I get the phone book we secured from the weather shop and open it to the yellow pages where I found the security door manufacturer. I take note of the address. The rays from the sun cast a shadow from my finger across a map of the city as I find the location and trace a route. I look up towards the western sky and judge the travel of the sun across the light blue sky. We have quite a few hours of daylight left but it doesn’t feel like it. I look at my watch and see it’s a little after three in the afternoon. I figure we should have enough time to get the doors and be back before Lynn shows up. Providing everything goes well that is. I would like to leave those without training here but don’t want to leave the scant few I have with me behind to guard them. You never know what the circumstances are at the location or what we may run into and I’d like to have every able body with me just in case.
“Alright everyone, let’s mount up,” I say.
Slumping into the Jeep seat, the invigoration I felt earlier is beginning to fade, being replaced by an oncoming tiredness. The warmth of the day, although much cooler and less humid than the previous days, is adding to a feeling of lethargy. Oh for a peaceful night of sleep, I think starting the vehicle up. I hear the other vehicles crank up and we backtrack to the Interstate.
We drive down the black-topped road, take an exit south of town and on subsequent country lanes that eventually lead to a medium-sized metal pre-fabricated building set behind a chain link fence. I come to a stop by the short, dirt and gravel driveway leading in. A wide open dirt-filled yard, with scrap pieces of metal scattered and strewn about, encircles the structure. A couple of rusting trailers sit in one of the corners of the yard and three large panel vans are parked towards the front.
The gate to the facility is open making it easy to drive up to the entrance. The blue metal building is plain but large. Two windows and a white door adorn the right side of the building with a large roll-type, garage door in the middle. All are shut and the place looks vacated. It has a quiet, desolate feel to it. With our engines shut down, that feeling only intensifies.
A warm breeze blows through causing the dust to eddy about the abandoned yard, giving it its only life. The dust twirls upwards forming a small funnel and moves across the abandoned yard. The others exit the vehicles after the swirl of dust passes out of the gate like a customer leaving. The air is calm following the short dust storm, settling into the warm summer day once again. The rays beat down from a sun hovering above the top of the trees across the road. For once, time seems to stand still in this little lot. Not a breath of air stirs or sound is made. It’s like we stepped out of the world we were placed in and into a separate piece of reality. Even the degree of tension about the time seems to have ebbed.
The feeling of separation from the rest of the world suddenly vanishes and we are left just standing in a dusty, litter-strewn lot with an aging, prefabricated metal building in the middle of it. Clumps of brown grass grow among and around where the larger metal parts have been scattered. The others in our group are standing adjacent to their vehicles in much the same manner; perhaps feeling the same way, perhaps lost in other thoughts. I think there are times of great stress when the mind just has to rest itself. Or maybe when it’s about to embark on something of great stress. I certainly remember folding into another world prior to a mission but that was more on a conscious level of focusing the mind; eliminating distractions that may interfere with being centered.
“Henderson and Denton with me. Robert, you as well. Gonzalez and McCafferty stay with the vehicles,” I say breaking the silence that seems to have stretched for an eternity.
The others are startled from their trances by the sound of my voice bouncing off the metallic building. As at Cabela’s, Robert and I take the lead with Henderson and Denton behind. I want to do a circuit around the building prior to going in. The aging building is streaked with rust where the sides join the overhanging roof. It’s just another sign of neglect that the lot has already shown. I just hope they did a better job with the security doors they built. Weeds, long dead, are growing against the sides of the structure.
Gravel fills some of the larger potholes, crunching under our boots as we make our way along the longer-than-it-seemed side of the building. My toe catches one of the stones and sends it skipping across the dirt lot, kicking up small puffs of dust where it hits. I feel the heat radiating off the sheet metal as we continue toward the rear. Rounding the corner, the back end of the structure looks similar to the front but without the windows or door. A large, roll-type door, identical to the one in front, is open revealing a concrete floor with dust swirled across it. With this side of the building in the shade, the light isn’t penetrating far inside. I wave Robert and the others behind me, sidling against the outside wall until I come to the opening without revealing myself.
I stand for a moment listening. The fact that the door is open alerts me to the possibility that night runners could be lurking inside. The additional fact that we are out of the city a little ways may mean there aren’t many night runners around, although I’m sure they will expand out into the country as the food within the cities begins to disappear. I don’t hear any sounds coming from inside except for the occasional pop of metal heating up and expanding. None of the panting I heard in the hospital is present. I look to the ground in front of the door looking for tracks but the breeze and dust has rendered the ground smooth, effectively removing any tracks if there were any there to begin with. I don’t see any tracks in the dust on the floor either.
I kneel and poke my head around the corner looking into the building proper. I don’t like being backlit by the daylight but there isn’t really an option if I want a glimpse inside. The light at the door fades into a deeper gray and then darkness further into the interior. The sides are covered with that same inky black. The only exception is a thin line of light showing on the other side at ground level from the opposite door. Nothing stirs.
I’d go in now with those with me but I’m not comfortable with how the rest of our small group is still sitting at the front. If something were to happen, they would be in the line of fire ahead of us and our rounds would easily go through the sheet metal sides. Pulling back from the open door, we retrace our steps to the front and describe what we saw upon arriving.
“I’ll be taking Red Team and Robert in with me. Frank, will you take everyone and the vehicles back up the road a little ways. Leave one the Humvees here. If something does happen inside, I don’t want anyone to be in the line of fire or in a position to catch a ricochet. Those walls won’t stop a bullet,” I say.
“Sure, no problem, Jack,” he answers.
Mom catches my eye and I know she has something she wants to say by her look. I nod my head and we step aside from the rest.
“Are you sure about taking Robert in?” She asks in a hushed voice.
“Yeah, Mom. He went in with me at the BX in the Azores and did a great job in a hellish environment. He has to learn and he’ll be okay,” I reply.
“Okay, you know what’s best. I don’t know about Bri and Nic carrying weapons though,” she says.
“I know. Me neither really but they have to learn too, Mom. The luxury of having that kind of choice has gone,” I respond.
“Okay, but know that their minds are still developing and things can be taken to an extreme at their age.”
“I know. I wish it were different,” I say and we return to the others.
Why do kids always say “I know” to their parents no matter what age they are? I think watching the others load into the Humvees and Jeep. They drive through the open gate and onto the country road, disappearing quickly behind large blackberry vines that edge the road. I hear the squeal of brakes shortly after and then the muted sound of engines idling a short distance away. The remaining Humvee looks lonely sitting in the dusty yard after being surrounded by other vehicles only moments ago.