John O'Brien - Takedown

The thought that she could be close by, in this very building, creates its own impatience within me. I want nothing more than to call out and hear her voice — and to move deeper into the shadows to find her. Sanity prevails though and I know that I… we have to do this carefully if we are going to get her out alive.

With my M-4 held at the ready, I walk over to the large reception desk. Rounding the corner, I’m startled to see skeletal remains on the floor amidst a couple of overturned chairs. Only pieces of rotting clothing remains attached to a mostly devoured corpse. The lower jaw hangs open as if still uttering the final scream. One of the arms is missing and the right leg lies some distance away from the carcass. One of the telephone systems has been knocked to the floor and lies next to the desiccated body. The phone handle and cord rests near the head of the body as if it were trying to make that last call. Shaking my head, not wanting to think of this person’s final dark moment of terror, I turn my attention to the desk.

The dark wooden desk has sheets of paper strewn about its surface and on the floor behind. Dust covers dried pieces of paper that are curled at the corners. Thick clouds of dust rise as I blow on the sheets, the particles settling slowly to the floor and casting dust motes in the light streaming in from outside. Nothing I see resembles building plans.

Most are memos directing patients to the right rooms. One departmental note specifies that the hospital is no longer taking patients and for the staff to direct any further incoming patients to their family physicians. I note with a kind of morbid fascination that several of the pieces of paper are covered in dark stains.

With only the sound of the teams shifting positions as they continue to scour the interior for signs of night runners, I begin opening drawers. The third drawer I access yields what we came in to find, a notebook with the diagrams of the interior rooms listed by department. I tuck it in my vest and start making my way back to the entrance. I wait at the entrance as the teams fold back to the door, their attention still on the interior. I nod at Robert and Bri as they pass by.

One by one, the teams exit until only Drescoll and I remain. A shriek erupts from one of the darkened halls, echoing in the large foyer. We both turn sharply toward the source bringing our weapons to bear. A single ghostly face flashes once at a hall corner before disappearing. I hear no sound of feet running meaning that it’s still there, right around the corner. Drescoll and I quickly exit.

“What the fuck do you think that was about?” Drescoll asks as we emerge into the full light of the day.

“Hell if I know. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that it was a guard posted to give an alert if something entered. It could be anything, though. It could just be a night runner that smelled or heard us but couldn’t come at us because of the light,” I answer.

“If it was a guard, that has some chilling ramifications,” Drescoll adds.

“More chilling to me is that they can conceive the concept of kidnapping,” I say.

“I really don’t think I like these night runners much.”

“The sooner we get Lynn, the quicker we can set about seeing to their destruction. And, given the attack on Cabela’s, we had better do that quickly before they do the same to us,” I say.

“Why was there only one, though? Are we sure there are more of them here?”

“No, but all of the signs point to the fact that there are more…a lot more. I would find out for sure, but I don’t want to spook them. We are dealing with a much more upgraded version of night runner nowadays. Aside from them taking Lynn, and apparently alive, did you notice the house cleaning?” I ask.

“You mean the glass swept aside?” Drescoll responds.

“Yes. Have you ever seen that before? I mean, it’s been a while since we entered a lair but there was always glass strewn across a bloody floor. Now it seems they’ve adapted on a few new levels.”

“That’s just too fucking scary to think about.”

“You have that right, my friend,” I say, staring at the immense structure.

I think about yelling to Lynn to let her know we are here. I’m sure her spirits could use a lift, but yelling would be the same as opening up — if they aren’t setting this up for us to come in, then it might spook them and I can’t take that chance. Of course, their knowing we were inside their lair might do the same thing but there’s no use compounding the issue. I’ll look at the video and diagrams and be back tomorrow. Then I’ll let them know I’m here. Knowing Lynn may be inside the building I’m staring at brings that stowed anger to the surface. Yeah, they’ll fucking know it!

The muted droning sound interrupts her dozing. There is little to do in the dark and fading off into sleep is a blessing. Lynn’s moments awake are agonizing to say the least — time drags on eternal. She’s tired, dirty, and the room stinks of her own waste, the reek of the night runners, and her own body odor. The time spent in the darkness is only broken by the change of the night runners at the door, food and water brought to her, and bathroom breaks. Her mind continues to play tricks on her and there are times when she’s positive she imagined the sound of the 130 seemingly so long ago.

It takes her mind a while to recognize the sound. She looks upward in the dark toward where she assumes the 130 is, the sound of which doesn’t fade nor does it get any louder. That means it could be circling. Could they have found her? The presence of the 130 also means that Jack is back, but she already knew that, didn’t she?

The noise fades after a period of time; leaving her alone once more. A muted shriek from somewhere beyond the door causes her to lift her head again. She’s heard the cacophony of shrieks as the night runners have left on the evening hunts a few times and, for her, that is the only real mark of time she has. This one, though, isn’t followed by the usual chorus. She senses tension emanate from the darkened shape of the night runners. They stop and then shuffle in an agitated manner, emitting very low growls. Another scream penetrates the blackness that is her room. This seems to calm the ones near her and they resume their panting and sniffing.

The droning wakes Sandra, jolting her upright. That hum instills fear in every night runner hearing it. It’s the sound they’ve heard at night just before it started raining down fire upon the hunting packs…it’s the sound of death from above. She visited the large lair she shared with Michael after the two-legged ones destroyed it. If they had been inside, none would have survived. She fears that the two-legged ones, knowing her position, won’t try to rescue the female but destroy the lair instead. Perhaps she should move the pack tonight, providing they make it until then, and come up with an alternate plan.

The droning fades and she relaxes. There weren’t the loud bangs or buzzing sound that indicated the packs were under attack from the thing in the sky. The two-legged ones have to know where she is…she sent that image of the female to the two-legged one. Perhaps they were just looking the place over. That means they will be here soon. The thought of the two-legged one coming to her causes a sensation in her stomach that can be associated with pleasure.

The image of a group of two-legged ones entering the lair causes her to turn her head sharply. She hadn’t expected them to come so soon. Sending a message to her pack, she wakes them and tells them to get into position, telling the one on the first level to keep watch. If the two-legged ones proceed, they know they are to take the one alive but, as for the rest, they can do as they please. Her pack will overwhelm whoever shows up in the narrow hallways.