The night passes with Michael testing object after object. He has found another food source in case the nightly hunt comes up empty. He opens himself to the others to send the images of the objects on the shelves and associates it with food. Feeling sated and contented, he shuts himself off again and walks back to his lair to rest the day away.
* * * * * *
Greg and I climb back down meeting up with Robert and McCafferty. I quickly relay the information we found. Our time is short so I can only give a brief synopsis.
“Do you think we can get in, sir?” McCafferty asks anxiously.
“I think we have a plan but we need to get back. We’ll also have to fly back to Kirtland to see if we can find some equipment. If we can get in to see about your parents, we will,” I answer patting her on the shoulder. McCafferty nods in understanding.
“I’m not sure Lynn would like your definition of a plan, Jack,” Greg comments.
“Yeah, most likely not. Okay, let’s call it more of an idea,” I say.
We make our way back in the same fashion as our arrival with the sun lowering in the sky. The heat becomes even more oppressive as we draw near Horace’s position. I radio our progress letting her know when we are near so we’re not shot coming in.
Meeting up with the others, I give the same synopsis promising to brief more when we arrive back at the aircraft. We mount up and crawl our way back the way we came. The trip is still conducted slowly as we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. If the group in the prison knows others are about, especially armed ones, they may beef up their defenses.
Following the reverse of our route, we make it back to the freeway heading back to Canon AFB. At the town we had to battle our way around, I stop at the fringe of where we can visually see it. I do not really want a repeat episode so we take a large detour through the fields. The day is moving on with the sun settling more into the west. If we had more time, I would venture around slowly so as not to kick up a line of dust but time is one thing that is not really afforded to us right now. We move off the road and sweep further to the south than our previous route. I have Greg and Horace take stations to the side and behind; hidden in the dust from the distant town. Denton replaced Henderson on the top gun and he keeps an eye around us, concentrating on the town but he reports the area clear.
We hook up with the highway again on the far side and make our way to Canon AFB. The sun is just above the horizon when we drive onto the ramp. We are sweaty, dirty, and exhausted. This day seems like three and it’s good to be back. I would love a shower but we’ll have to settle for using the rest of the day to eat and take turns sponge bathing in the aircraft. Miguel arrives with another group shortly after and I let him know what we are planning.
“We won’t be leaving for a few more days,” I tell him.
“Whenever you’re ready. We’ve lasted this long, I expect we can last a few days longer,” Miguel says in response. “I’m not a fan of gangs muscling others around. I could gather up a few of my amigos and help.”
“I don’t really think additional numbers is the answer, but thanks. If I thought we could take the place with numbers, I’d fly back and pick up the other teams,” I reply.
We spend the rest of what is left of the day eating and taking said sponge baths. Wiping the grime from the day is refreshing but it isn’t a total cleaning. I was once used to going days without showers but I was also younger then. It’s kind of like camping. Sleeping on the ground is no problem when you’re young but nothing beats an air mattress when you get older. I would often contemplate taking a small air mattress on missions but I didn’t want the added weight. A few pounds after hours and days of humping matters. The horizon covers half of the sun in a gorgeous sunset of reds, oranges, and purples and then, after loitering for a moment, it sinks quickly below as if dropped. Miguel and his group leave and we button up for the night.
* * * * * *
She rises from her slumber, warm and content yet eager for the nightly hunt. Looking at the others huddled together, she feels pleased with her pack and their ability to find food in the area. It’s been getting scarcer but with their increased pack size, they’ve been able to track down enough to sate them each night. She rubs her belly as if touching her young one growing within. She isn’t showing yet but neither are the other females in her pack. Soon, she will and so will they. Soon she will not be able to run with the hunt and will need the others to bring her food for a short time. Until then though, she will enjoy the thrill.
Several males, which are huddled around her, stir with the coming of the night. The former pack leaders vie for her attention and the position closest to her during their sleep. She hasn’t allowed any one of them to catch her attention as she has the pack and her young one to think of. She doesn’t want them fighting amongst themselves either and has been able to keep that in check so far. She rises and heads down to the lower level and outside to empty her night’s waste. She has made each of them empty outside rather than pollute their comfortable lair.
The night is clear but with a chill in the air. Colder times are coming but she feels their lair will keep them warm and dry. She sniffs the air searching for the scent of food. There are a few hints of prey in the area and she waits until the others join her outside. She then leads them on one of the trails leading into the woods nearby. Finding some food within the wooded expanse, she follows other scents to where the two-legged ones once lived. The hard ground under her feet is not as soft as within the trails of the forest but she only notices it as an afterthought as she has picked up a strong scent.
She stops suddenly. Images fill her mind. Sent by one as strong as or stronger than her. She knows the sender is a distance away but she has not felt anything like it before. The other one that tickled her mind many nights ago is still fresh but that one was different. That one was one of the two-legged and this one is of her own kind. The images are of food and the strange objects found in some of the dark buildings.
