Return

Island Paradise

Leveling the aircraft off at flight level 200, I set a course back to the Azores and turn on the autopilot. I am exhausted from the complete lack of sleep getting over to Kuwait but exhilarated at the same time. Against all odds, Lynn was alive; we had found and rescued her along with a small group of surviving military soldiers. We have enough personnel and weapons to be able to defend ourselves against most chance encounters with the things — we will definitely have to come up with a name for them as they don’t seem to be going away like disco or some other bad fad; I also plan to see that we don’t go away either — however, when they locate us and we are close to a populated zone, we can be overwhelmed easily if we are not properly prepared as Lynn and her group almost found out. Even with a secure location, their numbers and tenacity will eventually overcome us unless we can prepare some form of impregnable fortress.

I am worried about what our arrival back in the Azores will be like seeing how we left it. There is one very irritated general we will have to deal with, but I did say we would head back and will feel guilty if I bypass them over a little unease. Leaving them stranded on the island with no hope of leaving and without supplies would not be cool. Especially after they did help us out with fuel, and Colonel Wilson did stick his neck out for us. No, I will go back for that alone.

But first it is time to compare notes with those we found in Kuwait and let them know what may be in store for us on our arrival into Lajes. I also feel that Bannerman and I need to have a little conversation about the leadership aspect. I do know where he is coming from with regards to rank and all of them being soldiers, but frankly, I am not feeling a tremendous amount of confidence in his leadership ability. Not that I truly have anything to base it on; it is really more of a feeling. Perhaps it was him trying to force his rank the way he did. Maybe we just started off on the wrong foot and he is really a pretty good guy. He may be a great leader — after all, they did get out of there alive against a tremendous horde besieging them. I think I need a little more information and will talk it over with Lynn first. I cannot tell you just how happy and relieved I am to see her and that she is, well, alive.

“You have it for a little bit. Are you okay with that?” I ask Robert looking in his direction.

He startles out of whatever reverie he was in, perhaps just him being as tired as I am, and looks over. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Disconnecting my shoulder restraints and lap belt, Brianna pipes in before I unhook from the intercom, “Dad, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

I look back at her, seeing her eyes a touch wider than normal and glancing between Robert, the instrument panels, and me. “Shut up Bri! I said I got it,” Robert chimes in before I can answer.

“Easy now,” I say running a last check on the instruments. “It’s on autopilot Bri and I’ll be up quickly if anything happens. Besides, Robert’s a pretty good stick and he’s just monitoring the systems. Michelle, come get me if anything goes wrong.”

“Okay, Jack,” Michelle answers. Bri remains silent in her engineer seat, obviously a little perturbed over being told to shut up by Robert.

“Bri, make sure you watch the fuel tanks and switch them to prevent an imbalance,” she responds with a thumbs up.

I cover what instrument readings to watch for with Robert, disconnect from the intercom, and set my helmet in the seat. With a last look at the Mediterranean flowing along underneath the nose, I rise, stretch the small of my back to work out the kinks, and walk down the stairs to the cargo compartment. I think of how strange it is that I just left the cockpit in complete charge of my kids and feel completely comfortable with that. How far we have come in the last few days, I think stepping into the cargo area. It’s amazing how our thinking and comfort levels change in response to a crisis.

The soldiers are all strapped in and sitting on the red nylon, pull-down seats along the fuselage; most have their heads down and rifles pointed upward between their legs. I catch Lynn’s eye and motion her over. Seeing her walk over, I realize just how lucky I am. Her short blond hair hangs limply down from being under her helmet for so long and her tired, blue eyes look up at me as she comes to stand before me. I reach out and give her a hug. Her initial response is to stiffen in my embrace because of the professionalism she carries in front of other soldiers but then she succumbs and relaxes, returning my hug and nestling her head on my shoulder.

The drone and vibrations of the engines are louder and stronger here making it difficult to talk without yelling. On the other hand, it also makes it more difficult for others to hear — and that’s a good thing considering the thoughts that come up feeling her pressed against me. We just stand there hugging each other for a moment as time stands still.

“It’s too bad we can’t find a private place for a moment or two. It’s, well, uh, been a while,” I whisper into her ear.

She chuckles in my ear before whispering back, “I know!”

“Perhaps when we land, we can go find a shipping container or something to duck around behind. I’m pretty sure we won’t need more than a couple of minutes. At least, I know I won’t.” It has been almost a year since we have seen each other in person and we have been faithful to each other in the interim.

“I may just tackle you the moment everyone is out of sight,” Lynn whispers.

“I could just kick everyone out of the cockpit and close the curtains. Although that may be a bit too obvious eh?”

She just answers with a soft sigh and nestles closer into my shoulder.

“Come sit with me a moment if you don’t mind. I want to talk a few things over with you before we bring the group together,” I say.

“God, it is so good to see you, babe! I really missed you!” I say once we are seated on the bunk and I am still thinking some alone time would be nice.

“You too! I’m so glad you made it and are okay. You have no idea just how worried I was and how much I missed you.”

“So tell me about Bannerman. I have a feeling there’s going to be some dissension about the ‘who’s in charge’ thing. Can he handle himself and lead this group?” I ask.

“Well, he doesn’t have any real combat experience. I’ve been leading for the most part. I think he’s okay with the logistics end of things, but I’m not sure about his ability to lead troops in combat.”

“Do you think he’ll do the ‘I’m in charge and outrank you’ thing? I mean, I’ll follow anyone who knows what they’re doing and I have confidence in, but I have my kids to think about. And, well, you.”

Lynn flashes me a quick look. “I know you can handle yourself and very well,” I say before she can carry that look into words. “I just want to make sure we all have our best chance at survival.”

“I know, hon,” she replies. “And he may try to remain in charge. In his mind, he thinks we’re still a government military force. How are things back in the states? For real.”

“It’s not pretty. Most everything and everyone are gone. We had our own run-ins with those things on the way here everywhere we went. Not in the numbers it looked like you had to deal with, but enough to know that this is everywhere.”

Lynn nods and I see her fold inward to her own thoughts. I imagine her thoughts are leading her to think about her friends and family.

“Oh, dang, I almost forgot,” I say watching her eyes track back to mine. “I actually spoke with Craig and your mom.”

“What!? You’re kidding! When?” She asks, suddenly sitting more erect and alert.

“A couple of days ago. It was the weirdest thing. We were just past Chicago calling on the radio when out of the blue, we get a response. He was flying with your mom from Florida heading to, let me try and remember, somewhere in Ohio if I remember correctly.”

“He must be heading to my dad and sister,” she says with tears beginning to well in her eyes.

“Oh, and your cats were okay and with them. He’s going to try and meet us at McChord,” I say watching a single tear leak out and run down her cheek.

Lynn wipes the tear with the back of her hand, gives me a big smile, and kisses me on the cheek, “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

I rub her cheek with my thumb and smile back. Her smile, and seeing her smile at me, always gives me butterflies. “You know, babe, back to this leadership thing, I think you should take charge.”

Giving a quick chuckle, she says, “Right! We both know you have more experience. Not much mind you, but a little more. And don’t let it go to your head. I can still take you down.”

I laugh, completely enjoying the familiar exchange we have with each other and thinking once again just how lucky I am.

“I don’t want to put you into a bad spot with Bannerman though. I won’t ask you for support in whatever goes down,” I say.

“Don’t worry about me. And the soldiers will follow whoever gives them the best chance at survival.”

“Alright, I’ll just play it by ear then.”

“That’s what you do best Jack.”

“What do you mean by….? Oh, never mind. If you’ll gather everyone up, I’m going up to make sure Robert and Bri haven’t annihilated each other. And to make sure the sun is still in the right part of the sky and we aren’t screaming toward the ocean. It would also be nice if the sky was still above us and not off to the side or below.”

