Awakening

An Angel’s Wings Unfurl

Michael wakes in his darkened lair ready for another night’s hunt. He thinks again he may have to move as the food supplies have been scarce and harder to find. Sensing other packs in the area waken, Michael represses the urge to call them together. He is still sorting through these new images and doesn’t feel the time is right.

The lair has a chill to it that has been getting more so with the passing of the nights. The passage of the days when he has rested has been fine but he knows he will have to find a warmer place soon or find a way to keep warmer. His pack members provided warmth by huddling and he knows he may have to call the others together before he is ready. The survival of the packs is paramount.

Michael walks out into the familiar store proper heading towards the broken glass door and the night. The hunt and sating his hunger awaits. He notes, as he lopes down an aisle, that some of the objects on the shelves have fallen to the ground. He mistimes one of his steps and his foot comes down on a bag lying on the floor. The bag crunches under his step and, with a small popping sound, objects are thrown from it. He continues on toward the night’s hunt.

A few steps later, a scent reaches his nose. It’s a new smell and one not altogether unpleasant. It’s not like the musty scent of prey but has a sweeter odor. Stopping, he looks back at the broken bag and the contents that are scattered on the floor. He walks back sniffing at the air. Kneeling, Michael picks up one of the objects and brings it to his nose. There is some familiarity associated with the small object he is holding in his hand, something that he feels he should remember but it hangs on the edge of understanding. He knows he should recall what this thing is but the more he thinks about it, the farther away the understanding retreats.

Bringing the object to his mouth, he licks it. The sensation on his tongue is startling and he recoils slightly at the taste. It tastes so different than the food he has hunted every night. There is not the sweetness of biting into flesh or the taste blood. Or of course the actual thrill of the hunt. He licks at the object again, this time not recoiling as much. Taking small bite, the crunch feels like the crunch of bone but not as hard. He chews another small piece. The crunch and salty taste is both familiar and unfamiliar. Michael puts the whole object in his mouth and bites down. It’s not as tasty as prey but it’s not that bad. He grabs more and begins eating.

Finishing the ones scattered on the floor, he looks around for more. He picks up the bag and more spills out. He eats those before finally pouring the entire contents on the floor and devouring them. Looking to the shelves, there are more of the same packages he stepped on along with different looking ones. Michael grabs a bag and sniffs it. It doesn’t have the same odor. As a matter of fact, he can’t smell anything coming from it. He drops it on the ground and slams his foot down on it. The same crunching and pop occurs spilling more objects on the ground. The same sweet aroma spills out with them. He eats the contents of the bag as before noticing his hunger abates but is not entirely sated.

The shelves around him are a little empty but there are some of the bags. He now knows these contain food of some sort. Again, it’s not like the thrill of the hunt but it is food. Walking down more aisles within the darkened store, he notices other objects on the shelves. They may also contain food, he thinks picking up a round, metallic object. There isn’t any smell from this and it’s harder than the other objects but he drops it on the ground like the bag. It hits the floor with a thud. He brings his foot down hard on the object and howls with the sharp pain. Picking the object up, he sees that it is still whole.

He slams the object on the ground. Looking again, Michael notices it is dented but not broken. He throws it down again. And again. The object breaks open slightly spilling a small amount of liquid on the ground. A more appealing scent rises and he bends down to sniff the little pool. It’s still not like prey or as sweet. It has more of a sour smell but it is closer to the odor of prey than the objects in the bag. He licks at the liquid and is pleasantly surprised by the taste. It evokes a deeper hunger and he knows that this will sate his appetite more.

He picks up the metallic object and walks over to one of the outside concrete walls. Throwing the can against the wall, it finally breaks open spilling its contents against the wall and onto the floor. Chunks of something are in the liquid. He cautiously picks up one of the chunks and sniffs at it before putting it in his mouth. This is tastier than the other food. It’s still not quite like prey but he knows he has found more food. He spends the night going through the shelves breaking one object after another. Some of the objects have very offensive odors and he knows instinctively that they are not food. One of the larger objects, not as hard as the metallic one but more so than the bag, breaks open. The scent that emanates from the liquid that spills out has a sharp odor that actually causes pain to his nose when he sniffs at it and causes his eyes to water.

The night passes with Michael testing object after object. He has found another food source in case the nightly hunt comes up empty. He opens himself to the others to send the images of the objects on the shelves and associates it with food. Feeling sated and contented, he shuts himself off again and walks back to his lair to rest the day away.

