John O'Brien - Conspiracy

Although everyone gave Lynn warm welcomes on our return, they mention again how nice it is to have her back.

“It’s been a long day, so let’s keep this brief,” I say. I detail the events within the hospital and the capture of the shooter.

“Lynn, I hate to bring up your ordeal, but do you have any idea why you were singled out and taken?” Frank asks.

“I haven’t a clue,” she answers.

“You didn’t receive any indication?” he continues.

“I really don’t know anything. I was kept in a closed room with night runners for guards, if you can fathom that, but I couldn’t gather any reason why.”

“I have to say I find it rather disconcerting that night runners can speak, let alone have the cognizance to station guards, but what about those last words you mentioned the female night runner saying?” Bannerman asks, directing the question at me.

“I wish I knew. This is as baffling to me as anyone else. The directed attack into our compound only to grab Lynn and depart doesn’t make any sense. If the night runners exhibited normal human behaviors, I would say that the female night runner was psychotic. I would venture that there was some sort of obsession going on…you know, the crazy, psycho, rabbit in the pot kind of crazy. It could be that she was psychotic in her previous life and that stayed with her when she turned. Perhaps the night runners carry over some degree of whatever mental characteristics they had and it manifests in odd ways. Either way, I’m not sure this is an answer we’ll ever know. I’m not even sure there is a lesson to be learned from it regarding the night runners,” I reply.

“The scary thing, aside from them being able plan something like that, is the pregnancy. Are you sure she was pregnant?” Frank asks.

“As sure as I can be. It could be something else, and it was a little sporty in there, but she certainly looked pregnant to me,” I respond.

“She was,” Lynn adds.

“So, we have to believe that the night runners can breed. That doesn’t bode well. If their rate of pregnancy is the same as ours, I don’t have to mention what that means,” Frank states.

“I’m afraid that may be the case. Of course, with any animal, they’ll only be able to maintain their population based on their available food source,” I say.

“That may be true, but at what point will that become a problem for them?” Bannerman asks, rhetorically.

The unstated question left sitting on the table is whether we’ll be around to find out. We are already vastly outnumbered, and the night runner population growth will only increase the threat to our survival. They can afford great losses and still sustain themselves; whereas we can scarce afford to lose anyone. If the math from the CDC reports is accurate, there could be more than thirty thousand night runners in the area compared to our meager near three hundred. The silence in the group says that everyone is doing the math and coming up with frightening answers. The mood drops even lower.

“Okay…well…we’ll just have to keep on with what we’re doing. We’ve made it this far and we’ll continue to do so. Where are we with our local projects?” I ask.

“Well, we’re ready to start with the housing. We’ll gather materials tomorrow and begin construction. Oh, and one of the people you brought back is a diesel mechanic, so we may be in luck with our ability to switch over to bio-fuels,” Bannerman replies.

“Good deal. And speaking of the people we brought back, one of the groups initiated a day where they had a BBQ. Although I think we can scarcely afford to take any time off, we need to implement something like that,” I state.

“I think that’s a good idea. It will give everyone an opportunity to relax. Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t had more meltdowns considering the pace we’ve been maintaining. I don’t think we can keep up this way and not suffer…you know, drive us into the ground,” Frank states.

“Can we afford to?” I ask.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Frank replies.

“What about the prisoner?” Drescoll asks, breaking his silence.

“I’m going to go see him after we finish here. I know I said that we’ll wait for a while, but we need info soon. He is definitely a pro, and the military vehicles we encountered earlier today shows that we may be up against something that we aren’t prepared to handle. We need information…and sooner rather than later,” I answer.

“Why do you think they attacked?” Robert asks.

“I have no idea, but that’s something I hope to remedy soon,” I respond.

“What about Greg?” Lynn asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t like the fact that he’s out there on his own with only one team, especially considering what happened today. Look, it’s been a long, emotional day, so let’s call it a night and meet again tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll have some answers by then and can plan accordingly.”

With more questions than answers, we all rise and make our way to our individual cubicles. I tell Lynn I’ll be back soon and head to where our prisoner is being held. Walking through the interior, I feel that a heavy oppression that has settled. These are trying times at best and the upsurge in optimism that I hoped for by bringing Lynn back into our fold was overridden by the loss of McCafferty. One step forward and another back. As it’s a human tendency to dwell on the negative more than the positive, the step back was larger than the one forward.

Images flash through her mind as she strides down the corridor. Gav watched events unfold in the control room and pictures from the satellite video feed are firmly imprinted in her head. Her jaw alternately clenches and relaxes as her mind plays the video over and over like an unending reel. Her hand grips the video disk tightly, almost to the point of snapping it. The tightening of her muscles is due to her stress and frustration.

Her shooter was given live satellite information — which was more than she ever received in the field — but it proved worthless in the end as it only resulted in a miss. In slow motion, the shot plays over and over in her head. Their target, Jack Walker, bending down at the exact wrong moment, the shot passing over his head. They had one chance at this and they blew it. Part of her frustration is that she knows that if she were there, the results would have been different — she never misses. Gav clenches her jaw, knowing she should have been the one to go, but her position here denied her that option. The team she sent was a good one, and she can’t fathom why the shooter decided to go it alone. There should have been two shooters with two spotters to make sure the target was down. Her frustration is echoed by the sharp clicks of her heels on the hard floor.

In her room, she slides the disk into the player to look at the video again; although it won’t alter the outcome no matter how many times she watches it. The video plays through to the end, showing the capture of her shooter, the destruction of the hospital, and the shelling of the rest of the team. The camp’s quick reaction shows what she is up against. She played her card and now her group’s anonymity may be in jeopardy. The capture of the shooter makes that a real possibility. He’s a tough one, but everyone has their breaking point. She knows this from her years of intelligence experience. She also knows they won’t get another opportunity like the one they had. It’s imperative that she do something to eliminate what may now be a larger threat.

Thoughts slide through her mind as she stares blankly at the monitor. They could make contact and attempt to join forces, denounce the shooter and his team and ones who went rogue, but the timing of it would be circumspect. No, that isn’t an option anymore. That one shot made the two encampments enemies. Minutes slide by as she works through options. A glimmer of an idea surfaces and she reaches for the phone to dial the control room.