Gathering Red Team and some of the others that are going on the picnic with us, we head up to McChord to see if we can fit a Stryker in a 130 without knocking holes in the fuselage. After a few attempts and close calls, which involved yells, screams, and madly waving arms, we manage to get the behemoth parked snugly inside and tied down. Late in the afternoon, Roger returns from his search for local survivors. I’m notified that the pickup crews found eight additional survivors in the north Tacoma area. I’m surprised that we found any given the vast numbers of night runners we observed the other night. It’s heartening news and lends hope that we’ll be able to find even more. It’s great to have an additional pilot that can help out with the searches.
We meet that evening and I lay out my planned trip once again informing everyone of being able to take the Stryker along. Weather, and everything else permitting, the trip will take ten to eleven days. Picking up an additional gunship will be nice as we don’t have any maintenance personnel who can conduct inspections on a 130. That would be a wonderful pickup but it’s not that we can use aircraft for much longer anyway.
Bannerman notes that the inner wall should be finished with the coming day and then they’ll start on the towers and apartment building foundations. He also mentions having crews begin to clean up the rubble created from our nightly poundings and starting to take down the trees. Counting our supplies, he tells us we should have more than enough to make it through the winter. There are literally tons of supplies in the one distribution center and if needed, there is another one some distance to the south.
“Any word on our ability to create bio fuels?” I ask.
“We’ve been stockpiling the used oils from the kitchen. As far as actually making it, well, that’s a different story. I think I’ll have to see if the libraries we’ve spared have any information. That will mean we’ll have to go inside and search,” Bannerman answers. There is a moment of silence as we know what that possible means — another venture into a darkened building and possible night runner lair.
“Well, if we have to, then we have to,” Horace comments. “I’ll take my team in if we need to go.”
“Let’s visit that once we finish with the current training class. We’ll have another team online then,” Lynn responds.
“I have a potentially tricky topic to bring up. I was approached today by several individuals asking about religious services,” Frank says.
I thought the group went silent thinking about heading into a darkened night runner lair but Frank’s comment brings an absolute dead quiet. I should have actually anticipated this but my mind has been working in other directions lately. I am fully open to any religious preference and individual beliefs. It’s the organization of it that worries me. It has the potential to tear a line of separation within our survivor group if there is any degree of fanaticism that goes along with it. Believe me, I am completely open and have my own beliefs but they are my own and belong to me only. I want people to have their own set of beliefs but it’s the potential of developing the “I am right and you are wrong” division that worries me. Many wars have been started because of that mentality and I’d rather not have a defined separation amongst us.
“Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m certainly not against it,” I reply. The rest voice similar thoughts.
“Do we have anyone, I guess qualified, to lead services? I mean, anyone can worship however they see fit. I mean, up to a point. I’m not all that big on gutting small animals and the like,” I state.
“I’m not sure of that to be honest. I was just approached and asked whether we planned on having any,” Frank replies.
“I suppose if we have a priest or minister, or the ones who asked know of any, we can definitely incorporate that. As long as everyone knows we still have work to do and can’t really afford to be taking days off at this point,” I say.
“I’ll check around and see,” Frank says.
“One thing though, and this is my only worry about something like this, I don’t want this to create a fracture within our group. Worship and praise as one likes but I don’t want it to develop into one’s religious preferences being forced on others,” I say.
“If I can interject here and this may not sound right or come across in the right way, but, we also can’t afford to have religion dictate or interfere with our leadership. Whether that is in our style of leadership or with the decisions we make. We make our decisions based on our best chances of survival at this point and that sometimes leads to hard or unpopular decisions,” Drescoll states.
And, there’s an elephant that just entered the room. We have an entity established by our leadership and allowing another entity to exist creates the potential for conflict. Of course, who am I to say people can’t congregate together for religious preferences, just as long as that thought process is one of openness and tolerance for others. I may be getting way ahead of myself in my thinking though. After all, it’s only a few people that asked if there was a plan for having religious services. Ugh! I feel like just handing the reins over now and heading off for sunny beaches.
“While I agree with that, I also don’t see anything wrong with having services for those who want it. If they find someone who wants to and can lead them, then by all means, let them. They’ll just have to organize them around our already set schedules,” I say.
“I’ll let them know at one of our nightly training classes,” Frank replies.
“And on another lovely note, I’m off to bed,” Lynn says. “Coming, Jack.”
My cat-like reflexes serve me well as I’m out of the chair before my mind or body even registers it. Lynn and I spend the night talking and, well… then talk further before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
She is startled awake after having just dropped off into a deep sleep. The hunt was long and she is tired from running far into the night. It was a good hunt and her pack ate well but her legs ache a little and she feels exhausted. She glances around to find what woke her out of her slumber and sniffs the air. She catches a scent of prey nearby.
Although her hunger has already been sated, her mouth begins to salivate and her stomach rumbles ever so slightly. It’s both a sweet and musky scent at the same time. She knows this scent but hasn’t smelled it in some time. It’s the odor that emanates from the two-legged ones. Confused that it is coming from so close in the large lair, she turns her head sharply toward where the odor is coming. She sees a two-legged one, appearing much like her own kind dressed in torn and ragged clothing, standing off to one side looking around in a confused manner.
A low growl issues from her throat. The scent that comes to her nostrils evokes an overpowering rage and hunger. A thirst that can’t be satisfied. She rises and, not able to control herself, emits a loud shriek. The two-legged one flinches, and takes off at a run toward one of the walls of the lair. Others around her wake in a flash and begin sniffing at the air. They pick up the smell that woke her and soon the room is filled with shrieks that echo off the concrete brick walls. Catching sight of the fleeing one, they chase after it. They are behind her though as she began running after it as soon as the two-legged one began running.
The thrill of the chase fills her, heightened by the fact that it is a two-legged one she is after. Her elated shriek rises above the others. She can almost taste the sweet blood and fresh meat. The two-legged one ahead manages to find a door and stumbles through it. She has faced the two-legged ones before and managed to survive. His stumbling around in the dark confuses her as the ones she has encountered previously seemed able to see very well in the dark. This thought is lost in the rage, hunger, and anticipation she feels.