Assault on Alpha Base

Chapter 9

With six hours of sleep under his belt, McGriffin felt better than he had in months. Well, weeks at least. His command post schedule was reminiscent of flying Air Mobility Command hops across the pond.

For some unknown reason, AMC aircraft couldn’t take off at a decent hour. It had to be one in the morning, or some such nonsense. That first year he flew 17’s, he didn’t know the sun shined at most of the bases he flew into.

McGriffin was feeling reckless, so he decided to pass up the usual trip to the AAFES grill and splurge on some real food downtown. Earlier, a quick jaunt in a Cessna at the aero club qualified him for flying the club’s airplanes. If the wind gusts hadn’t been so bad, he’d have stayed up longer.

For the second time since he’d arrived at Wendover, he decided to use what little free time he had and run into town. The first had been a disappointing jaunt to check out the local churches — aside from the usual “grip-and-grin” snake-oil salesmen masquerading as Christians, he hadn’t been able to find a true Bible-teaching congregation. It was going to be a long tour.

Before leaving the Bachelor Officer Quarters, he rinsed out his hair and allowed his locks to fly. After Colonel DeVries’s pointed comments, he was careful to keep his hair looking short by plastering it to his head. But he didn’t have to keep it slicked down if he wasn’t in uniform. Looking like a civilian, he finally felt human again.

The view off Interstate 80 was breathtaking. Situated just outside the small town, several observation towers stood by the highway, allowing tourists to take in the scenery. Standing in one of the towers, white sand stretched as far as he could see. In the distance the heat rose as a shimmering wave, making the ground appear as if it were submerged.

The warmth felt good. Even though he had fallen in love with Tacoma, the wet rain chilled him and he had never seemed able to shake it. But now the warmth permeated his bones. Along with the dry air, he felt as if he could never leave the desert. Realizing he’d been holding his breath, he let out a lungful of air.

“It takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” McGriffin turned. The woman was stunning. Long blond hair hung straight down. She didn’t wear any makeup; rounded breasts pleasantly filled her blouse. McGriffin turned back to the railing. He hadn’t heard her approach.

The woman joined him, propping her elbows up on the metal railing. They were shielded from the sun, but the sun’s reflection still made them squint. The woman flipped her hair back over a shoulder.

“It’s so white. The sand seems unreal,” she said.

McGriffin pointed to where the sand ran up against the mountains. “It makes the mountains look purple.”

She squinted to where he pointed. “You’re right.” The woman turned and leaned back against the railing. She studied him and folded her arms. “You a local?”

“I’ve been here for about a week. Just moved into town.”

“So did I.”

Her voice had a slight bite to it — almost as if she were hardened against something. But she seemed pleasant enough.

She turned and leaned on the railing. A breeze made her hair fly. “It sure is beautiful here.”

“If you think this is pretty, you ought to see it from the air.”

“You a pilot?”

“Yeah. I fly a little.” Not nearly as much as I’d like, he thought. He didn’t expound. He didn’t know how people reacted to the military presence around here yet. Some people were funny about finding out he was in the Air Force — his longish hair usually hid the fact. He changed the subject by motioning with his head to an old woman running a snack stand. “Thirsty?” The woman furrowed her brows as if in deep thought. McGriffin waited a moment, then said, “You’re not going anywhere, are you? Come on, how about a pop?”

She suddenly brightened. “Sure, why not? I’ve got time.”

McGriffin dug out a bill and paid for both drinks over her protests.

She drained half the soft drink before putting it down. McGriffin sipped his as she wiped at her mouth. She said, “I didn’t realize I was that thirsty.”

“The humidity is so low, your perspiration evaporates nearly as fast as it’s formed. It’s easy to overheat and not know it.” McGriffin caught himself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lecture. I—”

“No, it’s all right. Really.” She sipped at her drink. “I’ve been here about a week, and I haven’t taken time to learn anything about Wendover. You know, do the tourist thing.”

“I lived in Washington State for almost two years before getting out and seeing the area.” And that was only because of the divorce, thought McGriffin.

The woman thought for a moment. “You know, I did about the same thing. Lived in the Bay Area for years and never really saw that much.”

They were silent for some minutes while they finished their drinks. McGriffin stole a few glances at her before tossing his container in the trash. He glanced at his watch. Command post in two hours. “Well, I’d probably better be going. It was nice meeting you.” He stopped, stymied over what to say next.

She stuck out her hand. “I’m Vikki Osborrn. Glad to meet you.”

“Bill McGriffin. Uh, maybe I can buy you another drink sometime?”

She brushed back her hair. “Sure. I’d like that.”

McGriffin patted his pockets and pulled out a pen. “I could give you a call.”

She hesitated; then, “Sure.” She scribbled a number and gave the paper back to him. “I’m free most days before five.”

“Great.” McGriffin backed up as he was leaving. “Great, I’ll call. Great.” He almost stumbled over a trash can on his way out.

“Who was it?”

“Nobody important.” Vikki put down the phone and smiled at Britnell. He unsteadily drained his fifth beer and bleared at her.

“Then who are you meeting at noon tomorrow? I heard you make an appointment.”

Vikki slid up to the young airman and gave him a peck on the cheek. He wasn’t as drunk as she had thought. “Some guy at the airport. I’m looking into taking flying lessons.” Britnell grunted and pushed her backward on the bed.

Vikki ran her hands across his shoulders. “I’m really going to miss you when you go out to the Pit. I wish I could see you.”

Britnell seemed jolted, as if his week-long stay coming up at Alpha Base were a revelation to him. “There’s a way to get around it. Ever hear of an Identification Friend or Foe, an IFF?” His words were slurred.

Vikki grew alert. “Hmmm?”

“I’ve got one in my Bronco. I might be able to get away for a while — the IFF will mask us. You don’t have to wait a week for me to get off duty.”

“Sounds fascinating.” She didn’t want to seem too eager; besides, she’d be able to pull more out of him when he was coherent. “George.”

“Uh?”

“That construction contract, the one my company is bidding for?”

“Yeah — what about it?”

“Is there any way you could get me an area map of the Pit? That’s the last bit of information we need. If we knew where the service lines were located, we could bid a bigger building for the new barracks.”

“New barracks?” He thought for a moment, blinking. “Sure, that’s no problem. The place is a rat hole now.”

“Don’t say anything about this — they might think you’re giving us an unfair advantage in the competition.”

“There’s no competing with you, babe.”

Vikki closed her eyes. She tried not to grimace as Britnell moved on top of her, roughly.

The motions seemed to come mechanically. She bit her lip and stole a quick glance at her watch. Five minutes. The erotic rapture had fled, leaving only garlic from dinner and beer-laced sweat from coupling. Another few minutes and he’d be through— either hopelessly spent, or too drunk to continue the sex.

It was coupling, executed in dull, automated fashion.

Vikki turned her head and looked at the smartphone.