Awakening

No One Ever Looks Up

I wake with a start. The warm sleeping bag is wrapped around my body but there is a chill in the air I feel on my cheeks despite being in the aircraft with so many others. I am a little groggy as if we’ve all sucked the oxygen out of the air during the night. Lying on the hard floor, I feel stymied by the choices ahead of me. I don’t want to leave the warmth of the bag but I’m not overly fond of continuing to lie on the hard deck either. There just is no right answer. Well, my bladder actually tells me different and it eventually wins the argument.

I unzip the bag and peel it back and the chill instantly fills the once warm bag. I sense a stirring of the others. Being in the heat yesterday has made us more weary than normal. I turn on my light and stumble to the cockpit to check whether night has passed. The light sky in the east lets me know that dawn is upon us and the beginning of another day. It’s going to be a long one and Greg and I will have to find time to rest at some point before the evening sets in. The night runners left us alone for the rest of the night and I’m grateful for the little rest I did get.

I open the crew door letting in the early morning light. The cool fresh air sweeps in through the open door and is invigorating after the stale air of the interior. I walk down the steps eyeing the bodies of night runners lying on the tarmac near the aircraft. Bri certainly took down a number of them. Dried and drying pools surround the bodies and run in rivulets following the low spots on the concrete. Several chunks of dry brain tissue lie in places. If we were staying longer, I would have the bodies removed but we’re leaving shortly and I don’t want to waste the time or energy.

I am feeling low on energy and not ready for what I know the day and evening holds. The events of last night and what is coming up make me feel a touch overwhelmed. I’m just feeling old and want to crawl back to my little cottage to sleep for a month. The rear ramp lowers; apparently others are up and not appreciating our locker room. I watch as soldiers emerge stretching their tired muscles and stare at the bodies.

“Well, if we’re going to do this, then let’s do this,” I say to myself and start a walk around of the aircraft.

Glancing back at the door, I see Gonzalez and Bri standing at the opening. “Damn, girl,” I hear Gonzalez say. “That’s pretty impressive.” I watch as Bri smiles at the compliment.

“That’s nothing to be proud of,” I say loudly not wanting Bri to think what she did was okay.

“I know, Dad,” she says loudly back losing her smile.

“But it is impressive,” I say to which the smile returns.

I finish the walk around as soldiers gather on the ramp to look at Bri’s little circle of destruction and to break open a few meals. I hear a few whistles as some start strolling around the bodies. I am impressed with her body count but not the way she went about it. I want to put a stop to their being impressed in case Bri’s thinking circles back to feeling it is okay to do what she did. Honestly though, I don’t believe she will so I let them continue.

The flight back to Kirtland will be a short one but we’ll have to find out which building houses the equipment we’ll need and then retrieve it which will mean going into a darkened building once again. Something I’m not too keen on doing. Maybe I’ll just vanish when I get back and find that cabin in the woods. Perhaps we’ll meet up with Sergeant Prescott and he’ll know if and where we could find it. He mentioned he was with the base security detachment so he’ll know which buildings are which.

The sun breaks over the horizon casting its brilliant light across the ramp and changes the morning from a blue-shaded one to one filled with yellowish-orange. The sky remains clear of clouds and it promises to be another warm one. I hope it remains clear through the night. There is no way I’m going to do this if any storms or low clouds develop. It’s been a long while since I’ve done something like this and I’d like a clear night to do it in thank you.

We load the vehicles, fold back into the aircraft and I have Robert and Craig make the short hop back. We’ll all brief later if it’s decided that we’ll go. There is a lot of setup to do with the flight computer for a drop like this and I want to cover how to fly it in detail. Really, it’s not that tough once the setup is complete but I want it to be as precise as possible. I mean, if we get dropped way off target, well, that puts us outside the walls at night — not a pretty thought at all. That would really suck to have our chutes open and find us drifting into downtown Lubbock. Yeah, I’d probably try to climb up the risers in an effort to stay airborne a touch longer.

Robert starts the engines blowing some of the bodies behind the giant props down the ramp a ways. At first the wind pushes at their clothing as the propellers gain speed and then the ones lying across the flow of the hurricane force winds begin to tumble and roll. Dust also blows behind the aircraft behind the engines as we roll out to the runway. The engines rumble louder as Robert pushes the throttles up and we are soon airborne leaving the messy ramp behind.

The flight is a short and unremarkable one. Unremarkable that is until I realize it is my son flying us and that I feel comfortable with that. And will be letting him fly tonight on the drop. I’m not sure that anything has remained the same since the world came crashing down. He sets us down at Kirtland with a pretty good landing and we taxi in to our previous parking spot.

As the propellers wind down, I see several people dressed in ACU’s leave the tower and head our way. We watch as they draw nearer, their long shadows stretching alongside of them to the west. They carry their carbines casually as they approach. I observe them quickly through a set of binoculars and recognize Sergeant Prescott among them. Catching a quick glint of light from the tower, I observe someone on the walkway circling the outside pointing a rifle in our direction. Another flash of light enters my magnified view confirming a scope of some kind is aiming in our direction. Sergeant Prescott is being cautious as well or at least providing himself a backup.

With the aircraft shut down procedures finished, I open the crew door and step outside. I’m not that keen on stepping out where a sniper has a gun trained but with the way Prescott and the others are approaching over the open ramp, I figure he is just being cautious and not planning to ambush us. I have Greg keep an eye on the one on the tower.

Prescott apparently recognizes me and waves after speaking into the mic at his collar. I see a final glint from the upper tower area and Greg informs me that the person has left the perch and retreated inside. With a small sigh of relief, the tension leaves. I think about the time we will still be down here and wish I could get a message back to Lynn. I know she’ll be worrying about our extended absence but there is no way we can communicate with her or the group. As Prescott continues walking to the aircraft, I give a thought hoping they are all doing well.

“I love you and will see you soon,” I whisper to the heavens while staring at the blue sky.

“Sergeant Prescott,” I say extending my hand.

“Um, Jack, sir,” he says taking my hand.

“Yeah, just Jack,” I respond.

“Are you heading back?” Prescott asks.

“Not immediately but soon,” I answer.

“Well, we talked about it and if your offer still stands, we’d like to join you when you do,” he says.

