“Why?” asked Gates.
“Ma’am?”
She cocked her head to one side. “Why are you going?”
“I’m not sure…”
She began checking off points on her fingers. “You’re not a military man. You can’t fly one of the planes. You have no biology, genetic, or other scientific background that would assist Dr. Atkins, and Reynolds and Gaines have the security of the mission down. So, I ask again: why?”
It was my turn to study the table as I thought it over. “This is hard to explain,” I said, looking straight at Kim, who still hadn’t looked up. I wasn’t explaining to the governor—who I was fairly certain had only asked on Kim’s behalf, anyway—but rather to my wife, even if she wasn’t looking at me. “When I joined AEGIS. I wasn’t military, I had never trained for anything like this, and I struggled to hold my own and do my part. I was never as good as them, but I was the only survivor. Ever. After almost 200 years. So I did what I could, tried to be as much a part of the solution as I could. But always, always there was this nagging little voice that I hadn’t done enough, that I wasn’t good enough. That all those people in Fall Creek… well, that I should have been one of those who died.
“To make a long story short, everything that has happened to me in all the last ten years has been out of my control, and I’ve felt mostly useless for the last decade. As you said, I’m not a military man, I’m not a scientist, I’m not useful like they are,” I said, waving my hand at Kim and the others.
“But this… this mission… I could be useful. I’m a fast learner, and I bet I can get one of those pilots to train me, at least in the basics. I can organize and coordinate and manage the civilian side of the mission. And I’m a damn quick thinker on my feet. All those are excellent reasons for me to go.” I moved around the table and squatted down at Kim’s side. “But the most important reason is this: whether I’m really going to be useful on this mission or not, I’m second in command here. I’m responsible for these men. I’m supporting this crazy mission. And I can’t ask Tom and Dalton—not to mention those pilots and Frank—to take a risk like this without me being willing to do it myself. Don’t you see? I have to go.”
No one else in the world existed for me at that moment. It was only Kim, and she still wasn’t looking at me, but she hadn’t pulled her hands away when I took them, either. I could see she was crying, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. I bowed my head, touching our locked hands to my forehead and tried not to cry as well. She pulled one hand away, and I looked up as she wiped her eyes, then ran her hand through my hair and cupped my face. She was smiling slightly, and though I knew she didn’t want me to go, she understood.
“I guess that means you’re going,” said the governor.
I sat back against the wall, still holding Kim’s hand.
“Well, people,” said the governor, straightening the papers on the table in front of her. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. Let’s get started.”
Somewhere Over Southern Montana
“Smooth flying, ace,” Gaines said as he looked over at me from where he stood in the cockpit door. I was in the co-pilot seat of the Gulfstream we’d managed to snag from a hangar a few days earlier. Our pilot, Myers, was giving me some basic training in flying, in preparation for my anticipated learning experience with the C-5 pilots. Things were going well, and I had the stick for a little while.
“Thanks, D. Not much too it, really,” I said, with a wink for Myers, who chuckled. “Just trying to remember—small movements.”
Myers nodded. “Exactly. You don’t want to end up over-correcting into a mountainside.”
With a thumb cocked at the pilot, Gaines looked back at me. “Cheery fucker, ain’t he?”
It was good to laugh again. That’s one thing we’d forgotten how to do as much, in our dark and dreary world of monsters and death.
We were headed to Rapid City, South Dakota, to make the promised exchange of our engineers with Bunker Three’s pilots. We were also going to have to find some fuel, or else we wouldn’t be going any further.
Our next stop would be Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, where we’d pick up our C-5. Then we’d head to LAX in Los Angeles, where we’d refuel again. Next, we’d be on our way to Christchurch to refuel one last time, and then, finally, we’d head to McMurdo Station. It was going to be one hell of a trip.
“How are the gearheads?” I asked.
Gaines shook his head. “Gearheads are mechanics, you tool. Engineers are just… well, engineers.”
“I see what you did there,” I said, laughing. “Fine, fine, they’re engineers. How are they?”
