“Are you clean and pure?” I ask. A confused look crosses his face.
“Yes, I am,” he answers with a quivering voice.
“Good. Then that’ll make your transition easier,” I say. The confused look continues. His eyes then widen as he catches my meaning.
“But you said….” he stammers backing up.
“I lied,” I respond.
The bright flash highlights his open-mouthed fear as if caught with a camera. Part of his brain, which once held his very confused and warped thoughts, splatters on the concrete wall; his life-giving blood streaking down to the floor. The muffled gunshot lifts him from his feet and slams him into the sink against the wall. He falls to the side slumping over the steel toilet. Fitting end, I think gathering up the woman’s clothing and leave the room.
The woman is squatting in the far corner by the door with her arms wrapped around her; her body shaking. “Is… Is he?” She asks with a trembling voice. I nod setting her clothes on the floor beside her.
“Good,” she spits. “All of them?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply turning around so she can get dressed and to keep an eye on the far door.
She finishes quickly and we head down the stairs to the other women. There could still be others patrolling that we missed so I remain alert. Gathering the women, we start back through the building with me clearing the route and them behind me. One of the women still occasionally sobs but we make it to the roof stairs without encountering anyone. I let Greg know we are coming up and we trudge upward stepping out onto the roof. I take a deep breath in anticipation of feeling the refreshment of the chill night air. I do get my breath of fresh air but forgot about the dead cattle in the distance. The air that rushes into my mouth and nose is tainted with the undertone of thousands of dead, rotting carcasses. It’s only a little better than the stifling and stale air inside. The ambience of the building is thick with the horrors of what went on inside.
The sky is clear and the moon casts light downward making for good visibility. The wife of the man looks around the group huddled together on the flat roof. With a cry of discovery, she runs to where her husband sits. He stands and they embrace. He flinches with her tight hug from his injuries but folds his arms around her.
“You made it,” Greg says as I move over to him. “Does that mean the bill has been delivered?”
“Paid in full,” I answer.
“Good. You look like a mess,” he says eying my face.
“I feel like a mess,” I say. There is the release of tension in finishing what we came to do. The adrenaline ebbs and an overwhelming tiredness replaces it. “I’m going to lie down and rest. Keep an eye on the door.”
“Will do,” he replies. We are interrupted a few times by the men and women coming over to thank us.
“Thank us later, we’re not out of here yet,” I reply a couple of times. A shriek sounds out from far away, like the faint howl of a coyote on a still summer night; almost forlorn. I feel adrenaline try to enter into my already tired system but exhaustion has set in. All heads turn toward the distant sound. We all know what that sound is and it strikes dread in all of us, especially as we are all outside.
“Perhaps we should go inside,” I say to Greg.
“Might not be a bad idea although I kinda like it out here,” he replies.
“Yeah, me too but that could change in a hurry,” I say.
I really don’t want to move again but I’m sure our scent is being carried on the night air. We are still a few hours away from dawn and not out of danger yet. Greg and I gather everyone up and head inside. There are a lot of bumps and some curses as the others shuffle and grope in the dark. We find a large room close to the bottom of the stairs and hole up for the night.
There’s No Place Like Home
The rest of the night passes without incident. I take the first aid kit and administer what I can to the man who was beaten and whipped. We get little rest although Greg and I take separate watches in order to try and recoup some of our lost sleep. At daylight, we move through the tangle of corridors until we find a way out into the sunshine.
We walk around the large prison structure until we find the loading docks. The walls cast shadows deep into the compound from the low lying sun of the morning. Several pickup trucks are parked in the loading area. There should be enough to bring everyone out but if not, we’ll scout the area and find others. Horace and the teams should be about an hour or so away if they left at daybreak. I would open the rear gate but I’m not sure these people didn’t have friends that might show up.
The sky promises another clear and brilliant blue day. That of course means another warm one. My eyes feel dry and gritty with the lack of sleep but we’ll hopefully be here only one more day. I feel so grungy but that isn’t an entirely new feeling, just one I didn’t really want to be having in my later years. During the wait, I let the ones who were held captive know about our place and that they are welcome to come with us. If they want to stay, we’ll make sure they get to where they want to go. Most take us up on our offer wanting to leave this place and the horrid recent memories. Some have family in the area and opt to stay. There are plenty of weapons inside and I offer up a team to escort them in when they arrive.
Greg radios and communicates with Horace as the sun rises to the top of the wall. They aren’t far away and arrive at the rear gate ten minutes later. We lift the big bar holding the gates shut and the teams drive in. Bri exits and runs over to give me a big hug.
“I’m so glad you made it, Dad,” she says.
“I’m glad to see you too, sweet Bri,” I reply. Robert strolls up shortly after.
“How was it?” He asks.
“It was okay,” I answer with a shrug. Yes, we do have that in common.
“Daaad,” I hear a shout and look up to see McCafferty running to the group of people gathered off to the side.
“Allie,” I hear her dad call back.
