Chaos anw-1

by John O'Brien

  “Robert, can you keep us here while I head into the back?” I ask. His head swivels over to me with his eyes opening wide and eyebrows raised with the rest of our little group mimicking the look.

  “I think so,” he responds back.

  “Dad, are you sure this is a good idea?” Bri asks behind me.

  “Shut up Bri!” Robert answers instead.

  “Easy,” I say.

  “Okay, you have the aircraft,” and transfer control to him. I sit there for a bit watching to make sure he does okay. “I’m going into the back and toss this out of the door. Robert, when I say that I’m ready, I want you to tell me when we’re coming to the north end of the lot.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  I unbuckle and take my contraption to the rear parachute door unraveling a large part of the toilet paper rolls and bunching them up. “Can you hear me?” I say plugging into the intercom system and attaching the safety line at the left door.

  “I hear you,” I hear through the helmet speakers.

  I swing the door open and am greeted by the rush and roar of the wind outside, protected from the blast by the shield doors extending out into the slipstream. The ground looms outside and I have an unrestricted view of the roads, buildings, and greenery below. The angle of bank is altering and the nose rising and descending.

  “Easy there buckaroo,” I say into the microphone. “Small, easy corrections. Tell me when we are approaching the north end.” The aircraft stabilizes to a degree.

  I can see where we are but want a verbal verification of my visual. The lot appears in my frame of reference as we circle again and I see the red car in the middle of the mostly empty lot. “Coming up on the north end,” Robert says.

  “Okay,” I respond and toss the wrench, complete with the bunched up toilet paper rolls, out of the door. The slipstream immediately carries the contraption back and out of sight. Peeking my head out of the door into the chilled air, I see the toilet paper unfurl creating a white streamer as the wrench plunges toward earth. I hope it doesn’t land on any building roofs, I think seeing the wrench head toward the north end of the parking lot. Or hit them in the head. That would really suck.

  I watch the wrench plummet and strike the roof of one of the few cars in the parking lot at its most northern end. The car roof caves in and glass explodes outward. “Ouch,” I say softly, cringing slightly.

  “What!?” Robert’s question comes through the earphones.

  “Um, nothing,” I say as I close the doorand make my way back to the cockpit. Buckling in and taking control, I continue our descent to the airfield, arriving on a downwind leg.

  “Gear down,” I call at mid-field. The rumble of the gear is both heard and felt in the cockpit. Approaching the turn to base, I call for ten percent flaps. On base leg, I call for fifty percent flaps and continue descending to final. “Full flaps,” I say after rolling out on final and aligning with the centerline, pushing forward on the wheel and trimming to compensate for the increase in lift and drag. Aiming at the threshold, I make small adjustments with the throttle to keep the indicator glued to the final approach airspeed. Coming up to the threshold, I start the nose up and the throttles back until they hit the flight idle detent. I feel the main gear touch rocking the aircraft slightly. Still got it, I think lowering the nose to the runway. I always had a knack for landing the 130. “Flaps fifty percent,” I say applying power once again doing a touch and go. We do a few more landings before I pull the throttle into reverse thrust on the final one, taxi back to the ramp and shut down.

  “We need to gather charts and flight plan,” I say. We are standing on the ramp again having left our helmets and gear inside the aircraft. “The base ops building here should have everything we need. Robert, see that truck over there,” I say pointing to a fuel truck parked by the building.

  “Yeah.”

  “Go get it and pull it up behind the right wing. Your goal is to not hit the aircraft. I’m going into the building to get what we need.”

  I pull the M-4 and vest from our gear in the cargo area and walk to the building. Robert walks alongside until he heads over to the fuel truck. A “Welcome to McChord AFB” sign is posted above the double glass doors leading into the building. With the vest secured, I test the doors leading in, finding them both unlocked. Hmmmm, that’s odd, thinking that all of the buildings would have been locked like the hospital. The light from the door shows a hallway extending deeper into the building with doors opening off at various intervals before disappearing into total darkness. A sign above the door to the immediate left indicates that it is the base weather shop.

