John O'Brien - Sanctuary

I strain my ears for further sounds but only silence fills the area. The thump was quick and may only have been a book or something falling at the wrong time. The quiet that follows almost makes me believe I didn’t hear it in the first place but I know I did and have to keep that uppermost in my mind. I am about to lower my M-4 and think, once again, of how to carry the binders out when a louder thumping comes from the other side of the doors. It’s muted by the closed doors but it sounds like feet running in our direction. At least it has the rhythm of feet running. In my mind, there’s nothing else it can be. The muted sound seems to be nearing quickly.

My heart gives that first pounding thud of adrenaline being released. The way back to the outside door now seems farther away and especially with the narrow aisles close to our escape route. If night runners make it inside with any numbers and we’re caught along that path, this day will come to a short close.

We’re in fairly close quarters and cramped with all six of us behind the desk. We can’t all cover the door. We’ll be trapped here if the light streaming in the window isn’t enough to keep the night runners at bay. While it seems like minutes with the multitude of thoughts flowing through my mind, it’s only seconds.

“Robert, get the window open,” I whisper getting his attention and nodding to the window behind us. “Henderson and Denton, cover the area we came through. McCafferty, you have the tops of the lockers. Gonzalez and I will cover the doors.”

There’s a shifting of positions as we arrange ourselves to the extent we can. Henderson and Denton lean across the counter aiming their M-4’s back down the aisle we traversed. McCafferty also aims across the counter but stands to have better visibility over the tall lockers. Gonzalez and I line up next to each other aiming at the swinging doors. We turn our laser aiming sights to the visible spectrum and the thin beams of light reach out and dance about the room.

The pounding heading our way seems to shake the walls and structure but it could also be just the pounding of my heart and the adrenaline beginning to flow throughout my system enhancing my senses. There is no doubt though that vibration is being sent through the concrete floor underneath the linoleum and through the soles of our boots. It doesn’t sound like a horde coming our way but there is definitely something. And coming fast.

“How’s that window coming, Robert?” I say over my shoulder realizing I’ve barely given him enough time to do anything. Everything seems both speeded up and slowed down.

“I’m getting it,” he answers.

The swinging doors burst wide open, startling me even though I was expecting it. Two night runners sweep in and give a loud shriek on discovering us behind the counter. They come to an abrupt stop, their pale faces barely outlined in the gloom, with two others entering behind. They seem hesitant to enter fully into the light but stand with their heads thrust forward and screaming.

One thin beam of light centers on the head of the night runner to the right as Gonzalez centers her aiming sight. The muted cough of her M-4 firing mixes with the shrieking of the night runners, the flash lighting up the room and signifying that rounds are on the way. The bullets streaking outward intersect with the fine point of her light. Where her light is focused, an explosion of blood fans outward. The first round hits just beside the nose, shattering the cheek bone and fragmenting the projectile. The splintered shell then tears through the sinus cavity, destroying the internal structure and bone behind. Splintering even more, the remains rip through the soft tissue of the brain devastating the synapses and nerve centers within. The process of passing through the layers of bone takes some of the momentum away from the fragments and they slam against the rear of the skull and come to rest.

The night runner’s head snaps back from the force of the impact. The subsequent rounds from the burst hits on the left brow, as its head is knocked backward, and ricochets off the heavy bone structure into the one of the swinging doors. The others pass overhead. The night runner drops straight to the floor as if its legs forgot how to stand.

My rounds leave the barrel in a similar flash of light and strike the night runner to the left, forcibly impacting it right under the nose. The splash of blood mingles in the air with the blood of its partner. The bullet shatters the front teeth and upper jaw before arcing downward through the softer tissue of the palate and back of the throat. It smacks into the vertebrae with a tremendous velocity, severing the spinal column and creating a large hole in the back of the neck. Tissue and blood spray behind the night runner as, with its head lolling to the side, it is catapulted into the arms of its compadre behind.

“I’ve got the window open,” Robert yells behind me.

“Okay, head outside. McCafferty, you’re next. Henderson, Denton, follow. We’ve got the rear,” I yell bringing my aiming point onto the next night runner as it tosses the one thrown backwards to the side.

Gonzalez’ carbine coughs its deadly load out once again, taking down the night runner remaining on the right. It staggers backward under the onslaught of the steel colliding with its body with the steel winning out over flesh and bone. It collapses against the backside of a locker before slumping to the ground. I give the trigger a slight pull with the sound of scrambling behind me. The last night runner looks up from moving its propelled pack member only to be met with an additional onslaught of rounds tearing into its face. It leaves its feet and hits the swinging doors with the back of its blown out head and its feet in the air. The thud of the night runner slamming into the door signals the end of the shrieks pouring through the room. The doors swing back towards their closed position but remain partially open, their edges coming to rest against the night runner corpse lying between them.

“I’m out,” McCafferty calls.

I hear additional scrambling from Henderson and Denton as they make their way to the window. I reach over and pat Gonzalez on the shoulder, pointing down the area to our right indicating to cover there. She wheels to the right and her laser light moves across the room settling on her new coverage area. The only sound in the room is the scrambling movement of our team climbing out the window. The rest of the room resumes the silent introspection it had before; not even acknowledging the quick engagement within its walls.

“Do you think there were only four?” Gonzalez asks.

“It would appear so but we can’t be sure. I would think that if there were any others in here, they would have come running with the shrieks,” I answer.

“We’re out,” Denton calls in the window.

“Okay, you’re next. I’ve got this,” I say to Gonzalez.

I shuffle back toward the window after she disappears from my peripheral. I now have to cover the entire area with my peripheral and that’s easier done from a corner of the room. The silence of the room is a surprising as many of our past experiences have shown that the night runners mass in large packs. My psyche thinks that there must be a lot more present but there’s a part of me that’s thankful they are still running in small groups. That of course is a two-edged sword. If they were in massed packs, it would make fewer places they were in. The smaller groups mean that there will be more buildings inhabited. I’m not sure which I’d prefer. Well, this was a pretty quick engagement and the massed packs are overwhelming so maybe the preference isn’t so hard after all.

“I’m out, sir,” Gonzalez calls.

I turn, hand Gonzalez my carbine and the binders, and scramble out of the window onto the ramp. The warmth of the ramp, even in this shaded part of the building, is almost desert-like after the coolness of the building.