A Trip to Normal

by Ray Wench

  His mind wandered to thoughts of Lynn and the kids. He thrust them aside; to start thinking of them now would be to resign himself to his fate. He pushed to his feet, determined to survive. How many would come for him? How would they enter? He rehearsed his attack from different positions and against various numbers. Plans never went as expected, but better to work something out than to make it up as you went. Besides, it helped to take his mind off the situation and keep his outlook positive.

  Becca broke the surface gasping, her lungs burning. The wave had caught her unprepared. The rolling waves had moved her ten yards from the boat. Summoning all her strength, she swam against the wind and current. After only a few strokes, Becca knew she was in trouble. Her strength would be spent long before she made it back to the boat.

  The rope still coiled around her shoulder, she slid it down, fighting to maintain her position. Treading water, she tied one end around her waist and readied the remainder to throw over the mooring line. The waves lifted and dropped her. She paddled and kicked as hard as she could to close the distance; at the apex of a large wave, she tossed the rope as hard as she could. Without a solid base beneath her, the throw was weak, but as the coil unwound, it opened enough to drop about ten feet over the line.

  With a surge of elation and adrenaline, Becca swam hard for the rope. Every time she seemed to be close enough, a wave carried her back. But, Becca stayed determined and focused on the rope. Cresting a wave and riding it forward, her hand hit the rope. The wave carried it to her. In desperation, Becca speared at it. She missed and was carried a few feet away. No! No! No!

  Exhaustion ignited panic. She tried to swallow it and drove her strokes harder. Her fingers brushed the rope again. With all her remaining strength, she lunged and snagged it with a tentative grip. Kicking for all she was worth, she got close enough to grasp lower on the rope with her other hand. She pulled the end, hand over hand, until it drew taut over the guide line. Working as fast as she could, Becca tied the other end around her waist. She clung to the rope, afraid she’d be washed farther away and have to claw her way back. She knew she didn’t have the strength to make the effort again.

  After long moments sucking in air through the rain, she looked up at the mooring line. It was not that high above her. Perhaps four feet, yet it seemed like a mile. Gathering her reserves, Becca hauled on the two ends of the rope and slowly pulled her body from the roiling water. With a Herculean effort, she reached the line and hooked her arms over. She hung there, her weight drawing the rope down, her legs underwater.

  Becca couldn't remember ever being so exhausted. Her chest hurt to draw breath. A glance in each direction told her she was about midway between the chain and the boat. Which way to go? If she returned to the boat, she could lie down and try to recover, but she knew if she did, she might not get back up to try the crossing. She was exhausted enough to sleep until next week.

  She stared at the chain, up its length to the deck a long ways off. What was she thinking? How did she think she had the ability to make such a climb? An image of her father drifted before her blurry eyes. “Damn it, Daddy,” she said. Sliding her arms along the rope, she made her way to the chain. “Hang on, Daddy, your little girl is coming.”

  Tara lay awake and stared at the ceiling. An idea had hatched a few minutes before and she worked her way through the possibilities. She decided she had it planned out and thought it a good idea, or at least worth the gamble, and sat up. Lynn was still at the window, her head pressed against the glass. Tara was sure the woman had fallen asleep.

  She reached over and nudged Mel. Her friend grumbled and rolled over. Tara crawled till she was directly over Mel and shook her again, one hand poised should Mel wake up and yell. Mel’s eyes flew open and she started to move, but Tara clamped a hand across Mel's mouth and put a finger to her own lips. “Shh!”

  Mel's eyes flitted around the room searching for the source of concern. Tara waited until she calmed down then released her. “I need to talk to you. I have an idea, but I'm gonna need your help.”

  “Okay,” Mel said, her voice tentative.

  “Let's go outside.”

  As quietly as possible, they stood and crept between the bodies until they reached the rear door. Outside, they moved away from the door along the wall and huddled under the overhang out of the rain.

  “What's up?” Mel shivered against the cold.

  “Isn't Camp Perry close to here?”

  “Ah, yeah, I think so. It's on the other side of the power plant, but I'm not sure how much farther.”

  “I remember training there and a competition a while back. They don't have an air base, but they do have a heliport.”

  “Okay?”

  “Listen, if I can get to the base and find a helo, it would help us gain an advantage over that ship. I could get a lot closer and fly over so we can see what's going on.”

  “Are you nuts? What if they have machine guns or missiles or something to shoot you down? You'd be an easy target up there.”

  “Not if we mounted the BAR. We'd have enough firepower to keep their heads down.”

  “But, but,” Mel searched for another objection. “It's raining. That would hinder visibility and make flying harder, right?”

  “To some extent, yes, but they'd have the same problems.”

  “Except, they wouldn't be in the air. I don't know Tara. It seems awful risky to me.”

  “What does?”

  The new voice made them jump and reach for weapons. Lynn stepped outside and eyed them. “What are you planning?”

  Mel answered. “Suicide if you ask me.”

  “I'm thinking about going to Camp Perry down the road, to see if I can find a helicopter. That might give us enough of an advantage that we could negotiate from a position of power.”

  Lynn stepped forward. “What are the odds that you'll be able to find and fly one?”