“Of course it does and we’d be glad to have you. We found some others in Lubbock so it’ll be a little crowded but I’m sure we’ll find room,” I say and fill him in on some of the details of our plan.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if there were still PJ’s training here,” I ask finishing. “Specifically any jump equipment.”

“There was a detachment in that building,” he answers pointing to a tan brick building next to a set of hangars. “I’m not sure about equipment though. I know they have, or had, an equipment room inside though.”

“Any night runners?” I ask referring to whether there were any actually inside said building.

“I know they are on base almost every night but who knows where the fuck they hide out,” Prescott answers.

“Alright, let’s get the vehicles off-loaded. Greg, the building looks small enough for one team, let’s take your Echo Team and have a look around,” I say. “Prescott, you’re welcome to join our briefing later if you want.”

“Okay, we aren’t doing any supply runs today so I’d be happy to,” he responds.

He heads off with his group towards the tower as Blue and Red Team unhook and begin backing the first of the Humvees out. Greg and Echo Team see to their gear. I check my mags, radio, and NVG’s as well. I have Robert join me and notify Gonzalez that Red Team will be on back up just outside of the doors.

“Does that mean Bri, sir?” Gonzalez asks.

“Yes, with Bri but make sure she is glued to your side,” I answer. I guess the scales are swinging toward gaining experience today.

The second vehicle is backed out onto the sun-filled ramp. The heat is climbing and I still smell a touch of the slaughter yard of the day prior on my clothes. I think about switching clothes or finding some wood to smoke ourselves in. The smell of dead and rotting flesh is liable to make the night runners start drooling and bring them running if they are inside. I feel so tired and am on the edge of just letting it go but realize that tired leads to shortcuts and shortcuts lead to mistakes; mistakes we can’t afford to make.

Some of the soldiers stand around the second Humvee gulping down water. We are all a tired group far away from home. I wonder if they feel like they are on a tour of duty. It’s similar but we are at least on home soil and not scheduled to be away for a year. I know I’m feeling like being back home in the Northwest. The sanctuary at Cabela’s seems surreal at the moment; like it’s a dream we are trying to get back to. It’s only a four hour flight but it feels like it’s on the other side of the world.

I call Horace over. “Take Blue team and a Humvee to find some dry wood and branches with leaves,” I say.

“Will do, sir,” she answers and strolls away gathering up the rest of Blue Team.

They gather their gear together and, with a slamming of doors which echo across the warming ramp, drive off between two hangars. Horace shouldn’t have far to go as most bases, regardless of where they may be located, like to keep up their appearances with trees and such. The green branches may be hard to come across as the watering systems which kept them that way haven’t worked in some time.

They return after a while with several armloads of both dry and leafy branches. We build a fire on the tarmac well away from the aircraft and any underground fuel locations. The last thing I need right now is to make a huge smoking hole in the ground. With the fire going, I toss on the greenery creating a small amount of smoke which we bathe our clothes in trying to remove the dead cow and sweat smells. Standing next to the fire with the sun beating down in the mid-morning sky brings additional sweat so it may be a moot point trying to cover ourselves with smoke.

We check for rounds in the chamber and pat our gear for assurance before heading over to the building pointed out by Prescott. It’s a smaller building adjacent to the ramp behind a line of MC-130 aircraft. Robert is by my side as we stroll across the ramp and between two of the aircraft. Red and Echo Teams follow behind; their boots striking the hard surface the only sound in the area. A blue Air Force pickup truck is parked in front of the tan single-story building. A single entrance door in set in the middle with a set of double steel doors on the left. A tattered U.S. flag barely hangs on the outside concrete wall to the right.

We walk to the shaded west side of the building and circle up near the set of double doors. I’m thinking these lead to the equipment room as opposed to the single door which may lead to any admin offices that may be inside. At least that’s been my experience; the double doors usually mean crew doors. Of course it could just lead to a large janitor’s closet for all I know. With the door on the side of the structure, it means that we’ll have less angles to cover which makes it easier and I’m all for easier.

“Okay, Echo Team is in. Red Team, be ready to cover whether that is providing fire for a retreat or entering for additional support. Keep in mind we may be retreating and watch your fire. Robert, you’re with me. Greg, your team is first in. Robert and I will follow and back up where needed,” I say.

The tiredness has vanished from the soldiers’; replaced by their game faces. This is a darkened building and no matter how small it might be, it could still house night runners. We are treading into their domain and that will always increase the pucker factor. I reach out for a split second and don’t sense any night runners. That can’t be taken as fact though. If I can shield myself, so can they. There’s no evidence outside that there are any night runners inside but neither is there anything that shows they aren’t.

“No prob, Jack. See you inside,” Greg says turning to his team and organizing them around the door.

Two take the handles and test them to see if they’re unlocked. Both doors open an inch and the two give Greg a nod. The others stack up in front of the doors ready to enter when the doors swing open. Robert and I are behind Echo.

“Stay close,” I whisper to Robert.

“I’m right beside you,” he replies.

Greg nods and the doors swing open. I feel a jolt of electricity as adrenaline floods my system. Goggles are brought down upon entry and Echo rushes in. Cool air spills out and the sound of boots pound first on concrete and then linoleum. Robert and I take the doors as the two remaining Echo Team members enter and join the others. The sounds of our entry diminish as each team members takes his or her positions inside. I peer in to see an open room with work benches along two of the walls and a large wooden table bolted in the middle of the floor. Echo Team is standing in a semi-circle a few feet inside sweeping the area. I have Gonzalez and McCafferty hold the doors open to allow some of the daylight to penetrate the room. Robert and I step in. The room is small but not small enough to allow the ambient light to penetrate its width or length. Much of the room is left in darkness.

We slide in behind Greg and I tap him on the shoulder letting him know we’re there. Thin beams of light pan out searching every nook and corner. Nothing screeches nor is there the sound of pounding feet heading our way. The room is tomb-like in its silence. Another set of double steel doors is set against the wall to our right. One of the walls has large wooden pegs, some of which are empty while others hold parachutes hanging by the shoulder straps. Other parachutes lie on some of the workbenches and one, with its silk chute draping out of the pack, is on the large work table in the middle. The far wall has an array of shelving with equipment and boxes situated on them. For one of the first times inside a building, there are no bodies on the ground in some stage of decay.

