by John O'Brien
Back in the cockpit, we start our checks and begin a slow descent into Lajes. I call on the approach frequency we used previously but without a response back. That’s odd, I think. It’s only been two days. They should still be there. I switch over to the guard frequency and call again.
“Lajes approach, this is Otter 39 on guard.”
There is a pause before my headset fills with, “Otter 39, this is Lajes approach on guard. Welcome back.”
That’s reassuring, I think. “Otter 39, altimeter is 29.96. contact approach on 385.40.
The altimeter has fallen substantially since we left. Hope bad weather isn’t on the way, I think switching frequencies.
“Lajes approach, Otter 39, 150 miles east descending through 17,000.”
“Roger. Winds are 190 at 15. Lajes landing runway 15. Squawk 0371 and ident.”
I reach over to switch the IFF code, flip the switch momentarily to ident and hear shortly after, “Otter 39, radar contact. Fly heading 290, vectors for the ILS Runway 15. Descend and maintain 5,000.”
“Roger that Lajes. 290, passing through 16 for 5. Are the lights on?” I ask.
“Lights are on, however, standby,” answers Lajes approach.
What is that about? I think setting up the approach and coordinating the flight with Robert.
A few moments pass. “Otter 39, standby for Colonel Wilson,” I hear in my headset.
Oh boy, here we go. This can’t be good.
“I assume I am speaking with Captain Walker,” a voice I know comes over the radio.
“Yes, sir,” I answer.
“Captain, be advised our circumstances have changed since you were here.”
“Go ahead, sir.”
“General Collins left yesterday with most of the base personnel. We only have a skeleton crew here and our containment measures failed in the meantime.”
“What do you mean he left, sir?”
“He found a pilot and they took off in a KC-10 for the states in order to get some help.”
“And the containment?” I ask.
“Apparently we missed some of the infected from the city and they showed up after he left. We are holed up in the tower during the night and won’t be able to meet you. Be aware that the creatures are out there and may be attracted by the runway lighting,” Colonel Wilson answers.
“Are you getting this, Lynn?” I ask into the intercom.
“Yeah, Jack. I hear it.” I notice she is calling me by my name when we are private like this even though I am quite sure there are soldiers around her.
“Make sure everyone knows.”
“I will.”
Back on the radio, “Roger that, sir. We’ll land, shutdown and hold up for the night. Can you see if the runway is clear, sir?” I ask.
“From what we can see from here, it’s clear.”
“Let us know if you happen to spot anything out there. That could sure ruin our night if we happen to hit anything at the wrong time.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for you.”
We make several heading and altitude changes and line up for the approach. The runway lights are visible in the distance as we start on the approach but are surrounded by an inky blackness that makes it difficult to judge distance and height. A momentary sense of vertigo comes over me. I must be more tired than I thought, I think doubling my attention on the instruments and the approaching lights.
“Help me watch the airspeed Robert. If I get too far off 155 knots, tell me.”
“Will do, Dad,” Robert replies.
“Bri, make a final check that we are on the main tanks.”
“We are, Dad,” she says. I would double check but I don’t want to be moving my head around much given the feeling of vertigo I just experienced.
“Gear down and verify three green for me Robert.”
I see his hand appear in my range of vision and move the gear handle down. A vibration rumbles through the aircraft as the gear are released and forced into the slipstream.
“Three green,” Robert says as the rumbling comes to a stop.
“Lynn, make sure everyone is strapped in please.”
“Already done, Jack.”
“Thanks,” I say to her. “Robert, flaps at 50 if you please.”
The aircraft starts to rise up as the configuration is changed. I compensate by pulling the throttles back a touch and push the nose down, retrimming the aircraft as I do. We continue down the flight path with only a few bumps of turbulence, the ILS needles perfectly centered. I’m tired and things that were normally done by rote become almost a chore. The lights come ever closer. Why did this have to happen? I could be home right now playing Xbox, the momentary stray thought runs through my mind. Focus, focus.
“Full flaps.”
I again change the throttle and pitch as the aircraft responds to its configuration change. “We’re looking for 135 knots,” I say to Robert.
Into the radio, I say, “Lajes approach, Otter 39 on short final.”
“Roger Otter 39, cleared to land. Remain on this frequency. Runway looks clear.”
“Roger that Lajes. See you on the ground,” I say pressing the transmit button.
The tendency at night is to flare high so I hold the nose down a moment longer than what would normally seem right after we pass the threshold lights and our landing lights pick up the runway markings. I pull the throttle back while raising the nose. Low and slow like this is the moment I hope to God that we don’t hit something. Even something small will throw us off our flight path enough so that we would become a flaming wreck and a memory. Something to talk about for a week and then forgotten. The right wheel contacts the runway first, then the left as we rock slightly and the aircraft settles to the runway. The nose comes down as I apply reverse thrust, slowing the aircraft rapidly. Approaching taxi speed, I ask Robert to bring the flaps up.
“Lajes, we’re clear of the active and taxiing to the ramp.”
“Roger Otter 39, taxi to parking.”