  “That depends on if one's there and if someone's protecting it.”

  “Don't they need a key?”

  “Yes, but there are ways around that.”

  “And you know how to do that?”

  “Yes, depending on the bird.”

  “Lynn, it's dangerous,” Mel said.

  “Is it any more dangerous than being on the water with all those other boats coming after us?”

  “She could get shot down,” Mel insisted. “I don't want her to go.”

  “What do you think, Tara?”

  “I think it's worth exploring.”

  “Don't get me wrong. As much as I like this idea, I do not want to throw your life away on something that's so dangerous that success is slim and your death a high possibility.”

  “Trust me, I'm not ready to throw my life away. I do think it's worth looking into though. It could make all the difference.”

  “What will you need?”

  “I can't believe this,” Mel said.

  “My vehicle and one other person.”

  “Okay. Go for it, but don't force it. If you can't do it, don't risk your lives. I'd rather have you back here.”

  “If she's going, I'm going.”

  Lynn said, “I'll leave that and the details to you. Good luck.”

  Forty-One

  Becca slid her legs around a link and held on. She’d made it a third of the way up the chain and needed a rest. The iron links were rusted, cold and slick, but she'd made good progress. Enough so her confidence in successfully reaching the top had grown.

  She waited about two minutes and scaled the chain once more. To block the daunting task from mentally draining her, Becca allowed her thoughts to wander. She thought about that spoiled girl she'd been in college. That girl would never have contemplated doing anything this crazy.

  Truth be told, she’d never felt more alive. Ironic that the feeling only developed after nearly everyone else had died and out of the necessity to survive. Becca despised the person she was back then. In fact, if she ever saw someone as prissy and wimpy as she’d been, she'd m
ost likely beat the snot out of her.

  None of her old college friends or sorority sisters would recognize her now. She had become a total bad-ass. How many of them had survived the apocalypse? She pushed that thought away and focused on her metamorphosis from college sorority girl to female action hero. Was she crazy? Well, maybe. After all, she was trying to climb a chain in a storm, in lightning, to assault a ship full of armed people, all by herself. So, yeah, she was a tad crazy, but, so what. Crazy had kept her alive so far.

  Another bolt of lightning revealed about twenty yards to go. The diversion of her thoughts had worked. She'd climbed much higher than she expected. Her foot slipped. She threw her arm through the link and squeezed. Her knee banged against the metal, sending a spike of pain through her. She cried out. As she hung there, she turned her face into the rain to see if she'd been discovered. No one came. She air-walked a few steps before finding purchase, took a moment to recover. She risked a glance down. It looked much farther than from the opposite view.

  “You've come too far to fall. Now stop being such a wimp. You're bad-ass, remember?” With that, she renewed her efforts. This time, however, she was unable to divert her thoughts. The distance closed. The wind blew harder at this height. Her arms and thighs grew heavy. Still, Becca climbed. To her surprise, the chain links changed direction; she no longer climbed upward, but horizontally. She almost sobbed with relief at seeing the deck.

  No longer over water, she tried to slide off the metal but ended up falling with a thud that drove the air from her lungs. Only the rain pelting her face kept her conscious. She rolled onto her stomach and snaked underneath the chain for shelter, lowered her head to her arms and closed her eyes. For now, she was done. This bad-ass needed to rest.

  Forty-Two

  “I think this is it,” Tara said. “Yeah. That's where the obstacle course was. Most of the shooting ranges are in the back. The barracks are in the middle, I think. It's been a while since I was here. The gate is up ahead.”

  “Were you stationed here?”

  “No, I came for marksmen instruction. They run both military and civilian shooting competitions here. The base is home to the 200th Ohio Air National Guard Red Horse Squadron.”

  “Have you given any thought to what you're gonna do if the base is occupied?” Mel leaned forward in her seat, trying to pierce the rain-streaked darkness.

  “Yeah. I'm going to introduce myself and ask to be taken to the base commander.”

  “Ah, wrong. Bad idea. They are not going to let you walk in there and take a helicopter. And that's if they even have one for you to borrow. Most likely they'll either arrest you, force you to join, or shoot you.”

  Tara slowed the SUV. “Seriously, that's what you think?” She drove past the gates.

  “How can you not think that?”

  “Well, because it's a military base. They all operate under the same principles. Authority and discipline.”

  “In case you haven't noticed, we don’t live in normal times. If you're determined to do this, I think it’s best done by stealth.”

  “You mean sneak onto the base and steal a helicopter? And in case you haven't noticed, these are the new normal times.”

  “Ah, yeah, that's exactly what I mean.”

  “But, if we get caught, for sure we'll get shot. Did you see anyone at the guard post?”

  Mel turned to look through the rear window. “No. It's too dark, but the gates were closed and I assume, locked. Look, there's not a light on anywhere.”

  “Well, they might not have electricity.” Tara didn't sound as certain about her plan now.

  “If it's being run like a military base, wouldn't they have an alternative power source?”

  “You would think so.” Tara pulled to the side of the road at the far end of the camp. They studied the grounds with only the benefit of periodic lightning flashes for illumination. “We do have the rain for cover. No guard is going to patrol the grounds in this weather. Hand me the glasses, would ya?”