Greg directs two of his team to the steel doors on the right. The yellow tape on the floor taped in arcs indicates that the doors swing inwards. I locate a metal rod under one of the work benches and walk over to the door sliding it through the door handles. If anyone does try to breech the room, the rod should hold the doors closed for a bit and give us a warning. There aren’t the usual small windows inset in the doors so I have no idea what lies on the other side but I’m guessing it’s a larger equipment room as this is apparently the packing room.

Greg looks over to the chutes on the pegs and nods. We walk over to inspect the racks. I know we’ll be hard pressed to find a chute that has been packed within the last 4 months (120 days) as the world has been changed almost that long but it’s worth a look. Hopefully someone had the foresight to pack two MC-4 rigs just before succumbing knowing we would show up and need them; maybe as his or her last act. That would be sweet.

There are four MC-4 rigs packed that are over the 120 days but not by much. A couple of rigs are way over. The shelves hold a few helmets along with some empty rucksacks. There are even a couple of wrist altimeters. I grab those and stash them in the side pockets of my fatigues handing Robert two helmets with visors and goggles attached. I am jolted upright as a very familiar tickle eases into my mind and it’s not a comfortable one. Someone or something has awakened. I guess I’m not able to either sense them when they’re asleep or they can block me out. Perhaps I didn’t open up enough. This is all still so new to me. Whatever the case, night runners are here and close. The sound of running feet enters my range of hearing.

“They’re in here and onto us,” I say and flick my selector switch to auto. A shriek sounds from the other side of the door.

“You think?” Greg says as a slam hits the double doors. The doors bow inward but are stopped by the bar through each of the handles.

“Fuck me,” Robert says bringing his M-4 up aiming at the doors. I hear the click of his M-4 as he slides the selector switch. The sudden jolt of adrenaline is a physical presence in each and every one of us.

“Greg, the chutes,” I yell grabbing one of the later packed rigs off the pegs. Greg quickly grabs another hoisting it on his shoulder and bringing his M-4 to bear on the doors.

The doors bang partially open again. The rod slides part way through one of the handles and is on the verge of falling out altogether.

“Echo Team, we’re leaving,” Greg says.

I touch Robert’s shoulder and nod toward the outside doors and the light. He nods and we begin backing up quickly with our carbines aimed at the doors where night runners are about to enter. We make sure to keep our aim points away from the two soldiers who were by the doors and are backing up as well. Screams fill the room from just a few feet away with only a set of doors between us and them. Another slam pushes the doors open a little before they swing back closed. The rod falls from the handles to the concrete floor with a ringing metallic clang. We are now only a door slam away from however many night runners are in the other room.

I open up and sense only a few of them but in this enclosed room, a few will be too many. I sense a quick, startled series of images before shutting down again. Robert is backing with me and the other team members are to the side of us. Greg is offset in front with the other two who were by the door. A silence ensues and we can only hear the panting of our own breaths. The room may be smaller but everything is happening rapidly and yet slowly. The bangs against the now unblocked door are happening quickly but it seems we are backing to the outside door very slowly. If the night runners enter, it will be mayhem and we will only get a few rounds out before they are upon us.

Another metallic bang against the doors and they both fly inward. Shrieking night runners pour into the small room immediately behind the opening doors. The room lights up with flashes as Greg and the front two team members open fire on the first to enter. Two night runners stop as if they hit an invisible wall. One is launched heavily against the far open door, hits it with a thud and slumps downward. The second is flung backwards and disappears from view. Others enter right on their heels.

The safety of light is near but seemingly far as we are still encapsulated within the darker reach of the room. We are backing steadily but we will be caught if we turn and run. We continue backing quickly as Greg and the other two open fire again. Three night runners enter through the ones falling. They crouch as if about ready to launch at our team members in front. I don’t have a good line of sight to add my fire. The night runners pause, howl, and turn back through the doors into the other room.

I look down seeing a lighter shade of concrete under my feet. We have reached the light pouring in from the outside. The night runners must have known they would be launching themselves into the daylight. One of the far doors swings slowly closed. The other is held open by a night runner lying on the cold, concrete floor.

We pour outside and into the shadow of the building. The heat envelopes us feeling even warmer after coming from the coolness within. Our breaths come out in gasps as we shake off the intense adrenaline rush. Here in the radiant light, the last few moments seem a touch surreal even though it happened only seconds ago. I sure do hate darkened buildings. They don’t seem to like me much either.

My heart is pounding in my chest and it feels like I just can’t catch my breath. Greg drops his chute on the ramp as the outside doors close with a soft clang. “That was fucking close,” he says.

“You got that right,” another of his team says.

I am staring at the now closed double doors. The clang of their closing brought a deep feeling of dread within. Well, not perhaps as deep as when I first sensed the night runners within but I nevertheless have a coldness in the pit of my stomach. I drop my chute to the ground still looking at the doors. I hear the helmets Robert had looped around his arms by the straps hit the ground. Both of them notice me eyeing the doors and turn to look.

“What, you don’t think they’re coming out do you?” Robert asks bringing his M-4 up slightly.

“No, but you know what this means don’t you?” I reply.

“What?” Greg asks as his breathing settles. Red Team formed around us on our exit and all are looking at me.

“The night runners can manipulate and open doors. Not locked ones perhaps but definitely unlocked ones,” I say.

I see eyes gears turn in the minds around me. Some eyes grow bigger as the meaning of what I said sinks in.

“What do you mean, sir?” Denton asks.

“Well, those are the only doors in,” I say pointing to the two sets of doors. “They didn’t break their way in so they had to open those doors. They had to know what they were and how to use them. Whether by accident or not, they can open them.”

“All they had to do was push on them though,” Denton says still a touch confused and not really getting it. I don’t blame him. Adrenaline is still flowing and it can sometimes confuse the logical part of the mind as the system is in a fight or flee mode.

“But they had to open them to get inside in the first place,” Robert says. “They wouldn’t be alive if they couldn’t have gotten out. And they wouldn’t be in there if they got out and couldn’t open the doors to get back in.”

