John O'Brien - Conspiracy

Good to know. They can swim, but they’re defeated by moderate surf , he thinks, continuing to watch the gathering as the sub slowly transits the area.

He observes as others attempt to swim out to the group anchored off the marina, but they all meet with the same result.

As they patrol south, sandy beaches begin to give way to the steep cliffs of the Palos Verdes headland. Leonard doesn’t expect to find much as they can’t see over the tall bluffs. About to pull his eyes away, he catches a quick flash. Looking back, the area is dark.

“Ask the top deck if they observed a flash of light,” Leonard directs.

“Topside reports negative, sir,” a crew member reports moments later.

A faint flash from the same location is followed quickly by a second one. As Leonard is about to ask if the lookouts saw anything, they report the two flashes.

“Mark the location,” Leonard orders.

Staring intently toward the spot, his eyes feel dry and gritty. Blinking to bring moisture to his eyes, he looks again. He has a difficult time bringing the view into focus. It’s been a long day and he feels weariness descend. Realizing he won’t be doing any good, he tells the Officer of the Deck to call him if anything happens. With a mix of eagerness at possibly pulling into their homeport tomorrow and weariness that makes his every step feel like his shoes are made of lead, he retires to his cabin.

Morning finds the Santa Fe on the surface offshore from where they witnessed the three flashes of light. Patrolling the length of the LA basin area didn’t reveal anything further during the night. With two other lookouts, Leonard and Krandle stand topside looking over the escarpment, shielding their eyes from the glare of the freshly risen sun. A faint breeze carries the blare from the foghorn toward shore where it echoes off the cliffs.

“I don’t know about this one, sir. I’m not so big on urban environments to begin with and that’s a large sprawl of one. I wouldn’t mind so much if we didn’t have to travel far, but the only way I see to get on top is to put ashore to the north and hike in,” Krandle says, describing the only way he sees to get to the top to investigate the source of the lights.

“It’s your call, Chief,” Leonard replies.

Krandle stands, staring at the bluff rising sharply out of the water. White shows along the waterline where waves splash against the rocky shore. They are slowly navigating around the headland so that Krandle can have a better look at the environment. Bringing the binoculars up, he doesn’t see anywhere they could come ashore without having to go the long way around. There are a couple of steep paths leading upward, but the team would be vulnerable ascending those. If it were night, it would be different, but scaling those paths during the day if someone unfriendly was up there would lead to their quick annihilation. It’s the long way or none at all.

He feels torn. If there is actually someone who needs their help, then he feels he owes it to them to provide it; but it’s risky. So far, they’ve only ventured into small towns where they could extract easily enough. Going into a large complex such as this creates additional hazards, especially where the route out is a long one. He hasn’t run into any unsavory types as of yet, but he remembers some of the stories Captain Walker told. Even if he didn’t hear those, he knows human nature and is sure there are those who wouldn’t welcome their presence…or would be openly hostile.

“You know, sir, those flashes could have been from gunfire,” Krandle says, still not sure what the right answer is.

“I understand. There isn’t a right or wrong answer here. Do only what you feel comfortable with,” Leonard replies.

Leonard’s words help, but he still isn’t sure what to do. Their mission, as he sees it, is to help those that need it but not to the point that he overly exposes his team. Before, it was much easier. Those decisions were made for him. He received his mission, briefed his team, and away they went. There wasn’t the choice to go or not, they just did. He isn’t used to this situation.

“Okay, sir. We’ll go ashore. But no farther than where the flashes were. We’ll do a quick check and then we’re out of there. I figure we’ll put ashore on the beach at the northern end and make our way to the top. We’ll exfil at the same location,” Krandle says, reaching a decision.

“Go only as far as you deem safe. I know our duty to see to survivors, but keep in mind you are the only security force we have,” Leonard states.

“I will, sir.”

“We’ll be here when you return,” Leonard says, looking directly into Krandle’s eyes.

“Thank you, sir. Well, I suppose we should get ready,” Krandle says and departs.

A splash catches Krandle across the face as the rubber craft races down the front of the wave and hits the trough before climbing the back of the next one. He wipes the water from his goggles and eyes the beach ahead as they crest a wave. Looking to the side along the bluff on top of which sits their destination, Krandle makes out a trail angling along its side.

The ridgeline above the trail has an overhang which should give them some protection. Krandle follows the trail down to the waterline as best he can. The trailhead appears to intersect a small beach. The waves on this strand don’t seem severe and the approach seems doable. It will put them much closer to their destination without having to transit a large distance through unknown neighborhoods. The one drawback is that their approach will be more readily seen if there is someone above. As it is, they can still be seen, but their destination won’t be as easily discerned.

Krandle gets Ortiz’ attention and points toward the strand to the right. With a quick movement, Ortiz alters their path and angles toward the location indicated.

A wave lifts them up and the raft grates upon gravelly shore. They exit and scan the area, concentrating on the lip of the bluff rising high above. A sandy trail leads up to the left and they quickly cross the small strand, hiding their craft part way up the trail against the wall.

The breeze ripples against their legs as the team begins angling up the path in single file, hugging the cliff wall. They carefully check corners before continuing up the next section. The path looks undisturbed, but Krandle knows the wind can quickly erase any tracks in the loose sand. The shore slowly recedes below them as they ascend.

The pathway eventually spills out on top, coming to an end on a small plateau adjacent to a road which proceeds next to the edge of the heights. Resplendent stucco-covered and red tile-roofed manses occupy large lots across the street, each complete with a requisite swimming pool. The water in each has mostly evaporated into stagnant puddles. The once pristinely landscaped yards with pruned bushes look like they have a bad case of morning hair.

The team crouches on the plateau and takes stock of their situation. They are almost two miles from the point where the watch saw the lights. According to the map, the road near them runs along the edge of the escarpment with the cliff on one side and houses on the other. The size of the lots on which the mighty houses sit gives them a fairly open sightline. The houses themselves don’t give Krandle too much worry as he can’t fathom anyone who has survived to this point venturing into them. It’s the yards themselves that give him pause. Their overgrown nature can conceal just about anything.

“Well, gentlemen, we’re a little over three klicks from our destination. What we see here is what we’ll see along the way. What do you think?” Krandle says as a gust stirs up and eddies in the sand near them.