vehicles behind. He watches with a sudden apprehension as they start down the road towards him.
* * * * * *
We start down the steep decline toward the docks. Although I’m not usually nervous about meeting anyone and really never have been in the past – after all, we all put our pants on the same way – I feel apprehensive about this one. I’m not really sure why. It’s not like we’re going to trade gunfire and I know I won’t allow anything to disrupt the harmony of our group. Working together is the most important thing right now. Well, anytime. I just know it’s going to be a hard sell with a submarine captain. I can almost feel the personality conflict. I try to keep my mind open as this may not be the case but anticipate it anyway. I’m not out to rule over anyone nor do I have an ego so big that I think my way is the only way. Or our way for that matter. My main goal is for the safety of the group, with my kids coming first.
I eye the boomers sitting silently parked at the docks. My thoughts quickly go to the possibility of learning the systems and holing up there. Parking off shore and coming in for supplies. Those boats are pretty self-sufficient. Yeah, let’s see the night runners swim the strong currents and try to penetrate those. That seems like an impossibility though. The systems will break down regardless of the long-term viability of the propulsion system. No, we have carved out our place and, although the night runners seem to be adapting amazingly fast, we’ll have to make do with what we have. Still, I park the idea in the back of my mind.
I pull alongside the piers and park. The Strykers and Lynn’s Humvee park in line behind. Opening the door, I hear a clang as the back doors of the Strykers drop. Lynn’s shout of “Form up” echoes across the silent base and adjacent waters. Boots pound across the pavement, muted to an extent by the moisture in the air, accompanied by the rattle of gear. The intrusions of noise are sudden but over quickly as the soldiers find their places. Robert and the rest of Red Team riding with me trot over and take their place in the formation. I’m left alone for a moment.
Shutting the door, which adds its metallic slam to the noise taking place, I glance down the dock seeing one man standing by the sub with a team behind him. The others gathered with him are dressed in camo uniforms marking them distinctly different than the sailors lining the low deck of the sub. I walk to the start of the dock and am joined by Frank and Bannerman. Lynn announces that all are present and accounted for before directing the teams to parade rest.
Silence descends, all sound seemingly absorbed by the gray cotton of clouds just overhead. I feel the moisture in the air condense on my face and in my hair. The fog is just a few scant feet over my head and the chill I felt before intensifies. I know it won’t be long before my fatigues are completely damp. I feel the nervous energy build inside as I look down the dock where the other men stand. Again, I don’t know where this feeling is coming from. I should be elated to find the crew and another group of survivors. I take a deep breath and feel the calm return. With a nod to Bannerman and Frank, I start walking down the wide concrete path.
Dressed in a dark pea coat with a braided officer’s hat, the man whom I assume to be Captain Leonard starts towards us with his small group of six in tow. I look Leonard over as he approaches. Tall and thin with short-cropped dark hair lined with silver, he has the pale skin common with submariners. His angular face with deep lines in the corner of his blue-gray eyes, his long, thin nose, and his confident stride mark him as a man to be reckoned with. We meet a short distance down the pier.
I stop with Bannerman and Frank behind and to each side. He comes to a halt in front of us, his stance rigid. I know he expects a salute but I stick out my hand not wanting to set a senior
* * * * * *
We start down the steep decline toward the docks. Although I’m not usually nervous about meeting anyone and really never have been in the past – after all, we all put our pants on the same way – I feel apprehensive about this one. I’m not really sure why. It’s not like we’re going to trade gunfire and I know I won’t allow anything to disrupt the harmony of our group. Working together is the most important thing right now. Well, anytime. I just know it’s going to be a hard sell with a submarine captain. I can almost feel the personality conflict. I try to keep my mind open as this may not be the case but anticipate it anyway. I’m not out to rule over anyone nor do I have an ego so big that I think my way is the only way. Or our way for that matter. My main goal is for the safety of the group, with my kids coming first.
I eye the boomers sitting silently parked at the docks. My thoughts quickly go to the possibility of learning the systems and holing up there. Parking off shore and coming in for supplies. Those boats are pretty self-sufficient. Yeah, let’s see the night runners swim the strong currents and try to penetrate those. That seems like an impossibility though. The systems will break down regardless of the long-term viability of the propulsion system. No, we have carved out our place and, although the night runners seem to be adapting amazingly fast, we’ll have to make do with what we have. Still, I park the idea in the back of my mind.
I pull alongside the piers and park. The Strykers and Lynn’s Humvee park in line behind. Opening the door, I hear a clang as the back doors of the Strykers drop. Lynn’s shout of “Form up” echoes across the silent base and adjacent waters. Boots pound across the pavement, muted to an extent by the moisture in the air, accompanied by the rattle of gear. The intrusions of noise are sudden but over quickly as the soldiers find their places. Robert and the rest of Red Team riding with me trot over and take their place in the formation. I’m left alone for a moment.
Shutting the door, which adds its metallic slam to the noise taking place, I glance down the dock seeing one man standing by the sub with a team behind him. The others gathered with him are dressed in camo uniforms marking them distinctly different than the sailors lining the low deck of the sub. I walk to the start of the dock and am joined by Frank and Bannerman. Lynn announces that all are present and accounted for before directing the teams to parade rest.
Silence descends, all sound seemingly absorbed by the gray cotton of clouds just overhead. I feel the moisture in the air condense on my face and in my hair. The fog is just a few scant feet over my head and the chill I felt before intensifies. I know it won’t be long before my fatigues are completely damp. I feel the nervous energy build inside as I look down the dock where the other men stand. Again, I don’t know where this feeling is coming from. I should be elated to find the crew and another group of survivors. I take a deep breath and feel the calm return. With a nod to Bannerman and Frank, I start walking down the wide concrete path.
Dressed in a dark pea coat with a braided officer’s hat, the man whom I assume to be Captain Leonard starts towards us with his small group of six in tow. I look Leonard over as he approaches. Tall and thin with short-cropped dark hair lined with silver, he has the pale skin common with submariners. His angular face with deep lines in the corner of his blue-gray eyes, his long, thin nose, and his confident stride mark him as a man to be reckoned with. We meet a short distance down the pier.
I stop with Bannerman and Frank behind and to each side. He comes to a halt in front of us, his stance rigid. I know he expects a salute but I stick out my hand not wanting to set a senior
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