A New World: Storm

by John O'Brien

  “Sir, I feel I have to mention that there is the option where we don’t do anything. Tell Jason we looked at it and found it too risky. Load them up and deal with the bandits later, if at all,” Horace says. “I’m not saying it’s the best choice, but it is one.”

  “That solution has been mentioned,” I say, looking at Gonzalez. “For now, let’s hash through this and see if we can come up with a plan that doesn’t have our certain deaths written all over it.”

  Horace is right. But so is Gonzalez. We need to help Jason and the group of survivors, but perhaps the best help we can offer is to lift them out of here. I’d like nothing more than to take out the marauders. They could cause trouble and bring more harm for others down the road. There is the choice of just clearing out and leaving them for later. But, we’re here and we might as well give it our best look.

  For more than an hour, we hash through plan after plan, discarding each one as being too risky for the soldiers on the ground. If we had a few Strykers or a Spooky, it would be a different story, but as we sit, we would become engaged in a firefight with a group that potentially outnumbers us and would have the ability to maneuver better than us, even if we had Robert in the 130 keeping an eye out above us. The closest we come to a viable solution is to get into positions by the facility just before dawn and hit them when they emerge. However, all they have to do is withdraw into the building and wait us out. The countryside around the school is mostly barren, so the chance of night runner interference is minimal, but it’s still a risky proposition.

  Looking at the maps, no closer to a solution than when we started, I become frustrated. I’ve always been able to figure out a workable solution in the past, but now I can’t seem to see through to something viable. Perhaps I’m just tired and not looking at it right. Staring at it isn’t yielding anything. If anything, the harder I concentrate, the less I see.

  “You know what? Fuck it!” I state, my frustration rising to the surface. “We’re getting nowhere with this. As a matter of fact, we’re doing nothing more here than wasting time, which is something we don’t have a lot of. I’m tired of beating my head against the wall. If we’re going to do this, we need to do it right and with the equipment that will get the job done. I was being lazy and trying to do it with what we have on hand. That’s clearly not going to work. If we’re going to help these people out, we’re going to do it the right way.”

  Gonzalez looks up from the map. "Spooky, sir?”

  “Damn straight. We’re just a little over an hour from home. We’ll head up there, pick it up, and return. The soldiers will remain here. Robert, Bri, and Gonzalez, you’ll be going with me, along with Craig. Robert, Craig and Bri will pilot the 130 back. Gonzalez and I will be in the Spooky and we’ll all return after dark. Horace, you’re in charge until we get back,” I brief.

  “Why do we need the 130?” Robert asks. “Couldn’t we all come back in the gunship?”

  “We still need the 130 to transport everyone from the bunker, and there isn’t enough room in the Spooky. I don’t want to waste the time it will take returning to the compound just to head back east.”

  “I gotcha…makes sense,” Robert responds.

  “Okay. Let’s not waste any more time here. I’ll brief Jason; Horace, you brief the soldiers. While we wait at Cabela’s for evening to fall, we’ll re-plan this shit correctly. We’ll still need boots on the ground but the gunship will be doing most of the work. Robert, you and Bri go get the 130 ready. I want us airborne inside of thirty minutes,” I say, not relishing the upcoming radio conversation with Lynn.

  After briefing Jason, we are airborne in short order, heading to the northwest. I cringe with each turn of the knob as I dial in the frequency to contact the bunker. It takes only a minute or two until Lynn is on the line.

  “Are you on the way back?” Lynn asks.

  “I might be a little late,” I answer.

  “What have you gotten yourself into this time?” I can almost hear the sigh on the other end and picture her shaking her head.

  “I’ll explain it later. Suffice it to say that there’s a rat nest here that needs taking care of,” I say.

  “Jack, you know I hate your cryptic fucking messages. For once, just tell me what in the fuck you mean,” she responds, this time the disgust and frustration shining through in full force.

  As we’re communicating via satellite and our messages are coded, I’m not overly concerned that we’ll be overheard. I proceed to give her an update on the situation, including that we’re on our way to the compound to pick up the Spooky.