  Perfect, I think stepping into the hallway. With my light on, I edge carefully up to the wooden door remembering my wonderful and fun-filled adventure from the hospital. Looking in through the large, glass panel set into the upper portion, I see an open area with chairs and coffee tables. Across from this resting area is a large counter spanning the length of the room with darkened television monitors hanging from the ceiling. This is obviously where pilots get their weather briefings. A room opens up to the right of the open area with a large table sitting in the middle. The entire room and area are lit fairly well from the light streaming in from the many windows. The door is unlocked and I step inside.

  A very musty smell greets my entry. Not quite the same musty smell as at the hospital, this is more from disuse than anything else. The room opening to the right contains various charts and is meant as a flight planning area. Just past this room, between it and the counter, a small hallway heads to the right. Stepping across the room and peering down the hallway, I see that the light doesn’t reach all of the way to the end. A couple of doors open to the right and one to the left. The one to the left apparently the entry into the weather shop and the ones on the right with ‘Men’ and ‘Women’ posted on them. Pretty obvious what they are.

  Back into the flight planning area, there are two very large maps of the world on the back wall. The first one is a depiction of the VFR charts covering the various areas of the world and the other has the various IFR charts. I grab a pencil and jot down the ones I will need. Looking over the charts, I also note the approach charts needed. Slots in the walls are filled with individual charts and approach books along annotations denoting which ones lie within. In the past, it always seemed to take a small fork lift to bring them all but that was usually handled by the nav. Most squadrons had everything in large carry cases regionalized. Hopefully they have some here as well, I think, not really wanting to head into more buildings but these charts are crucial. I hear Robert start the fuel truck outside and drive away; the sound diminishing until it vanishes altogether.

  With my light on, I creep down the hall. Adrenaline is already making its appearance again. My light shows the hallway ending in a door at the end with no light showing out from underneath. Drawing close to the thin, wooden door and with complete silence around me, I put my ear up against it. I hear a faint panting coming from within along with a now familiar shuffling-like noise. The shuffling sound stops and I flick the M-4 to burst mode. With my ear to the door, the shuffling changes to a sniffing sound.

  A loud bang resounds as whatever is inside slams against the door, rocking my head off the door and ringing my ears. Fuck this!!! I think, recoiling backward and bringing my gun to bear. I fire a burst into the door noticing the rounds penetrate completely through. I fire two more bursts making sure the last burst centers on the door latch. I kick the door just beside the knob. The door flies inward before instantly rebounding back shut. I kick again and this time, the door flies all of the way open. My light picks up a creature staggering backward into the room. I fire a burst into the staggering thing propelling it even further backward, launching it off its feet to slam into steel shelves set against the walls. It slumps to the ground, sitting there momentarily before slumping sideways to the ground.

  I quickly pan the rest of the room only to see another one launch at me from the back corner. Another quick burst i
nto its chest and this one slides to the ground at my feet. A dark liquid begins gathering on the floor beneath; the flight suit it is wearing is shredded in the back and stained with fresh blood. My light flashes throughout the room but is now only met by cases sitting on the steel shelving around the room and the two bodies crumpled on the floor. Motherfuck this is getting old! I am getting really tired of this and it’s only been one day. Obviously populated areas are not the place to be.

  With the smell of spent rounds strong in the air, I eject the magazine and replace it with a fresh one. I step into the room looking at the cases on the shelves. Markings on them indicate various regions. Now, that is a welcome sight, I think grabbing several cases and carrying them outside. I deposit the ones I need on the ramp, walk back into the lobby, grab some of the comfortable chairs, and drag them out onto the ramp. Lastly, I grab the large, round coffee table out and add it to the arrangement

  Walking over to the 130, I find everyone gathered around the parked fuel truck. My watch reads 10:57 as I glance down at it. “Michelle and Nic, grab some packaged food from inside and meet us over in front of base ops,” I say above the sound of the running truck beside us.