“Are they fighting?”

“No. They’re just tired like everyone else,” I answer.

I lean over and give her a kiss on the lips. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

Walking into the cockpit, I see that all of the parts of the world, mainly the sky and ocean, are in their correct locations and Robert and Bri are still alive. Michelle glances over from her seat at the navigator table on my arrival and says something into the mic. That apparent something is that I am back as Robert and Bri glance back at me. I hold my thumb up and shrug my shoulder to give the indication that it’s a question. They both give a thumbs up in return. I give the instruments and fuel panel a quick look to ensure everything is in order and that we have a chance of staying airborne a bit longer. The world passes slowly by the windows as we drone ever westward.

With a quick nod, I turn back, and walk once again down the stairs. The soldiers are gathering in a semi-circle as I return. I join in completing a circle with Bannerman on my left and Lynn to the right. We begin by sharing stories, filling each other in on the details of our experiences and what we have learned.

“So basically what we know is this: They prefer the dark due to some adverse reaction to light and seemingly only sunlight as far as we can tell. Light from flashlights and such don’t seem to bother them. So, that gives us the daylight hours of relative safety although we don’t really know what that margin is or how cloud cover affects them. Of course, darkened buildings are to be treated with care,” I yell over the droning engines, summing up our conversations. “I am guessing that they don’t seem to remember who they were or have any cognizance in that regard because of how they behave by attacking on sight. They also seem to strike without provocation and in packs so they’re to be treated as hostile. Their bite seems to cause some sort of infection that is deadly so close-in combat is to be avoided if at all possible. Lastly, this is wide-spread and there are a lot of them. Does anyone else have anything to add?”

Everyone glances around to see if there is anything else but no one speaks up.

“Okay then, we should talk about where to go from here.”

“I’ll take it from here, Captain,” Bannerman says taking a step into the circle.

“Hmmm… You know, I think this is as good a time to talk about leadership as there’s going to be,” I add causing Bannerman to look over his shoulder at me.

“How is that, Captain? I’m the senior ranking member here. You may be in command of the aircraft, but I’m in command of the personnel.”

“I’m thinking time and circumstances have changed that strict hierarchy of command somewhat. We’re obviously dealing with a completely new situation and I think we need to have the one with the most combat experience to lead us. Someone who will give us the best chance at surviving this.”

“And you think that’s you, Captain?” Bannerman asks turning to face me.

“I’m completely open to any ideas on the subject,” I reply.

“Captain Walker, I’m a Major and the highest ranking military member here. Being in the military and an officer, you should understand that. You are also bordering on insubordination and mutiny!”

“Yeah, well, here’s the deal with that. In the sake of honesty, I should tell everyone that I’m not in the military anymore and left some time ago.”

“You’re kidding me!” Bannerman say in an incredulous voice. “Impersonating an officer as well!?”

“I did what I had to do to get over here to find Lynn and if I hadn’t arrived, you’d be in pretty desperate straits right now.”

“Be that as it may Mr. Walker, I am in charge of these soldiers. You may do as you wish once we land.”

“Bannerman, which country and military do you belong to?” I ask.

“The United States of America of course.”

“You do understand that doesn’t exist anymore right? You were listening as I told you that I flew half way across the world without a response from anyone. No responses from any military or civilian frequencies. Nothing!”

“I did. But that doesn’t change anything here. As long as there’s a viable force together, the government and military exists.”

The problem is that I completely understand what he is talking about and relate to what he is saying. He is right. We need that type of cohesiveness if we are to survive. We can’t break down into separate camps and need to build a safe community that works together if we have any chance in the long run. But we also need a leader who can get us there.

“I get that. I truly do. But we need to stick together and also have a leader who can carry us through and, as I said before, someone who will give us the best chance of surviving,” I say, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “Call it more of a functional versus hierarchal leadership. That is very much a part of military leadership. I trust you do understand those aspects of leadership right?”

“I do,” Bannerman says with a pause.

“I am completely open to whoever that may be. That can be myself, Sergeant Connell here, you, or my fourteen year old daughter Brianna for all that I care. Just as long as it gives us the best chance.”

I glance around the group and notice that most of them have taken a deep interest in their boots. I guess this is an uncomfortable situation for everyone.

“What do you say we all talk about our experience, then put it to a vote and let everyone decide?” I ask, noting several heads and eyebrows rise in interest.

I speak about my experience in Bosnia, Iraq, Korea, and various parts of Africa. Lynn outlines her experience in Afghanistan and Iraq. Bannerman doesn’t have any combat leadership so outlines the schools and training he has. After everyone has had the chance to say something, I find some paper to tear up for everyone to write their votes on and grab my helmet from the cockpit to put them in.

The mood is tense as I hand the helmet to Lynn to count the votes. She takes a piece of paper out and makes a tally mark on a notepad. Necks strain to see the marks and where the vote is leaning. After all, with everything that we have all gone through in the past few days, there is a lot of interest in where the next few days will head, and who will lead them.

Finishing with the last scrap, Lynn stands from the bunk she had been sitting at. “Okay, listen up everyone. Jack has 12 votes, I have 9, Major Bannerman has 4 and,” she pauses momentarily and a smile forms, “Brianna has 2.”

Several chuckles develop throughout the group as some of the tension ebbs. She has always had a knack for breaking unease like that, I think smiling.

“Okay, everyone comfortable with that?” I ask.

Heads nod in the group and, glancing over at Bannerman, I see a slight relaxation in him as if relieved of a burden. “Oh, and I’m a little worried about the other one who voted for Brianna. Stay away from my daughter,” I add only half joking.

More smiles beam out. “Sergeant Connell, you’ll be the First Sergeant. Break everyone down into teams of six and determine your team leaders. Major Bannerman, I want you to help with the logistics end if you don’t mind. There’s going to be a lot we need to get done.”

“That’s fine with me but what will we call you?” Bannerman asks. “I mean, we can’t very well call you Captain and have you leading if I’m a Major reporting to you.”

“How about Jack for now and we’ll sort it out later.”

“Are you going to lead one of the teams, sir?” Lynn asks.

I see right away this is going to be tricky at times. We’ll just have to keep the professionalism when dealing with group and team matters. Hopefully I can remember to do this and not give her a big hug and kiss in front of formation. The image of this in my mind brings first a smile and then a chuckle.

“Yes, First Sergeant, give me one of the teams. Leave my kids off. If they go out, they’ll go with me. I’m going to head back up and see if I can guide this thing to Lajes.”

“Okay, sir.”

“Okay folks, the overall plan is to get back to McChord and find a place to fortify as a sanctuary. We’ll stop for fuel in the Azores and then head to the CDC in Atlanta. I want to find out whatever information we can about the creatures we are dealing with. From there, it’s a straight hop back home. We’ll brief more on the ground. Any questions or concerns?” I ask.

“Okay, carry on,” I say seeing no one respond.

“Yes, sir,” the group responds in chorus.

I grab a headset with an extended cord and show Lynn the multiple locations to plug into the intercom before turning to the cockpit. “Oh, one more thing,” I add addressing her. “There may be a very upset General at Lajes when we arrive there.”

“What in the world did you do?” Lynn asks.

“You seem to have a knack for that,” Bannerman, having overheard, chimes in drily.

See, I kind of left off the final dialogue with General Collins while we were sharing stories. “I’ll, uh, fill you in later.”