It is amazing how some things like proper radio communication remain when everything else is gone. Just a product of nature I guess or maybe we are just trying to hold on to something. There was no need for us to carry on like that. Those radio communications were introduced for brevity and to control vast amounts of aircraft in a short period of time. As far as I can tell, we are the only ones, possibly in the world, flying. Yet here we are practicing standard radio communication when we could have just been talking normally. Go figure.
Just as these thoughts are crossing my mind and we are taxiing in, a shadow runs across the taxi way in our lights.
“Is that what I think it was?” Michelle asks.
“I think so,” Robert answers her.
“Lajes, be aware that we may have visitors. I just saw one cross in front of us,” I say into the radio.
“Roger Otter 39, we see several of them heading your way across the ramp from the base.”
“Okay, we should be fine in here as long as they can’t figure out how to open the doors,” I reply as we come to a stop on the ramp. “We’ll shut down here. Once we shut down, be aware that we won’t have our radios on so we can conserve our battery.”
“Copy that.”
“See you in the morning Lajes,” I say and begin shutting down the engines.
“Did you catch that we might have company, Lynn?”
“I did.”
“Okay, I’ll be back there when I finish up here.”
“See you the..” That’s all I catch as the engines wind down and the cockpit plunges into darkness.
Damn, I forgot to switch to DC power, I think reaching up to turn the switch. I’m too tired to think.
The internal lights come back on the moment I click the switch over. “Let’s head into the back,” I say to everyone in the cockpit after removing my helmet. I get no response. The only indication I have that they heard me is their movement out of their seats and down the stairs.
“Robert, put the blackout
covers on the windows,” I say once we are in the cargo compartment. The blackout covers will prevent any light from escaping outside and therefore drawing more attention to ourselves.
“There are creatures around and they’re most likely heading our way. We should be safe inside here unless they’ve figured out the secret of opening the doors,” I say gathering the group around.
Noticing some startled and worried looks, I add, “Not to worry, I don’t think they’ve progressed to that point yet. We’ll settle in for the night keeping a watch, meet up with the folks stationed here in the morning and go from there. Silence is our best friend so limit movement and keep talking down to whispers. We need to become a deep, dark, black hole. Let’s settle in and lights out in five minutes. Sergeant Connell, will you see to the watch schedule?”
“Already handled, sir,” Lynn responds.
“Any questions or comments,” I ask.
“How about calling them night runners?” Corporal Horace asks.
“That’s as good a name as any,” I answer. “Anyone have any problems with that?”
“Night runners it is,” I say seeing most everyone shake their head.
SLAM! The first of the anticipated bangs against the side of the aircraft echoes inside startling everyone. This is quickly followed by another under the right side window as the night runners close in and try to gain entry. Muffled howls and shrieks of frustration and calling reach inside as soldiers scramble to get their rifles. Lynn walks to each one and quietly tells them to stand down and be at ease knowing that silence is our best weapon at this point.
“Sir, why don’t we take off and fly around until morning like we did last night?” Sergeant Drescoll asks as everyone settles back down.
“We don’t have enough fuel for that. We’re down to about an hour at best,” I answer thinking I have really screwed up my planned times for landing. Not once have we landed during the day time like I wanted. That’ll have to change, I think. It puts us with too few options and increased risk.
The howls and shrieks continue outside as I step into the cockpit to turn off the battery plunging the aircraft into darkness. Putting on the night vision goggles and looking out of the windows, I see approximately twenty of the night runners gathered around the aircraft moving in an agitated state. Several disappear out of view as they take runs at the aircraft and slam into the side. Further out, I can make out others heading our way across the ramp. At the base of the tower, I barely make out other night runners gathered there. There should be enough of us to handle them if need be, I think removing the goggles.
I settle into the lower bunk in the cockpit and pull the thin blanket over me amidst the frequent slams and the vibrations they cause on the aircraft. I am exhausted and begin to drift off. I feel a coma coming on. The kind of deep sleep that only being on fire will wake you from and maybe not even then. Just as I’m about to fall into that darkness, I hear feet shuffling up the stairs and the blanket is pulled aside. A dark shape settles in next to me.
“I really hope you are Lynn,” I whisper into the ear of the person next to me. “If you’re not, you’re terribly lost.”
“Mmmmm, yeah, it’s me,” I hear her whisper with her back to me.
She reaches back and I feel the zipper of my flight suit zip down. “I guess we’re not waiting for a shipping container eh?” I ask chuckling quietly and pleased that we are not.
“Nope.”
It’s then that I notice that she isn’t entirely clothed either. The sounds of the night runners outside vanish from my mind as we make love on the tiny bunk. Trying to be quiet but the passion of being apart for almost a year makes that difficult. And, as promised, it doesn’t take that long for either of us. Afterwards, we lay quietly in each other’s arms enjoying being close. I fall into a deep, contented slumber with Lynn in my arms.
The night runners continue to try and gain entrance throughout the night but the noises outside taper off toward morning. On waking, I notice that Lynn slipped away from the bunk sometime during the night. I guess to give some aspect of decency or professionalism although I am pretty sure everyone knows we are together. If they don’t by now, then they must be blind. I wish she had not slipped away because, well, I just wish she hadn’t.
