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

spotlights.   From here, I am able to see further into the campus.   The tennis courts to my left and the outer wall of the swimming pool, attached to the gym to my right, mark the boundaries of the school proper.   The first of the single story classroom buildings is across a paved road ahead.   I see the main office building at an angle across from the gym past the same road.   A faint light glows through the windows of the office building.   That’s a good thing as, with a light on, they won’t be able to see outside very well.   I ponder my next move; to head into the classroom buildings or head into the gym.
    “This is Jack, I’m in,” I whisper pressing the push-to-talk button.
    “Wow!   Really?   I had the area glassed the entire time and didn’t see you,” Greg calls back after a pause.
    “I used magic,” I whisper back.
    “Everything looks normal from here,” he says.
    “Okay.   I think I’ll check out the gym first,” I say.
    “Roger.”
    My head is pounding as I leave my little sanctuary and sidle over to the pool wall.   It’s lost in the shadows of the night but shows up clearly in my vision.   A large green dumpster lies halfway along the wall and I crouch where the corner meets the wall.   Looking around, I see the spotlights panning the perimeter a distance away.   Nothing else moves.   I take that back.   A small shape flitters in the air across my vision.   I see another shape move swiftly through the night, banking and disappearing as quickly as it appeared.   Bats are out , I think.   Here I sit in midst of an armed compound, keyed up on adrenaline, and there they are flying about as if this night is not any different than the others.   Everything is a matter of perspective I guess , I think refocusing.
    I hear a shuffling of feet.   I’m surprised I can hear them over the pounding in my head and I notice the scratch on my neck burns a little more than usual.   I shrink further against the corner making sure not to put too much pressure against the dumpster.   The last thing I want is to press too hard and cause it to move.   Not like I’m the man of steel but the thought forms anyway.   I hear the shuffling draw closer but don’t see anything appear at the corner.   Odd , I think.   I should see something as the sound seems to be coming from just around the corner.   I fold quickly to the opposite side of the dumpster and become just another dark space in the corner.
    A minute passes.   I take out my signal mirror, move forward, and hold it toward the bottom of the large green dumpster.   A light forms at the corner of the building, swaying back and forth slightly; common to a flashlight being held by someone walking.   Great.   We sure missed any roving patrols .   I’m not sure this area was visible from our position but we should have spotted lights moving about.   Perhaps it’s not a regular patrol.   Maybe the tower did report something odd when the light stopped behind me and someone is checking it out.
    The light pans across the trees I was in a few moments ago and then sweeps in my direction.   I pull the mirror back in order not to cast a reflection and move back to the corner.   Stowing the mirror, I grip my M-4; keeping it closer in order not to create a larger profile but ready to use.   The light casts its beam on the dumpster; illuminating the ground directly in front of me, creating a shadow of the dumpster that envelops me.   I slowly reach down and quietly loosen the knife wrapped around my ankle.   This is the part of my winging it, the aspect Lynn so fondly referred to, that I’m not a big fan of; the waiting for a situation to develop.
    The light begins to swing.   Whoever is holding it is on the move again.   It’s not aimed directly at the dumpster anymore but the round spot is on the ground directly in front of me.   It does move forward with each slight sway of the light.   I’m not overly worried about whoever is