Lynn gives me one of her looks. A look that says she knows basically what took place by my adding that terse statement at the end and walking away while giving a vague response back. It is one of those “You did it again, didn’t you?” looks. See, she knows my capacity and ability to have very wide boundaries while still keeping to a moral structure. She told me once she thought it was from my time with the ground teams when I had to be flexible and think quickly on my feet while still conforming to the mission and its guidelines. I told her I thought it was from the ever-decreasing number of active brain cells in my head. That they were no longer a cohesive unit functioning as one but rather a bunch of isolated pockets that bumped into each other once in a while and formed a thought. The resulting thought was not always a sane or coherent one. Or a safe one for that matter.

Strapping into my seat once again, I take a moment to look the instruments over before plugging into the intercom. I glance over at Robert and Bri. The guilty look on their faces says it all. “Hi Lynn,” I say into the mic.

“How’d you know I was on the intercom?” She responds.

“The guilty looks I’m getting up here pretty much told me. Plus, the absolute silence. You know, the silence like when you enter a room where everyone was talking about you. I also figured you’d be on wanting to know what happened.”

“You didn’t tell them did you?” Robert asks, referring to our Lajes departure conversation.

“No, I kind of left that part out,” I answer and fill Lynn in on the details adding that it ended well but the general may be mighty upset about having been disobeyed. Generals tend to get that way.

We continue to chase the sun, both of us on our westward journey but to different destinations. It is moving a little faster than us and will set down on its journey to the horizon much sooner than when we will set down on our journey to the Azores. I double check our fuel and make sure we are set at our best range cruise speed. The one that will give us the best bang for the buck. Or, put in better terms, will give us the most distance for the fuel burned. I’m exhausted and my mind ventures over to fuel and how things were not that long ago. Not only will the trees and air have a chance at recovering from our influence on them, but gas prices have plummeted. Way down from the four dollars per gallon they had just climbed to. The experts claimed that crises across the world caused the dramatic increases in cost. I guess they were right up to a point. This crisis drove the price substantially down. Although really, the price of free gas was a costly one, I think refocusing my mind on the flight.

The shores of North Africa and Europe are coming together ahead, signaling the end of the Mediterranean and the beginning of the vast Atlantic. The sun begins its descent below the horizon, filling the sky with oranges, reds, and pinks, delivering its goodbye in splendor. Silence has claimed the aircraft as we all rest wrapped in our own thoughts, trying to grasp the reality of what has happened and what the future holds.

“Lynn, are you still on?” I ask over the intercom.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” she answers in a tired voice. “Just laying here.”

“Just letting you know we should be in Lajes in about three hours if you could let everyone know. And get some rest. I’m not sure what kind of reception to expect. We’ll get everyone together and brief in two hours.”

“Sounds good. How did you ever manage to stay sane on these long flights?” She asks.

“Nintendo and a good selection of games,” I reply. “Oh, and books. Now you know why insanity and I get along so well. There’s a bunk up here that may be a bit quieter if you want to use it instead.”

“Normally I’d send someone else up to use it but I’m flat out beat,” Lynn says before I hear the click of her disconnecting the intercom.

I look back to see her climb the stairs and give her a smile as the last glow of the setting sun reflects off her. She flops down on the lower bunk and pulls the thin, flimsy cover over her. She tries to adjust the too small pillow for comfort before giving up entirely.

“I thought you were going to beat that pillow into submission for a sec,” I shout over to her.

“Very funny, Jack,” she shouts tiredly back.

Everyone is tired, Michelle has slumped over and is asleep in her jump seat while Nic has put her head on her arms at the nav table. Robert is staring off, but from his slumped posture, I can tell he is exhausted. Bri, with her boundless energy, is constantly checking the fuel gauges. I unstrap and tell Robert, Michelle, and Nic to go get some rest in the remaining bunks. I’ll wake them for the brief and approach but I’ll need them to have a couple hours rest at least. We may need another night approach without lights and having them misread an instrument close to the ground could end in a very unfavorable result. It comes highly recommended to not impact the ground at high speed as the ground will always win such a contest.

“You go get some rest Bri. I’ve got the fuel.”

“Are you sure, Dad?”

“Yeah, babe, go rest. Oh, and Bri, thanks. You’ve been a tremendous help.”

She smiles and gives me ‘ol thumbs up. “You bet, Dad.”

We are about 300 miles out when I wake everyone. The cargo bay is filled with soldiers laying down wherever they could find room; doubling up on the cots or just on the cold, hard floor. Their weapons are by their side but they are finally able to get some sense of safety for a short while and are taking advantage of it. After introducing them, I send Robert and Bri back to the cockpit to monitor our flight. Everyone gathers once again in a circle.

“Okay, here’s the deal. We’ll be landing at Lajes in about an hour. Well, hopefully anyway. If no one is home, it’ll be a search for the field at night. Our GPS should be right on but if it’s not, well, let’s just hope it is. We won’t have a lot of gas to play ‘find the field’,” I say opening the brief.

“I’m not sure of what kind of reception we’ll receive given, um, the last conversation I had with the base commander. I assume you’ve been told I’m not exactly on his best friends list. I can tell you that I don’t expect to get the other half of a best friend’s forever bracelet from him,” I add evoking more than a couple of smiles.

The smiles tell me I may have been elevated to a god-like status by pissing off a general. This has always been the way in the military, well, at least in the circles I ran with. Where conformity and cohesion is the need and the way, individualism in that regard has always been revered.

“At any rate, we’ll know soon enough. I’ll be radioing as soon as we finish here. At no time will we engage or threaten unless it’s against any of the creatures. When I was here last, they had taken care of that problem so I don’t anticipate any problems in that regard. However, we need to be ready for any possibility. We’ll conform to whatever their instructions are. My plan is to continue along with the charade that I was sent on a mission to bring you back to McChord and my mission isn’t over until I arrive back. Are there any questions?”

“Sergeant Connell, have the teams been assigned?” I ask after no one responds.

“Yes, sir. Sergeant Drescoll, Corporal Horace, you and I are the team leaders,” Lynn says and I shake their hands. “Do you want to meet your team?”

“Yeah but let’s do that and talk more when we get on the ground. Busy time is starting up front. Plug in and you can follow along on the radio and keep everyone informed as we go,” I say gathering up Nic and Michelle and turn for the cockpit.

“Yes, sir,” Lynn responds.

I sigh thinking we are going to have to change that. Well, maybe not right away as we will need to introduce some changes gradually. Besides, I may be able to use that to my advantage later and smile at the thought. Hmmmm, maybe not, I think as the story in my head continues. The story that continues ends with a loud growl and a knee to a very tender place.

“Oh,” I add. Everyone turns their head back in my direction. “This is off limits,” I say pointing to Nic and Michelle. This, of course, invites a punch in the arm from Nic and a, “Dad!”

Back in the cockpit, we start our checks and begin a slow descent into Lajes. I call on the approach frequency we used previously but without a response back. That’s odd, I think. It’s only been two days. They should still be there. I switch over to the guard frequency and call again.

“Lajes approach, this is Otter 39 on guard.”

There is a pause before my headset fills with, “Otter 39, this is Lajes approach on guard. Welcome back.”

That’s reassuring, I think. “Otter 39, altimeter is 29.96. contact approach on 385.40.

The altimeter has fallen substantially since we left. Hope bad weather isn’t on the way, I think switching frequencies.

“Lajes approach, Otter 39, 150 miles east descending through 17,000.”

“Roger. Winds are 190 at 15. Lajes landing runway 15. Squawk 0371 and ident.”

I reach over to switch the IFF code, flip the switch momentarily to ident and hear shortly after, “Otter 39, radar contact. Fly heading 290, vectors for the ILS Runway 15. Descend and maintain 5,000.”

“Roger that Lajes. 290, passing through 16 for 5. Are the lights on?” I ask.

“Lights are on, however, standby,” answers Lajes approach.