  Mel passed them and Tara squared up to the window. In the rain-obscured darkness, not even the glasses helped. She lowered them after several minutes. “The only way to know for sure is to go in.”

  “We're gonna get drenched.”

  Tara looked at her and smirked. “Aw, poor sugar cube gonna melt?”

  “Hey! Stop that. And what if I do?”

  Tara laughed. “I doubt it would make much of a puddle.”

  “What's that supposed to mean? I'm not that sweet?'

  “Come on, sweetness, let's do this.”

  They got out and Tara lifted the hatchback. She rummaged through equipment bags finding two rain parkas and two flashlights. Using duct tape, she created a funnel around each light to narrow the beam and lessen the chance of discovery. Last, she put a small tool kit in a pouch she hooked to her belt.

  “Let's stay at the far edge of the base and work our way to the middle once we get past the buildings.”

  “You da boss. Lead on.”

  Tara led along the eight-foot high, chain-link fence until they reached a corner. There they scaled the fence. Tara climbed and landed like an expert, while Mel struggled, her wide boots slipping from the links. She fell, dragging the fence with her, landing hard. The rattling sound of the chain-links was loud.

  Tara rushed to Mel's side and helped her up. “You okay?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, but now I've got a wet ass.”

  “Keep making all that noise and that'll be the least of your problems.”

  “Well, sorry, G.I. Jane.”

  “Come on.” She tugged on Mel's arm to get her moving. “I'll use my light, you keep yours off until we need it.”

  Mel didn't respond. They walked along the fence for a quarter mile. Tara kept her light pointed at the ground. Apart from a few tree roots the way was clear. They got their bearings after a lightning bolt lit the area, and were soon past the barracks and other buildings.

  The trees were sparse but offered the best cover. Tara moved inward and led them toward the lake but away from the structures. No lights shone anywhere on the base. They reached a point where they no longer had cover and Tara stopped and crouched. “I'm going to make a dash for the end of that building. You cover me and wait for my signal.”

  “How am I gonna see your signal?”

  “I'll flash the light once. Use it as a beacon. If you get lost, don't keep going. Stop and get low. If I don't see you in a minute, I'll flash it again.”

  Tara eyed the open space. The darker shape of the building was about forty yards away. She rose slightly, paused, then bolted. Mel watched her progress but after ten yards Tara melted into the night, absorbed by the darkness.

  She waited, growing more uneasy. The hairs at the base of her neck stood up. Was it the chill of the rain and cold air, or was someone watching her? She turned her head in both directions without moving her body. It was pointless. She couldn't see anyone in the darkness. She was tempted to turn her light on and swing it in an arc but fought the urge.

  In the distance, a light flickered, on and off. Taking one more quick glance around, Mel took off at a hard run in the direction of the light. The run seemed to take forever. She wondered if she missed the mark when she heard, “Mel! Over here.”

  Mel adjusted her course to the left, the building suddenly right in front of her. If not for Tara stepping out and extending an arm she might have run right into it. She shuddered, although couldn't pinpoint if it was because of the near miss, the cold night, or the nagging feeling that someone had her in their sights.

  Tara flicked on the light. The beam displayed the wall of the building. From where they stood, at the rear of the structure, she could not discern its purpose. “Try not to touch the wall, in case someone's inside. They may think it’s just the wind, but let's not take a chance.” She set off along the side and when they reached the front, she squatted. In the distance to the right, waves crashed on the boulders. They were closer to the lake than she thought.


  She wanted to aim her flashlight into the darkness in front of her but feared the risk. Still, she couldn’t decide on a direction until she knew what was out there. She weighed the pros and cons, deciding in the end to take the chance. Aiming the light to the right, she turned it on and swept the beam from right to left for a count of three, before shutting it off.

  They waited for signs of alarm and to take in what they'd seen. “I didn't see anything. You?”

  Mel said, “Not a damn thing.”

  “I’ll try it straight in front of us now. Get ready.”

  Mel leaned over Tara’s shoulder. The beam flared carving a slim path across the blackness. As before, on three, the light went off. “Anything?”

  “I'm not sure, but it looked like maybe a building more to the left, a distance away.”

  “I didn’t see it. I’ll aim more to the left this time.” She counted and by two, the light found something small. She halted the beam and stared until she said, “It's a jeep. Maybe it's the motor pool.” She turned the light off. “I think that's where we should go. This time let's walk and go together.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Tara moved out. Every ten steps she flicked the light on for a second to make sure they were going the right direction. The crossing felt as though it took forever. To the left, another building took shape. Tara deviated to the side wall and stopped. From there, she used the building to guide her to the front where she stopped again. Ten feet in front of her was a jeep. She flashed the light long enough to see it was the first in a line of vehicles, ranging from jeeps to Humvees to troop and cargo-carrying trucks.

  “If they've got a bird, it'll be around here some place.”

  “I'll take your word for it.”

  Staying low, Tara moved to the row of vehicles. Using them for cover, they walked to the end of the line. “This is taking forever. I'm gonna take a chance and scan the area with the light on.”