Greg and I climb back down meeting up with Robert and McCafferty. I quickly relay the information we found. Our time is short so I can only give a brief synopsis.

“Do you think we can get in, sir?” McCafferty asks anxiously.

“I think we have a plan but we need to get back. We’ll also have to fly back to Kirtland to see if we can find some equipment. If we can get in to see about your parents, we will,” I answer patting her on the shoulder. McCafferty nods in understanding.

“I’m not sure Lynn would like your definition of a plan, Jack,” Greg comments.

“Yeah, most likely not. Okay, let’s call it more of an idea,” I say.

We make our way back in the same fashion as our arrival with the sun lowering in the sky. The heat becomes even more oppressive as we draw near Horace’s position. I radio our progress letting her know when we are near so we’re not shot coming in.

Meeting up with the others, I give the same synopsis promising to brief more when we arrive back at the aircraft. We mount up and crawl our way back the way we came. The trip is still conducted slowly as we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. If the group in the prison knows others are about, especially armed ones, they may beef up their defenses.

Following the reverse of our route, we make it back to the freeway heading back to Canon AFB. At the town we had to battle our way around, I stop at the fringe of where we can visually see it. I do not really want a repeat episode so we take a large detour through the fields. The day is moving on with the sun settling more into the west. If we had more time, I would venture around slowly so as not to kick up a line of dust but time is one thing that is not really afforded to us right now. We move off the road and sweep further to the south than our previous route. I have Greg and Horace take stations to the side and behind; hidden in the dust from the distant town. Denton replaced Henderson on the top gun and he keeps an eye around us, concentrating on the town but he reports the area clear.

We hook up with the highway again on the far side and make our way to Canon AFB. The sun is just above the horizon when we drive onto the ramp. We are sweaty, dirty, and exhausted. This day seems like three and it’s good to be back. I would love a shower but we’ll have to settle for using the rest of the day to eat and take turns sponge bathing in the aircraft. Miguel arrives with another group shortly after and I let him know what we are planning.

“We won’t be leaving for a few more days,” I tell him.

“Whenever you’re ready. We’ve lasted this long, I expect we can last a few days longer,” Miguel says in response. “I’m not a fan of gangs muscling others around. I could gather up a few of my amigos and help.”

“I don’t really think additional numbers is the answer, but thanks. If I thought we could take the place with numbers, I’d fly back and pick up the other teams,” I reply.

We spend the rest of what is left of the day eating and taking said sponge baths. Wiping the grime from the day is refreshing but it isn’t a total cleaning. I was once used to going days without showers but I was also younger then. It’s kind of like camping. Sleeping on the ground is no problem when you’re young but nothing beats an air mattress when you get older. I would often contemplate taking a small air mattress on missions but I didn’t want the added weight. A few pounds after hours and days of humping matters. The horizon covers half of the sun in a gorgeous sunset of reds, oranges, and purples and then, after loitering for a moment, it sinks quickly below as if dropped. Miguel and his group leave and we button up for the night.

She rises from her slumber, warm and content yet eager for the nightly hunt. Looking at the others huddled together, she feels pleased with her pack and their ability to find food in the area. It’s been getting scarcer but with their increased pack size, they’ve been able to track down enough to sate them each night. She rubs her belly as if touching her young one growing within. She isn’t showing yet but neither are the other females in her pack. Soon, she will and so will they. Soon she will not be able to run with the hunt and will need the others to bring her food for a short time. Until then though, she will enjoy the thrill.

Several males, which are huddled around her, stir with the coming of the night. The former pack leaders vie for her attention and the position closest to her during their sleep. She hasn’t allowed any one of them to catch her attention as she has the pack and her young one to think of. She doesn’t want them fighting amongst themselves either and has been able to keep that in check so far. She rises and heads down to the lower level and outside to empty her night’s waste. She has made each of them empty outside rather than pollute their comfortable lair.

The night is clear but with a chill in the air. Colder times are coming but she feels their lair will keep them warm and dry. She sniffs the air searching for the scent of food. There are a few hints of prey in the area and she waits until the others join her outside. She then leads them on one of the trails leading into the woods nearby. Finding some food within the wooded expanse, she follows other scents to where the two-legged ones once lived. The hard ground under her feet is not as soft as within the trails of the forest but she only notices it as an afterthought as she has picked up a strong scent.