What is that about? I think setting up the approach and coordinating the flight with Robert.

A few moments pass. “Otter 39, standby for Colonel Wilson,” I hear in my headset.

Oh boy, here we go. This can’t be good.

“I assume I am speaking with Captain Walker,” a voice I know comes over the radio.

“Yes, sir,” I answer.

“Captain, be advised our circumstances have changed since you were here.”

“Go ahead, sir.”

“General Collins left yesterday with most of the base personnel. We only have a skeleton crew here and our containment measures failed in the meantime.”

“What do you mean he left, sir?”

“He found a pilot and they took off in a KC-10 for the states in order to get some help.”

“And the containment?” I ask.

“Apparently we missed some of the infected from the city and they showed up after he left. We are holed up in the tower during the night and won’t be able to meet you. Be aware that the creatures are out there and may be attracted by the runway lighting,” Colonel Wilson answers.

“Are you getting this, Lynn?” I ask into the intercom.

“Yeah, Jack. I hear it.” I notice she is calling me by my name when we are private like this even though I am quite sure there are soldiers around her.

“Make sure everyone knows.”

“I will.”

Back on the radio, “Roger that, sir. We’ll land, shutdown and hold up for the night. Can you see if the runway is clear, sir?” I ask.

“From what we can see from here, it’s clear.”

“Let us know if you happen to spot anything out there. That could sure ruin our night if we happen to hit anything at the wrong time.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for you.”

We make several heading and altitude changes and line up for the approach. The runway lights are visible in the distance as we start on the approach but are surrounded by an inky blackness that makes it difficult to judge distance and height. A momentary sense of vertigo comes over me. I must be more tired than I thought, I think doubling my attention on the instruments and the approaching lights.

“Help me watch the airspeed Robert. If I get too far off 155 knots, tell me.”

“Will do, Dad,” Robert replies.

“Bri, make a final check that we are on the main tanks.”

“We are, Dad,” she says. I would double check but I don’t want to be moving my head around much given the feeling of vertigo I just experienced.

“Gear down and verify three green for me Robert.”

I see his hand appear in my range of vision and move the gear handle down. A vibration rumbles through the aircraft as the gear are released and forced into the slipstream.

“Three green,” Robert says as the rumbling comes to a stop.

“Lynn, make sure everyone is strapped in please.”

“Already done, Jack.”

“Thanks,” I say to her. “Robert, flaps at 50 if you please.”

The aircraft starts to rise up as the configuration is changed. I compensate by pulling the throttles back a touch and push the nose down, retrimming the aircraft as I do. We continue down the flight path with only a few bumps of turbulence, the ILS needles perfectly centered. I’m tired and things that were normally done by rote become almost a chore. The lights come ever closer. Why did this have to happen? I could be home right now playing Xbox, the momentary stray thought runs through my mind. Focus, focus.

“Full flaps.”

I again change the throttle and pitch as the aircraft responds to its configuration change. “We’re looking for 135 knots,” I say to Robert.

Into the radio, I say, “Lajes approach, Otter 39 on short final.”

“Roger Otter 39, cleared to land. Remain on this frequency. Runway looks clear.”

“Roger that Lajes. See you on the ground,” I say pressing the transmit button.

The tendency at night is to flare high so I hold the nose down a moment longer than what would normally seem right after we pass the threshold lights and our landing lights pick up the runway markings. I pull the throttle back while raising the nose. Low and slow like this is the moment I hope to God that we don’t hit something. Even something small will throw us off our flight path enough so that we would become a flaming wreck and a memory. Something to talk about for a week and then forgotten. The right wheel contacts the runway first, then the left as we rock slightly and the aircraft settles to the runway. The nose comes down as I apply reverse thrust, slowing the aircraft rapidly. Approaching taxi speed, I ask Robert to bring the flaps up.

“Lajes, we’re clear of the active and taxiing to the ramp.”

“Roger Otter 39, taxi to parking.”

It is amazing how some things like proper radio communication remain when everything else is gone. Just a product of nature I guess or maybe we are just trying to hold on to something. There was no need for us to carry on like that. Those radio communications were introduced for brevity and to control vast amounts of aircraft in a short period of time. As far as I can tell, we are the only ones, possibly in the world, flying. Yet here we are practicing standard radio communication when we could have just been talking normally. Go figure.

Just as these thoughts are crossing my mind and we are taxiing in, a shadow runs across the taxi way in our lights.

“Is that what I think it was?” Michelle asks.

“I think so,” Robert answers her.

“Lajes, be aware that we may have visitors. I just saw one cross in front of us,” I say into the radio.

“Roger Otter 39, we see several of them heading your way across the ramp from the base.”

“Okay, we should be fine in here as long as they can’t figure out how to open the doors,” I reply as we come to a stop on the ramp. “We’ll shut down here. Once we shut down, be aware that we won’t have our radios on so we can conserve our battery.”

“Copy that.”

“See you in the morning Lajes,” I say and begin shutting down the engines.

“Did you catch that we might have company, Lynn?”

“I did.”

“Okay, I’ll be back there when I finish up here.”

“See you the..” That’s all I catch as the engines wind down and the cockpit plunges into darkness.

Damn, I forgot to switch to DC power, I think reaching up to turn the switch. I’m too tired to think.

The internal lights come back on the moment I click the switch over. “Let’s head into the back,” I say to everyone in the cockpit after removing my helmet. I get no response. The only indication I have that they heard me is their movement out of their seats and down the stairs.

“Robert, put the blackout covers on the windows,” I say once we are in the cargo compartment. The blackout covers will prevent any light from escaping outside and therefore drawing more attention to ourselves.

“There are creatures around and they’re most likely heading our way. We should be safe inside here unless they’ve figured out the secret of opening the doors,” I say gathering the group around.

Noticing some startled and worried looks, I add, “Not to worry, I don’t think they’ve progressed to that point yet. We’ll settle in for the night keeping a watch, meet up with the folks stationed here in the morning and go from there. Silence is our best friend so limit movement and keep talking down to whispers. We need to become a deep, dark, black hole. Let’s settle in and lights out in five minutes. Sergeant Connell, will you see to the watch schedule?”

“Already handled, sir,” Lynn responds.

“Any questions or comments,” I ask.

“How about calling them night runners?” Corporal Horace asks.

“That’s as good a name as any,” I answer. “Anyone have any problems with that?”

“Night runners it is,” I say seeing most everyone shake their head.

SLAM! The first of the anticipated bangs against the side of the aircraft echoes inside startling everyone. This is quickly followed by another under the right side window as the night runners close in and try to gain entry. Muffled howls and shrieks of frustration and calling reach inside as soldiers scramble to get their rifles. Lynn walks to each one and quietly tells them to stand down and be at ease knowing that silence is our best weapon at this point.

“Sir, why don’t we take off and fly around until morning like we did last night?” Sergeant Drescoll asks as everyone settles back down.

“We don’t have enough fuel for that. We’re down to about an hour at best,” I answer thinking I have really screwed up my planned times for landing. Not once have we landed during the day time like I wanted. That’ll have to change, I think. It puts us with too few options and increased risk.

The howls and shrieks continue outside as I step into the cockpit to turn off the battery plunging the aircraft into darkness. Putting on the night vision goggles and looking out of the windows, I see approximately twenty of the night runners gathered around the aircraft moving in an agitated state. Several disappear out of view as they take runs at the aircraft and slam into the side. Further out, I can make out others heading our way across the ramp. At the base of the tower, I barely make out other night runners gathered there. There should be enough of us to handle them if need be, I think removing the goggles.

