by Mark Tufo
I continued to calculate the fuel. The fuel required and fuel onboard differential kept shrinking. I had serious thoughts that I would have to bail out, to the point of going through the controlled bailout checklist. The thought of bailing out didn’t exactly please me. It would be a long silk ride down through some very cold clouds. There was also the chance that the chute could freeze up with ice and cease being a parachute and become more like a large piece of cardboard, a very heavy piece of cardboard. Plus, there was the inquiry that would follow. See, the Air Force severely frowns on planting their aircraft into the earth. I knew I could probably skate on this one, but it still wasn’t a pleasant thought. I liked my companion even more now!
The fuel differential finally became a negative one. I should have declared an emergency much earlier, but I always hesitated doing that.
“Denver Center, Otter 39 flight, declaring a fuel emergency at this time,” giving out particulars with regards to position, fuel remaining and intentions, “request en-route descent into Altus for the PAR runway 35.” (A PAR is a Precision Approach Radar, an approach option for military aircraft whereby the controller guides the aircraft in with very precise headings and altitude corrections.)
“Otter 39 flight, Denver Center, copy emergency. Turn left heading 125, descend and maintain 15,000 at your discretion.”
About a hundred miles out, having furiously checked and rechecked calculations, I signaled my wingman back into fingertip formation, completed our approach to field checks, and we started down toward Altus. During my numerous fuel checks, I would also inquire as to my wingman’s fuel. We were about on par with him being a touch lower.
I called Denver Center as we began our descent. We were handed over to Fort Worth Approach and received vectors and clearance for the approach. I was still constantly looking at the fuel gauge and calculations. We had gained a measure of fuel savings on the descent and, after switching to approach, they gave us short vectors to the airfield. The cloud ceiling was considerably higher here and when we broke out, approach asked us if we had the airfield in sight. I answered in the affirmative and we were given instructions to circle to land on runway 17, which basically gives us the freedom to maneuver to and align ourselves with the runway.
We touched down in formation and taxied to base ops. My fuel gauge read zero; I mean absolute zero while taxiing. I was pretty hot and furious and stormed over to base ops to give Mr. Know-It-All a pretty big piece of my mind after shutting down. As I walked in, the DO walked in behind me. I think he felt the mood and swept his arms wide and said, “My friends, at least we all made it.” That put a good perspective check on me and settled my mood considerably. He was good with stuff like that, and it made an impression on me. Always keep things in perspective.
Pulling my mind back to the present, I make a U-turn and retrace our route. We ride back mostly lost in our own thoughts after Robert shares our plans for tomorrow. Michelle seems to take it in stride, only mentioning that she doesn’t have a sleeping bag with her.
“We have some extras,” I tell her. Those are the only words as we drive through town and back down the highway toward home. I’m still thinking about the watch, maybe later.
On the drive back, I think about the various aspects of the planned flight, gathering some supplies on the way back and putting another to-do list together. I think about asking Michelle where she thinks her parents might be or what happened to them. Also, I want to ask Robert what happened that he, Nic, and Bri ended up in the basement, but the time doesn’t feel right. I feel they all have to sort things out in their own minds before reliving those experiences.
“We should gather some supplies for tomorrow,” I say, as we turn off the highway by the gas station with the white pickup still in the lot.
Pulling into the gas station, I park in the same location as before with the Jeep running. I pull out the duct tape sliding the tube onto my left arm like a bracelet.
“That’s just like the .45 I used to have,” I say, nodding toward the gun at Robert’s side. We used to go into the woods periodically to target practice, so he knows how to shoot.
“Remember, it has a lot of kick so make sure you refocus on your target before squeezing off the next round. It may be a semi-automatic, but that doesn’t mean rapid fire,” I add. He merely looks at the gun and nods.
“Let’s take a walk around,” I say, grabbing my gun and walking toward the store with Robert and Michelle following.
The store itself is your standard stop-and-rob gas station/store built with cement blocks. The cream-colored building has double-entry glass doors with a door-sized window to either side. It also has two additional large glass pane windows, one on the corner to the left of the doors and another around the left corner that looks into the checker stand. Both Robert and I know the interior well from the many, many times we have stopped here for soda or the occasional Subway pizzas or sandwiches.
Just inside the front doors, the double register check stand sits to the left with a counter to the right holding automated coffee and other drink machines. This opens up into the main store. Refrigeration sections line the walls to the rear and right with the Subway station situated against the front right. The middle of the store is comprised of several food and sundry shelves with the aisles angled toward the front door. To the right, between the Subway station and the refrigeration unit, a door leads outside with the kitchen part of Subway just before it. A bathroom is located on the left between the check stand and rear refrigerated section, with a hallway extending to the rear of the building, where I assume there is an entry into the refrigeration unit, a stock area, and a back door.