She stops suddenly. Images fill her mind. Sent by one as strong as or stronger than her. She knows the sender is a distance away but she has not felt anything like it before. The other one that tickled her mind many nights ago is still fresh but that one was different. That one was one of the two-legged and this one is of her own kind. The images are of food and the strange objects found in some of the dark buildings.

She feels drawn to the one sending the images. Not drawn in the same way as to the two-legged one. For that one, she feels an intrigue she can’t shake. No, this pull is because this one is as aware, if not more so, than she is. She knows his exact location but also knows he is distant. The others in her pack halt in response to her confusion wondering why she has stopped. They can sense the other’s awareness and images as well but they are on the hunt and are not nearly as intrigued as she. They do note the images of food being presented however but aren’t sure how to proceed. They turn to her.

The awareness of the other vanishes. She shakes her head and directs them back to the hunt. She will check out this new food another night. She will also ponder this other strong one. After the hunt, she will think about it.

The teams gather around as best as possible in the confined cargo compartment. We have sealed up the windows to prevent any light leaking out and have the interior cargo lights on. It’s more like a locker room inside but it’s a far sight better smelling than what we had earlier today. I give a more detailed description of what we saw watching McCafferty’s face fall with each item both Greg and I mention. If there were only five or so inside, we would have more of a chance, but with the possibility of twenty or more, our force would be eliminated pretty quickly if we were found out. Not only are there the walls, although they are not manned, but there is the building itself. It is fortified as well and would be difficult to get into with a force. Explosives to create an entrance in either the wall or building would possibly put the others inside in a worse situation.

“So it’s a no-go,” Gonzalez says putting her arm around McCafferty.

“No, I didn’t say that. Greg and I think we can jump in,” I say. The silence in the aircraft is complete.

“Is there anyone else here who is HALO trained?” I ask moments later breaking the silence. The quiet continues with a few shaking of heads.

“Alrighty then, I guess it’s just Greg and I,” I say. “We’ll rest up tonight and…” The rest of my sentence is interrupted by the first of the night runner shrieks outside followed by a ringing thump as one throws itself into the 130. More shrieks follow.

“I guess our night runner guests have arrived,” Horace says.

“I sure miss conversations that don’t have the word ‘night runner’ in them,” I say.

“Okay, well, we’ll rest up as best we can and then head over to Kirtland tomorrow to try to find some gear. Hopefully there will be some around that’s legit,” I add as more solid thumps sound inside. I sure don’t miss being inside an aircraft night after night with that noise ringing throughout the evening. I wonder just how much of that the 130 can actually take.

“What do you want us to do?” Horace asks.

“Well, I figure we’ll spend most of tomorrow…” Bang. “looking for equipment. Then set up…” Bang. “for the drop. If there’s enough time and we can…” Bang. “get some rest. Greg and I will drop…” Bang. ”Fuck that’s annoying. Greg and I will drop that night. Robert and Craig will fly us,” Bang. “Goddammit! Shut the fuck up. Horace, take the rest of the teams down the following morning. Head down to the same place by the creek and wait for our radio call. If we don’t call by noon, come back here and head home,” I finish amongst continued slams and shrieks outside.

“We’ll be there, sir,” Horace responds.

“How are you going to get out?” Robert asks.

“Hopefully via the front or rear gate,” I answer. “We’ll have to commandeer vehicles depending on how many are inside.”

“And if you can’t get to anyone and have to leave?” He asks.

“I’m assuming the gates can be opened from the inside. If we can’t get inside or if we find we can’t help them, then we’ll use the gate but be a little sneakier. We’ll have to wait until daybreak though so that will be riskier. I can’t even imagine how many night runners are out around a town of that size,” I answer. Robert nods but I can tell he isn’t very happy with the response.

I have my back to the ramp and the others are standing in a semi-circle in the back of the cargo compartment facing me and the ramp listening to the plan. Okay, it’s an idea but I’m thinking of it more as a plan at this point. Greg leans over and whispers in my ear, “Jack, can we talk about this privately?” I nod and we head to the cockpit after letting the others know we’ll be right back.

Bri listens to the conversation with Robert standing at her side. An icy feeling of fear strikes her gut as she listens to the plan which includes her dad parachuting into a hostile compound at night.

“He can’t be serious, can he?” She asks leaning over and talking quietly to Robert.

“I think he is,” Robert answers.

“I don’t like it. I mean, dad parachuting in at night? And then the two of them facing all of those people by themselves?” Bri says.

“I don’t either, Bri. But you know dad. Once he gets an idea…” Robert says letting his sentence trail off.