I settle into the lower bunk in the cockpit and pull the thin blanket over me amidst the frequent slams and the vibrations they cause on the aircraft. I am exhausted and begin to drift off. I feel a coma coming on. The kind of deep sleep that only being on fire will wake you from and maybe not even then. Just as I’m about to fall into that darkness, I hear feet shuffling up the stairs and the blanket is pulled aside. A dark shape settles in next to me.

“I really hope you are Lynn,” I whisper into the ear of the person next to me. “If you’re not, you’re terribly lost.”

“Mmmmm, yeah, it’s me,” I hear her whisper with her back to me.

She reaches back and I feel the zipper of my flight suit zip down. “I guess we’re not waiting for a shipping container eh?” I ask chuckling quietly and pleased that we are not.

“Nope.”

It’s then that I notice that she isn’t entirely clothed either. The sounds of the night runners outside vanish from my mind as we make love on the tiny bunk. Trying to be quiet but the passion of being apart for almost a year makes that difficult. And, as promised, it doesn’t take that long for either of us. Afterwards, we lay quietly in each other’s arms enjoying being close. I fall into a deep, contented slumber with Lynn in my arms.

The night runners continue to try and gain entrance throughout the night but the noises outside taper off toward morning. On waking, I notice that Lynn slipped away from the bunk sometime during the night. I guess to give some aspect of decency or professionalism although I am pretty sure everyone knows we are together. If they don’t by now, then they must be blind. I wish she had not slipped away because, well, I just wish she hadn’t.

The faint light of the sun about to rise shows through the cockpit windows. I rise, stretch my tired and achy bones, and look out of the windows. The ramp is clear of any movement. Down in the cargo area, soldiers are just beginning to rise and move about. Most stretching as I had; sore from sleeping on the cold, steel cargo floor. I peel away the window covers letting light stream in so we don’t trip over everything. Everyone is about in the same shape as me and that shape is in dire need of a bath and clean clothing. A well-used locker room smell abounds. And I mean the high school locker room where clothing is only taken home on Fridays; taken home never to be the same again.

“Good morning everyone,” I say to the mass moving about. Mumbles, groans and a few ‘good morning, sir’ greet me.

Robert raises his head from one of the upper bunks and peers sleepily in my direction. I can tell he is thinking about rolling back over to continue sleeping before thinking better of it and swings his legs over the side. It is then that I see Michelle raise her head from behind him. I merely sigh not really sure what to think or say about that. Probably shouldn’t say anything, I think. He sees me looking at him with my perplexed look and smiles. I nod back in greeting not trusting myself to say anything. Anything I say would probably be wrong. That is something I have a knack for.

Lynn approaches and stands next to me. I turn, give her a hug and feel her stiffen as I do. “You’re just going to have to get used to it,” I say into her ear.

She smiles, relaxes, and hugs me back. “Not until you change your clothes flyboy.”

“What would you like me to change them into?” I ask with a poor attempt at humor.

Seeing Lynn smile up at me in that way, having everyone look in my direction looking for guidance and the “what’s next,” Robert standing with his arm around Michelle, and with Bri and Nic just emerging from their bunks with tired eyes, I am suddenly filled with the overwhelming fact of what has happened in the world; with the fact that we are in a world of hurt — so to speak. The weight of responsibility comes crashing down. What are we going to do? I think looking around at the eyes staring back at me. Are we just playing games here and heading for an inevitable conclusion that we are all going to vanish like the others? I look over at my kids thinking, How am I going to keep them safe in this environment? How can any one of us be safe? I have led teams into dangerous situations before, but this is different. Sure I cared about the guys I was with and didn’t want anything to happen to them. I tried to make the right decisions to give us the best chance, but, well, this is just different. I think subconsciously there was the comfort that the world would go on regardless of what happened to us. Just keep going on day by day and moment by moment. I shake my head and the overwhelming feeling vanishes as if thrown out of my head by the shake. But something else remains — determination.

Lynn, knowing me as she does, senses something going on inside me. “Is everything okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, it’s all good.”

“Uh huh,” she says in a low voice.

I know that ‘uh huh.’ It’s her ‘we’ll talk about it later’ uh huh. I feel once again how lucky I am. She has a way that keeps me grounded and real. It is this that makes me feel that things will be okay. A Led Zeppelin song starts playing in my head and the line ‘and the forest will echo with laughter’ keeps rolling through. It gives me the feeling that something else is out there, just beyond the point of vision that is observing. Not exactly helping per se, but just watching to see what will happen. Like looking through a one-way mirror. Is this a test? Is any of this real? I think and shake out of my reverie. Whew! What was that about? I must be tired but know it is also a continuation of my thoughts about quantum physics and reality.

I know I have to get some fresh air. Plus, there is, again, the distinct locker room aroma that would be nice to get out of. “Do you want to meet your team now?” Lynn asks, looking at me questioningly and draws me further out of my second day dreaming episode.

“Huh, oh yeah, please,” I answer pulling completely back into the reality of the moment. Much like being pulled quickly through a dark tunnel to where the light shines brightly.

“Henderson, Denton, Gonzalez, Rogers, McCafferty, Bartel!” She barks and starts moving away from me. Six heads turn in her direction and Lynn points to me. The four young men and two young women that were called gather their weapons and start in my direction.

With my team around me, I can’t help but notice just how young they look. Were we all that young? I think going back to the time long ago when my buddies and I were flying around the world with our hair on fire. I catch Robert’s eyes and wave him over. He starts over with Michelle in tow. Sigh. Introductions are made.

“Okay, we’ll make this quick and gather for a longer talk later. First, I want you to pair up. Find your battle buddy.” Eyes look around at each other and the two young women, McCafferty and Gonzalez, pair up first. Then Henderson and Denton followed by Rogers and Bartel.

“Now, you are not to go anywhere without each other. When I see one, I should see the other like a shadow. And I mean everywhere. I’m not saying you have to be in the same stall, but you’ll be by the door. If, for some reason, you do have to be apart, then the other will know exactly where you are and when you’ll return. Any questions?”

“No, sir!” They say in unison.

“I would have buddied up here with Robert but I see he has already found his battle buddy,” I say looking at Robert by my side and Michelle by his. He turns a deeper shade of red as the group chuckles. I’m going to like this group, I think as I look around Robert to see Michelle is the same interesting shade of red. I think it’s also nice to hear those chuckles. There’s a sense of normalcy that comes from that and shows that we haven’t loss our sense of humanity in spite of all that’s happened.

“You’ve both have inspired me,” I say looking at Robert and Michelle. “We’ll be Red Team.” This brings more chuckles and an even deeper red in the both of them. “Okay Red Team, we’re heading outside. Gonzalez and McCafferty, you two cover the rear ramp door as it opens. You others, set up a small perimeter outside once they’re open.”

“Hooah!” They say quietly but with emphasis.

“Okay, that’ll be enough of that. Roger?”

“Hooah, sir!”

“Oh dear God,” I say in a whispering sigh but loud enough to be heard and rolling my eyes. They all grin and begin moving to the back ramp door.

“Robert, stay with me a sec,” I say. Michelle backs up a step knowing I want a private word.

“Yeah, Dad.”

“I understand you’re with Michelle but don’t you do anything stupid trying to impress her. And don’t think you can handle a situation by yourself feeling you’ll be diminished in her eyes. You call out the moment something doesn’t seem right.”

“I will, Dad.”

“I’m serious Robert. I know how the young mind in love works.”

“Okay, Dad,” he responds. “Am I part of Red Team?”

“’We’ll have to see about that. I’ll have you go with from time to time but you’ll be with me when you do.”