  There’s a long pause on the other end after I finish. “When will you be returning, then?”

  “I figure we’ll strike in the morning and should be back to the bunker by early afternoon,” I answer.

  “You only have Blue and Red Teams with you. Are you sure that will be enough?” she asks.

  “I think so. We’ll have the gunship, so that will more than make up for the lack of numbers. Plus, we’ll use the soldiers we brought with us.”

  “Do you need anything from this end? Harold could task a satellite and upload the feed to you,” she comments.

  I could tell she wanted to ask about using the soldiers, but left it up to me. Having spent a lot of time in combat zones across the world, she knows the on-scene commander has the best grasp of a situation and it’s not up to folks removed from the field to second-guess them. That is, unless it becomes obvious that the commander has lost all awareness of the situation. I’m quite sure Lynn frequently thinks that’s the case with me.

  “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. There’s no need to waste the fuel and we’ll have the Spooky for situational awareness. But, thanks.”

  “Okay, Jack. Be careful and let me know how it goes. Say hi to Frank and Bannerman for me,” she replies. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  That went a lot better than I thought. I thought I’d be involved in a "discussion" where I’d have to fake entering into a radio shadow. That, by the way, would not have made things any better.

  The rest of the flight is completed rather quickly, as I spend most of it on the radio with Frank and Bannerman. They really don’t have much to report since I talked with them the day before. I ask Bannerman to see that the Spooky is fueled and armed, and to have a team on standby to refuel the 130. We won’t be on the ground for long. The days are getting shorter and I’d like to plan it so we’re back just past sunset. I can’t imagine the marauders will leave whatever spotter they have posted out after dark. I’d like to make our return unknown and enact whatever plan we come up with at first light.

  The compound comes into view and I'm relieved to see the familiar, encircling gray walls. We’re home, if only for a short while. Upon landing, we’re greeted by Frank.

  “It’s good to see you back,” he says as we shake hands. “I know I wasn’t overly supportive of the plan, but I’m glad it worked out the way it did.”

  “Frank, we need people to be the devil’s advocate,” I answer. “As you well know, no plan is perfect, even if it seems that way to everyone. As a matter of fact, it should send up a warning if we are all enthusiastic about it. That means we aren’t looking at it closely enough.”

  “Well, if it’s your plan, or semblance of one, I’m sure Lynn will fill that role,” he comments, patting my shoulder and chuckling.

  “I can always count on that. She keeps me honest,” I state. “And in line.”

  “Speaking of which, just so you know, she isn’t overly happy with you on this newest one,” he says.

  “I don’t imagine she is. Wait…she called you?” I ask, a little taken aback.

  “Yep. It was right after you radioed. Wanted me to, how did she put it? Oh yeah, look over your shoulder and make sure you aren’t just ‘winging it.’ ‘Make sure he actually comes up with a plan.' I also think 'mule-headed' was mentioned,” Frank answers.

  “Somehow, I’m not surprised,” I state.

 
We drive back to the inner compound. The parking lot is a frenzy of activity, with semis arriving and departing, escorted by Humvees. Bannerman has been busy with bringing supplies in from up north while we still have the chance. Settling into chairs on the lower floor of the building, Robert, Bri, Gonzalez, and I spread the maps and begin planning. Frank, as advertised, joins us. Not like I would exclude him anyway. I just chuckle inside thinking about the conversation he must have had with Lynn, thankful it was him that had that end of it rather than me.

  Throughout the day, we develop a plan, discarding some elements and introducing others. In the end, with the rays of the late afternoon sun streaming through the entrance, we have the makings of a workable solution.

  We’ll launch the Spooky before first light and have it at altitude to the south of the bandits. It will watch for any sign of scouts leaving the building and track them, marking their position. At that point, they’ll be our eyes in the sky. They’ll be more than that later, but at that stage, they’ll just monitor the facility.