“Sacked out, to a man. Well, to a woman.”
The engineering team was almost half female, something I hadn’t expected but was pleasantly surprised to find. I always liked smart women. “Good. Myers here says we’re liable to run into some rough weather here in a bit, according to the radar. Be good if they’re all asleep.”
“Great,” the big man said. “Just what I need, turbulence.”
“You’ll be fine, ya big baby.”
“Will you two kindly shut the fuck up?” Tom Reynolds’s voice rang out from the cabin. “You’re keeping me awake.”
Dalton rolled his eyes and closed the cockpit door, and I turned to Myers. “So, these pedals…”
Rapid City, South Dakota
The Rapid City Regional Airport wasn’t much to look at, from what I could see. A smallish terminal building with five gates, a couple clusters of outbuildings and not much else. Given the size of the city itself, this was hardly surprising, but it just felt like there should be more to it.
“Contact, friendlies,” said Tom, looking through his binoculars. “Couple of Hummers headed our way. I expect it’s Bunker Three.”
I was relieved. We’d already dispatched several walkers drawn in by the noise of our plane, and I was hoping we could be in and out before we roused any more.
There was a loud crack from Dalton’s position about twenty yards away, and his voice came over the radio. “Walker down.”
“Roger that,” I replied, glancing over at the plane.
One of the engines was still turning, giving us an out if things had gotten hairy. Now, with the arrival of the Bunker Three team, I didn’t think we needed to worry much. “Stay frosty,” I said.
I walked over to the open hatch of the plane and motioned for the engineers to step out. “Our friends are here. Time to get your stuff unloaded.”
They were eager to get out of the plane after the long ride, and I could hardly blame them. As they began removing their gear from the plane, I walked over to Tom. “Let’s see if we can’t get some fuel from those tanks over there. It might not be as quality as the stuff from JBLM, but at least it’ll get us to Texas.”
“No doubt. I’m not one for pumping if I don’t have to,” he said. We’d learned quickly how annoying it is to have to manually pump avgas into a jet. The generators at the air base had long since failed, and it had taken a day to get the pumps working with repairs, not to mention the hassle of having to do much of it at night due to Beoshane and his zealots. The thought of refilling the jet with the extra fuel we’d brought was… well, annoying was putting it mildly.
“Better yet, Tom, see if you can find another plane that’s already full.”
He laughed. “Damn right!” He motioned for Dalton to join him, and they both began trotting toward the tanks in the distance.
I kept watch for more walkers as the engineers continued to unload their gear and the Hummers drew closer and finally stopped.
Several men in military garb got out, and one tall, thin man in a dress shirt and khakis. “Mr. Blake? I’m Governor Stimmons,” he said, and I nodded, stepping forward to shake the outstretched hand.
“Yes, sir. I’m Blake. I wasn’t expecting…”
“Don’t worry, it was a bit of a last minute thing,” he said, glancing at the man to his right, who scowled. “Captain Pressman didn’t w
ant to let me out of the bunker. But I wasn’t about to miss my chance to get outside on this gorgeous day.”
I looked around, wondering what he was talking about. It was overcast, cold, and dreary. He saw my look when I turned back, and laughed. “We take what we can get, don’t we, Mr. Blake?”
I chuckled. “Damn skippy, sir.” I motioned to the engineers. “Our engineers, as requested. They’re all great people, and they’ll get you up and running again.”
Stimmons smiled. “I’m sure they will. Our own folks are somewhat puzzled at the inconsistencies in our reactors, so I’m glad we have some fresh eyes to put to the problem.” He turned and motioned two other men forward. “Lieutenants Colonel Williams and Archer, at your service.” Both men came to attention and saluted.
I looked the men over, and noticed more than a little grey in their hair. Good, I thought. No room for rookies on this trip. Well, except me, that is. “The governor tells me you guys can fly the C-5M?”
“Sir, we are fully qualified to pilot that equipment, sir,” said one. Williams, from his uniform.