Denton now joins the others with wider eyes. The ramifications are large and it was one of the things I worried about. At least we know now. But the ramifications could be even further reaching. Could they operate doors if they had turning handles? And if that’s the case, can they get inside the aircraft or any other place? They hadn’t in the nights we’ve been out on the ramp but we can’t put it past them to be able to, I think.

“One thing for sure is that we won’t be able to positively tell if night runners are inside a structure by broken doors or glass anymore,” I say bending to pick up the chute again.

We’ll have to tie the crew door shut and chain the rear ramp closed from here on out if we have to stay in an aircraft overnight. I make a mental note to include that in the briefing this afternoon. I want to plan the infil with Greg first. Then we’ll cover the drop itself and the plan for the next day with the others. The adrenaline is beginning to fade leaving me feeling like a limp noodle. It’s a long day of planning ahead followed by a long night. We drag our equipment back to the aircraft. Robert walks alongside carrying the helmets while I hump the rig.

“Thanks for letting me go in,” Robert says.

“What? Oh, uh, don’t thank me for something like that,” I say. “We go into a building with night runners and you thank me for not only letting you go in but for me taking you in. Somewhere down the line I’ve gone drastically awry with your upbringing. You should be kicking me in the ass for dragging your butt in there.”

He smiles knowing I’m not serious. Well, not terribly serious. That was close though. Of course, anytime a night runner issues one of those shrieks, it’s too close. What kind of a dad am I that his son thanks him for taking him into such a place. I shake my head thinking over the times we’ve shared. Perhaps I shouldn’t have done half of the things with him that I have. Maybe that one time he collided with the corner of the door frame hard enough to imbed a paint chip in his forehead did something to him after all. I of course had nothing to do with said collision. Nope, not one little bit.

“Are you really going to jump tonight?” He asks eyeing the chute hanging on my shoulder by one strap.

“Yeah, I’m guessing so. Not really sure why at this particular moment in time as we walk across this fucking hot ramp but I guess I will,” I answer.

“Aren’t you worried about it? I mean seeing it’s been a while,” he continues asking.

“Let’s see. Out of date packing on the chute, at night over unfamiliar terrain hoping to not jump into a nest of night runners in the midst of a feeding frenzy, and if we do hit our mark, then again it’s into an unknown and a potential group of bad guys. That’s also assuming we hit our altitude right and I don’t bounce a mile back up. What’s to worry about?” I reply.

“I’m just kidding,” I say seeing a stricken look cross his features. Sometimes my humor misses its mark widely. “I’m a little worried but not more so than any other time. If I wasn’t a little worried, then I’d be worried. Hey, if the spirits were going to take me, they’d have done so already. It’s not like I try to get them to open the door but I’ve also given them their chance a hundred times over. I’ll be fine.”

“If you fear death and think about it all of the time trying to avoid it, it will come seeking you. It’s like playing sports or when we’d be off gallivanting in the hills, if you think about getting hurt and ease up trying not to get hurt, that’s when you do. It’s not that you can go seeking it either. If you keep your awareness about you and steer clear of stupidity, things work out. The hard part is determining between whether something is a valid risk or just stupidity,” I say continuing.

“For some reason I know that, that you’ll be okay I mean, but that doesn’t alleviate the worry on my end. I just hope I do it right,” he says.

“You’ll do just fine, Robert. I have all the confidence in the world in you,” I reply patting his shoulder to which he smiles.

“And look, with regards to having you join me, the scales on the experience versus wanting to keep you safe swing each day. But I’m not going to be around forever. Yeah, I know, hard to believe huh?” I say with a smile. “So you have to learn how to lead and make the right decisions. Only experience can give you that. That and a good head on your shoulders but you already have that.”

“But there are plenty of people to lead. Lynn, Drescoll, Gonzalez, Greg, lots of others,” Robert says as we draw near the open 130 ramp. We drop our gear but both know the conversation isn’t over for either of us. The teams walk wearily by up the ramp and into the aircraft. Robert and I sit in the shade with the massive tail looming above us. Bri walks up and sits with us listening.

“True and they’re damn good at it too. Better than me if truth be told but here’s the thing and it may only be true for me. And this is only between you and me. I think the only reason I’m still around is because I’ve been allowed to lead in times past. I think if I’d had to follow all of the time, I wouldn’t have made if this far. Don’t ask me why because I don’t really know that one myself. I just know it,” I say. “There are times when I know when I have to do something alone because I don’t want the distraction of worrying about others; because I know the skills I have will be enough to see the task done. But there are also times when I know I need others and I want them and their individual skills and gifts. Each and every one has their own special gift which can save your life without you even knowing it. A team blends and becomes a single entity made up of all of those skills. That’s what a leader does and is, a person that is a catalyst that allows those skills to blend into one and the one others look for to make a decision. It sometimes doesn’t matter what the decision is as long as it appears it is the right one and makes sense; as long as a decision is made,” I say feeling winded but trying to impart what little wisdom I might possess. I might also just be adding a lot of hot air to an already warm day. Maybe I was the one who single-handedly brought on global warming just by talking. It’s possible.

“It doesn’t matter what the decision is, just make one. Talk about it or think about it later, right?” He says with a smile. The smile is because that’s something I used to say to him a lot when he was younger and couldn’t make a decision. It’s good to know that some of what I’ve said in the past has been heard.

“Exactly,” I reply.

“Remember when I would stand in the candy bar aisle forever and couldn’t decide which one to get. You’d say, ‘Just pick one. If you get home and feel you wanted the other, well, then you’ll know next time right’,” he says.

“Yeah, maybe I was a little hard on you sometimes. I just didn’t want to stand in that candy bar aisle forever and we would have. And you, young lass,” I say looking at Bri, “we did spend days with you trying to decide.” Bri smiles thinking back to those days.

“I just don’t know how to become a leader like the others,” Robert says.

“First of all, you already have. Or at least started,” I say. “You both have.”

“How so?” Robert asked puzzled. Bri tilts her head to the side puzzled as well.

“Well, who flew us here making decisions and delegating tasks? Who made the hard decisions on a pretty significant weather divert?” I ask rhetorically.

“But that’s different,” Robert says.

“My turn. How so?” I ask.

“Because I knew how to fly it and get us here,” he answers.