“You know I can handle myself,” he says referring to our airsofting days. We always prowled the woods together as a team. We were very good together and he was very good at sneaking around. Better than me if truth be known. We were definitely a force to be reckoned with. In fact, there is no one I would want with me more. We could communicate and work together without the need for explanation. We would just know what each was doing. But I also know from experience that it is the reaction and simultaneous knowledge of what to do immediately that counted more than the ability to be sneaky.

“I know you can but this is different Robert. This is for real. You’ll train with us, well, and then we’ll see.” The disappointment on his face is breaking my heart. I am so torn because of the desire to protect yet he needs to learn as well. I wonder if every parent goes through this moment in one way or another. I guess so. I suddenly realize that the other soldiers are not that much older than he is. He is actually among his peers to an extent.

“Okay Robert, but you stay with me.”

“Of course, Dad,” he says with joy in his eyes. I get the feeling that he somehow thought I was disappointed in him or didn’t think he was worthy enough to be a man. “Just like old times eh?”

“Yeah, just like old times,” I say with a smile and pat him on his shoulder. We of course are referring to the invincible team we were in the world when no lives were at stake.

“Do you have a weapon for Robert?” I ask Lynn walking over to her.

“Are you sure?” She asks looking up from where she is checking on supplies with Bannerman.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I answer.

“You’re the boss,” she says. I know those words and they indicate that she is not in agreement with my decision.

She gets up and walks over to where the spare M-16s are strapped down, picking up several magazines as well - we had raided the armory back in her camp prior to leaving loading up with weapons and ammunition. She hands them to Robert gives me one of those looks. Yeah, we’re going to have an interesting talk later.

“We’re going to open up the back and head outside. I assume the base personnel will be along shortly,” I say to Lynn.

“Okay,” she says.

That is the only answer I get from her as she kneels once more to the ground pretending to go over the inventory. I notice the distinct lack of ‘sir’ or similar from her. I know she is angry with me but I also know that it stems from worry. She is a lot like me in that respect. When she gets worried or scared, she gets angry.

“If it’s all the same with you, I would like to give the teams color codings. We’ll take Red Team.”

Lynn looks up to me over her shoulder. I look down at her with an apologetic look letting her know that I know where she is coming from. It’s one of those many looks we share. With a sigh, she stands, gives me a hug and whispers in my ear, “This isn’t a fucking game Jack!”

“I kno..” I start to say but don’t get it all out before she goes on.

“Hush! You take care of him Jack! I’m going to hold you personally responsible if anything happens to him.”

“I will, babe. He needs to learn though” I say.

“I know and he’s in good hands but know that I’ll personally kick your ass if he gets hurt.”

“I love you!” I say chuckling in her ear.

“I love you too! Now go away and let me finish here!”

We release our hug. Robert and I start to the back with him stuffing the extra magazines in his pockets as best he can. At the back, Red Team has gathered around the ramp. “Everyone ready,” I say putting my hand to the ramp button.

“Yes, sir.”

“Lock and load,” I say followed by a rapid succession of clicks as rounds are chambered.

Gonzalez and McCafferty take positions along each side of the ramp door with their weapons pointed outward. Hydraulics kick in gear and the door slowly opens as I push the button. Light from the morning slowly fills the cargo compartment as the door pushes ever slowly open. A clang signals the ramp contacting the pavement outside followed immediately by the ringing of boots pounding down the ramp. Red Team immediately takes positions just outside of the aircraft covering different sectors, alert and ready as Robert and I step outside and look around.

“All clear, sir,” Gonzalez calls after they are assured nothing hostile awaits us.

“Roger that. Henderson and Denton, take position at the nose. Rogers, Bartel, stay here and cover the right and rear. Gonzalez and McCafferty, you have the left and rear.”

“Hooah, sir,” Henderson and Denton call out as they stand and trot toward the front of the aircraft. The propellers are turning slowly in the breeze as we didn’t have a chance to strap them down last night.

“Watch out for those,” I yell out to them and, once I get their attention, point to the big props.

The morning breeze flows across my body bringing a fresh sensation as if blowing away the staleness and bathing me. I want to just stand here and take it in. Pretend the world is nothing more than me resting here in the breeze as it refreshes me. Unfortunately, that is not to be. I notice a vehicle is approaching from the far side of the ramp.

“Sergeant Connell, company on the way,” I yell back into the aircraft. “Have everyone fall out in formation at the rear of the aircraft.”

“Yes, sir,” I hear her respond. This is followed by more yelling and sounds from inside.

“Nic, get Michelle and hook up the ground power unit but don’t start it,” I say seeing her standing on the edge of ramp.

“Okay, Dad,” she says and disappears into the aircraft.

I stroll a few steps further out onto the ramp to await the vehicle that is rapidly closing in. I am taking it as another good sign that there is only a single vehicle approaching as opposed to an armada of MP vehicles with flashing lights on. From the way I left, I wouldn’t be surprised to see the sky and ground filled with weaponry to insure I didn’t leave again. I had thoughts of seeing the end of my days in a darkened room somewhere. Of course, I am not entirely sure that doesn’t await me now. I continue to eye the vehicle amidst the clatter of boots on the pavement further behind me. A shadow falls over Robert and I and I turn to see Major Bannerman step up next to us. I give a mental shrug and look back to the vehicle.

The front doors of the Air Force blue staff car open as it comes to a stop a short distance away. I come to attention as Colonel Wilson and Sergeant Watkins step out and walk over. I hear Lynn call the formation to attention behind me. Yeah, I kind of forgot to do that or, more specifically, forgot that I should have done that. In all my years with the military, I had only been involved with one formation. I and those I played with tended to avoid those if at all possible. I remember having to see if I even had all of the bits and pieces that went with the dress uniform and the scramble to the uniform shop to buy those that I had lost or otherwise forgotten. Lynn has my back and I am ever grateful for that.

“Good morning, sir,” I say and salute as Colonel Wilson draws closer.

“Oh sure, he salutes him and calls him sir,” I hear Bannerman mumble under his breath behind me as he salutes as well.

“Good morning, Captain Walker,” Wilson says returning my salute. “Major. At ease, gentlemen.” I see a little hesitation by Colonel Wilson wondering why I was there in front rather than Major Bannerman. Okay, I didn’t think this all of the way through perhaps.

I relax and turn toward Lynn, giving her a nod once I catch her eye. Seeing her standing in front of the formation, as the soldiers stand at attention in formation according to their teams, I realize just how much she has her shit together and how much I truly need her in so many ways. That aspect of professionalism just comes so naturally to her that it just happens. If it were left to me, it would look like a bunch of one-legged emus in a wind storm. Lynn calls the formation to parade rest as I direct my attention back at Colonel Wilson, noticing that Red Team is still holding its cover positions.

“Glad to see you back, Captain,” Wilson says extending his hand. “I see your mission was a success. At least I am assuming these are the troops you were sent to get.”

“Yes, sir. More successful than I anticipated,” I say shaking his hand. He then shakes Major Bannerman’s hand.

“Your troops Major?” Wilson asks with a sidelong glance at me.

Oh boy, this should be interesting, I think. “Sir, if we can have a word in private?” I ask.

“I asked the Major a question, Captain. Please let him answer,” Wilson says holding a hand up to forestall me.

“Yes, they were, sir,” Bannerman answers.

“They were Major? Something doesn’t seem quite right here. If I didn’t know better, I would say Captain Walker here is in charge.”

“He is, sir,” Bannerman responds.

Colonel Wilson tilts his head, looks at me, and says, “Now, Captain, you can have that word.”

Before heading off with Wilson, I ask Bannerman to have Lynn release the troops. Standing in formation is not a pleasant thing let alone for extended periods of time. I remember the one formation I had to stand in for an afternoon. I thought I was going to pass out. It took days for me to get any feeling back. People just are not meant to stand straight up for that long.

