John O'Brien - Conspiracy

“Dad, turn um… to 210 degrees. I’m picking up something on the thermal. It may be nothing, but it’s the most we’ve seen so far,” Robert says over the intercom.

We’ve been running a grid search, but in a seemingly random pattern for the last hour. The pattern is random so that, if there is someone on the ground, they won’t know we are searching for something. We’ll appear to be on a training flight. If we were to crisscross the area, it would become abundantly clear we were in an active search mode. We need to hurry though, as there isn’t much time before we need to head back for Allie’s ceremony. The sun is lowering and will hit the horizon soon.

I turn toward the heading given by Robert. I don’t want to head directly at what he found as that would be obvious as well.

As we near the area, I look to the monitor and see where Robert has zoomed in. On the screen is a standard looking farmhouse with an attached garage, complete with an oak tree in front providing shade and an equipment shed and barn nearby. Switching to the thermal imaging, I see what drew Robert’s attention — a heat signature emanating from the garage. It’s faint but there, and brighter than anything else we’ve found. It’s lucky today is cooler or we might have missed it entirely. Of course, it could be anything, but any heat registering would have to be something; either a sign of some other survivor(s) or from the team we suspect is in the area.

“I’m picking up some tire tracks in the driveway,” Robert reports.

Switching back, I look at the zoomed displayed image. There is a definite disturbance in the dirt driveway. It’s hard to tell if they are definite tire tracks, but something has disturbed the otherwise smooth surface.

“Keep an eye on those buildings,” I say, setting an orbit around the small farm.

I radio base to update them and have three teams head south with the rest placed on standby. I don’t know if we’ve actually found anything, but if we have, I want to be ready to hit it quickly. Only three teams are sent since I don’t want to leave the sanctuary undefended considering what has happened. We may have only found some random heat source, and the suspected team may actually be closing in — if there is anyone at all.

Looking down, I study the setup. The house itself is far away from any others and a ways outside of Olympia. It’s nestled in a small valley amongst the hills of the Capital Forest. There don’t appear to be any fortifications, but this seems like a place that would be devoid of any night runners. It looks to be a calm and peaceful place that I’m sure was someone’s dream home before the world went to shit.

“Vehicle emerging from the barn…make that two,” Robert calls out.

On the scope, I see two vehicles charge from the barn. The first barges through the flimsy barn door with a second one emerging on the heels of the first before the splinters of the wooden door have finished falling.

“Permission to engage?” Robert asks.

The vehicles appear to be Humvees painted in a woodland camo pattern.

This surely has to be them , I think, watching the vehicles make a dash for a road leading deeper into the forest.

The actions surely indicate this is who we are looking for. I’m not sure there would be anyone else who would, one, make a run for it with us flying overhead, and two, be driving military-style vehicles.

I take a second to answer as the Humvees draw closer to the wooded area.

“Permission granted,” I reply.

We can’t afford to let them get away. We’ve already lost one valuable team member to them and can’t afford that they might take another shot at us.

I sense more than hear the 40 mm cannon open up. The ground around the lead Humvee erupts in a flurry of dust and smoke as the rounds strike around it. The vehicle flips over frontwards like it hit a tripwire and lands on its top, skidding to a stop after a short distance, its wheels spinning in the air.

A second later, I hear Robert issue the order to engage the second vehicle. Another flurry of dust strikes send it into a sideways skid.

As the dust settles, I hear Robert, “We have two runners from the second vehicle.”

Tracer rounds streak downward from the 25 mm Gatling gun. Again, the ground is chewed up around first one, and then the second runner. Through the thermal imaging, two bodies lie unmoving on the hard-packed earth. Dust slowly settles to the ground around the bodies and vehicles, but not another thing is moving.

I contact Horace to inform her of our contact and give her the coordinates. She informs me that she and two other teams are about twenty minutes out. We continue to circle and monitor the house for any further movement. From all appearances, we won’t be asking questions of the sniper’s teammates.

With Horace due to arrive in five minutes, I have Robert direct a single 105mm shell into the house and another into the barn. The house and barn fly apart from the concussive hits from the howitzer, scattering wooden shrapnel into the yard and surrounding fields. If there were others inside, any info they may give is not worth the risk to our team members. We have the one shooter and have lost enough for one day. If we didn’t already have one to garner info from, I may be thinking differently. And, if we hadn’t lost Allie, I might also try to capture another. However, her loss has hit me hard. Every life is valuable. We can’t afford any losses if we are to survive.

We circle looking for any others that may be below. A line of dust rises as Horace and her column of vehicles turn onto the dirt road leading to the small farm. They dismount away from the ruined house and barn with the weapons of the Humvees and Stryker she brought trained on the structures. They approach and start going through the wreckage, finding nothing of value.

They take a cautious approach toward the destroyed vehicles. Without taking any fire, they search the vehicles, finding five dead and two badly wounded but unconscious. They go through the wreckage without finding anything of value, gather the bodies, and return to base. We search without finding anything else by the time we need to return. Horace calls a short time later and informs us that the two wounded have succumbed to their injuries.

The warm but humid day becomes chilly by the time we arrive at Cabela’s. The mood is somber as the crew of the Spooky and I walk into the main building. Milling quietly, the others of our compound have gathered on the first floor. Near the front doors, a casket resides on several sawhorses. Inside lie the bodily remains of Allie, her soul having already departed to her next destination. Seeing the casket, I wonder if it’s just a small matter of time before we all meet a similar fate… are we just operating on borrowed time? Is this thing we are doing, trying to survive, just the last dying gasp of humanity? Drescoll stands close to the concealed casket, staring down at it. His eyes are unfocused and it’s obvious his mind is miles away.

We quickly stow our gear and return. Drescoll hasn’t moved and is still lost in his own mind. Lynn walks to him and places her hand on his shoulder. He gives a subdued start and turns his head slowly. His red-rimmed eyes meet hers and she whispers something to which he gives a slow nod.

Lynn quickly bathes and returns. Someone hands her a bite to eat, which she gladly accepts. The filth that covered her has been removed, but cleaning up and having something to eat can’t hide the gauntness that remains. It is obvious that she’ll need time to regain her health.

Gonzalez, Robert, Henderson, Denton, Lynn, and Drescoll take positions around McCafferty’s casket and lift it onto their shoulders. They proceed solemnly out the front doors, the rest of us following.