“Bingo. You knew how to do something and how to use the skills of others to get to a certain place,” I say. “It’s no different than leading in other circumstances. If you know something with some degree of intimacy, you can lead in it. That’s why I give you both the additional training, so you can learn how to do something. You need to think along those lines when we’re training, that you’re learning something that you can lead others in. And you Bri, you know the systems and are teaching others and leading them. It’s all the same thing.”

“But there are others who know how to do things and can’t lead. And some who the others don’t want to follow,” Bri says.

“That’s very true. You have to have a degree of understanding others and what they’re going through. Every person is different.

They have different experiences and ways of dealing with shit, and you have to find out how they respond effectively. You have to show that you have a measure of compassion without it interfering with your task. Sometimes you have to tell people to just suck it up. You’re their leader, not their best friend. The bottom line, however, is if people believe you will get them through a situation, they’ll follow you through it. Show you care about them at the same time and they’ll follow you anywhere,” I reply.

“Makes sense,” Robert says. “How do you learn that though?”

“Study people and watch their reactions to different things. And don’t ever fake compassion or understanding. People, especially soldiers, will see through that in a heartbeat. Always be yourself. The other thing with regards to leading is always study past actions in your head. Study mistakes and the things done right. Analyze every detail and think how you could or would have done it differently. Think up scenarios, not matter how wild or crazy, and think your way through it. If you come to an impasse, back up and rethink it. Throw odd shit in on the fly and think about how to take care of it. Think on it until your response becomes instinctual because there are many times you won’t get to think it through, you’ll only have time to react,” I say. The both sit quietly with the gears turning in their heads. Heat waves shimmer in the distance turning the end of the runway and the buildings beyond into a blur.

“One last thing, no matter how right you do things, you may lose people. That’s just a fact. You can’t account for every variable. That doesn’t mean you did it wrong. Although you may feel bad, it doesn’t always mean you did something wrong. Analyze it as with anything else but move on. If you think too much about one life that is lost, you’ll forget about those who are still living,” I add watching the shimmers dance. “Don’t forget, just forgive.”

“Lynn always says that you’re too hard on yourself and blame yourself when we’ve lost people in the past,” Bri says.

“She told you that?” I ask.

“No, I’ve just heard her talking to herself when she didn’t know I was around,” Bri answers.

“Well, you take my advice on this one because I obviously have no use for it,” I reply.

“Haha, very funny, Dad,” Bri says.

“Hey, they can’t all be gems,” I say.

“And in your case, none of them can,” Greg says. We all turn to see him standing at the top of the ramp.

“Don’t you have a hole you have to go fall in?” I say waving him beside us.

“See, your proving my point,” he says walking down and sitting.

“You good?” I ask Robert.

“I’m good,” he answers.

“Are you up for talking about things and planning some?” I ask Greg.

“Anytime,” he answers.

“Okay, I want you to play devil’s advocate to a degree and let’s talk our way through this, especially the jump,” I say.

“No worries on that as I’m already a little leery of it,” Greg says.

“We have a waxing moon past half so if it remains clear, we should have some light to guide us,” I say beginning. “So let’s look at that for starters.”

“Day versus night?” I ask.

“Well, day is better to jump for obvious reasons. We can guide in better and allow for any alterations earlier but we can be seen and they may even notice the aircraft overhead. Night is riskier, again for obvious reasons, but they will most likely be inside and won’t see either us or the aircraft. Plus, if they are inside, any aircraft noise will be hidden. Not like they can hear one that high anyway,” Greg answers.

“How about a sunset drop?” I ask.

“Not as risky as a night drop but there is the chance of being seen. If timed right though, they should be inside although we don’t know their habits being walled up like that. They may hang outside until later,” he says.

“Is it worth the added risk of being seen?”

“I’m not sure about that one,” Greg answers.

“Well, the thing I’m thinking about with that one is that Robert, and I’m sure Craig, hasn’t conducted a night landing in the 130, especially with NVG’s. They’ll have to if we drop at night. That means we’ll have to practice those tonight and drop the next day if we decide on a night drop,” I say.

“That’s one of the things I was worried about,” Robert chimes in.

“Alright, let’s table that and come back to it,” I say. “How do you feel about the HALO jump itself?”

“Not good to be honest. We could deploy at a high altitude and glide in although that would mean oxygen and I’m not really a fan of going back in there,” Greg answers pointing to the small building we exited not too long ago.

“Plus, we’ll have to add some warmer clothing,” I say. “There is also the fact that we won’t be able to see the ground if there isn’t enough lighting or there’s a cloud cover. I’d hate to steer half way over the country and come up short. If we had reliable GPS equipment, okay, but that option isn’t really available. We could deploy at a higher altitude rather than the normal 2,500 feet. That would give us some margin for error,” I say.

“I like the idea. What are you thinking then?” Greg asks.

“Well, say at around 3,000 feet above the ground,” I answer. “We won’t be able to see the ground at that point and will be at the mercy of the winds to a greater extent. And our accuracy falls with each foot higher above the ground we deploy.”

“What about a lower drop altitude?” Robert asks.

“We could but the 130 is a noisy machine and not only heard from a long ways off, but felt as well,” I answer.

“How easy is it to program the drop point?” Greg asks. “I was thinking we could make a determination of the deployment altitude based on the visibility over the target.”

“Not very really. It can be done enroute but that takes time and the decision would have to be made early in the flight,” I answer. “If we decide on a sunset drop, we can determine the altitude before we leave.”

“Are we leaving from here or Canon?”

“I was thinking from here and then land at Canon. If we drop at sunset, that will give Robert time to get back with some light left as it is only 100 miles away,” I answer.

“So, you’re leaning toward a sunset drop?” Greg asks.

“The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. We have light to correct and Robert has light to land. We don’t know the winds, although we’ll be able to know what they are at altitude, and I just don’t want to deploy and find we are going to land outside of the walls. That thought does not give me warm and fuzzy feelings,” I answer.

“So, a sunset drop then. With a low or mid chute deployment?”

“Low deployment unless we see we are far off target. We’ll each have to make our own determination on that. If we do notice we’ve been spotted, we’ll make for the compound we spotted to the south and hole up behind those walls. Provided we have the altitude for it,” I reply. Greg nods.