The faint light of the sun about to rise shows through the cockpit windows. I rise, stretch my tired and achy bones, and look out of the windows. The ramp is clear of any movement. Down in the cargo area, soldiers are just beginning to rise and move about. Most stretching as I had; sore from sleeping on the cold, steel cargo floor. I peel away the window covers letting light stream in so we don’t trip over everything. Everyone is about in the same shape as me and that shape is in dire need of a bath and clean clothing. A well-used locker room smell abounds. And I mean the high school locker room where clothing is only taken home on Fridays; taken home never to be the same again.
“Good morning everyone,” I say to the mass moving about. Mumbles, groans and a few ‘good morning, sir’ greet me.
Robert raises his head from one of the upper bunks and peers sleepily in my direction. I can tell he is thinking about rolling back over to continue sleeping before thinking better of it and swings his legs over the side. It is then that I see Michelle raise her head from behind him. I merely sigh not really sure what to think or say about that. Probably shouldn’t say anything, I think. He sees me looking at him with my perplexed look and smiles. I nod back in greeting not trusting myself to say anything. Anything I say would probably be wrong. That is something I have a knack for.
Lynn approaches and stands next to me. I turn, give her a hug and feel her stiffen as I do. “You’re just going to have to get used to it,” I say into her ear.
She smiles, relaxes, and hugs me back. “Not until you change your clothes flyboy.”
“What would you like me to change them into?” I ask with a poor attempt at humor.
Seeing Lynn smile up at me in that way, having everyone look in my direction looking for guidance and the “what’s next,” Robert standing with his arm around Michelle, and with Bri and Nic just emerging from their bunks with tired eyes, I am suddenly filled with the overwhelming fact of what has happened in the world; with the fact that we are in a world of hurt — so to speak. The weight of responsibility comes crashing down. What are we going to do? I think looking around at the eyes staring back at me. Are we just playing games here and heading for an inevitable conclusion that we are all going to vanish like the others? I look over at my kids thinking, How am I going to keep them safe in this environment? How can any one of us be safe? I have led teams into dangerous situations before, but this is different. Sure I cared about the guys I was with and didn’t want anything to happen to them. I tried to make the right decisions to give us the best chance, but, well, this is just different. I think subconsciously there was the comfort that the world would go on regardless of what happened to us. Just keep going on day by day and moment by moment. I shake my head and the overwhelming feeling vanishes as if thrown out of my head by the shake. But something else remains — determination.
Lynn, knowing me as she does, senses something going on inside me. “Is everything okay?” She asks.
“Yeah, it’s all good.”
“Uh huh,” she says in a low voice.
I know that ‘uh huh.’ It’s her ‘we’ll talk about it later’ uh huh. I feel once again how lucky I am. She has a way that keeps me grounded and real. It is this that makes me feel that things will be okay. A Led Zeppelin song starts playing in my head and the line ‘and the forest will echo with laughter’ keeps rolling through. It gives me the feeling that something else is out there, just beyond the point of vision that is observing. Not exactly helping per se, but just watching to see what will happen. Like looking through a one-way mirror. Is this a test? Is any of this real? I think and shake out of my reverie. Whew! What was that about? I must be tired but know it is also a continuation of my thoughts about quantum physics and reality.
/> I know I have to get some fresh air. Plus, there is, again, the distinct locker room aroma that would be nice to get out of. “Do you want to meet your team now?” Lynn asks, looking at me questioningly and draws me further out of my second day dreaming episode.
“Huh, oh yeah, please,” I answer pulling completely back into the reality of the moment. Much like being pulled quickly through a dark tunnel to where the light shines brightly.
“Henderson, Denton, Gonzalez, Rogers, McCafferty, Bartel!” She barks and starts moving away from me. Six heads turn in her direction and Lynn points to me. The four young men and two young women that were called gather their weapons and start in my direction.
With my team around me, I can’t help but notice just how young they look. Were we all that young? I think going back to the time long ago when my buddies and I were flying around the world with our hair on fire. I catch Robert’s eyes and wave him over. He starts over with Michelle in tow. Sigh. Introductions are made.
“Okay, we’ll make this quick and gather for a longer talk later. First, I want you to pair up. Find your battle buddy.” Eyes look around at each other and the two young women, McCafferty and Gonzalez, pair up first. Then Henderson and Denton followed by Rogers and Bartel.
“Now, you are not to go anywhere without each other. When I see one, I should see the other like a shadow. And I mean everywhere. I’m not saying you have to be in the same stall, but you’ll be by the door. If, for some reason, you do have to be apart, then the other will know exactly where you are and when you’ll return. Any questions?”
“No, sir!” They say in unison.
“I would have buddied up here with Robert but I see he has already found his battle buddy,” I say looking at Robert by my side and Michelle by his. He turns a deeper shade of red as the group chuckles. I’m going to like this group, I think as I look around Robert to see Michelle is the same interesting shade of red. I think it’s also nice to hear those chuckles. There’s a sense of normalcy that comes from that and shows that we haven’t loss our sense of humanity in spite of all that’s happened.