I give Horace a brief description of our encounter and the plan to take some of the others with. I ask Greg to take Echo Team in as an escort for the ones staying to gather up weapons if they want them. Some are reluctant to venture inside but he gathers a few and they disappear into the building, returning a while after. We gather the ones going with us, twenty-two in total, and start allocating pickups with drivers and riders.
“What about using one of the cargo trucks?” One of the soldiers from Blue team asks.
“That won’t work,” Robert answers. “We have to go around that one town and those cargo vehicles won’t make it through the fields.” It makes my heart proud to have him analyze this in that manner.
“Did they bother you this time through?” I ask.
“No, no sign of anyone, sir,” Horace answers.
McCafferty, the dirt on her face streaked by just wiped tears, walks over with her dad trailing just behind her.
“Sir, thank you,” she says.
“No worries at all. I’m just glad you found your dad,” I say. She continues standing looking a little uncomfortable. I tilt my head to the side inviting her to say whatever is making her uneasy.
“Sir, I know this isn’t really appropriate, but may I?” She asks with a quiver in her voice and holding her arms to the side. I’m confused by what she is asking but only for a second.
“Of course, I’m not a rabid dog,” I say shouldering my carbine.
McCafferty gives me a quick hug. “My mom didn’t make it but thank you for finding my dad, sir,” she whispers choking back a sob. I’m surprised the smell of my fatigues doesn’t make her pass out but she withdraws mostly intact. Her dad steps up. We introduce ourselves and he shakes mine and Greg’s hand.
“Thank you both so much. And thank you, Jack. For taking care of my precious Allie. I want to thank this Sergeant Connell as well when we get back. You have no idea how much this means to me,” he says.
“Sir, you have no idea how many times McCafferty here has pulled our bacon out of the fire so
our making sure she’s happy and safe is more a matter of self-preservation,” I say. “You have quite the warrior here.”
We brief our order of travel and plans for the return trip. The ones staying say they can find their way so we leave them a couple of the trucks and depart. The drive back to Canon AFB is uneventful and we arrive with the sun overhead. Miguel and his group are waiting on the ramp standing around a myriad of vehicles.
The afternoon is spent searching for the ammo bunkers. We eventually find them located near the airfield itself but away from the base buildings – for obvious reasons. We transport crate after crate and load them into the AC-130. We have a lot of people and a lot of ammo to take so we opt to leave the Humvees here. The 130 can carry quite a lot of cargo but its capabilities aren’t endless. Besides, there are plenty of Humvees at Fort Lewis so they won’t be missed. The heat is no different from the other days and I’m thankful for the evening which brings cooler temperatures. We flight plan our return trip and plug the info into the flight computers. Robert will lead when we depart in the morning with me tagging along in an extended formation. I am absolutely exhausted by the time the sun touches the western horizon. I just hope we have a pleasant and uneventful flight back. I am so ready to be home. I think of Lynn and the longing becomes even more pronounced.
“I’ll be there tomorrow, hon,” I say into the sky as the sun drops below the horizon and we seal up for the night.
* * * * * *
The night before, toward the end of the hunt, Michael felt a huge pull in the recesses of his mind. He was enjoying the thrill of being on the hunt; chasing down prey and running under the night sky. Even though that part of him was tucked away in the back of his mind, he felt a call of anguish and fear. Opening up, he searched and focused on the source of the pull.
Images of fear and frustration surfaced from a large pack, actually several packs co-located in one lair and unable to leave. Trapped and hungry, they were close to succumbing. Michael knew he didn’t have the time to make it as they were a distance away. Instead, he sent the images of alternate food sources wrapped in the packages he’d found. He told them to hang on and he would be up the next night to help if he could. With that, he shut down and finished his hunt with the lightening of the sky chasing him back to his lair.
Tonight, Michael sets out immediately north to where the trapped packs are located. It will take some time and he may have to find another lair for the evening. It takes him over two hours to reach their location. He arrives tired from jogging this far but it’s really not much farther than what he usually travels on the nightly hunt. Finding that the large lair is encircled by a wall similar to the one at the two-legged lair, Michael sends images to the packs inside that he is there and trots around the entire circumference.
Close to the end of his trek around, he comes across one of the strange vehicles the two-legged ones use. It stretches high into the air a little away from the wall. He wants to see what is inside and scales the vehicle to get a better vantage point. On his perch, he sees over the top of the wall and looks into the compound. A large building stretches tall and covers a large area. Many of his kind are standing in the yard and in the parking lot looking in his direction.
They haven’t been able to get out and hunt. He feels their hunger; feels their fear and entrapment. He receives images of them being able to find some packages last night but those were far and few between. What they found kept them alive for another night but not much beyond that.
Michael searches the area for a way out but finds nothing that registers as a solution. One series of synapses fire and he wishes the vehicle he is on was on the other side of the wall. If it was, they might be able to leap the distance from it to the top of the wall. More synapses fire triggering a series of thoughts and ideas that flood his mind. A light flares in his brain and one of the thoughts locks into his head with an almost audible snap.