“So, we’re at 5,355 feet here according to the charts. Lubbock is around 3,256 feet. Because we don’t know the pressure changes, let’s plan for a 3,000 foot chute deployment. If we zero out the wrist altimeters here, we should deploy at 1,000 feet on the dial over Lubbock,” I continue.

Greg gives me a funny look before asking, “How good were you at math in school?”

“Pretty good,” I answer.

“Okay, 1,000 on the dial it is,” he responds.

“So what do you think? Make for a landing on the large central building?” I ask.

“I think so. That’s the only place we found a possible way in. Other than the ground level doors,” he says.

“I’m thinking they are holed up in one of the wings. Possibly with a group in one of the buildings and the prisoners, assuming that’s what they are, in the other. I don’t think they would actually separate themselves in the other wing. It’s too far away,” I say.

“I agree, but which one. There are two of them and it’ll be a challenge getting to just one I think,” Greg says.

“Let’s get Jim in on this,” I say. Greg rises and returns with Jim.

“Where do you think they would be holing up?” I ask Jim pointing to the star-shaped wings.

“I honestly wouldn’t know. They are identical inside and have their own kitchens, open rooms, eating and shower facilities,” Jim answers.

“Well, the east wing is closer to what appears to be the loading dock where their vehicles are parked. That’s what I’d choose,” I say studying the map we drew.

“Good point. We’ll head that way then,” Greg says.

“So, if they have the generator going, I’m assuming that will mean the door locks are still engaged throughout the facility, right?” I ask Jim.

“Yep. All of the doors, emergency lighting, alarm systems, and bare kitchen facilities operate off emergency power,” Jim answers.

“How are you going to get through the doors?” Bri asks.

That one is a stumper and I’ve wrestled with it in my mind for some time. I have C-4 but that will make a lot of noise. I know that heat can demagnify a magnet, and therefore the magnetic locks, but that requires a significant amount of heat and how do you do that to the side of a closed door. I have even visualized finding a blow torch in a maintenance department there but that is a bit unreal. The best thing I have come up with is taking down one of the guards and relieving them of their card. I’m assuming they have them in order to be able to freely move about.

“Perhaps I can help ya there,” Jim says. He disappears inside the aircraft and returns with an ID card. “I don’t know if this is still good but I was called back to work when the flu shots began making people sick. I brought it along in case y’all decided to go in.”

“Well, that’s right handy,” Greg says accepting the card.

We cover a few more points with Jim but a lot of it will be on the fly. I’m just glad Lynn isn’t here to hear that thought. And yes, I’m pretty sure she can hear my thoughts. She seems to have a knack for that. Well, I do wish she was here and am missing her something fierce.

Sergeant Prescott and a small contingent of his group make their way over the ramp and join us. I gather Horace and Gonzalez so we can plan for tonight and tomorrow. The sun is high overhead as we gather under the meager shading by the rear ramp. I inform Prescott of the night runner’s position in the building to which he merely nods.

“Are we going to fuel up here?” Robert asks as we settle in a lop-sided circle.

“Bri, how are we on fuel?” I ask.

“We’re still over half full in our tanks, Dad. The external tanks are dry but we still have quite a bit,” Bri answers. Prescott and the others have startled looks on their faces. Yes, that’s right, you heard correctly, my kids are the crew, I think with a smile.

“So we’ll be fine on fuel. I’d rather wait until we can do a proper weight and balance. We’ll have lots of folks onboard along with two Humvees. The AC-130 will be stocked with any ammo we can find in the dumps at Canon. It’s only a four to five hour flight home depending on the winds so let’s wait before taking on any more fuel,” I answer.

We talk for a while coming up with the plan to leave from here, conduct a sunset drop, and Robert landing with the others at Canon AFB. Prescott will be coming with his group when we leave. Horace will lead the rest of the teams to Lubbock in the morning and park in the gully at their old location by the creek. If all goes well, we’ll call them before noon and they’ll meet us at whatever gate we designate. We’ll figure transportation out at that point but that is not really a worry. They’ll also be in a position to back us up if we need it for any reason. We’ll then return to Canon AFB, search for the ammo dumps, load the AC-130, and leave the following day. I tell them that if they haven’t heard from Greg or me by noon, they are to head back to Canon AFB and leave. Greg and I will have to start pre-breathing oxygen on the flight down.

The sun has partially settled in its afternoon position blasting us with its heat. I look to the sky and note it’s clear of clouds. It still seems a touch unreal that we’re going to conduct a drop in a post-apocalyptic world. Too fucking strange. Not only that but my son and daughter are flying me there. I’d like to go back home now please. Or at least be woken up from this very strange dream by the sound of birds chirping outside of my cottage. The sweat trickling down my back and the smoky smell of my clothes tell me that it’s not to be. I forgot it can still be so hot down here this late in the year. Right now, it’s time to pack my gear and try to get some rest.

I grab one of the empty rucks we brought from the building and begin stuffing items into it — ammo, fiber optic camera, C-4 and a variety of fuses (stowed separately from the C-4 of course. The last thing I want is for the buffeting on the way down to bang something against a pencil fuse and ignite it next to the C-4. See the ruck will be close between my legs on the way down. You get the point), a slim jim I brought along, zip ties, signal mirror, first aid kit, and a few other items. I want to keep it light for our trek through the facility. I hook up the ruck to the MC-4 making sure the lanyard is secure. It sure wouldn’t do to release the ruck after the chute deployment and watch it tumble to the ground. Next I gather Robert, Craig, and Bri to set up the navigation computer for the drop.

I pull the oxygen masks out for them and show them how to hook up. We’ll be flying unpressurized so that’s a pretty vital piece. They’ll have to be alert. I’d hate for them to get hypoxic and either pass out or find we’re dropping in the middle of the Caribbean.

“It’s basically like flying any other path. You just have to keep your altitude and the needle centered. Lower the ramp ten minutes out, turn on the red light five minutes out, and the green when the computer distance reads zero. Pretty easy stuff,” I say.

We plan the flight backwards from drop time to takeoff time. I then settle into the cockpit bunk to try and get some sleep telling Robert to wake me an hour prior to takeoff.

