John O'Brien - Takedown

Krandle looks at Speer who is grabbing handfuls of brochures one-handed, stuffing them into his pockets while keeping his eyes and weapon on the unseen sounds. Many of the pieces of paper fall through his grasp to land on the floor, some gliding away riding on a cushion of air.

“That’s enough. Go, go, go!” he shouts.

Speer takes off like he was launched from a slingshot. Krandle backs away quickly keeping his M-4 trained on the interior. A ghostly face flashes at the edge of the darkness and vanishes. As the seconds tick by, the room increasingly fills with screams.

“You’re at the door,” he hears Franklin say behind him.

The crunch of glass underfoot is barely audible above the screams filling the hotel. He feels more than hears it and is relieved when his feet contact the concrete walkway outside. The shrieks still ring loudly in his ears but become more subdued as he steps completely outside.

“To the street,” he says to the waiting team.

He and the rest of the team streak down the alley, their boots ringing off the walls. Krandle knows Walker mentioned that the night runners couldn’t come out in the daylight, but he didn’t exactly describe what he meant by “daylight”. Krandle isn’t going to take the chance that shade is fair game for the night runners to venture into. He wasn’t going to stop until he reaches actual sunlight. Their journey out of the alley is significantly shorter than their one into it.

Reaching the road at the other end of the shaded avenue, they halt and turn, half expecting night runners to be on their tail or at the entrance, Krandle doesn’t see a soul. The only thing in the alley is a piece of paper tumbling end over end by a breeze along with several brochures that fell from Speer’s pockets. Even the shrieks have ceased. A blanket of silence descends once more.

“How the fuck did they know we were in there? We were like ghosts, man,” Speer says once they ascertain they aren’t about to be assaulted.

“Captain Walker mentioned something about their ability to smell things out,” Krandle answers, remembering the ghostly image of the face, a picture that will haunt him forever.

“That’s just not right,” Speer comments, fumbling in his pockets and withdrawing a handful of brochures.

“So, one of you two want to tell us what happened?” Franklin asks. Krandle relates what happened from his perspective.

“I guess that means no more going into buildings,” Franklin states as the others shake their heads in disbelief.

“I know you won’t find me going into any more. That was freaky as fuck,” Speer says.

“We’ll evaluate each situation as we come to it, but yes, I’m inclined to adopt that strategy,” Krandle replies.

With the rest of them maintaining a watch and with eyes stealing to the hotel entrance periodically, Speer begins looking through the papers he retrieved.

“Okay, boys and girls, there’s a lot to see and do, but we have to choose carefully as we won’t have enough time to see them all. We can walk the historic promenade and see a statue of Lewis and Clark, go to the arcade or aquarium, or take in the many shopping venues. Oh wait, there’s also the historical museum or we can have a romantic getaway. They all sound so appealing that I’m having a hard time deciding. Hmmm…there’s a Hood-to-Coast thing hosted here, whatever that is. I don’t know. What do you think we should do first, Dad?” Speer says, rifling through the cards as if on vacation. Quiet chuckles emit from the team.

“Go fly a kite, Speer,” Krandle says, knowing exactly what is coming next.

“Oh, it says we can do that here,” Speer replies, handing a brochure over.

“Just find one with a decent map on it,” Krandle says, looking warily down the alley.

His heart is only now slowing to the point that it feels like it’s actually a beat rather than an electric Gatling gun spitting out thousands of rounds per minute. Speer unfolds one that has all of the town’s attractions on a map that encompasses the entire inside of the tri-fold pamphlet.

“I think we can rule the hotels out,” Krandle says, looking at the map. “That leaves the police station and hospital to check.”

They creep through the silent, downtown streets. There are some cars parked along the side of the roads, all of which have sand piles built up against the tires. That and the dirty windows indicate they’ve been there for a while. Several of the shops, mostly of the touristy variety, have their windows broken out. The rest look like they haven’t been acquainted with Windex in some time rendering them opaque.

Speer is on point with the rest of the team spread at intervals. They alertly and warily proceed down the wind swept streets. Speer gets Krandle’s attention, pointing to a vehicle in the middle of the road ahead. It appears to have slammed into the side of a motor home. A body lies spread in the road adjacent to a car with the windows broken out.

Signaling the rest of the team to hold, Krandle walks ahead and crosses the street. Drawing nearer to the body, he sees that it has been there for a while by the small drifts of sand piled up against it. Something doesn’t look exactly right and, as he approaches, he sees what is wrong. Almost the entire body is skeletal with most of the skin and tissue missing. Hair clings to parts of the skull and the bones are only held together by strips of dried ligaments. The legs of the jeans have been shredded, leaving them looking like a deeply stained pair of shorts which are loosely wrapped around the waist. Shoes and socks barely adhere to the stripped clean body. Pieces of decayed internals lie in the rib cage mixed with sand and other small pieces of debris.

Looking to the vehicle, he notices the shredded remains of a red t-shirt wrapped around the rear wheel and partially covered with sand. Disgusted, Krandle steps up to the car and peers inside. Glass litters the floorboards and the front seat and rear seats. Another body in the same condition as the first lies stretched across the center console from the passenger to the rear seat. The longer, brown hair lies in a tangled mess across the rear seat. Lying along the rear seat, partially hidden under the dirty mop of hair, is a smaller body — obviously that of a child. The stained, torn, and shredded remains of a summer dress lies in a heap on the rear floorboard.

Krandle envisions what the final, terror-filled moments of this family must have been like. It must have been at night if they were indeed attacked by night runners as it appears they were. They may have been fleeing from the chaos around — a night filled with the horror of night runners attacking. Running down the hallway of the hotel, hearing the shrieks of night runners and the high-pitched, terror and pain-filled screams of others. No one understanding what is truly going but chaos reigning everywhere. The parents racing down the stairs to escape, fearful for their daughter. Making it outside into the darkness of the night where only hours before they were enjoying a vacation at the beach. The run to their car with the images and sounds of others as they flee through the streets. Jumping inside the car and perhaps feeling a margin of safety thinking they might actually escape the madness, only to be brought up short here in the road. The sudden appearance of the motor home and hitting it. Quickly surrounded — screams filling the car from both outside and inside, fists pounding on the windows, the absolute terror for your family and not able to move the car. The horrifying sound of the glass cracking and giving way. The knowledge that there isn’t a damn thing you can do but still fighting to the end. Being pulled from the car with your family inside shrieking in terror. The pain of the night runners tearing into flesh. The mom’s last lunge to the rear seat to protect her daughter.