If they can build something on the other side, they might be able to scale the wall. Michael sends a flurry of images to the others in a simplistic form that they will be able to understand. The gist of which is to gather anything and everything they can find and start piling the objects against the wall; building it high enough so they can climb up and climb over. The packs turn and disappear inside. They return at intervals with chairs, tables, boxes, and a sundry of items. The pile of items quickly grows and eventually reaches the top, to the point where the packs can climb, scale over the top, and drop to the ground. They are free.
He feels the release of their fear; feels their gratitude and eagerness. He also feels the pack leaders wanting to follow him. This causes Michael to pause. He isn’t ready to lead large packs yet. This night and the revolution in his thought processes make him want to stay alone and think about things further. However, here is a large pack in front of him. Settling on a decision, he calls them together and heads south with them following on his heels. The gathering has started.
* * * * * *
With the revelation of the night runners and their apparent ability to operate doors, we put chains on the crew doors and ramp, securing them to the fuselage. The controls are infinitely more complicated than just a plain swinging door but you never know. It’s the million monkey’s theory and they could accidentally hit on a series of maneuvers that cause the ramp or crew door to drop. Inside, the night passes quickly and, for a change, we aren’t visited by roaming packs. Perhaps the dead night runner bodies outside are keeping them away. Who knows?
The day dawns and I wake with energy because I know I’m heading home and get to see Lynn. My heart has been aching with missing her. This whole apocalypse thing has really put a damper on her homecoming. Our thoughts of just kicking back and chilling together on her return have not only been put on the back burner, they’ve been taken off the stove entirely. The aircraft are already loaded so it’s just a matter of having breakfast, doing our walk-arounds, and getting airborne. Miguel’s group brought items as well and each aircraft is packed with as much as it can hold. Robert, Craig, and Bri settle into their seats.
“Radio if you have any problem at all and stay out of the clouds. If we run into weather that precludes keeping out of them, divert and we’ll try another day,” I say.
“Okay, Dad,” Robert replies and begins going through his checks.
I settle into the AC-130. The interior of the aircraft is much different than the interior design of other 130’s. The left side of the cargo compartment is made up of the weapon systems mounted on hydraulically operated platforms. A series of racks against the fuselage on the right behind the weapons hold ammo for the guns. This particular model is an newer one with a General Dynamics 25mm Gatling gun which is an electric Gatling gun and has an amazing high rate of fire, one Bofors 40mm autocannon, and one 105mm M102 howitzer. All in all, it’s a lethal weapon platform. A Battle Management Control center occupies the center of the compartment on the right, between the autocannon/howitzer positions and the forward 25mm cannons. The capabilities include day/night radar, all light level TV, and infrared detection.
Greg will be the copilot with both Gonzalez and McCafferty filing the flight engineer role. With the back filled mostly with crates of ammo, we have very few of the passengers on board due to weight and space restrictions. I see the props begin to turn in Robert’s 130 next to us and start through my own checks. The list is different but only in minor ways. I have to basically do most of the items myself so we’re behind Robert. He has his engines fully running when our first one begins its rotation.
Soon we are ready and I follow him to the runway. I see him start down the runway and he is soon rotating into the morning sun. I pull onto the runway and am into the air shortly after, pulling into a trail position behind and to the side as we slowly climb into the bright blue of the sky. Four and a half hours. Please let the weather be kind to us, I think as we level off.
The return flight is actually a smooth one. It gets a little bumpy as we begin our descent over the Casca
des but for the most part, it’s gone relatively well. I call base when we’re about a half hour out and setting up for our approach.
“Jack, it’s good to hear you’re back. Wait one and I’ll go get Lynn,” Kelly responds to my call.
“Jack, I’m glad you’re back. Everything go okay?” Lynn asks a moment later.
“Yeah, just peachy,” I respond.
“Oh great, I know what ‘just peachy’ means. I’m glad you’re back though. I missed you,” she says.
“I really missed you too! We brought extra dinner guests. Can you let Bannerman know to expect more and set some extra settings? We’ll also need some of those school busses to meet us at McChord if you wouldn’t mind,” I say.
“I’ll let him know and I’ll meet you up there. How many have you brought back? How far out are you?” She asks.
“I think our count came to eighty and we’re about a half hour out,” I answer. “It’ll be good to see you.”
“Wow, Seriously? Eighty? That’s pretty amazing. It’ll be good to see you as well, Jack. Okay, I’d better go if we’re going to meet you. See you soon,” she replies.
We land and taxi onto the ramp parking by our old HC-130 friend. Vehicles soon approach with two school busses following. I greet Lynn with a big hug and kiss. It feels good to have her in my arms again. I expect to hear something on the condition of my fatigues and her inability to breathe but she merely looks up with those beautiful blue eyes of hers and smiles. It takes a little while to make the introductions but the people and gear is off-loaded and put into vehicles.
“Nicely done,” I tell Robert with a pat on the back as we close up each aircraft after they are emptied.
“Thanks, Dad,” he beams.
“You too, Bri,” I say. She just gives me her award winning smile. I am so proud of them. We leave the ammo crates on the aircraft as there’s no need to transport them anywhere.
A New World: Awakening Page 25