  When we’re assured that the lookouts are in place, I’ll take a caravan with just a few troops from the base. We’ll only use a couple of vehicles as bait to lure the marauders. The other soldiers, split into two groups of twenty-five, will be loaded into fueled vehicles, standing ready to move out. Once the intercepting bandits are some distance from their base, the Spooky will engage the lookouts and take them out, returning to fire on the closing marauders. That will deplete their numbers when we close on the compound itself.

  I would go knock on the front door and ask if they’re marauders first, but a group leaving on an intercept course will provide that answer. Once the lookouts are taken care of, the vehicles carrying the soldiers will leave the base. Horace will take one group and head to the southeast, skirting the city and swinging around to come at the building from the east. I will take the remaining soldiers and head southwest, coming in from the west. Red Team will be occupied in the Spooky control center, along with the Blue Team members providing for ammo handlers.

  Once we near the building, but are still out of sight, we’ll proceed through the overgrown fields and set up across from the facility. I would just have the Spooky raze the building to the ground, but shit, there’s something in me that wants to give them a chance to change their ways. I won’t risk an extended firefight to do so but, well, it’s just the way I am. Of course, I’m not giving the intercepting or scouting parties a chance at redemption, but I have to even the odds up.

  There is further talk of just taking out the lookouts without initiating an intercept. Although I’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure that the camp contains the bandits, there is that slim chance we’d be attacking an innocent group that didn’t show up on Nahmer’s list. The vehicles heading out to intercept what they think is a group from the base will raise the surety to a hundred percent. The scouts leaving would also provide that, but not to the level of assurance I’d like. If this is done correctly, we shouldn’t have to exchange a single round or put ourselves at too great a risk.

  Gathering our gear, we say our goodbyes once again. Before leaving, I radio Lynn and let her know our plan.

  “I’ll just mention my thoughts on this, Jack. Once you’re assured that it’s the marauders, just bring the building down and eliminate them with the gunship. I know about having boots on the ground and all, but you’re not trying to take over the place, you’re just trying to eliminate the threat. I don’t know why you feel you should offer them anything. They certainly didn’t give that opportunity to anyone else,” she states.

  I know she’s right but I feel it’s something I have to do anyway. I can’t even explain it myself. Identifying the bandits and unloading hellish fire into their position should be the right choice here. Perhaps it’s time I retire and leave the planning to others. The stress may be getting to me but, for whatever reason, I want to be on the ground and give the folks a chance to come around. I know, deep down, they won’t, but there it is. I want to see these people face to face.

  “I know, and that’s the way it may go down. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. I love you,” I reply.

  “Safe flight and I’ll see you then. I love you.”

  Pulling Gonzalez aside, I ask her what her honest opinion is. “I don’t see where we’re putting ourselves at any tremendous risk with the plan the way it is. Sure, we could just unload shells into the building and call it good. Sometimes, though, you just have to do what you have to do and go with your gut. You know about second-guessing yourself so I won’t go into that. Just know that we’re behind you with whatever you decide, sir,” she responds.

  We load up, Gonzalez and I in the Spooky and Robert, Craig, and Bri in the 130. We’ll fly in a trail formation on the way back, hopefully keeping each other in sight for the trip. The sky is clear and the trip is only a little over an hour so we shouldn’t have any problems.

  The flight is uneventful as we return to the base, arriving after the sun has lowered beyond the horizon. We come in from the north in order that we don’t overfly or come close to the marauder encampment. The noise of our engines shouldn’t travel that far, and if they pull in their scout, or scouts, during the night, they should have already done so. It’s really the best that we can do, and hopefully, our arrival back at Mountain Home will go undetected.

  The landscape below is cast in a silver glow from the moon’s rays as we line up on a long final. I throttle back to gain a little separation, letting Robert land first. We’ll be doing an NVG-only approach so the bright landing lights don’t broadcast our arrival. Our landing will also use up most of the runway, as we don’t want to use our thrust reversers. Robert calls his landing and clears the runway just as my wheels kiss the surface and begin rolling. We taxi in and shut down near the hangar where the soldiers are staying.