  I walk over to the fuselage and open the refueling point. After unwinding the fuel hose and connecting it to the aircraft, I put the truck into its PTO position and open the fuel lever, flipping the switches to the tanks at various intervals and fill them.

  “Drive this back and meet us at the building,” I tell Robert after refueling. Bri and I walk to the outdoor seating area I have created. “I love you, sweetheart,” I tell her wrapping my right arm around her and giving her a hug. “I love you too, Dad,” she responds leaning into me.

  Back in front of base ops, I take off the vest and set it beside a chair, sitting down as Robert, Michelle, and Nic arrive. “My guess is that we won’t be able to take off today, so we’ll flight plan, input the coordinates in the nav system, and hunker down in the aircraft for the night.”

  Michelle and Nicole put packages of food on the table and we all dig in. I pull some of charts out and lay them on the table as I eat, marking routes and jotting down coordinates to input into the onboard navigation system. The only time I get up is to retrieve some rubber bands and sticky note markers so I can later quickly find various pages and approach charts.

  The planned route takes us first to Naval Air Station Brunswick in Maine. The Coast Guard flies HC-130’s out of there so I know there should be plenty of fuel available. The route takes us basically along the US/Canadian border on a route of 075 degrees out of McChord. The first leg is about 2,500 miles and should take us a little over 6 ½ hours without any wind either helping or hindering us. From Brunswick, our next stop is the Azores, a flight of almost 2,400 miles and a little over 6 hours with a bearing of 085 degrees. Then the dicey hop from the Azores to Kuwait. That leg is about 4,200 miles leaving very little margin for error as our max range is about 5,000 miles. That will be the doozy taking almost 11 ½ hours to complete on a route of 075 degrees.

  On our first two legs, we will lose three hours due to the time difference. The sun sets around 2030 so we will need to be off the ground by 1100 in order to make it there in daylight hours. Our last leg will cost us four hours so we need to be off from the Azores by 0500. Calculating the flight times and fuel, jotting down the coordinates, arranging the approach charts, marking the maps and putting them together has taken a little over an hour. Finishing the flight planning, I take the charts up to the cockpit, laying the ones for the first leg on the nav table and stowing the remaining bags under it. I sit and contemplate the options; leave now and try a night landing with night vision goggles thereby gaining a day but at substantially higher risk, or wait until morning.

  I walk out of the aircraft and hear a noise that I have not heard in days; the sound of a vehicle and its noise shatters the stillness we have become accustomed to. It sounds as if it is coming from farther in the base. I look over at the kids and see they have all turned to look in the sound’s direction; Robert and Michelle stand alert and tense. The sound is nearing. I pick up the pace and trot over to our nice outdoor patio where I have left the M-4 sitting by my chair. I pick it up as a red car pulls out onto the ramp. It stops for a moment and then turns towards us, slowly approaching our position.

  Stopping about thirty feet away, a man in his mid-twenties steps out, dressed in jeans and a blue Old Navy t-shirt. White tennis shoes poke out from the bottom of his jeans. Turning toward us, he is holding something and smiling from under his short, wavy brown hair.

  “Lose something?” He calls, waving the wrench we threw overboard and walks over.

  Setting the M-4 back down, I smile and take the wrench offered in his hand. “Yeah, we kinda dropped something back there,” I say nodding in the direction of the mall. “Much obliged to you for bringing it back.”

  “You made a pretty big dent on that BMW. It’s pretty much scrap metal now. Impressive though,” he says smiling back.

  “Did you hit a car with that?” Robert asks putting the current dialog and my previous ‘ouch’ comment together.

  “Um, yeah, kinda,” I answer.

  “I’m Jack,” I say reaching with my hand toward the young man.

  “Andrew,” he says, shaking mine in return.

  “Have you seen anyone else around?” I ask after introducing everyone else.

