sees a pair of legs kneeling on her side by the still body with more movement on the other side. The bottom of the truck cuts off any further view. The wet sounds continue and she knows immediately what it is — chewing. This must have been the shriek they heard just before entering and she hopes these are the only two night runners within. The sailor must have been put on a watch or just wandered off by his or herself in their search. She watches as a head comes into view and lowers to the dead sailor.
Keeping her eyes glued to the scene in front of her, Lynn slowly moves her hand to her throat mic. “I have two night runners and a dead body three meters to my twelve o’clock in front of the truck,” she whispers. “Keep alert for others. Mullins, can you get a shot at them?”
“I can’t see anything from my position but I’ll work my way forward,” Mullin’s whispers his reply.
“Copy that. No sound.”
The night runner with its head lowered sinks its teeth into flesh and, with a wet, tearing sound, rips off a chunk. It begins to raise its head back and halts suddenly… pauses… the chunk of flesh drops from its bloodied mouth. Lynn freezes. She feels that the pounding of her heart can be heard for miles. The night runner sniffs the air and looks directly at her. It lowers its head farther. Their eyes lock. Lynn’s mouth turns dry as another burst of adrenaline floods her system.
The night runner’s eyes glow through her goggles sending a deep chill to run along her spine. Time pauses. An eternity passes as they stare at each other. The absolute silence of the moment encompasses her; folds around her like a cloak. Not a muscle twitches or breath is taken. They kneel staring at each other like statues frozen in an instant of time. Then, like a speeding locomotive emerging from a tunnel, normal time resumes. She hears a low, deep growl emit from the creature in front of her. The other night runner freezes in its motion then, suddenly, a second head appears to stare under the truck. The second night runner stares hard and then snarls, baring its blood-stained teeth. With astonishing speed, both rise and come around the front of the truck.
Taken aback by their startling speed and emergence, Lynn begins raising the barrel of her weapon. Both night runners round the truck just scant feet in front of her and charge in her direction. Knowing she won’t be able to bring her weapon to bear in time, she launches herself backwards from her kneeling position in order to gain her more separation and time. The move brings her M-4 up quicker and she squeezes the trigger.
Rounds exit the moving barrel with muted coughs as they pass through her suppressor. The light from her firing flashes on the sides and undercarriage of the truck beside her. Still in the air falling backward, she watches as her bullets impact the nearest night runner in the thigh and stitch upward. Hitting the hard floor on her rear end, she is jarred and slides backwards on the seat of her pants.
The first round hits just above the left knee of the night runner. Entering the soft flesh, the bullet begins to tumble upward. Missing the femur, it rips upward through the thigh and exits the top of the hip taking massive amounts of tissue with it. The second round hits square in the middle of the thigh and slams into the femur. The tremendous force of the impact shatters the thick bone. The next bullet collides powerfully with the pelvis. Hitting the top of the pelvic bone, the bullet splits with both pieces angling farther up. Ripping through sections of the intestines, both shards exit just under the lower rib cage in the back. Blood sprays into the air from the entrance and exit wounds