“Any further questions or thoughts?” I ask.
There aren’t any replies and we break for the evening. I’m still tired and I feel a headache coming on so I sit and chat with Lynn for a while. Robert is off with Michelle and Bri with Julie. The interior settles down for the night. It’s comforting inside not having to listen to the perpetual banging of night runners trying to get in. I ease off into dreamland.
She wakes the next night conscious of the many around her. Many had lost their pack leaders and joined her but several pack leaders joined as well. Still aware of the tickle across her mind the night before, she heads out with her pack. There is still food available where the other two-legged laired and she will start the night’s hunt there. She hopes the other two-legged ones haven’t recovered and are defending their lair as they had before.
She trots through the darkened town with a drizzle starting to fall. The wet slaps of feet behind let her know the others are following. The wet will dampen the ability to find prey to an extent but she isn’t worried. She has more mouths to find food for but the young one riding along with her is the most important. She knows a couple of other females in her pack are also carrying young ones. The gray shapes of various buildings pass by as she heads up a steep hill on her way to observe the two-legged one’s lair.
She senses a couple of other smaller packs prowling the neighborhoods she passes. She sees the compound and halts. The lights that once bathed the perimeter in their glow are gone. The tall structures by the fence are empty and the air is free of their scent. She cautiously edges forward. There is no resounding bang of a gunshot or cry of alarm as there had been in previous nights when she ventured close.
She trots around the fenced area to the place it was brought down last night and enters the lair. There is one of the two-legged lying on the ground by the entrance. The sniffs the air and catches a faint scent but it is an old one. The drizzle has vanquished most of the smell but it’s still there. She doesn’t smell anything fresh or recent. With a look around to check for movement, she begins feeding. The males let the ones carrying young to feed first. Some are eager but she sends a quick message and they back off. The others find another lying on the ground nearby and set in.
Sated, she rises and guides the pack to where there is a smell of old blood. In the rooms of the building, her pack feeds on the remnants of bodies that were torn apart in some fashion. She remembers the mighty explosion the night prior and knows she found the aftermath. The why or how still eludes her but she is content that the pack won’t have to hunt all night for food.
She trots with several of her pack to the round building where the other two-legged ones laired. There’s no sign or scent of them. They have gone. She remembers almost ‘hearing’ the one and is intrigued. Well, intrigued is not perhaps the right word but she is curious and, for some reason, feels a pull towards that one. I guess that does mean intrigued. Perhaps it’s that she could almost communicate or understand that one. It was a new and different sensation but she also knows that the two-legged ones are dangerous and will shoot on sight. She has her pack and young one to think of.
She enters the building and finds more food for her pack inside. They will eat well tonight. The old scent of the others that were here is stronger making her a little more cautious but she hears nothing that indicates they are still around. Entering a large room, she looks up and sees another room overlooking. If she could smile or knew what that was, she would for there is the perfect lair. No light during the day will reach there and it’s big enough for all of them to sleep. She has found a new lair for them.
As they settle into their new place, her thoughts momentarily stray towards the one that was here and then trickles back to her young one. Their new lair is warm and they are all fed. She rubs her stomach gently and is content.
I wake early the next morning and head out with the rest of the teams for training. My muscles aren’t quite as sore and my back seems to be talking with me again. Well, at least acknowledging me if not outright friendly. Others begin making their way out into the drizzly morning heading off to the fields surrounding our haven. The clouds overhead are a darker shade of gray that promises more rain before the end of the day. Or, this being the Northwest, it could be minutes away. It’s a light training morning and we are soon finished. We head for the showers and a change of clothing. I know I am in dire need of one if the odor that seems to be following me around is any indication.
Feeling somewhat refreshed, the teams separate into tasks that Bannerman has assigned. The sound of the few semi’s we have parked outside cranking up filters inside denoting that the truck driving institute’s first class is about to begin. I check in with Frank to see where he wants to begin our search. He has chosen the south end of Olympia. I doubt we’ll find anyone as they should have heard our activities and filtered our way by now. Our burning endeavors didn’t extend that far and we haven’t been through the area as yet so it’s as good a place as any.
The ever-present headache is accompanying me as I head out to the helicopter to warm it up. Robert is accompanying me and I will switch the days off with Bri, when her arm is better, giving them somewhat of a lesson as we go. Yeah, like I’m remotely ready to give lessons but you only have to be one step ahead of those you teach. Frank has chosen the Capital Mall as a rallying point for any survivors and we plan on an afternoon meeting given it is so close.
The rotors come up to speed in a circular blur overhead and we lift off into the drizzle. The downwash of the blades keeps the windshield clear as we head over the brown fields where people are pounding metal fence poles into the ground. Several look up as we pass over. I rock the Kiowa as best I can to say hi. We head to the south end of town. The paper-strewn streets of downtown pass below. Memories surface of times out with the kids for dinner or my occasional foray into the town for a drink or two. That’s all the streets and town holds now — memories. Well, that and night runners.
I search for any barricaded locations that will indicate people are still surviving. I think the best place to search will be the residential districts but the night runners have proven to be quite innovative and it would be difficult for anyone to completely barricade a house against them. Still we pass over the forlorn housing areas and send our broadcast.
“Any survivors, we offer food, shelter, and protection. Meet at the Capital Mall at 3pm. If you can’t make that, we are located at Cabela’s. Any survivors….”
It’s still pretty early in the morning and that should give them enough time to get there by whatever means of transportation they have available. I mean, there is plenty just lying about. Of course, getting keys if you don’t know how to hotwire could be a tricky endeavor. We don’t see anyone exit the houses but cover the entire southwestern side before heading over to the warehouse district. It’s here that I would think people would more likely be able to hole up. We broadcast our message and head south to cover Tumwater.
I let Robert fly some but make sure we have a little more altitude. We can’t go too high as I don’t want to lose contact with the ground but high enough so that we won’t contact the ground immediately. I’m not proficient enough to recover should we decide to do a maneuver that alters the flight characteristics of the helicopter. Yes, that means out of control. We start off like a small skiff bucking high seas but he eventually gets the hang of it. By getting the hang of it, I mean like I did when I first began. That means we aren’t about to test the theory that the ground is harder than an aircraft nor are we in jeopardy of hitting inanimate objects.