Colonel Wilson and I step a few paces away. I look back toward the aircraft. It’s another of those scenes that imprints on the mind. The large olive drab HC-130 squats on the ramp in the rays of the morning sun. Behind it, the formation of troops are lined up neatly on the ramp, Nic and Michelle stand next to the ground unit and stare in our direction, and Red Team is squatting in their positions at the front and rear. The old Chinese curse comes to mind — may you live in interesting times. I guess we have been mightily cursed as these are interesting times indeed, I think as I turn to face Wilson.

“Troops! At ease!” I hear Lynn bark. I chuckle softly. She has no intention of releasing the troops but at least she is letting them relax some. She really has my back and I wonder who is really in charge.

“Sir, you mentioned General Collins left yesterday,” I say opening the conversation.

“That’s right, Captain. The General found an old time pilot but hadn’t flown in years. He didn’t figure you’d make it back. With our low supplies, he thought he needed to take the risk to get into contact with the mainland and find supplies. He loaded up what was left of the base personnel and took off yesterday. I was left here with a skeleton crew until they get back and we lost containment. I think my staying here was punishment for letting you go without letting him know.”

“So how many are left here, sir?”

“We’ll talk about that later, Captain. Would you mind telling me how and why you are in charge of an Army unit?”

“Well, sir, I’m the best qualified,” I answer.

“What exactly does that mean?” He asks.

“I wasn’t absolutely truthful with you on my previous visit, sir. I was involved with special operations for quite a few years.”

“I’m aware that you are in special operations, Captain. Your patch says it loud and clear.”

“No, sir, not just flying. I was involved with the actual ground teams.”

“I see. Go on.”

I give him a brief synopsis of my experience from the flying to the control of Special Forces ground teams including the areas in which I was involved. “And here’s the part you aren’t going to like, sir.”

“I figured there was one of those parts coming, Captain.”

“In the sake of being honest, I have to tell you that your verb tense was incorrect.”

“Explain.”

The sun rising in the sky increasing the temperature isn’t the only reason I am suddenly a touch warmer. “Well, sir, when you said that you aware that I am in special operations. That verb tense was incorrect. I was in special operations.”

I see the gist of what I am saying glue together in his mind. His lips thin and color rises in his cheeks. Again, not due to the increasing air temperature. In a low voice, he says, “Are you telling me, Captain, that you are NOT currently an Air Force officer? That you are not even in the military?”

“Yes, sir.”

A moment passes as the steam gathers before it has to blow somewhere. “GOD DAMMIT, CAPTAIN! I stuck my neck out for you and you’re now telling me all you said was a lie!” I see Robert take a step in our direction but hold my hand out stopping him. I also notice Sergeant Watkins head toward us before being stopped by Colonel Wilson’s.

“I am sorry, sir, but with regards to the mission, yes.” I go on to explain the actual happenings and events of the past few days to include the conversation and vote that led to my leading our motley crew. I finish up with where we stand now.

Several additional moments pass as he digests this multitude of information. “Tell me you were at least an officer. Tell me you weren’t lying about that as well.”

“I was an officer, sir. And my background is the truth as well.”

“Did you find her at least?” Wilson asks

“I did, sir. She is the Sergeant in charge of the formation,” I say nodding in Lynn’s direction.

“And the others?” He asks nodding at the formation of soldiers.

“They came attached to her. She asked if she could keep them.” Wilson’s lips ease a bit as he tries not to smile but then fails miserably.

“I don’t see that I have much of a choice really. What’s your plan then, um, Captain?”

“Well, sir, if I could borrow some more gas, we plan to head to Brunswick Naval Air Station for more fuel. It’s then off to the CDC to see if we can find some information on these night runners. We figure if there is any info on what we’re dealing with, it’s there. After that, it’s back to McChord to build a safe place in that area.”

“Night runners huh?”

“Yes, sir. Had to call them something.”

“I’m still not terribly pleased about being misled like that, Captain.”

“I understand Colonel. You should come with us. Join our merry band of travelers.”

“I can’t, um, you know, I can’t call you Captain. What’s your first name?” Wilson asks.

“Jack, sir.”

“The name’s Frank,” he said sticking out his hand for a second time. “You must care for her a lot. That took some balls doing what you did.”

“I do indeed, sir, Frank. Care for her that is. Not sure about how big they are,” I say with a smile.

“Anyway Jack, I have my orders and can’t leave. General Collins will be back tomorrow.”

“Sir, what if he doesn’t come back? You’ll be stuck here. You should really come with us.”

“What do you mean ‘if he doesn’t come back’? He’s only making a quick trip for supplies and to make contact with someone on the mainland.”

“Frank, this here,” I say sweeping my hand around and inferring the danger from the night runners, “is only a very small taste of what it’s like everywhere else. If General Collins and his group go in unprepared, they’ll get swept away. They didn’t even see the small taste you are seeing here. How many of the personnel he took are combat trained?”

His eyes narrow as he absorbs this information and the meaning of it. “Is it that bad Jack?” Frank asks.

“Yeah. It’s pretty bad alright,” I respond.

“And if he does come back and we’re not here?”

“We’ll call all of the way across the pond. If they’re out there, they’ll hear us. We’ll let them know what happened.”

Frank turns to Sergeant Watkins. “Sergeant Watkins,” he yells.

“Sir,” Sergeant Watkins yells back.

“Get on the radio and get everyone else out here. Leave one in the tower to monitor the radios.”

“Yes, sir,” Watkins answers and ducks his head in the staff car.

I look over to Lynn and, with a quick nod of my head, I indicate that everything is okay and to truly release everyone. She calls the formation to attention and, from across the ramp, I hear her release the troops. With a last look in my direction, she heads back into the aircraft. Troops head inside only to reappear moments later with food and water, congregating in small groups on the ramp to sit and eat. Red Team is squatting at their appointed locations eyeing the area as another vehicle departs the base of the tower driving toward our location.

“Jack,” Colonel Wilson begins, “I want to talk it over with the rest of our detail before saying anything else.”

“Of course, sir, um, Frank. Sorry, old habits seem to die quickly,” I say as the light blue crew bus comes to a stop. Eight people emerge from the vehicle toting M-4 carbines and gather around Sergeant Watkins. Frank walks over to their small group and they are soon immersed in conversation.

With the warming breeze blowing across my face, I look out over the area once again. I cannot help but notice that some of the soldiers from our outfit, still enjoying their meager breakfast, glance curiously over at the other group locked in conversation. The sun has climbed higher into the morning sky warming the air rising from the ramp surface.

I look across the ramp towards the once lively base. It’s so quiet. I think. Just like being out in the country. The quiet that was so peaceful out in the country seems so alien here. The brain carries the association of man-made objects with the noise that went along with them. People scurrying on errands, the sounds of vehicles passing, construction, doors opening and closing, everything that made sound within that environment combine into one solid noise that defined any congregation of people. The silence is what makes the quiet here so alien. There is a disjointed feeling in the mind between what the eyes see, what the ears hear and what the brain is used to. It’s as if the brain is trying to reconcile the difference and leaves behind a sad, almost lonely feeling.

Nature reclaiming what was taken from it. We take and so we must give. The thought passes through my mind as I look over the tranquil setting. And we must have taken a lot as we surely gave a lot. The natural order of things seeking its balance. Not a balance in one particular moment in time but a balance spread over time. And here we thought it would be something like global warming. Mankind knew something was coming. There was just that feeling in the air yet we did nothing as if we were powerless to stop it. We weren’t though. We just decided to do nothing about it. The further along we went on our path of control and seeking to make it easier for us, the harder it became to stop and correct the path. We were always leaving it up to others to correct. How do we know when we have been deflected and are diverting from the right path? Is it a feeling inside that something feels wrong? Or is it when our industrial thought wends its way towards a purely service-oriented society feeding our selfish whims? Perhaps a bit of both. We became a society where a majority of our thought and industry was geared around being pampered rather than fostering goodwill and helping others; rather than helping us to become more harmonious with our little home in space or to improve as human beings. Our base needs were obviously taken care of just by the pure nature of becoming service-oriented. We’ll just have to do better this time around. If there is another time around.