“Can he do it? I mean, has he ever parachuted? And at night?” Bri whispers.

“I don’t know. I know some of dad’s stories but I’m beginning to think there’s a lot more to them,” Robert replies. “But I’m not overly fond of him doing this.”

She feels her balance shift from the tempered steel inside to a feeling of fear which turns into an anger boiling in her gut. That fear is redirected at the night runners. She realizes it is people her dad is going after but she blames the night runners and feels they are indirectly responsible. If it weren’t for the night runners, then they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. The crowd of soldiers and the others they picked up the other day are intent on their own conversation. She backs slowly away.

Bri’s thoughts migrate back to her sister. A terrible longing envelopes her; she misses Nic so much. Nic was always a source of comfort and inspiration to her. She misses the smile Nic always had for her; misses Nic’s enthusiasm for everything she did. She feels like a piece of her was ripped out when Nic died. The night runners took Nic away just as they almost took her dad. They also changed her dad; both physically and emotionally. She doesn’t recognize this part of her dad. He used to be playful and funny and she misses that. She misses the laughter they shared.

Now he seems tired and too business like. She sees glimpses of the old dad from time to time and relishes those moments but now, with him contemplating doing something so dangerous without her really understanding why he has to, a deep fear of losing him surfaces. The slams against the aircraft and howls from the night runners continue, igniting a deeper hatred for them. She is tired so emotions bubble to the surface easier.

She watches as Greg and her dad head into the cockpit for some reason. The others mill about in the back of the aircraft. A slam pounds against the fuselage nearby startling her. Bri feels a knot form in her stomach and her teeth clench in frustration and anger. She’s tired of this and just wants things to go back to the way they were. The frustration of knowing it will never be that way again adds to already pent up feelings. She looks behind her noticing the ladder in place leading to the overhead hatch. Looking back at the group, no one is paying any attention to her.

The emotion she had on the firing range returns with one notable exception — there is cold calculation involved. The feeling of wanting to see every night runner dead resurfaces. A part of her feels numb but she remembers Gonzalez’ words to her that day. She battles her emotions and feels a fear filling her knowing what she is about to do. She’s tired of reacting and wants to act. Determination sets in.

Donning a set of NVG’s and with her ever-present M-4 shouldered, she begins to climb the ladder fearful of being caught and even more fearful of what waits outside. She knows from watching the night runners that they can’t scale the aircraft so the top should be safe enough. Bri doesn’t feel she is putting the others at risk by opening the top hatch but she will close it when she is outside.

There isn’t any cry of alarm or shout of discovery as she reaches for the hatch opening. She opens it and the shrieks outside increase only slightly. The night runners are below so the increase doesn’t reach the opening. She climbs out onto the top of the aircraft and gently closes the hatch. Lowering her NVG’s, she looks across the area. The wings stretch flat away from her with the four engines and huge props attached. The large tail rears into the night and she looks forward to where the flat surface of the top arcs down to the cockpit where her dad and Greg stand.

Bright stars twinkle overhead against the black velvet sky but are unseen in the green glow of her goggles. The chill of the night envelopes her and sends a shiver down her spine. The chill is even more noticeable because of the heat that was prevalent during the day. Mindful of not stepping on anything and following the pathways marked safe for walking, she edges to where the wing merges with the fuselage. On top, the screams of the night runners are more succinct and louder. She may not be able to kill all of the night runners but she can take care of these around the aircraft.

She becomes suddenly mindful of what she is doing and where she is at. She is outside with the night runners. Bri turns to head back fearful of what she is doing. Killing the night runners here will not change what her dad is planning nor make it any safer for any of them. She’s here though and the knot in her stomach is just as tight as it ever was. She halts her retreat and goes to a knee near the leading edge of the wing but on the flat of the fuselage. The curvature of the top is not so bad that she feels fearful of slipping off. Bri unshoulders her M-4, ensures a round is chambered, flips the selector switch to semi, turns her night laser and sight on, and brings her carbine to her shoulder.

The night runners below halt their runs against the aircraft and look up at her. They’ve smelled me, she thinks centering her small cross hair on the head of a night runner. The laser, as seen through her NVG’s, paints a dot near where her sight is set. Aim small, miss small, Lynn’s words echo in her head. Bri centers her sight right between the night runner’s eyes. She is aware that she can’t shoot near the aircraft or any of its vitals so she picks one standing a little distance away. The shrieks and howls escalate and the night runners renew their efforts against the 130 in an attempt to get to her.