“At ease. First things first, Colonel: I’m not military. Please don’t call me sir. Mr. Blake is fine, though I’d prefer it if you called me David or Dave.”
“Yes, sir,” said Williams.
I sighed. “All right, grab your gear and stow it in the jet. We’re going to be refueling over at those tanks,” I said, pointing to where Tom and Dalton could still be seen. “Assuming, that is, that the fuel is usable. If not, we brought our own.”
The pilots turned to glance at each other before Williams spoke again. “Uh, sir? You flew with aviation fuel stored in your plane?”
I nodded and smiled with just a hint of crazy. “Yep! Want to back out now?”
“No… no, sir,” he replied.
“Good! Then get your gear stowed and we’ll be on our way.” I noticed that the engineers had removed all their equipment, and turned to Stimmons and reached out to shake his hand again. “Governor, it was a pleasure. If you could do me a favor and give Bunker One a call and let them know we made it in and out safely, I’d appreciate it. The radio’s out in the plane, unfortunately.”
“Will do, Mr. Blake. I’ll let Governor Gates know first thing. Good luck,” he said, squeezing my hand a bit tighter and looking me in the eye in a way that had me questioning the man’s sanity, just a bit. “We’re all rooting for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, drawing back my hand and doing my best not to wince visibly. The man was strong. I touched my throat mike to activate it. “Tom, what have you found?”
Reynolds responded quickly. “Good news, boss. It looks like these pumps are still working, at least manually, and we tested the fuel. It’s not great, but it’ll do.”
“What about the portable generators?”
“They should work fine. Bring ‘em on over.”
I waved to Stimmons as I walked over to the plane. “Thanks again, Governor. Best of luck to you!”
He waved back, and got into the first Hummer as the others finished loading their gear. The two vehicles drove off, and I hopped up into the plane, glancing back at the pilots to make sure they were well-situated. They nodded, and I moved into the cockpit. “All right, Myers, let’s head over to the pumps. Maybe we can be on our way even quicker than we thought.”
Lackland Air Force Base
San Antonio, Texas
“Holy…” I whistled as Myers brought us in for an initial pass over the airbase in San Antonio. “Those are some big fucking planes.” My first glimpse of the C-5s was a quick one, as we flew overhead, but even at that speed I could tell that these were some gigantic planes. “He wasn’t kidding, those are big sumbitches.”
The others were staring out the windows, except for Williams and Archer, who’d glanced outside but otherwise seemed uninterested. “We boring you gents?” I asked with a smile.
Archer shook his head. “No, sir, just not that big a deal to us, really. We trained here.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“Yes, sir. Most C-5 crews get trained here at this base. Just easier that way, I guess. Maintenance, etc.”
I nodded. I could definitely see the upside. “No doubt. We’re going to need a lot from you fellas, you know. Anderson’s mechanics aren’t specialists on this equipment.” I’d explained the whole situation to them on the flight down, and they’d been happy to help, I just wasn’t sure if they were fully invested. They seemed a bit tightly wound, to me.
“We’ll give them a hand, sir, best as we can,” said Williams.
“All right, boys,” said Myers from the cockpit. “Strap in. Landing in five.”
As we made our final turn in preparation for landing, I noticed a line of vehicles moving down onto the side runways. What really caught my attention, though, was the Stryker at the head of the line. I hadn’t seen a fully functional one since ours had been damaged in the landing of our plane more than ten years ago. It had been repaired, but now had more than a few quirks to show for it. “Hey, Tom, do you…”
“Yep, I see it. Looks like they came prepared. Armored Humvees, a Stryker… and take a look, it’s got some clear signs of seeing some heavy use. That thing’s been in more than one fight.” He grinned as he looked over at me. “Guess Captain Anderson’s keeping his men in business. Didn’t he say he had a lot of crazies to deal with?”
I nodded. “That he did. Looks like he wasn’t kidding.”
