Gathering the command group together, Drescoll briefs them on his search. Although he kept in radio contact, he wants to make sure everyone is up to speed. The discussion turns to why the night runners departed after capturing Lynn. Theories abound within the group and there is a lot of conjecturing but, in the end, no one can come up with an explanation that sounds even remotely plausible.
“I hate to bring this up, but I think we need to voice it. What do you think the chances of Lynn surviving the night are?” Bannerman asks.
With a heavy sigh, Drescoll answers, “I’m not sure. We haven’t found her body, so there is that hope at least. We’ll have a team designated to search every day until we find something.”
“Again, this may not be the right time to bring this up, but what about a memorial service?” Bannerman says. An awkward silence descends upon the group.
“No, I think it’s too soon. We need to wait until we know for sure…or until a longer period of time has elapsed,” Drescoll says, finally breaking the silence.
“I agree,” Taylor states adamantly.
“How long should we wait?” Bannerman asks.
“How in the fuck would I know?!” Drescoll replies heatedly, standing.
Another moment of awkward silence follows. Drescoll remains standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at each group member in turn.
His glare vanishes and his face falls. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about her,” Drescoll says, sitting once again.
“That’s perfectly understandable. We know you were her friend. We all were,” Frank says. Drescoll looks up sharply at the last statement.
“I mean, we all are,” Frank continues.
Drescoll’s expression changes once again to sorrow. “I know, and thank you. This is just…hard.”
“It is, and we’ll send out search teams each day. We’ll also have them broadcast over speakers for Lynn saying that we will find her. I think it’s important that we keep on with the projects we currently have in order to restore a semblance of normalcy,” Frank states.
“Agreed. We need to keep clearing the rubble and trees away from the compound along with completing the inner wall and towers. Mullins, will you take over the training for the Phase One students? I’ll take over Phase Two,” Drescoll says.
“Be happy to,” Mullins responds.
“I think we should keep on with the nightly curfew. We’ll need to pick up additional cameras for the inner doors and outside of the building,” Frank says.
“That means a trip to Bangor. It’s the only place I can think of that would have additional thermal cameras,” Bannerman comments.
“That should be a priority, so let’s arrange a trip when we can spare teams for security,” Drescoll says.
With that, the group breaks and readies to continue with the established projects the next day.
With the sun casting its early morning rays across the deserted base, long shadows reaching from the tall hangars to the west, we depart the ramp on yet another adventure. We skirt by the operations building and several large hangars before entering the base proper. Huge drifts of sand are piled up against their sides and almost completely cover the roads. If it weren’t for the higher drifts along the edges of the streets, it would be difficult to tell them from the surrounding brown fields.
The base itself is only a few blocks long, but the roads are confusing nonetheless. Most of the core of the base is made up of nearly empty, dirt-covered parking lots feeding smaller buildings. I know we have entered a very arid land as there is not the usual greenery that beautifies a majority of bases. Before long, and only having to turn around once, we make it to and through a gate serving the installation. A very tattered flag hangs limply from a flag pole near the visitor’s center.
We find the road indicated by the soldier and, after passing a few housing developments and a school, we emerge into an area of flat brown fields. They stretch far into the distance to the point that I can almost discern the curvature of the earth. There is not much in sight that breaks up the nearly unlimited view. I don’t see a single tree. There are only fences with sand piled up against the posts. Making a turn to the north, we pass a few farm houses and outlying buildings which are soon lost behind. We then enter an even more sparsely populated area. The only greenery, as noted by our assessment from the air, is along the small streams we pass.
As we continue along this lonely stretch, I don’t see any animals. There weren’t people other places we have driven along, but the lack of structures makes it seem lonelier. I ponder the food sources for other survivors and night runners. There isn’t much out this way to feed much of anything. There are some places where water flows but they are far and few between. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t sense any night runners in the base and only a few in the city itself — there just are not enough food sources to sustain them. I wonder how long that will last in the city itself and whether they will migrate to the surrounding hills when it runs out.
We pass through terrain that is a little more rugged with draws and ravines that extend outward from the Black Hills to the east. A series of tree-lined hills lie amongst these earth fractures and it’s there that I think some food may be found. If there is any, it wouldn’t support too many people or night runners. No, the only place really to survive around here is within the Black Hills themselves. The town of Sturgis lies right at the foot of them so there’s hope that we can find some survivors there and the higher hope that we will find the soldier’s family.
Bri jostles to the side as the Stryker navigates one of the many bumps in the road. Looking around, she sees the other soldiers sitting shoulder to shoulder in the cramped quarters, all moving in unison with the bounces. She pays a little attention to the hoses that run through the compartment and the display hanging down just prior to the small entrance of the driver’s compartment. She smells a certain electrical odor mixed in with the aroma of diesel and oil. It’s a tight squeeze for all of them and the seats aren’t comfortable but she doesn’t mind all that much. She’s here with her team and family and that’s all that really matters.
She looks over to Robert sitting across the way with his hands wrapped around the M-4 situated, like hers, between his legs. He is slumped forward staring at the floor lost in his thought. Everyone is sitting in various positions — some with their heads forward like Robert’s and others leaning back — but all have that far away stare of being lost in their own minds.
Looking back at the carbine between her knees, she admires the shape of the plastic and metal. Before, she enjoyed shooting, but a gun was just a gun. Now it is something much more. It is a part of her. She feels anxious if she doesn’t have her M-4 with her or at least nearby. Staring at the suppressor opening, it still amazes her that this is the only thing that has kept them alive when they’ve ventured into the dark buildings that house night runners.