She eases the trigger back feeling a slight kick against her shoulder sending a round streaking through the night air. A muted cough mixes with the shrieks of the night. The night runner started its charge for her so the bullet misses where she aimed but forcefully impacts the night runner high on the forehead. The small 5.56mm round flattens on impact with the thick skull but punches through leaving a small entrance hole. The downward angle of the shot alters the bullet’s path even more downward and to the right. Bone splinters and the steel-core round plows through the gray tissue. The force of its passage turns the millions of synapses of the brain into jelly. Impacting the skull near the jaw, the enlarged bullet explodes outward in a spray of blood and gray tissue. Meaty chunks and blood splash on the night runner’s shoulder and the ground. It falls instantly to its knees and then forward impacting the ramp face first.

Bri only registers the hit and knows the night runner is taken care of. She watches as another tries to climb the outboard propeller and shifts her aim point. The parallax view allows her to sight in quickly and, mindful of not hitting the large propeller, she sends another sub-sonic round into the night. The night runner jerks from the bullet slamming against the side of its head just in front of its ear and is thrown from the prop, hitting the tarmac with a heavy thump. Bri shifts her sight aligning with another target. Ever conscious of her surroundings, the knot in her stomach, her fear, and her anger all vanish into a business-like function as she is now just shooting at targets.

Greg and I move away from the group and head into the cockpit. I’m guessing he wants to talk about whether we should even be attempting this. I wonder the same thing but these soldiers, some standing in the rear of the aircraft, have risked themselves for my kids so why shouldn’t the same happen for their families. I would have gone into the high school compound alone for my kids and done anything to get them safely out. I’m sure McCafferty would do the same for hers and trusts the group to come up with a plan to get them safely out. True, I don’t know if they are even in there but if it were my family and there was even the remotest of chances they were inside, I would turn the world upside down getting to them.

“Jack, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, seriously,” Greg asks once we are alone with only the silent dials and instruments an audience to our conversation.

“Can you think of another way? I’m seriously open to any and all suggestions,” I answer.

“No, I can’t. Look, I’m the first to want to help, especially with one of our own team members, but sometimes we have to just chalk it up as a ‘no-go’,” he comments. “Jack, neither of us is young anymore, especially you, old man, and it’s been a long while since I’ve done this kind of jump. However, with that said, I’m with you whatever you decide.”

“I appreciate that, Greg. Well, all except the ‘old man’ comment, but I owe these people and…” I pause noticing an increase in the decibel of the shrieks and glance outside through the side window. A night runner is climbing on the prop. I have the quick thought again of starting the engine when the night runner is thrown from the propeller to the ground.

“What the fuck?” I say knowing instantly it has been shot off. I grab a set of NVG’s lying on the bunk and step closer to the window to get a better look. I don’t need them to see outside but I am ever thoughtful of Gonzalez’ words. I’m not ready for the others to know anything as yet and don’t want to raise any eyebrows. I know I have already raised a couple thinking back to Robert’s reaction when I heard his whisper and to Greg’s when I heard the vehicles long before he could.

“What’s up?” Greg asks as I slide the goggles down. The only change that occurs is the night changes from gray to green. However, one other thing becomes visible, there’s a laser pointing down from the top of the aircraft and is aimed at one of the night runners. The night runner rocks backward, spins, and falls to the ground.

“Holy shit! What the fuck?!” I say again, louder this time. “There’s someone shooting night runners from the up top.”

“You’re kidding,” he says incredulously.

“No, that I am not,” I say raising the goggles and heading quickly down the stairs to the cargo compartment.

“What the hell is going on here?” I shout to the group standing near the back of the aircraft. I’m actually surprised to see them where Greg and I left them. I was expecting them to be standing around the top hatch. I look to the ladder and see the hatch closed.

Heads turn in my direction and I am met with surprised looks which confuses me even further. Judging from their reactions and their positions, they aren’t aware someone is on top shooting. But how can you not be aware someone climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch right next to you? I think staring back at them.

A stab of fear grips me. I scan the faces quickly and see Robert looking back at me with surprise still on his face. I can also see the cogs inside his head turning as he tries to figure out what I’m talking about. He knows something is amiss. He has hung around me long enough to know I don’t just blurt shit out. Okay, well, I do, and often, but he also knows when I’m serious. One face, one very important face is missing. The stab of fear doubles and drops from my heart to my stomach. I scan again.

“Where the fuck is Bri?” I shout knowing the answer. The group looks around in their midst searching for her familiar face expecting to see her standing near. She was there not long ago.