I couldn’t see the details from my position, and we were coming in to land—my least favorite part of flying—so I left it alone. I’d see it when I saw it, and that was all there was to it. Now I just had to concentrate on not losing my shit during landing.
You live through one plane crash, and suddenly every flight is your last. Man up, Sally.
He looks older, I thought as Commander—Captain, now—Anderson stepped out of the Stryker as the back hatch came down. Then again, I suppose we all do. Still looks like he could kill me with a flick of his thumb, too.
“Good to see you, Frank,” I said, my hand reaching out. He brushed it aside and grabbed me in a hug, and I couldn’t have been more surprised. I recovered enough to give him a couple pats on the back, and he released me when he saw Reynolds and Gaines behind me. Both men came to attention and saluted, and he smiled as he returned it. Then there was plenty of smiles and whacks on the back and handshakes all around as old friends caught up with each other after ten years. One of Anderson’s group stepped forward and cleared her throat, and I did a double-take.
Her hair was much shorter, but now I recognized her, and it almost gave me a flashback. I stammered for a second, and she laughed. God, she even laughs like her, I thought.
“Don’t worry, David. You’re not seeing a ghost. It’s just me.”
“Morena, it’s good to see you again, too,” I finally managed to choke out.
Anderson raised an eyebrow with a grin. “Something wrong, Mr. Blake?”
I glanced over at Morena. “No, no, sir. Just a bit of a surprise.”
“I would’ve thought you, of all people, would’ve remembered Mrs. Anderson.” He frowned, and it took me a second to see that he was joking.
Then it hit me. “Wait, what? Mrs. Anderson?”
Reynolds and Gaines began clapping Anderson on the back even harder as they laughed and cheered.
Morena laughed with them. “That’s not all, either,” she said, eying Anderson as she laid a hand protectively on her abdomen.
Frank turned redder than I’d ever seen him, and ran a hand through his gray hair. “Yeah, well, there’s some other news…”
I laughed and hugged Morena, then clapped Anderson on the arm. “Well, well, well! Here I was thinking you were going to die the hardened Navy man, his only love the sea. But no… married and going to be a dad, too! At your age!”
He looked up, more than a bit of the old fire in his eyes, and I almost backed off a step, until Morena laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry,” she said with a wicked g
rin. “He’s more than young enough to—”
I put my fingers in my ears and chanted. “La, la, la, I can’t hear you!”
She and Anderson both laughed, and I thought Tom was going to have a fit.
“Christ Almighty,” I said. “That’s like hearing that your parents are still…” I covered my mouth and made puking noises. “No, no, forget I said that. Let’s just move on, shall we?”
“I’d say that’s a good idea, from the looks on those boys’ faces,” Anderson said, nodding to the pilots behind me. “They look like fish outta water.”
Both men saluted, and he returned theirs, as well. “At ease, gentlemen. Give me a moment with your CO, will you?” Anderson grabbed my arm and pulled me off to one side. “I’ve got another surprise for you, David.”
“I don’t know if I could handle another one, Frank.”
“You’ll like this one. We’re taking two of those Humvees with us.”
“Oh?” I said, surprised. “Why?”
“We’ve got no idea what we’ll be running into when we stop to refuel in L.A., to say nothing of Christchurch when we get there. We might need the firepower.”
I noticed the .50-caliber machine guns mounted on the roofs of the trucks, and nodded. “Good thinking. I don’t know if we have enough room, though. We’ve gotta fit four hundred and fifty people in here each trip…”
“We’ll just leave them at Christchurch.”
“Seems like an awful waste.”
Anderson shrugged. “Maybe, but these damn Humvees are everywhere here in Texas. We got what you might call a surplus.” He grinned. “I wanted to take the Stryker, but cooler heads prevailed.”
“No doubt. Hard to replace those, by God.” I nodded. “OK, then. Sounds like you’ve thought this through better than I did.” It was then that something he’d said earlier caught up with me. “Wait, ‘us’?”
The Dying of the Light (Book 2): Interval Page 22
