John O'Brien - Sanctuary

I don’t hear anything other than the sound of the wind against our clothes. The portion of the building in front of the doors is covered so light doesn’t penetrate far inside. The small foyer between sets of entry doors receives light from outside but the interior beyond is pitch black; a dark abyss. Charlie, Bravo, and Delta Teams are lined up across the entrance doors from us. I take a step back with Red Team following and allow Echo Team to take its place first in line by the broken glass door.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I say into the radio. “Go!”

A soft explosion of sound and movement follows my command as Echo and Charlie Teams enter through their respective doors and rush inside. The boots of Echo Team crunches over the broken glass on the ground near the entry doors. The swish of clothing grows louder as they proceed in as teams. The clink of metal on metal of sling attachment points moving adds to the soft rush of noise. Pulling my NVG’s down and turning them on, I rush in as the last member of Echo enters. Red Team rolls in behind me.

I spy Bravo Team entering alongside us. I rush through the second set of doors into the darkness. The interior shows crisply through the goggles; cast in a green glow. Echo has taken kneeling positions in line twenty feet in front of the doors. Their infrared aiming lasers reach out into the darkened building, waving from side to side as they search for any movement of night runners. Red Team forms next to them facing left and covers the area. I stand behind them and glance over to see Charlie set up in a similar manner on the other side. No explosion of night runners or their shrieks greets us. It’s all good so far.

“Alpha, Bravo, Go!” I say pressing the mic button at my throat. Another soft explosion of sound is heard as both teams enter and rush by Echo to take position further into the building. The structure stands silent to the assault within it.

Delta rushes in on the heels of Bravo, heads to Charlie, and they both head further to the right by the cashier stands. Black and Green rush immediately behind and past me. Their boots pounding on the linoleum tiled floor cease as they take up positions on the left. Thin beams of light move around the inside like a laser light show. The building falls silent except for the whisper of cloth rubbing; the team members moving as they search the interior. I feel like we have entered a long vacated and empty tomb.

Scanning the interior with the rest, I see the large centerpiece looming large in the middle. Created to look like a rocky hillside, stuffed animals of all kinds stand on and along its surface. Short shelving units, filled with an assortment of boating and fishing goods, cover the left side of the store creating a multitude of aisles and lanes. To the left front and right, clothing racks are crowded together limiting the visibility. Cashier stands are to our immediate right.

“Charlie Team, start clearing the small store. Delta, be ready to back them up. Red Team will be searching the bathrooms,” I say.

“Roger that, Charlie moving,” I hear Mullins respond.

“Okay, Red Team, let’s move,” I say in a whisper to the team just in front of me. “Robert and I will cover the outside, the rest of you go into each bathroom and clear everything. Remember, these night runners can be tricky so check everywhere. We don’t want to be blindsided.”

Red Team rises and advances down the short hall to the first door. Gonzalez, McCafferty, Henderson, and Denton ease the men’s door open and proceed inside. Robert and I keep an eye on the other door. They emerge a couple of minutes later and report it’s clear before doing the same with the women’s. We move to the center behind Echo Team. Charlie Team reports the food store clear a few minutes later.

“Alright folks, we’re moving up. Echo, move up to cover the near side balcony. Alpha, Bravo, move up alongside them and cover the other balconies. Alpha, don’t forget the far escalator. Blue, you have the near stairs. Move!” I say into the radio.

The teams move up into position with a swish of movement and the sound of boots on the hard floor; the noise unnaturally loud in the stillness. They take their positions seconds later. Seeking targets, pin points of light flash in every portion of the large building. Nothing moves in the green glow of our goggles nor does the air erupt with a symphony of shrieks. The tomb-like atmosphere prevails.

Making sure everyone is in position, I say, “Alright everyone, here comes the fun part. Lynn, Drescoll, start up the left side. Mullins, guide Charlie and Delta up the right. Go slow and cover everything.”

“Moving out,” Lynn responds.

“On the way,” Mullins says.

I look to the flanks and see the teams begin to advance down the sides of the first floor, making sure they stay under the balcony overhang. Both Green and Charlie swing further to the sides of the building in their respective areas.

“Everyone else, keep your areas covered no matter what unless I tell you different. Listen up on the radios,” I say as the teams penetrate further.

I monitor their progress while checking the balcony sides and far end; watching as they swing into small aisles or check between clothing racks. Their progress is slow but thorough. There is a whisper of wind blowing in the broken doors behind me. Other than a hint of movement from the side teams or the occasional “check that area over there” or “cover me” on the radio, the black abyss we have entered remains still. There is a tension prevailing within the silence. It’s not a matter of if night runners are in here but a matter of when they will show themselves or when we will find them. The signs by the entrance doors are unmistakable; our previous experiences have taught us that much.

The teams are a quarter of the way up the side when Cressman whisper over the radio, “Night runner on the far balcony, second floor.”

I look over and see it against the metal bar railing that encircles the balcony ledge. With both hands gripping the upper surface, the night runner is leaning against the railing peering down in the direction of Delta. Although invisible to the night runner, six laser points of light instantly focus on its chest and head from Bravo centering their weapons on it. The night runner lifts its nose in the air and begins sniffing; testing the air for our scent. It sniffs, looks around the area, and then repeats the process. It knows we’re here.

“All teams hold position. Cressman, take it out,” I whisper into the radio.

From the night runner’s behavior, it is pretty obvious it doesn’t know our exact location. I want it gone before it finds us and issues its shriek of warning. We’ll have to deal with them at some point but I would rather come upon them rather than having to fold back into defensive positions, especially with the limited visibility through the clothing racks. I would also rather not have a body just lying around waiting to be discovered but it is, once again, a matter of a certainty versus a probability.

I know the night runner in view will eventually scream out and, by the looks of it, very soon. The suppressors we are using aren’t the Hollywood “ ptew ” type of suppressors as those don’t exist. The length of the suppressor required for that would be like carrying a tank cannon. Yeah, try wielding that around. However, it does reduce the volume from a bang to a subdued pop. The M-4 isn’t a loud weapon as far as weapons go to begin with. However, it’s also not like it goes unnoticed, especially not in a silent room.

There was always weighing the danger of noise and needing to take out a guard in order to advance in times past. That is one reason why I always liked carrying a silenced .22 but then there was the danger of the round not being effective at distances. It was definitely a very close quarter’s weapon.