A New World: Conspiracy by John O'Brien

shoulder and gives me a smile
before making her way aft and back to her console.
    “I’m going to climb higher and set up a grid
search pattern to the south. Robert, have all monitors on. We’re
looking for vehicles without a coating of grime, tracks,
people…anything that looks like there might be someone around. My
guess is that they’ll be encamped a distance from the city to
minimize the night runner threat. Look for barricaded buildings or
something similar. Speak up if you see anything that looks slightly
out of place,” I say.
    With that, we turn south, leaving the
destroyed night runner lair smoking behind.
    * * * * * *

Taps
    For the second time this day, Michael is
awakened from his slumber. This isn’t the panicked waking that the
previous one was, but more of something that gradually pulls him
from the dream world to the waking one. He is groggy at first and
rolls over to fall back asleep, noticing many of his pack within
the large interior are restive as they too have come awake. His
eyes open as he realizes there are images of pain and fire entering
his mind.
    He pushes himself to a sitting position. The
low noise of his pack jostling around the interior increases. Many
rise to a sitting or standing position as the images fill their
minds as well. Waking more, Michael reaches out and knows instantly
the images of fear and death are coming from where Sandra’s pack
was. He senses, through the minds of the distant pack members, the
explosions that are rocking the lair. He also senses the agitation
that is sweeping through his own pack.
    Fear of the unknown thing that is tearing
the lair apart emanates strongly from the far pack. Flashing images
of individuals running through the halls to escape. Multitudes are
running randomly, hoping to escape the fire and destruction. Floors
and walls rock, knocking many off their feet. Images of plaster
falling from the ceiling enter Michael’s mind. Other brief pictures
are of entire hallways disappearing in a tumult of falling debris.
Members from the far pack vanish from his mind, never to
return.
    Shrieks from Michael’s own pack echo as they
share in those images. Some run around the interior as terror from
the distant pack enters their minds. Michael’s own fear is mixed
with frustration because he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to
send some message that will help, but he doesn’t have a clue as to
what that should be. The faraway lair is coming apart and he
doesn’t know why. He does have the deep sense that the two-leggeds
are responsible but has no idea how. The only thing that comes to
mind is that thing that deals death from the night sky.
    With the images storming into his mind,
Michael looks up at the ceiling far overhead. He dreads that the
destruction he is witnessing in his mind will come to his lair
next. If it does, there is no place they can go. Heading outside
into the bright, painful light is certain death. Thankfully, the
lair that is being destroyed is some distance away. He anxiously
stares at the ceiling while the other pack vanishes from his mind
by the tens and then the hundreds. Soon, there is not a single
flicker of life left that he can sense.
    The rest of his pack settles down after the
last of the images fade from their minds. They feel his
apprehension and huddle in corners or in groups, waiting for the
same to happen to them. Whimpers and moans fill the vast, darkened
interior of their lair and Michael wonders what Sandra has brought
upon them. He thinks, belatedly, that he should have killed her
when he had the chance. Whatever destroyed her lair is far more
than he can deal with. Michael no longer thinks of his place as a
sanctuary. He thinks again that he and the two-leggeds can’t
inhabit the same area. The answer, however, remains elusive – run
or attack?
    Time passes without the concussive noise or
destruction arriving. Michael begins to relax, and the pack
eventually drifts back to sleep. Even though the other pack