It’s stifling inside but I manage to fall asleep for a while. Robert wakens me with afternoon shadows filtering in through the cockpit windows. I rise and make my way to the cargo area still feeling tired but more refreshed than before. Everything is loaded up and the Humvees rechecked to make sure they are secure. The metallic thunk of the ramp closing seems a little too foreboding for my likes. Greg and I don our gear and hook up to the oxygen system. We settle in for the flight, if settle is even the right word. I have butterflies floating around inside thinking about what we are doing.

I’m not even in the cockpit for the takeoff but I have faith in Robert, Bri, and Craig.

It’s been so long since I’ve done this and I can’t believe I’m doing it now. With the engines and aircraft rumbling, we lurch forward on the ramp and to the runway. I feel the familiar game time approaching and settle my thoughts down. The butterflies continue but I focus my mind on the upcoming night. The engines rev and we thunder down the runway. It seems like forever but the nose eventually rises and we are free of the earth. Greg and I are silent, lost in our own thoughts, as the aircraft claws for altitude in the late afternoon sky.

I feel us level off after a while. The heaters are keeping the aircraft warm in the cold, unpressurized altitude. There are enough portable oxygen kits for everyone and we drone on for a short time. McCafferty walks over at one point to tell Greg and I thanks.

“No worries,” both Greg and I reply.

A sound at the rear of the aircraft draws my attention from the scenarios I had been running through my mind. The top of the ramp lifts and the roar of the outside thunders in. The bottom of the ramp begins to lower. The sky behind is painted in yellows and oranges as the sun drifts toward the horizon. The ground, painted in square brown shapes, is far below us.

The horizon tilts as the aircraft banks to a new heading. I have a sudden, deep pride for Robert and Bri. They are controlling this behemoth and doing it well. I would swear it’s an experienced crew up front. Well, they are actually; one of the few left on earth that could be doing this. The horizon stabilizes back to its normal position as we level off again. It’s just about go time.

The red light illuminates. Five minutes. Greg and I disconnect, stand and jump to settle our gear in place; tightening straps, making sure our gear is in place and secured. I tighten my M-4 across my chest. The cargo compartment has become frigid with the warm air being sucked out of the open rear of the 130. We check each other over and shamble over onto the level ramp.

He leans over and shouts, “The screaming you hear on the way down will be me.” The roar threatens to carry his voice away but I catch what he says.

“And the rain drops you feel will be me,” I shout back.

I tighten my chin strap and make sure the clear goggles are firmly in place as I watch for the green light. The ground, rolling slowly below us from the edge of the ramp, is bathed in the dark glow of the setting sun. The western outskirts of Lubbock appear to the right. It’s cold but we won’t be at altitude for long. Our free fall will take us quickly to the warmer and oxygen rich levels. The land below grows darker as the sun hits the horizon, beginning its slow sink to mark the end of another day. The roar of the air whipping by and the engines fills the space in my mind. The red light vanishes and the green light illuminates below it.

“See you on the ground,” Greg shouts.

“Better that than in it,” I shout and launch out of the aircraft into the free air.

I feel myself start to tumble before old memories flood into my brain. I stabilize quickly feeling the rush of air against my body. My clothes flap madly in the freezing air. It’s a lot like jumping into a cold pond and feeling the shock of it. Brown fields stretch out below with the city showing fully now. Long shadows paint the ground with the sun half way down its day’s final path. I turn a 180 looking for the white roofed compound that is our target, picking it up immediately to the side — side being relative here. The familiar roar of the wind rushes into my ears. It’s amazing just how old things can come back immediately — just like riding a bike.

Greg is about at my altitude and he adjusts to bring us close together. We won’t have much time on our little journey down as we reach our terminal velocity. We are falling at close to 120 miles per hour; almost 200 feet a second. I just hope we aren’t observed as it’s not entirely dark. I look up and see the 130, high above us, finish a turn and begin heading back to Canon AFB.

“Be safe,” I whisper.

I look down and see the ground drawing closer by the second. A glance to my altimeter tells me we don’t have much longer until we deploy. I already feel the warmer air. I think momentarily of other times and the places I’ve had to do this before; the adrenaline that always accompanied this kind of drop and mission. I don’t have time to let my mind meander much beyond the recognizable feeling. If I think beyond the immediate moment, the next thing I’d see would be the walls of the prison flashing by and that would be it; without even enough time for an “Oh shit.”

My fatigues whip as if they’re trying to leave my body. The needle on my altimeter decreases non-stop. It looks like we are right on the money as far as being positioned so I don’t contemplate deploying at a higher altitude and keep dropping. We are approaching our deployment altitude. Greg waves his arms from his chest out. He repeats it again letting me know to clear the area as he is going to deploy. I turn slightly to gain some separation. He reaches down and throws his pilot chute into the slipstream and immediately vanishes upwards. Not that he went up mind you, it just appears that way. He is still falling.

I count a second longer and reach down to deploy mine as soon as I see him disappear. That will give us some altitude separation. My descent slows drastically as my chute deploys. I never did like opening shock but then again, who in the hell does? I look upward to check the chute and see it fully deployed. Reaching down, I release my ruck and watch it drop. It halts and dangles by the lanyard. Everything appears to be in order so I grab the steering handles and begin maneuvering for the most open part of the flat roof. I notice a faint glow of lights from the eastern wing windows on the ground floor. The other wing remains dark. It appears our guess was correct and that’s where we’ll make for. It also means there is a measure of power from a generator located somewhere.

There is a tangle of large pipes and assorted obstacles but I find a large open area. I look around the yard, lost for the most part in the gloom of the evening, searching for anyone outside or some sign we’ve been spotted. The large area between the buildings and the walls appears clear. I focus on the landing. There isn’t any wind so my inbound direction is left to my discretion. It is light enough that we don’t need to deploy our NVG’s mounted on our helmets but I wouldn’t need those in any case. My landing spot draws close and I flare just above the ground, taking a few steps until I stop. I drop the handles and release the chute which falls to the roof, draping over pipes and air vents. I move out of the way and Greg lands moments later. We gather our chutes and shrug off our packs, stuffing them under several pipes. We then gather our gear and look around.