Outside, to the rear of the building, I see a chain-link fence with wood slats in the links common to Dumpster areas. We head in that direction, checking out the surrounding area. The warm summer breeze stirs gently against my red Jeep t-shirt and jeans; my shadow extending slightly to my left across the pavement. I see two other shadows behind mine from Robert and Michelle trailing. We round the corner to the rear of the store remaining alert. A green Dumpster shows through the reddish-brown slats in the fence, verifying my previous assumption. I want to check out every place to make sure. Minimizing surprises is a good philosophy to live by.
The gate has a lock but it is hanging open. The gate itself swings outward and to the left. I am able to see through the slats but not everything is clear. I gather Robert and Michelle around me.
“Robert, you take the gate from the right, remove the lock, lift the latch, and swing the gate open, stepping back to the right as you open it. This will minimize the possibility that the gate will swing open into you. At no time are you to step in front of the opening unless I tell you. I’ll cover the gate from the front a few feet back. Once the gate is open, you step a few feet back my direction and to the left.” I’m pretty sure nothing is in there, but this offers a good opportunity to start training Robert in tactics.
“Michelle,” I say, “you cover the area around us.”
They nod, and Robert moves in a wide circle approaching the gate from the right. I set up in a kneeling stance a few feet in front of the gate. Once at the gate, Robert grasps the lock and looks at me. I glance back at Michelle; she has her back to me and is looking around the area with her pistol out. I must admit, I am quite impressed with Robert’s exceptional choice for a girlfriend.
I give Robert a nod. He removes the lock and drops it to the ground as he lifts the latch. Swinging, the gate opens to his left with the metallic rattling sound common to all chain-link fences. He steps away from the gate bringing his own gun up. I’m greeted by the sight of a Dumpster hidden in the shadow of the store. Nothing moves except for the gate slowly swinging closed due to it apparently not being quite level. I approach the gate noticing the left lift door on the Dumpster is open to the sky with the right one closed. A couple of smaller cardboard boxes lie open on the ground at the foot of the Dumpster.
“Cover me,” I say at the entrance.
> He moves up behind as I edge toward the open end of the Dumpster. A quick move up to my toes, bringing my gun to bear toward the Dumpster opening, reveals nothing other than it being half-full of miscellaneous paper wrappings, cans, boxes, and the standard things one would expect in a garbage bin. I feel somewhat foolish for tactically assaulting a Dumpster. However, if that Dumpster were to spring up as some transformer and attack us, we would have had it covered. More so, again, I wanted to use this to teach tactical operations, and this was a safe way to do it. Proceeding out of the enclosure, I shut the gate behind me.
“Michelle,” I call out, and she quickly joins us.
We continue along the back of the store. In the middle of the rear wall is a gray, steel door that opens outward. Against the other rear corner is an enclosure similar to the one we just exited. The difference is a small aluminum tube jutting out from the top. I was hoping to see something like this. I guess I never paid very close attention to the surroundings before; I don’t remember seeing this. Then again, I don’t remember not seeing it either. Out here in the country, there are frequent power failures during storms and winter months with some failures lasting several days. Stores would have generators in order to keep the refrigeration units going in the event of such failures. This one would likely be attached to those, the emergency lighting, and the pumps; something to think about in the future.
“Same as before?” Robert asks.
I nod and tell Michelle she has the door and the surrounding area. She stations herself in front of the door about twenty feet away and the assault on the generator begins. We go through the same motions and find it is, in fact, a generator…and clear. Usually, emergency generators are set to automatically engage, triggered by the loss of normal electrical power. Some have a manual starter switch for maintenance check purposes. I press the green ‘on’ switch. Nothing happens. The fuel tank with the green ‘diesel only’ placard sits on the front. I tap the tank lightly working my way down with a hollow sound following all of the way down to the bottom. I test the fuel level with a small, square pole sitting to the side of the generator to find it reveals only a dark, wet line about a quarter of an inch deep. Empty. I seriously doubt there is enough residual diesel fuel in the hose lines at the pump to power it up. If we want to ever use this generator and the gas pumps, we’ll have to drain diesel fuel from some vehicle at a later point. There’s too much to be done today with the light remaining for us to search for one now.
Exiting and closing the gate, I walk to the steel door. There’s no latch, just a handle and a key slot above it. I give the door a light pull, not wanting to open it, but just to test if it is locked or not. It doesn’t move.
We circle the building to the far side. The paved area extends fifty feet completely around the store allowing people to drive away by finishing a broad circle back to the entrance. A tree-lined hill, really more of small ridge, abuts the pavement to the rear and leads up to a shellfish plant on the other side of the trees.
Only two things greet us on this far side; an outside door similar to the rear door, and a darker blue four-door Honda parked nearby. With gun in hand, I approach from the front to get a better look into the interior, angling up to the front corner of the car and peer inside. There is nothing out of the ordinary and, more importantly, no one inside. I slide around to the passenger side, keeping away from the car, and find there aren’t any keys in the ignition. Moving closer, I try the front door. Locked. I test all of the remaining doors only to find the car is completely locked up. There aren’t any keys on the seat or floorboard. This tells me that whoever drove the car was either picked up in another vehicle, walked out of here, or is still around. Maybe more than one if there were passengers.