  “I saw a couple of cars heading down my street yesterday and a few people in some windows but no one as yet today. Heard lots of those things screaming and hollering last night.”

  “So, what’s your story Andrew?”

  “Well, I’m a biology student up at ‘UW.’ At least I was until this whole thing started. I’ve been holed up in my apartment for the most part but ventured out to see if I could get some supplies then I saw you guys and your note, and, well, here I am. Are you in the Air Force?” He asks looking my flight suit up and down.

  “Um, yeah sure, I guess so. Well, I was some time ago. My girlfriend is over in Kuwait and we’re heading over there to pick her up. You’re welcome to join us if you like.”

  “Well, I’m actually going to head over to Spokane to look for my parents. But thanks anyway. It’s just good to know that there are actually others around.”

  “We’ll be back in about six days. Why don’t we just check in here around noon a week from now and we’ll hook up then.”

  “Sounds good. I wish you luck then,” he says holding his hand out again.

  “And to you Andrew,” I say shaking his hand goodbye. He gets back into his red Acura and retraces his route; the sound of his car diminishes in the distance until the sound of silence embraces us once again.

  “Okay guys, I’ve been thinking, yeah, I know, a dangerous thing, but I’ve decided we should start as soon as possible.”

  “What about wanting daylight for landing?” Nic asks.

  “Well, if it’s clear and we can find the airport, which should be simple enough with GPS, then we’ll hopefully pick up the runway with the landing lights clearly enough. If not, then we always have night vision available but that’s the iffier solution. These things seem fairly rampant and a day could make all of the difference.”

  “What about the chairs and stuff?” Bri asks standing up with the others.

  “Just leave ‘em. I don’t think there’s anyone around to mind.”

  “Michelle, you’ve been awfully quiet. Feel free to speak your mind if you have any thoughts or input.” I say as we arrive at the aircraft.

  “Okay, um, Jack. Will we need the cart from the back?” She responds.

  “No, we’ll make this start on battery.”

  Closing the crew door behind us, we step in and buckle up in the same seats. I turn the electrical systems to battery and let everything warm up. The aircraft has two navigation systems. One is operated by equipment located on the center console and at the nav station receiving their input from the various ground navigation systems throughout the world. The other is
a separate GPS/inertial navigation system getting its information from satellites. It’s a complicated system with many very nice features, such as the ability to input any coordinates and create an instrument approach anywhere. It’s this system I plan to use as the ground nav systems will most likely be inoperative. With the system warmed up, I test it and ensure the coordinates shown are identical to the ones stenciled on the ground by our parking place. The next twenty minutes are spent inputting our route coordinates and setting up approaches to mimic the instrument approaches at the various fields we will be landing at, showing everyone the basic functionality.

  Starting the aircraft up, we taxi to the runway and take off into the early afternoon sky. “Okay, it’s 1300 so we should expect to arrive around 2230 East Coast Time,” I say turning the aircraft on an easterly heading of 075 degrees then reach up to set the pressurization system. “Let me know if you have any problems with your ears.”

  We climb with the sun overhead, the mostly forested hills of the Cascades float below. Mount Rainier slides by to the south of us, its snowy peak still reaching up above the horizon. At 16,000 feet, I raise the nose slightly and retrim the aircraft to 160 knots from the 180 knots we were climbing out at; the steady roar of the engines reverberates throughout. There is not a car moving on the few roads and highways that thread their way through the high, desert plains of eastern Washington below us, growing smaller as we continue our climb.

  “Set altimeters to 29.92,” I say as we pass through flight level 180 and reach ahead to make the setting, watching Robert do the same with his altimeter.

  We level off at flight level 250 and let the aircraft accelerate to 250 knots before powering back to maintain that cruise airspeed. “Robert, look on the nav system. It should give a ground speed readout on the front screen,” I say looking back to check on the pressurization system and ensure I have indeed stabilized at the 10,000 foot setting previously inputted.