John O'Brien - Taken

“So we denote who is ready to lead a team and form others when we have people ready right?” I ask.

“That sounds like a good plan to me. I know for one that Jordan is ready,” Drescoll says.

“What about Gonzalez?” Lynn asks.

“Yeah, she’s ready but I’d like to leave her in place as she pretty much leads Red Team when I’m not there,” I answer.

“Okay, I think Watkins mentioned something about Cressman and that she may be ready,” Lynn says. “We’ll fill out the teams as we need and as people become available.”

“Let’s keep in mind that we need others to work in other areas. This isn’t only about filling and creating teams,” Bannerman states.

“Agreed. So we keep it to those that want to and excel in the training,” Lynn says.

“I’ll leave that to you then,” I say.

“Yeah, gee, thanks, Jack,” Lynn says as yet another thing is heaped on her already busy plate.

Bannerman clears his throat to change the subject and adds, “Well, we finished the fences today and will be starting on the structures tomorrow. I’ll need some people to head out with flatbeds to pick up a great deal of lumber from the surrounding yards. And some others to start taking the greenhouses down. We won’t be able to put up more concrete pads until the rain clears. The training today with the trucks went well and they should be able to make their way down the road without dropping transmission pieces all over. We still have some work on backing up with a trailer but I don’t foresee that being a great problem tomorrow.”

“Jack, I have something that’s been bugging me. Well, not exactly bugging me per se but rather that’s been on my mind,” Drescoll says and looks at Robert and Bri before continuing. “Forgive me if this comes out wrong but didn’t you think that was, what was her name, oh yes, Julie. Didn’t you think that was her in the house when you told your story of getting Robert and Bri?”

“Yeah, I thought it was for sure but I’m guessing I was wrong and not for the first time,” I answer.

“What if you weren’t wrong? I talked some with her and there seems to be a huge gap in her memory,” Drescoll states.

Silence settles among the group as the ramifications of what he is saying is slowly absorbed. Bri tilts her head and looks at me in askance. Robert stares with his mouth open slightly and turns looking for his mom. The others have a glaze wash over their eyes as they draw inwards thinking of what Drescoll’s question implies.

“I just had to be wrong, that’s all. We would have seen others I think if that were possible. I mean, we’re talking about a genetic alteration. I don’t know but that doesn’t just disappear, does it?” I say but not terribly sure of what I’m talking about.

“Think about it,” Drescoll pushes on. “That means she would have to have some sort of antibodies or something. If that were true, couldn’t we use that to reverse the whole process?”

“I am no physicist or geneticist. Or kind ofany ‘cist’ for that matter. I wouldn’t know the first thing about that. Or how to use it or synthesize it. I don’t know that anyone here would either. That’s a pretty big ballgame we’re talking about. And we’re not even sure that’s what happened. She could have just hit her head or something. I wouldn’t even know how to check for something like that,” I answer. “Anyone have anything even remotely close to an answer?”

Everyone shakes their head. Frank said he’d ask around to see if anyone had any expertise but I’m highly doubtful. Anyone with that kind of knowledge would be working for the CDC or some research facility although the University of Washington had a pretty good medical department and medical research going on. My knowledge is frightfully small in that area other than knowing that genetic changes are possible. One only has to look outside at night to know that. All I know about it could be crammed into a thimble with room left over for a finger.

A thought runs through my head that we’ve all seen too many movies about this very thing and it seems so easy on screen. In real life, like many things, not so true. My realm of expertise on the subject would be to draw someone’s blood and shoot it into one of the night runners and see what happened. I mean besides pissing it the hell off. Nope, not into running around with a pissed off night runner just to see what his or her reaction would be. The ramifications that Drescoll has brought up is making my head hurt again. I check my ears for a trickle of blood.

“Well, one thing we aren’t going to do is experiment with people but if we do find someone with some knowledge, I’d be happy to hear them out,” I say after another long bout of silence. We don’t have a final word but just drift away as our thoughts about what Drescoll said almost paralyzes any other process.

The next morning dawns with mostly clear skies. It’s obvious it rained through the night but the clouds have parted leaving only faint reminders they were there. A few clouds still gather but for the most part, it’s another nice day coming our way. The sun glistens off the wet pavement as I gather the teams together before our daily training.

“I just want to let you know that I haven’t forgotten that you have families as well,” I begin addressing the group in a semi-circle around me; some kneeling on the still wet parking lot while others stand cradling their M-4’s. “I plan to take the 130 out when we can afford the time but it’ll have to be soon.” I see several faces light up.

“Now, there are limits we have to observe. First, any home or place we go has to be within 100 miles of a military airfield. We have to have JP-4 available. We can obviously only use the daylight and we have to be able to get there, search, and return by nightfall. We have to stay west of a line running from the middle of Texas due north to the eastern border of North Dakota. The majority of nuclear power plants lies east of that line and has most likely rendered the eastern part of the country inhospitable,” I continue.

Several faces fall at the news of the limitations. McCafferty raises her hand. “Sir, exactly what is the limit for Texas?” She asks with a hint of trepidation in her voice.

“What place are you thinking about?” I ask in return.

“Lubbock, sir,” she answer.

“That should be far enough west,” I say seeing her eyes light up.

“I’m sorry for those that have family outside of those areas. I truly am and if we could, we’d go find out about everyone but the hard fact is that we can’t risk going east of that line,” I say.

I feel sick at heart looking at some of the crestfallen faces. I’d like to say I know of that feeling and could empathize with them but my kids are safe. I could perhaps share in the anxiety of not knowing they are safe given recent events but to totally not be able to find out or know for sure, no, no one who isn’t going through that could possibly know.

“Sir, are you sure the power plants melted down?” One soldier asks.

“I’m pretty sure,” I say looking to see who asked so I can address them directly but I can’t tell. “All of the safety systems and triple-redundant fail-safes relied on their own generation of power. When that power isn’t available, then the chain reactions start. I’m quite sure they are all in the process of melting down if they haven’t already. With the predominant eastern flow of wind and the numerous plants on that side of the country, well, the coverage has to be almost complete and we wouldn’t know until it was possibly too late. I’m truly sorry.”

The silence is complete. There’s a shifting of feet as some are eager and others saddened. To say this situation is awkward is to put it mildly. I would rather be in the midst of a proctology exam than be standing here telling the ones that have family in possible radiation zones that we can’t go there.