A New World: Awakening by John O'Brien Page A

clouds picks up.   Many of the doorways of the houses and small businesses lining the street are partially filled with sand and debris.   Very few cars are parked along the street but the tires of the few that are catch the debris carried by the winds, forming little piles beside them.
    We drive through most of the town without seeing a soul.   If there is anyone about, I would think they would have ventured out to the base upon hearing our arrival or come out with the sound of our vehicles crawling through town.   The sound of our vehicles echoes off the walls and darkened windows of the structures.   There should be some people out foraging unless they’re hiding from us , I think watching the town slowly pass as we progress further east.
    Gonzalez’ head is on a swivel looking around her home town.   Tension is very apparent around her eyes.   She points to the left off the main street and we enter a residential district.   Another turn and we find ourselves on a narrow street partially covered with sand blown in from the outlying fields.   The houses lining the street are in need of fresh coats of paint.   The yards are bare of any vegetation with the occasional house having a chain link fence encircling it.   Cars line the streets, are parked in driveways, and in open air garages.   Toys and bits of junk are scattered in the bare front yards.   Several screen doors swing open and closed as the blasts of air blow through.   One screen door hangs only by its bottom hinge.   It won’t be long before a flurry of wind tears it off and carries it to join the other debris in the yard.
    “Bring it up a little and stay alert,” I say to Horace.
    Our engines and the banging screens are the only sounds in the neighborhood.   We drive slowly up the crowded street.   Looking closer at the houses, I see that some have their doors fully open or slightly ajar.   That’s not a good sign , I think associating any open door with night runners.
    “That’s it right there,” Gonzalez says pointing to a rundown house with peeling white paint.   My heart tightens noticing it’s one of the houses with its door ajar.
    I pull up front and park the Humvee at an angle blocking the street but still able to drive away quickly if we need.   I see Horace park in the same manner behind us.   We stay in the running vehicles a moment longer to see if we’ve drawn any attention.   Nothing but screens slamming against walls or door frames.   The brown fields in the far distance, beyond where the street ends, blur and sharpen as heat thermals rise from the ground and are blown away.
    I shut the Humvee down and step outside.   The heat and humidity become more intense as the day warms.   Looking skyward, the billowing clouds continue their slow build.   It looks like there will definitely be thunderstorms in the area by mid-afternoon.   The wind feels good as it occasionally sweeps through, wicking the quickly accumulating beads of sweat away, but begins to die down meaning the heat will increase and lend its energy to the overhead cumulus clouds.   The slamming of vehicle doors behind me brings my attention back to the teams emerging into the sandy street.   With the guns manned, the remaining team members gather around me.
    “Horace, I want Blue Team outside in a perimeter.   Make sure both guns are manned.   Red Team will go inside and search,” I say.
    “You got it, sir,” she replies.   She orders her team into covered positions directing two onto the top guns.
    “Gonzalez, this is your show.   You know the house,” I say.
    “Okay, sir,” she responds and describes the interior of the house.
    “Everyone stay alert but watch itchy trigger fingers.   Remember, there might be Gonzalez’ parents and sister inside.   Make sure of your targets before you fire.   We’ll call out once inside.   One last thing, the door is ajar and I don’t have to tell you what that possibly means.   I’m sorry to have