Michael wakes just like he has so many nights before, present to the other packs in the area waking and readying for the nightly hunt. He tamps the thought to the back to his mind and scampers through the main store. This night is different though as he looks to the shelves, some a little bare but all still with packages of some sort. He knows a lot of them hold food and some of them definitely don’t. He could just sit inside again and break item after item and fill himself. The store holds evidence of the night before when he did just that. Broken bags lie in some aisles while others hold torn and twisted cans. Some cans lie near the outside walls where he bashed them until their contents fell to the ground. Some aromas of that food linger in the still air.

Tonight though, he wants to hunt. He wants the rush of the chase and the thrill of the catch. Michael wants to smell the musky scent of prey and the sweet taste of flesh and blood. With the excitement building, he heads out of the broken doors and into the chill parking lot. The remains of his previous pack members lie decaying on the pavement where they fell. The memory of that night is still fresh.

Sniffing the air, he sets off toward a lingering scent of food, his feet pounding the hard pavement as he sets off into the night. Running down a street chasing a particularly elusive scent, a flash erupts near one of the buildings, turning the night into day for a brief moment. Adrenaline launches through his system immediately bringing him into a fight or flight mode. He changes direction in mid-step and hides in a recessed doorway. The flash he recognizes from nights prior but he still doesn’t know what causes it. It’s like the flashes from the stick the two-legged ones carry but there isn’t the resounding boom that follows. He edges out of his hiding place and looks to where the light came from.

He sniffs and tests the night air. Nothing out of the ordinary other than the trail he is following and a stale odor of a pack that passed this way a while ago. He looks and doesn’t see anything moving. Cautiously, he steps out from the doorway onto the sidewalk ready to dart back at a moment’s notice. Nothing happens. Michael walks into the street watchful for any movement. Curiosity takes hold and he walks slowly over to the area. His muscles tighten as he draws near the source of the light.

There, on the wall of a building close to the street, he sees something attached. He walks closer stepping up on the sidewalk mindful of the flash of light just prior to losing his pack and almost his life. This, however, is just the light without the roaring explosion. Stepping in front of the object, the light flashes again leaving the aftermath of a bright spot of light in his sight and ruining his night vision. He leaps and starts running down the street but halts after a moment. His night vision returns. He’s still alive.

The curiosity takes hold again and he warily walks back keeping to the side of the object this time. It doesn’t flash. He looks hard at the object on the wall about chest high. Somehow, and he doesn’t know how, Michael grasps it’s from the two-legged ones. A very faint lingering odor from them is attached to the object. Along with the awareness that it’s from the dangerous two-legged ones, he understands it is not here for the good of his kind. It takes some doing but he pries it from where it rests and throws it on the ground with a loud cracking sound. There is a little sound of glass shattering and pieces shoot out from the object. He quickly waves his hand over it but there is no accompanying bright light.

He opens himself quickly to the others sending an image message to destroy the objects if they’re found. Tucking the others in the back of his mind again, he sets off on the trail he was following.

She and her pack smash the glass door into a large building with the images sent the night before of a new food source fresh in her mind. She is still intrigued about the sudden appearance and then disappearance of this strong one of her kind. Sending a message to her pack, they begin to take items off the shelves and break them open. Some smell like food while others are definitely not. A few cautious tastes and the pack tears into those items that seem edible. She smashes a heavy metallic object on the ground and then against the wall trying to get it to spill its contents, anxious to find out if its food. The can hits wall with a thump and falls to the floor rolling around before coming to a stop. The awareness she felt last night suddenly materializes again.

A flurry of images enters her mind. They are spoken in a simplistic method so all understand. They are pictures of a certain kind of object that emits bright flashes along with a message to destroy them. She hasn’t seen the objects nor witnessed the bright lights mentioned. What does process is that she will take her pack west tomorrow night to get closer to this strong one. Tonight they will hunt in this place and begin the journey on waking the next night. She knows it will be a far trek but they should be able to make it before the bright, painful light appears in the sky. She sends the information to her pack. They stop what they are doing to listen and then rip into the packages again. The awareness vanishes as suddenly as it appeared.

The next night, the pack wakes. She turns back at the door to look at their lair after the others have passed outside. She is worried about leaving their shelter but will lead her pack westward nonetheless. With a last look, she turns and heads out into the night.

They stop at the store to pick up items from their new food source. She tells the pack that they will carry their food and to find items to bring with them. There will be no hunt tonight yet they must eat. It will be a long journey and they will need food to sustain them. The pack rushes in to gather items and rejoins her in the parking lot shortly thereafter. She rubs her stomach and worries about the effects of the long journey on her young one. She is strong so thinks she will be okay. The pack follows her as she heads down one of the large, hard paths leading in the direction of the one she sensed.

She paces the pack, alternating between a jogging run and walking, as they travel beneath the dark night lit by the other light in the sky. She feels a tingling on her skin from the bright white light hanging in the night sky but it’s only a very small sensation; more of an awareness than anything else. The night is silent with the exception of feet slapping the pavement behind her when they break into a trot.

The hours pass. They are a large pack running beside trees pressed up against the side of the path. Their passage is marked by the sound of their feet and their ghostly shapes passing by. A strong scent of prey comes upon them. They have stopped to fill up on what they brought but there is a hunger still. The smell brings thoughts of the hunt and the thrill of it. Sensing agitation among her pack as they want to chase the delicious aroma, she sends a message to keep on.

One previous pack leader heads off into the woods with a small pack chasing after the scent. She calls to have them rejoin her but they continue after the prey. They are a long ways away from any shelter and she knows they will be hard pressed to find one before the night ends. She shrugs and the rest of the group continues on their way.

Buildings begin to materialize as they draw closer to where she felt the one’s presence. She knows where it came from but feels wary about just approaching. The caution stems from the young one inside her and her protective instinct toward it. She doesn’t know the situation as he keeps himself hidden and she doesn’t want to be relegated to just another pack member in a larger pack. She finds a large building similar to the one she left at the beginning of the night. The portals open at her touch and, not sensing others of her kind within, she enters. She is tired but they have made it. She hopes there is food to be in this new territory but she also saw one of the places nearby that may have one of the new supplies of food. The night is almost over and they will explore during the next night but for now, they settle into a dark corner of their new lair. It’s warm and dry like the last one and will do nicely with the coming of the colder days. She feels a stirring of the one within and rubs her belly. Tired yet content, she falls asleep with her pack huddled around her.