John O'Brien - Conspiracy

The team settles as best they can inside the cramped interior. It’s doubtful anyone will get a deep rest, but there isn’t really any choice. It’s that or sleep outside — which is out of the question. In the near distance, a lone coyote howls into the night. The hull of the vehicle muffles the sound, but it’s distinct nonetheless. It’s answered several seconds later by a chorus of yelps coming from another direction.

As long as it’s the howl of coyotes and not the shriek of the other pack hunters , Greg thinks.

Looking through the vehicle optics, Greg sees several coyotes as they pass across the plain. He switches from the thermal imaging to night vision mode. The shapes change from the white of their reflected heat to sharper images cast in a grayish-green. The pack trots in his field of vision as they stalk across the moonlit landscape. Even in the night vision mode, Greg can see their backs glowing silver as they are bathed in the moon’s beams. They stop and raise their noses to take in the scents of the night. One of the coyotes in front lifts its snout higher and sends a mournful cry aloft. An answering call is heard from the near distance. The pack begins yipping and turning in circles.

The apparent leader sniffs the air again and turns toward Greg. He barks once and the pack quiets. They all turn toward where the Stryker sits in the gully. Sets of eyes glow a fierce white as they stare directly at Greg, sending chills up his spine. As one, the light from the pack’s eyes vanish.

Greg still watches and catches an occasional glimpse of silver as the moonlight catches on the back of one of the pack members. They have resumed their hunt across the plain.

A high-pitched scream of terror and pain erupts from the night. The pack has found a meal from among the denizens occupying the numerous holes of the prairie. The coyotes on the prowl and the scream from the prairie dog remind Greg of the night runners and their own situation. The similarity between the prairie dogs and the last vestiges of humankind is unmistakable.

The night passes with only a few other calls from the coyotes as they hunt through the prairie dog town. No other signs of life show across the remote plain. Greg half expected to see the lights of a group of survivors shine somewhere but the surrounding area remained an inky black all evening. The lack of light isn’t overly surprising as that would be a beacon for any night runners, so it doesn’t mean there aren’t any surviving bands.

The sun barely touches the top of the Stryker sticking out of the gully when the team is geared up. Some quick morning ablutions and they are ready to get on with the day. Hopefully they will reach the first of the six legs of their trek. Greg is sure they won’t have to travel the entire distance as he reckons Jack will meet them at Luke AFB providing Robert is okay. He sends a quick thought of well-being Robert’s way as the Stryker warms up at idle. Rescuing the girl like Robert did was one of the bravest things he’s ever witnessed; that heroic kind of act deserves life.

After hitting the highway once again, Greg opens the top hatch to give some ventilation. Close quarters and a serious lack of clothing changes make for…well…a need for ventilation in the small compartment.

A short time on the road and the armored vehicle rolls past a sign welcoming them to Colorado. The topography is exactly the same, it’s only a line drawn by someone a long time ago. However, it’s a marker letting them know they aren’t stuck on a treadmill and are actually putting miles under their treads. Looking out at the landscape, one couldn’t be too sure. The only change in scenery is the tops of the mountains in the distance slowly getting loftier.

There are very few landmarks to keep track of their position other than a turn in the road or crossing over infrequent bridges. The fields to either side remain a mixture of brown dirt or overgrown with whatever crop was last put in the ground. The large crop circles that were created from centrally rotating sprinklers remain in places, but the crops have withered due to a lack of water.

That changes shortly after crossing a bridge spanning a small stream. The fields to the north take on the nature of being freshly plowed with some showing sprouts of greenery. Except for trees and bushes adjacent to streams, and in mountainous areas, it’s the first green Greg has seen since journeying out of the Northwest. The fact that the ground has been plowed isn’t necessarily an indication that someone has done it recently. It could have been done previously and the ones responsible taken down with the epidemic or some time thereafter. He orders the Stryker halted.

Looking at his map, he finds they are about three miles from the next town, Lamar. The highway heads to the center of the town before turning north to cross a bridge across the river they’ve been paralleling. Greg’s plan was to proceed cross-country around the city and intersect the highway again to the north just prior to the bridge. That’s still the plan but the condition of the fields beside the road gives him pause.

Greg climbs out of the vehicle to get a better view of the area. Through the magnified view of his binoculars, he sees the outskirts of the city ahead. It looks like any other town they’ve passed with the exception of a fence enclosing sections of it. The town is still some distance ahead, and the details aren’t clear, but he doesn’t spot any movement or other sign of inhabitants. The light covering of dirt across the highway doesn’t show tracks leading in or out of the municipality. Panning around the fields to either side and behind, he observes the same — no indication of anyone around.

Notifying the others, Greg jumps down and walks to the nearest field. He catches the aroma of freshly turned earth as he draws near. Reaching through a fence surrounding the plowed land, he feels the dirt and crumples a clod between his fingers. It still has remnants of moisture and not dried out as it would be if it sat on the surface for very long. He surveys the expanse once again, expecting farmers or their equipment to materialize. He sees and hears nothing to indicate others are near. However, the fencing around the town and the plowed fields are clear signs that someone was around recently.

Greg returns and informs the others of what he found. There’s some speculation about staying in the area to find out if there are others but, in the end, they decide to push on with their original plan. They don’t have great numbers to deal with a hostile encounter, and it would be unfair to the soldiers looking for their families if they didn’t continue with the mission. That’s their primary goal and every day counts, especially with them having to travel on the ground. Greg marks his map, indicating possible survivors and orders the driver to proceed off road.

Exiting the highway, they roll over the fencing and angle through the adjacent fields to reach the northern end of the city. The vehicle jostles as they bounce across the furrows. Greg keeps the optics focused on the outlying areas of the town. If there is anyone there, they aren’t going to take to the team ruining their fieldwork. However, unless they have anti-armor capabilities or heavy caliber weapons, there isn’t much they can do about it.

Greg looks to the north end of the city as they drive ever closer. It appears that they’ll have to cut close to a section of an industrial park prior to reaching the road and bridge. The fencing he saw from afar extends around this locale. From this closer look, the tall fencing does in fact circle a large part of the northern end. He’s about to order a turn to the north to avoid the area as much as possible when a glint catches the corner of his eye. He pans the optics and turret toward the eastern end of the town and sees another flash of light. The winks become a series and it’s apparent they are being focused directly at them.