I don’t notice as I’m already climbing the ladder with Greg standing below me. He tells the others about my seeing someone on top shooting night runners outside. I register the instantaneous gasp from several but I’m already pushing the hatch open. I poke my head through and see Bri on one knee by the wing root; her M-4 at her shoulder. Her shoulder rocks back slightly in unison with the muted sound of a round leaving the chamber. A night runner running across the ramp towards the hangars drops in its tracks.

Bri continues firing at individual night runners watching them fall to the ramp below. Not being able to get to her, they howl and shriek in frustration. Some dip underneath the wing trying to get out of her line of sight. She shifts her position and fires at another. She is careful with her shots in order not to hit the aircraft or at too much of an angle that might ricochet up into the wing or engines. Another night runner drops heavily to the ground. She hears a shout emanating below her. The shout has words attached to it and she knows she’s been found out, or at least missed. She worries about her dad’s reaction and knows it won’t be a pretty one.

A shriek sounds loud above the others. The total volume has diminished to a large degree as there is not the same number of mouths to emit those screams. Dead night runners lie on the tarmac around the 130. Like fish in a barrel, she thinks lining up another shot. With the loud shriek, the night runners turn as one and begin pounding across the ramp. She hears the hatch behind her open as she cracks off another shot at a fleeing night runner. It falls forward from the round slamming into its back. The remainder scatters, disappearing between the hangars and into the night.

“Bri! What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck back in here! Now!” She hears her dad’s sharply whispered voice.

“Bri! What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck back in here! Now!” I say watching the last of the night runners disappear between the hangars. I keep my voice down to a sharp whisper as I don’t want to startle her to the point of actually falling off. I thought of going to grab the back of her vest to prevent that but that may have startled her even more and she could have put a round in the aircraft.

The silence of the night returns with the exception of my rapidly pounding heart. I watch as Bri calmly rises, clears the chamber before reinserting a mag, flips the safety on and shoulders her M-4. She walks towards me and the hatch lifting her goggles. She has a grim determination painted across her features. Her eyes are large from the adrenaline that must be flooding inside of her. It’s not really a look I wanted to see on my little girl unless I was watching her during one of her sporting events or if she was studying for a final, but I also know her. I head down the ladder with Bri climbing down after me. She closes and seals the hatch.

“Into the cockpit, now!” I say pointing as her boots hit the deck with a ring. I am relieved she is safe. Relieved is putting it mildly but I’m also pissed. See the aforementioned times when the fear resolves itself.

I watch Bri as she walks ahead of me to the steps leading upward. Watching my fifteen year old daughter walking in her black fatigues and vest with an M-4 slung on her shoulder and NVG’s on her head is disconcerting. Her fine blond hair hangs down to the middle of her back. This is my sweet girl walking in front of me, I think. I feel my anger abate to a degree or at least be redirected toward the situation that would make my girl have to wear that attire and carry such gear. I do notice her confident stride. It’s like I am seeing her in a different light. My sweet, bubbly, joyous, care-free girl has changed and I’m not too happy with the world for making that so. The interior of the aircraft is deathly silent.

We enter the cockpit and she sits on the lower bunk removing her goggles. I plop down beside her. “What the hell were you thinking, Bri?” I ask shaking my head.

“I don’t know, Dad. I just got really scared and felt the need to do something,” Bri answers.

“Seriously! And that’s what you came up with? Opening the hatch and going outside with the night runners. You endangered everyone here opening the hatch like that,” I say with my voice rising.

“I made sure the hatch was closed so they couldn’t have gotten in,” she replies. Okay, I’ll give her that one. It’s still not okay but she’s right. That doesn’t alleviate my anger and fear any or make what she did right.

“But you could have disabled the aircraft shooting at the night runners around it, either directly or by a ricochet,” I state.

“Dad, I was careful with my shots so that didn’t happen,” she says. I take another long, hard look at my daughter sitting in front of me. Could she really have analyzed it in that fashion being outside in the domain of the night runners? The girl sitting in front of me seems like a completely different person than my daughter and yet also the same.

“Okay, but you went outside with the night runners and you went alone. They could have climbed up and gotten to you, Bri,” I say feeling the beginnings of a tear thinking about if that had happened.

“I’ve observed them at night and they haven’t been able to climb on top. They would have if they could on night’s past and we would have heard them banging on top,” she responds.