The bubble of reverie in which I wrapped myself diminishes with the sound of footsteps approaching behind. I turn and see Lynn approaching. “Well?” She says stepping in front of me.

“I told him everything and I guess they’re discussing whether to come with us or not. Or maybe whether to shoot me. Apparently, they were ordered to stay here while the others headed to the states to find supplies and information.”

“How’d he take it?” Lynn asks meaning about my pretending to still be an officer and on a mission.

“Not all that well initially. He doesn’t really seem to enjoy being hoodwinked like that,” I reply chuckling. “But he came to understand the why given our circumstances.”

“Jack, you could talk a noodle into believing it was a tree.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask but Lynn merely gives me that look of innocence.

“How are our supplies?” I ask after realizing I am not going to get a response.

“We’re going to need water. Especially if we add more to our herd. Food is okay for a few days but we could always use more. We have plenty of ammo for the time being.”

“We’ll see if they still have running water and fill up here. If not, we’ll have to go to the BX and see if there’s more bottled water. We need to keep our empty water bottles and caps and fill them when we can.”

“You mean the PX, right flyboy?”

“We don’t speak ‘hooah’ here so it’s a BX,” I say smiling at our always present and friendly Army-Air Force rivalry only to get another of her looks. The look that says ‘you’re going to owe me for that one’ which, in times past, meant that I was going to have to go first when the lights were turned off. Not that I minded that at all!

“As for ammo, you can never have enough right? If they decide to head out with us, we’ll pay a visit to the armory here,” I continue.

Frank breaks away from their group and walks our way with Sergeant Watkins in tow. Lynn salutes as they come to stand with us. Introductions are made and Frank says, “Jack, we talked about it and we’ve agreed to come along with you if you’ll have us. Frankly, given the state of things, I can’t afford to take the risk and have my men and women stranded here.”

I must have been wearing a look of worry or consternation as he continued on, “And, Jack, we’ve also talked about you staying in charge and to fold in under your command.”

“Glad to have you aboard Frank, Sergeant Watkins,” I say shaking their hands. “Sergeant Connell here is the First Sergeant and will organize your men and women into fire teams. Are they all trained?”

“They are all part of the base security team, sir,” Sergeant Watkins responds.

“Are they already organized into squads?” Lynn asks.

“They are. Alpha and Bravo teams,” Watkins answers.

“Okay, we’ll keep them that way for now. I’ll want to talk with your team leaders afterwards,” Lynn says.

“I’m one of them,” Watkins says.

“Frank, are the generators still online?” I ask.

“The tower generator is still functioning but it looks like the base generators went out this morning,” he answers.

“So, no running water then?”

“Not as of this morning,” Frank responds.

“Looks like a trip to the BX then. We’re going to need whatever water we can scrounge up. Lynn, why don’t you have that talk with their team leaders now and let’s have a team leader meeting in thirty minutes. I’ll take two teams to the BX and you take two to the armory. We’ll need vehicles for both to haul the stuff back.”

“Yes, sir,” Lynn answers. I notice she has not dropped the sir. Well, we need to keep that kind of discipline if we’re to make it through, I think.

“I can have my men get crew vehicles if you want,” Sergeant Watkins says to Lynn as they walk away.

I catch Robert’s and Bannerman’s eyes and wave them over. “Robert, we need to fuel up. Take Red Team, find a fuel truck and top off our tanks. Make sure it says ‘JP4’ on it. I’m not interested in finding out how far a 130 will glide.”

“Okay, Dad,” he answers and heads off leaving just Frank, Bannerman and myself gathered.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to use you two in a planning and logistics role. Frank, if you don’t mind taking on planning and Intel and Bannerman, you handle the logistics end.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Frank says.

“Fine by me,” Bannerman responds.

“There’s not much to do in that regards now, but when we get back, you’ll be more than busy organizing and creating a safe haven for us. I plan to use a large outdoor store as the base when we get back. It’s set a little out of town so start thinking about what we’re going to need to secure it. Communications, maintenance, power, heat, fuel, stuff like that. I have some ideas but the more minds on it, the better. We also need to start thinking about how we’re going to handle the rampant disease that’s going to be prevalent very soon.” I say.

“We’ll start putting our minds on that now,” Frank says and the two of them head toward the aircraft. I see Robert, with Michelle by his side, start across the ramp with Red Team. I sure wish for different times and that they didn’t have to go through something like this, I think watching them walk across the ramp. Maybe it’s that I wish I didn’t have to go through this with them as it seems to be an adventure for them. I know I’d probably see it that way if I were in their shoes.

I really seem to be floating in this reverie state of mind today. Maybe because it is one of the first times in the past few days that I have actually had time to think and feel a sense of security for everyone. The mind has its own defense mechanisms and ways of dealing with it. It filters out quite a bit and then feeds it in a little at a time to the extent that it can handle it. I would have thought that I would have pretty much handled a lot of that with the stressful times in special ops. But then again, those were not so broad and far reaching. I always came back to beer and pretty good food afterwards. There is no afterwards here.

There I go again, I think heading towards the back of the aircraft. Lynn and the other team leaders - Sergeant Drescoll, Corporal Horace, Sergeant Watkins, Sergeant Cressman and Lynn — join me there and introductions are made. The sound of four crew vehicles arriving reaches us and I see Robert pulling the fuel truck alongside the aircraft.

“Okay everyone,” I say opening the team briefing, “we’ll leave tonight so that we can have a daytime landing at Brunswick but we need to gather supplies while we’re here. Two teams, led by Sergeant Connell, will head over to the armory to gather all the weapons and ammunition we can get. I will lead my team and one other to the BX to gather water and any non-perishable food. Sergeant Connell, can you assign the other teams?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be taking Sergeant Drescoll and my team. Corporal Horace will be with you and your team.”

“Sounds like a plan. We need team call signs. My team is Red. Sergeant Drescoll, you’ll be Green. Corporal Horace is Blue. Sergeant Connell, Black. Sergeant Watkins will be Alpha and Sergeant Cressman will take Bravo.”

“How come I get black?” Lynn asks.

“Fits your personality,” I say in response. Uh oh, the look I get in return says that I’ll be going first for a long time to come.

“Sergeant Watkins, do you have keys to the armory?” I say quickly to avoid any response that look will bring.

“Yes, sir,” Watkins answers amid small chuckles from the group.

“Okay, Sergeant Watkins will escort you to the armory,” I say addressing Lynn. “Sergeant Cressman, you’ll take your team and the remainder of Alpha to provide security here. Any questions or comments to this point.”

“No, sir,” the group answers.

“Sergeant Watkins, we’ll need to distribute the radios your team has. Each team leader gets one and I also want Bannerman, Wilson, and Robert to get one. I don’t suppose there’s a Special Forces armory on base?”

“No, sir.”

“Okay, the overall plan is to load up on supplies, fly out of here tonight arriving at Brunswick in the morning, do a quick refueling stop there and head down to the CDC. That should give us enough time to get in and out of there during the day. Rest up in the aircraft that night and head to McChord in the morning reaching there in the afternoon. Questions?”

“No, sir,” the group responds.

“Very well, brief your teams and let’s do this. We leave in twenty.”