  I sit in the cockpit, looking over the moonlit ramp. The bright moon outlines everything in silver, highlighting the buildings and vehicles and creating impenetrable shadows. The starkness is both beautiful and eerie, the stillness adding to the latter.

  I look for any movement. Jason mentioned that the night runners don’t make their way out to the base anymore, but with my luck, they will be out in force on the very night I want to cross in the open. The noise of our arrival should send any in the area running our way, so I linger for a while. I would stay in the aircraft for the night but we need to brief the others and be ready come morning. Nothing moves in the moonlight. There aren’t any shrieks. It’s completely still and silent.

  “Okay, let’s make our way out and over to the hangar, quickly but quietly,” I radio Robert.

  He sends a double click of acknowledgement and Horace responds that she’s waiting by a small, steel door inset into the hangar. Gonzalez and I exit and quickly make our way across the tarmac, our shadows chasing after us on the dirt-covered ramp. Robert, Bri, and Craig are ahead, racing for the hangar, the crunch of their boots on the sand making little noise. The entrance opens quickly as they near and they vanish into the darkness beyond with Gonzalez and me following shortly thereafter.

  The door closes quickly behind us. The interior is faintly lit from windows posted around the structure, high on the concrete walls. The hangar we’re in hasn’t been converted to a greenhouse, so it has its original roof, for which I’m relieved. Plastic sheeting wouldn’t even slow down a night runner who managed to get on top. Inside, the soldiers, along with Jason, gather in a loose group. It’s hard for the others to see the positions on the map in the dim lighting, but a flashlight with a red lens cover helps. The plan is disseminated, with several verbal walkthroughs, and we retire for the rest of the evening in an attempt to get some rest. My night is a restless one, my mind occupied by the impending operation, but I eventually fall into a semblance of sleep.

  I sit up with a start, having had several very strange dreams that begin fading immediately upon waking. Looking at my watch, I note that sunrise is only about two hours away. It’s time to get up and s
tart our day. I hope it goes smoothly and with no loss of life on our side. My joints creak and my back is sore from sleeping on the hard floor. When all of this is said and done, meaning everything, I’m raiding a mattress store and am going to carry around the most comfortable one I can find. I may strap it to my back so all I have to do is fall backward into a deep sleep, dreaming about nothing but floating on clouds. An angel, playing a harp and another handing me drinks, wouldn’t be too bad either. However, that’s not to be at the moment, as my knee cracks loud enough to break a window.

  Several soldiers, keeping watch at the doors, turn at my rising. I see they are all armed, something I didn’t notice during the briefing. They didn’t turn on us during the night or try to escape, which is a plus in their favor…and mine. Lumps, which in fact, are sleeping soldiers, are scattered haphazardly across the hangar floor. The smell of unwashed clothing permeates the interior as I make my way through the sleeping mass, waking them to differing reactions. Most rise with the usual grunts and groans, a few startle awake, while others roll over and try to go back to sleep. Robert and Bri fall into the latter category. It’s been that way almost since the day they were born. Oddly, Nic was never that way. The thought of her sends a pang of grief through my heart.

  Robert, Bri, Craig, and the two teams ready themselves for their departure. It’s still dark outside, more so since the moon has set. That really doesn’t affect my vision, but the field of view onto the ramp is limited through the small window set in the steel door. I don’t see anything moving. A team of soldiers waits at my shoulder, NVGs in place and ready to provide cover for those who will make a dash to the Spooky. With a nod, I open the door and step aside. They pour out, setting up a small perimeter just beyond the exit. Whispering that all is clear, the Spooky crew dashes across the tarmac and into the aircraft. The security team withdraws and we close up.

  Soon after, the whine of the first aircraft engine turning over penetrates the hangar walls. The sound is soon replaced by a deep roar as each engine comes to life, the vibrations felt through the concrete floor. It increases as Craig applies the throttles, fading as they taxi out to the runway. We hear the aircraft begin its takeoff run and the droning slowly fades as they depart into the night sky. Our mission has begun.