“Quit being so damned logical!” I say raising my voice. “You scared me to death, Bri,” I add in a lower tone. “You didn’t let anyone know where you were or where you were going.”

“I know you’re angry with me, Dad, and I’m sorry,” Bri says dropping her eyes to stare at her lap.

“Damn right I’m angry. I’m pissed as hell but that’s because I was scared to death,” I say.

Bri raises her eyes back to mine. “That’s how I feel, Dad. I’m scared and I’m angry. I don’t want you to go. Why do you have to do this?” She asks.

Here it is. This is what it comes down to. I come to the realization that there are two balances in progress. One is in relation to them and me trying to come to grips with keeping them safe versus giving them experience. But there’s another. And that is taking risks myself versus staying around for them. I’ve always had that in the back of my mind but I guess the Superman aspect I’ve felt from time to time never really let me think about that for too long or deeply. I guess I always knew I would make it through and I’d always be around so that wasn’t really ever a player. They want to gather the experience and I want them to be held in safety. They don’t want me to take risks and to be around and I feel the need to take some risks for the safety of others. I’m not sure that balance will ever come up with the perfect answer but I can understand hers and Robert’s perspective a little more.

“My sweet Bri, I owe these people. They risk their lives to help keep you safe. They helped without question and risked everything to get you back and now their families are in trouble and need help,” I say trying to help her understand why I take the risks I do.

“But you won’t let us take those risks to help the others who have helped us,” she says.

“I know. When you have kids, you’ll better understand why,” I reply and give her the same talk I gave Robert about it being tough being a dad and weighing the risks of giving them experience against the need to see them safe.

“Oh, and about the having kids thing, that better not be soon,” I add after trying to explain how difficult it is being a dad in this new world. Bri smiles.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you, Dad,” she says.

“Bri, you could never disappoint me,” I say wrapping my arms around her and drawing her close. She folds her arms around me and I feel warm tears run down my cheeks onto her shoulder.

“I love you, Dad,” she says against my shoulder.

“I love you too, Bri,” I return.

I look up to see Gonzalez standing at the bottom of the steps. I’m not sure how long she’s been there. She looks at me and nods at Bri asking if she can talk to her. This is my time with my daughter and I give Gonzalez a look letting her know she is treading on dangerous ground. Gonzalez reads my look, nods her understanding but holds her ground.

“Sir, this is just one soldier to another,” Gonzalez says nodding at Bri who still has my arms wrapped around her.

I nod in understanding, release Bri and rise giving her a kiss on the forehead. I head back into the cargo compartment.

Bri feels her dad release his hold and the kiss on her head. She knows what she did was wrong; not from a purely logical standpoint but more from acting without letting the group know first. What if her dad didn’t know she was on the roof? He would have charged out of the aircraft and into the midst of the night runners looking for her. She knows he would have taken on every night runner to find her. She did in fact put others at risk with her actions, she thinks as Gonzalez sits beside her.

“Want to talk about it?” Gonzalez asks.

“Not really,” Bri answers looking at her lap once again.

“Let me rephrase that. Want to talk about it?” Gonzalez asks again but with very little question attached to it.

Bri looks up and smiles. She really does like Gonzalez and is afraid of disappointing her almost more than her dad. She admires Gonzalez and likes how she makes her feel comfortable with just a few words. Gonzalez can climb around, over, and through her walls with ease. She feels a similar connection with Gonzalez as she did with Nic; not the same but close.

“I don’t know what got into me,” Bri says. “I was just so scared for my dad. I still am.”

“Bri, one thing you’re going to have to trust is that your dad knows what he is doing and that what he does, he has you and Robert first and foremost in his mind,” Gonzalez says putting her hand on Bri’s shoulder.

“I can understand some of that and I know the reasons but I still don’t really get why he has to take the risks he does,” Bri replies.

“Look, I know it seems like he does reckless and risky things at times but understand that he is mindful of what he is doing. And know that he does know his limits, although I do sometimes question if he knows exactly where they are and instead plays it by ear, but he does know what he is doing. Have faith that he will not do anything that will result in him leaving you. This is a dangerous world we live in and nothing is ever guaranteed, but he won’t excessively risk himself if it means you will lose him. He takes these risks for others but only because they have risked their lives for you and Robert. He is merely paying them back for your safety,” Gonzalez says.

“How do you know all of this?” Bri asks.

“Because I’ve known others like him,” Gonzalez answers.

Bri understands and appreciates her dad more. She feels her fears settle and become acceptance. Not a fated kind of acceptance as she is still scared about what is coming up. Bri feels the tempered steel build and become a stronger part of her.