I test the steel door and find it is also locked. We retrace our steps around the building, as I don’t want to walk in front of the store just yet. If there is someone here and alive, they most likely know we are here already, but I don’t want to publicly announce the fact.
“There’s the possibility of at least one person around,” I say as we turn the corner to the rear.
“How do you know that?” Robert asks.
“The car is locked with no one in it,” I say, and relate exactly what I think that means. He nods thoughtfully.
“Looks like we’re going in through the front door,” I say once we are back at the Jeep. “We’ll do a visual check through the side window and then, see whether the front door is locked. If it is, then I’ll tape the front door,” I add, holding my left wrist with the duct tape bracelet up, “and break the glass. Once inside, both of you will stay just inside the door. Michelle, you’ll have the door itself. Robert, you cover the back of the store. I’ll go to the right to check the aisles and the Subway station. If it’s clear, I’ll head back and check the rear and the refrigeration units. Robert, you’ll switch to covering the right while I do that,” I say outlining a quick plan. “If something happens, our best bet is to just get out. If it does come down to where we have to shoot, make doubly sure you’re not firing toward each other. Make sure you have a clear shot. And,” I say with emphasis, “I mean a very clear shot. Any questions?”
“How do we tell if they’re alive or one of those…well…things if someone happens to be in there?” Robert asks.
“I’ll call out once we are inside. If no one responds, then we’ll assume that anything is hostile,” I say after thinking about it momentarily. “Always know where everyone is.”
“Any more questions?” I ask, looking from one to the other. They shake their heads.
“Robert, get the flashlight off the shotgun. You’ll be using that,” I say, reaching to grab my flashlight.
Robert returns and I see from the tape still on the light that he chose to cut it off rather than unwrap it. Okay? I think.
I walk toward the wall away from the window, waving them behind me. Against the wall, I edge up to the window and peek in the corner. There’s something blocking my view from the inside and I have to rise up to see in. The light streaming inside through the front door reveals the first cash register on the front counter, along with several drawers and the drink machines on the other side of the entrance aisle. I’m not able to see all of the way to the floor. Crouching under the window, I proceed to the other side of the window and peek in the opposite corner, again having to rise up slightly. I see the interior aisles, or at least where they should be. The light from the windows and door doesn’t penetrate very far in, but there’s no movement that I can see and only stillness prevails. The rear of the building and the right side remain blocked.
I put my flashlight against the window with my hand between it and my eyes to cut some of the glare and play it around the interior. I see end displays with candy and donuts and can glimpse items peeking out on the shelves themselves. The aisles look to be clear, and the light reflects off the glass cases of the refrigeration units in back. I move to the first window situated just around the corner. From this vantage point, I see more of the front counter and some of the floor. Again, though, it is more of the same. I glance back to Michelle and Robert to find them crouching behind me.
Again, ducking under the window, although I’m not quite sure why after the light display inside, I move to the front door and peek inside. I think about driving the Jeep to the front and using the headlights to give us more light, but I don’t think I can get it angled correctly between the pumps and the door.
I reach up to the handle on the front door and give it a pull.
Very cool, I think as the door opens.
There’s no need for a demonstration of breaking taped windows today apparently. But my thoughts drift to the locked car parked on the side. Locked car plus unlocked store possibly equals someone inside.
I turn back to my shadows and motion them forward. They don’t have to come far as they are beneath the front window right behind. I tell them what I saw and my thoughts.
“If I tell you to leave, you both leave through this d
oor immediately. No questions, no huh’s, no ‘let me see what’s going on’, you just leave immediately. You got it?” I whisper to them.
“Yes, Dad,” Robert whispers with a nod.
“Yes, Mr. Walker,” whispers Michelle.
“Just call me Jack from here on out. I’m rather used to it and more or less respond to it,” I whisper back to her.
A concrete cigarette butt stand is next to the door with a garbage can on the other side. There’s a concrete block next to the door at the foot of the stand. I reach across and pull it toward me.
“As I open the door and go in, Robert, you grab it and move in behind me. As you move in, Michelle, you grab the door behind him and block it open with this. Robert, you stop about five feet inside, focusing on the rear of the store. I’m going in and around to the right. Michelle, you have the door,” I whisper, reiterating the plan and push the concrete block out of the way of the door and our path.
They both nod. Crouching by the front door, I swing it open and enter, low and fast, stopping about five feet inside. I look around quickly. My light plays around the interior as Robert settles in beside me. I hear the scraping of the block behind as I search the interior. My light still doesn’t shine all of the way to the rear, but I see a very faint line of light close to the ground in back. That must be the back door. The first aisle looks clear. I lean over the counter, clearing the floor behind the registers. I kneel by Robert who is shining his light around the interior.
“That’s your area,” I say, pointing to the back of the store with my light. “Stay right here until I return. I’ll be to the right,” I add.
“Okay,” he whispers back and adjusts his light focusing on the rear of the store. It isn’t penetrating as far as mine did.
“Is anyone here?” I call out, my voice echoing inside. “Come out slowly, we won’t hurt you.”
