John O'Brien - Sanctuary

I lean over, give Lynn a kiss on the cheek, and head inside. There are several team members pulling the large centerpiece apart and carrying the pieces outside. I see others manhandling several large commercial washer and dryer machines against one of the outer walls. I feel a little guilty for spending the day trying to fly an aircraft, one with the propeller in entirely the wrong place, seeing all of the work that the others have accomplished today but I also know that, should we need it, that skill will be a valuable one to have.

The rest of the day passes with more sorting of equipment and finally removing the last parts of the centerpiece. The center is now clear for any purpose we desire. The smell of dinner being warmed up wafts through the building as our small group meets again. Robert is off talking with Michelle and I wave him and Bri over. I want them to be a part of our meetings as you never know when learning will take place. I plan to take some time with them for additional training when things settle into a semblance of equilibrium and after their initial training with Lynn.

“Did we get everything we need to start tomorrow?” I ask as we draw together.

“As near as I can tell,” Bannerman answers. “Of course, there will always be odds and ends that we’ll find we need along the way.”

“Nicely done,” I say with the others nodding.

“Lynn?” I ask wanting to hear her report.

“I’ve finished with what I think preliminary training should encompass. It’s a scaled down version of boot camp without the breaking down phase. I’m emphasizing weapons training, tactics, and conditioning along with a survival phase,” she says.

“Great. Need any help with it?” I ask.

“I did put together a secondary training course that I want everyone to go through at some point. You can help with that. It will be more of small unit tactics, stealth, and small unit leadership,” she answers. “I haven’t put together any of the nightly training as yet but will make an announcement for folks to be prepared to teach a class in something they know.”

“Excellent,” I say.

“And you? How did your day go?” Lynn asks.

“Yeah, well. It was, um, interesting. It’ll take some time before I’m comfortable and I’ll leave it at that. I plan to be back up there tomorrow and will take Red Team with me so if we need help anywhere, give us a call," I answer. "Frank, what do you have?' I ask.

“We tested the radios and were able to communicate with the teams out to a considerable distance today so we should be good. We located some maps of the area and have them tacked down on a table by the radios. We’ll be able to keep track of the teams and people,” Franks answers.

“Make sure we have the teams report in hourly and the drivers report leaving and arriving at each location,” I add.

“I’ll brief everyone,” Lynn says.

“Oh, we might want to pick up some chainsaws along with oil and gas. We’ll need to cut the trees down away from the wall so the night runners can’t climb them and vault over,” I say. Bannerman picks up his well-used pad and pen to make a note. “I think we should also rotate the teams out gathering supplies with the standby team.”

“Sounds good to me,” Drescoll says.

“Anything I missed or that we need to talk about?” I ask.

“I think we’re good,” Bannerman answers.

“I can’t think of anything,” Lynn replies. Drescoll and Frank shake their heads.

We adjourn and I walk up to the roof sitting on the same pipe as before. Robert and Bri join me. We sit in silence and watch the sun drop below the trees to the west. The mass of vehicles below us are mostly out of sight, hidden by the roof edge. The roof edge , I think gazing across the grass fields surrounding the parking lots and stretching to the trees in the distance. I make a mental note to talk with Bannerman about putting an overhang over the edges so the night runners can’t scale the sides. I still don’t know how they managed it but I put nothing past their abilities anymore. I’m sure there will be more surprises in store and I hope we’ll be able to meet them.

The shadows of the evergreens in the distance spread across the fields below us marking the slow transition of day towards night. I think about the lots below us filled with night runners as the night envelops us. I wonder how long they will continue coming to this building if they aren’t able to get in. Are they able to recognize and understand defeat and gradually drift away and stop trying? Do they know to stop trying? How intelligent are they? Or will their persistence remain and continue with their nightly attempts because they don’t know any other way? Do they feel compelled to continue? These thoughts drift through my mind as the sun sinks lower in the sky and behind the mountains. I enjoy being up here at this time of day with Robert and Bri and would like to make this a nightly ritual. A time for just us to be together.

The sun slides down behind the mountains sending a last ray across the orange-lit horizon. The ray signals that our time of the day has gone and the time of the night runners has begun. We stand as one and bid the day farewell, each in our own way. After sealing the doors closed, we head to the restaurant for dinner. I pass by Bannerman mentioning the roof edges. As with the nights before, our evening meal becomes momentarily interrupted by the first of the attempts by night runners. The resounding echo reminds us that we are far from being out of danger.

The night passes like the others. The noise from the night runners, as they slam into the doors, has almost a rhythm to it; rising and falling as if the rhythm itself were alive. Several louder ones startle me during the night but I’m able to get a semblance of rest.

The next day starts like the last one. I rise and see Lynn going about the teams, waking them for their morning training. I’m tired but don’t have the exhausted feeling I’ve had on prior mornings. Lacing my boots up, I wonder just how long I’ll be able to put up with these cots. After rubbing the sleep from their faces, everyone gathers their gear and heads down the stairs. With the morning training complete and a bite in us, I gather up Red Team. Lynn catches me just as we are leaving.

“Jack, would you mind heading to the aircraft to see if, well, just see if the note is still there?” She asks taking me aside.

“Of course, hon,” I say pulling her close and holding her tight. There’s so much more I’d like to say but we understand each other and there’s nothing more to be said.

We begin our journey north for a repeat of yesterday, well, hopefully not an exact repeat. The day is an almost complete replica of the day before with the exception that a few, high wisps of clouds sweep across the blue background. Those high, innocent wisps indicate a front trying to move in. It may mean our test to see how clouds affect night runners may be coming soon. Or maybe the high pressure over us will win out and we’ll be blessed with more warm, sunny days.

The helicopter sits on the ramp where I left it, or some might say deposited it, yesterday. It sits as if inviting me to another round. I gather my things and trudge over in order to make another attempt to master my skills. Going through the check list once again, the rotors overhead respond as if accepting a challenge. I feel a touch more comfortable but still feel hesitant remembering some of yesterday’s lovely experiences. I roll the throttles up and feel the vibration increase. Lifting up, I feel the skids go light like the many times before only this time I don’t go shooting across the ramp.

Working my way through pedal turns and some forward and back moves, I lift higher off the ground and work on other maneuvering. After a point, it’s better to have altitude for maneuvering to give a little more margin for error. Of course, if I was to make an error requiring said altitude then I’m pretty screwed anyway. I get the hang of it after a bit, using the term “getting the hang of it” liberally but I find I can maneuver. I practice turns, climbs and basic maneuvers.