“How many did you get?” Gonzalez asks.

“I’m not sure,” Bri answers.

“I guess we’ll find out in the morning.”

“I guess so,” Bri replies feeling a little shy.

“Well, little warrior princess, you sure chased them off,” Gonzalez says patting her shoulder before rising.

Bri’s heart swells with pride. She still knows she did wrong and put others at risk but those words from Gonzalez fill her. Words escape her but nothing can wipe the smile off her face. That smile says it all.

“Come on, let’s head into the back and get some rest,” Gonzalez says.

Bri rises and follows Gonzalez.

I walk down the steps not sure if I feel better or not. The thought of Bri outside by herself picking off night runners, in their domain, sends shivers up my spine and a sour, sickening feeling in my stomach. She did it because she was scared and felt the need to act. Is that why I am doing half of the things I am — feeling the need to act? Was she being reckless or am I just thinking she was? She was quite logical in her thinking and seemed in control of herself. I mean, it’s something I might even do. Is that recklessness or have I reasoned it out in my head to make it seem like a legit risk? Do the others view my actions as reckless and just go along with it because?

I know Lynn has issues with some of my decisions and I truly can’t say I blame her.

These thoughts pour through my mind as I enter the cargo compartment and take a seat on the lower bunk by the blacked-out window. The soldiers stand silently looking everywhere but in my direction. There’s an awkward feeling to the air. Robert comes to sit next to me.

“How’d it go up there?” He asks.

“All in all not too bad,” I answer.

“You know, not one person saw her climb up,” he comments.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” I reply.

“Why did she do it?” Robert asks. I explain as best as I can.

“I can relate,” Robert says after I finish.

I look sidelong at him. “Really?” I ask. “How so?”

“Well, I get worried and feel the need to act. I feel kind of stifled sometimes,” he answers. “I understand why you do what you do but it sometimes comes up.”

“Okay, let me ask you this, do you think I act recklessly?” I ask. He gives his customary shrug.

“Seriously, do you?” I ask again.

He sighs. “No, not recklessly, I guess. But you do take some pretty big risks. But then again, you have different experiences so what I see as big risks, you see differently.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” I respond.

“But jumping into a compound at night with a HALO jump? Well, that’s different. When is the last time, if ever, you’ve done that?” Robert asks looking at me worriedly.

“It’s been a while admittedly,” I answer.

“Then why?”

Now it’s my turn to sigh. “Go get Greg and I’ll explain. He was asking the same thing and if everyone is asking, then perhaps I either need to reconsider or explain.” Robert gets up and returns shortly with Greg.

“Okay. So here’s the deal. Like I mentioned to Bri, I feel the need to do this because these people helped and risked themselves to rescue yourself and Bri. Now their families need help and I can give it,” I say addressing Robert for the most part.

“I understand that,” Robert says.

“Now, Greg, if you don’t feel comfortable doing it, and I can certainly understand why you wouldn’t, then please say so and be assured I won’t hold any ill feelings,” I say.

“No, Jack, like I said before, I’ll support you all of the way with whatever you decide. I just wanted to talk it through and make sure we weren’t committing to an endeavor that we shouldn’t. Sometimes we can get compulsive about an idea and force an answer. I just wanted to make sure we weren’t doing that in this case,” Greg replies.

“I want you to feel free to develop those kinds of conversations whenever you see fit,” I say. “Besides, we may not find the equipment we need rendering this whole thing moot.” Greg merely nods. I call Horace over.

“You know, sir, everyone feels bad for not seeing Bri. Each person feels responsible,” Horace says on arriving.

“It’s not anyone’s fault. Make sure they know that. Sit with your teams and ensure they know there is nothing to feel bad about. Bri made her decision and acted not wanting anyone to catch her. I think she sees the light now, at least I hope so, but it’s no one’s fault,” I reply.

“I know they’ll be happy to hear you don’t think they let you down,” she says.

“Oh for Pete’s sake, no one here has let anyone down in the slightest. Tell your teams there’s no use in their getting their panties in a, oh crap,” I say looking up, “I’m sorry.”

“No worries, sir,” Horace responds with a smile.

“The point is, there’s no use getting all bunched up over nothing. There’s enough real shit to worry about without making stuff up. Now, let’s get some rest. We have another long day tomorrow,” I finish.

“Roger that, sir,” Horace says. We bed down and I turn off the battery switch plunging the interior into darkness.