John O'Brien - Sanctuary

“Are we waiting for something, sir?” Gonzalez asks from across the doorway.

“Just listening and not sure we should even venture in. The manuals aren’t that vital,” I answer.

She peeks her head around the corner of the door and looks in. “We should be okay in there, sir.

“Okay, but we confine ourselves to this room. Any noise or sign of this building being inhabited and we’re out immediately,” I say.

“Hooah, sir,” she responds with a grin knowing how much I like “hooah.”

“Henderson and Denton, take the right side. Gonzalez and McCafferty, straight ahead. Robert and I will cover the left. We’ll be on NVG’s. Check your radios on and one in the chamber,” I say taking a breath.

The familiar tension of entering a darkened building again grips my insides. I’m hoping there will come a time when we can just leave the dark buildings alone and let the night runners have them. Of course that will happen when the buildings fall down with age but that is a long ways off. Perhaps we’ll knock them down when we gather everything we need from them or at least the ones around us. It is part of a “denying the night runners a sanctuary” strategy that runs through my mind from time to time; clearing the area around us. I have no hope of ever clearing them entirely or having some “take back the country” idea as that would be literally impossible with our current personnel and the immensity of that kind of undertaking. We just need our own little place to be safe in and in which to grow.

I nod after we don our goggles and make sure our radios are working. Henderson and Denton dart in the open door to the right; coming to a rest a few feet in and focusing on the right. Robert and I are hard on their heels drawing to a point where the wall makes a corner and continues to the left. I feel the grit from the dust under my boots and take note that it could be slippery in places. The sounds of Gonzalez and McCafferty entering penetrates my senses, both feeling and hearing them draw to a stop beside me. The door slowly closes and shuts with a subdued clink. The room is now only lit by the green glow of our goggles.

I peek around the corner and see a wide aisle between the start of the lockers on my right and the wall to my left. The aisle extends the length of the room, ending at a chest high counter that begins at the wall and runs across my line of sight. A large whiteboard fills the wall behind this station which I hope is the operations desk. If so, then my search for the manuals may be a short one. A small fraction of light emits from the blind-covered window at the desk illuminating part of the whiteboard and counter top. Two doors open up to the left with large-paned windows set in the wall beside them.

“Okay folks, we’re heading to the counter to my front. We’ll stagger with Robert and me in front clearing the aisles to the right and the offices to the left as we go. Gonzalez and McCafferty, you follow behind watching to the right. Henderson and Denton, follow and cover the rear,” I say quietly into the radio.

“Copy that, sir,” Gonzalez responds with a whisper.

“Gotcha covered, sir,” Henderson says.

I turn to Robert at my shoulder, “Stay right behind me and cover the aisles to the right. Make sure you cover on top of the lockers as well. I’ve got the offices to the left and the front.”

“Okay, Dad. I’ve got ya,” Robert replies.

I edge up to the first plate glass window to my left feeling the dust slide under my boots as I glide along. It has the same feeling as being in a tomb long ago forgotten. I guess I’m not as used to the feeling of everyone being gone as I thought. My mind is still associating all that I see with activity and the lack of it causes a small disconnect. The chill in the air, after the warmth outside, adds to the feeling of being in a place that doesn’t seem to want me in it. It’s like it is also traumatized by the same feeling of being left alone and abandoned and wants to merely be left by itself in its pain.

Peeking in the corner of the glass while keeping my senses in tune with the surrounding environment, I look for any movement or night runners within the small office. The only thing inside is a desk wedged in the small enclosure with various papers and a calendar littering the top of it. Besides a couple of chairs behind and in front of the desk, the office is empty.

A quick check down the aisles across from me shows them clear as well. Our best early warning system will be noise and I heighten my senses along these lines. If night runners were to emerge from the aisles without us being prepared, we will be quickly overwhelmed due to the close proximity with which they would become visible. The desk is only about forty feet away but it seems both closer and farther. The light from the window should give us some protection once we reach it.

I sidle to the next window listening to the soft sounds of movement behind me as the others move up. The building is deathly quiet. The sounds of our boots sliding along the grit on the floor and soft sound of cloth rubbing together sounds unnaturally loud within the room. I edge up to the next office and peek in to find the same; a small desk with accompanying chairs and a scattering of paperwork.

I edge quietly up the main aisle and past the aisles between the lockers; checking each as I come to them. The only sight is a place where pilots would gather their last thoughts prior to heading out for their flights; a place where they would think about the upcoming mission while gathering their gear. A chance for a short time alone, wrapped in a bubble with others gathering gear nearby, to finalize thoughts for the flight ahead.

So far, so good. Our scent hasn’t aroused any night runners, there’s no sound of anything scuffling about, and no shrieks of discovery. That doesn’t mean they aren’t lying in wait or further in the building, but we seem to be clear for now. The distinct locker room smell that I’ve associated with a group of night runners is absent. That also doesn’t mean I can relax my guard. We’re in their territory now and I’ve been surprised far too many times to relax inside a darkened building.

The tension is strong; my senses wrapped tight around me with a small part of my mind still questioning the decision to enter. The one good thing is that I don’t feel the sense of the room closing in and waiting with bated breath. There’s still the aspect of a weight within the darkened room but it doesn’t feel like an explosion waiting to happen; it doesn’t feel like we’re being watched.

I approach the counter and look behind it. A jumble of papers are littered across its surface with a microphone sticking up in their midst. This has all of the appearances of the operations desk with a base radio. The whiteboard is covered with markings and associated call signs. The wide aisle we were in heads off to the right in front of the counter to a set of swinging double doors that lead further into the structure. I have Robert cover in that direction as I head around the counter to get behind it. I am guessing there should be some manuals around the desk somewhere to assist pilots with any emergencies they encounter. The ops desk would assist with anything the pilot in distress needed.

I open the blinds and sunlight streams through the window, casting its light about the operations desk, brightening the entire desk and area. It’s light enough that I can remove my goggles and see clearly enough. I only turn them off and raise them wanting them ready just in case. Waving the others over behind the desk, we crowd behind it. I begin looking through drawers that line the desk, eventually finding a set of hard-covered manuals in a large file drawer.

I heft them out and lay them on the desk. I am about to pick them up and stow them as best I can while having my M-4 clear when a sudden noise interrupts my thoughts. It is a muted thump that comes from beyond the doors leading into the building. All eyes turn in that direction with the small metallic clicks of weapons being raised. I don’t see anything in the gloom of the room and any visibility through the small glass windows in the swinging doors is obscured by the darkness behind.