She feels drawn to the one sending the images. Not drawn in the same way as to the two-legged one. For that one, she feels an intrigue she can’t shake. No, this pull is because this one is as aware, if not more so, than she is. She knows his exact location but also knows he is distant. The others in her pack halt in response to her confusion wondering why she has stopped. They can sense the other’s awareness and images as well but they are on the hunt and are not nearly as intrigued as she. They do note the images of food being presented however but aren’t sure how to proceed. They turn to her.
The awareness of the other vanishes. She shakes her head and directs them back to the hunt. She will check out this new food another night. She will also ponder this other strong one. After the hunt, she will think about it.
* * * * * *
The teams gather around as best as possible in the confined cargo compartment. We have sealed up the windows to prevent any light leaking out and have the interior cargo lights on. It’s more like a locker room inside but it’s a far sight better smelling than what we had earlier today. I give a more detailed description of what we saw watching McCafferty’s face fall with each item both Greg and I mention. If there were only five or so inside, we would have more of a chance, but with the possibility of twenty or more, our force would be eliminated pretty quickly if we were found out. Not only are there the walls, although they are not manned, but there is the building itself. It is fortified as well and would be difficult to get into with a force. Explosives to create an entrance in either the wall or building would possibly put the others inside in a worse situation.
“So it’s a no-go,” Gonzalez says putting her arm around McCafferty.
“No, I didn’t say that. Greg and I think we can jump in,” I say. The silence in the aircraft is complete.
“Is there anyone else here who is HALO trained?” I ask moments later breaking the silence. The quiet continues with a few shaking of heads.
“Alrighty then, I guess it’s just Greg and I,”
I say. “We’ll rest up tonight and…” The rest of my sentence is interrupted by the first of the night runner shrieks outside followed by a ringing thump as one throws itself into the 130. More shrieks follow.
“I guess our night runner guests have arrived,” Horace says.
“I sure miss conversations that don’t have the word ‘night runner’ in them,” I say.
“Okay, well, we’ll rest up as best we can and then head over to Kirtland tomorrow to try to find some gear. Hopefully there will be some around that’s legit,” I add as more solid thumps sound inside. I sure don’t miss being inside an aircraft night after night with that noise ringing throughout the evening. I wonder just how much of that the 130 can actually take.
“What do you want us to do?” Horace asks.
“Well, I figure we’ll spend most of tomorrow…” Bang. “looking for equipment. Then set up…” Bang. “for the drop. If there’s enough time and we can…” Bang. “get some rest. Greg and I will drop…” Bang. ”Fuck that’s annoying. Greg and I will drop that night. Robert and Craig will fly us,” Bang. “Goddammit! Shut the fuck up. Horace, take the rest of the teams down the following morning. Head down to the same place by the creek and wait for our radio call. If we don’t call by noon, come back here and head home,” I finish amongst continued slams and shrieks outside.
“We’ll be there, sir,” Horace responds.
“How are you going to get out?” Robert asks.
“Hopefully via the front or rear gate,” I answer. “We’ll have to commandeer vehicles depending on how many are inside.”
“And if you can’t get to anyone and have to leave?” He asks.
“I’m assuming the gates can be opened from the inside. If we can’t get inside or if we find we can’t help them, then we’ll use the gate but be a little sneakier. We’ll have to wait until daybreak though so that will be riskier. I can’t even imagine how many night runners are out around a town of that size,” I answer. Robert nods but I can tell he isn’t very happy with the response.
I have my back to the ramp and the others are standing in a semi-circle in the back of the cargo compartment facing me and the ramp listening to the plan. Okay, it’s an idea but I’m thinking of it more as a plan at this point. Greg leans over and whispers in my ear, “Jack, can we talk about this privately?” I nod and we head to the cockpit after letting the others know we’ll be right back.
* * * * * *
Bri listens to the conversation with Robert standing at her side. An icy feeling of fear strikes her gut as she listens to the plan which includes her dad parachuting into a hostile compound at night.
“He can’t be serious, can he?” She asks leaning over and talking quietly to Robert.
“I think he is,” Robert answers.
“I don’t like it. I mean, dad parachuting in at night? And then the two of them facing all of those people by themselves?” Bri says.
“I don’t either, Bri. But you know dad. Once he gets an idea….” Robert says letting his sentence trail off.
“Can he do it? I mean, has he ever parachuted? And at night?” Bri whispers.
“I don’t know. I know some of dad’s stories but I’m beginning to think there’s a lot more to them,” Robert replies. “But I’m not overly fond of him doing this.”
She feels her balance shift from the tempered steel inside to a feeling of fear which turns into an anger boiling in her gut. That fear is redirected at the night runners. She realizes it is people her dad is going after but she blames the night runners and feels they are indirectly responsible. If it weren’t for the night runners, then they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. The crowd of soldiers and the others they picked up the other day are intent on their own conversation. She backs slowly away.
Bri’s thoughts migrate back to her sister. A terrible longing envelopes her; she misses Nic so much. Nic was always a source of comfort and inspiration to her. She misses the smile Nic always had for her; misses Nic’s enthusiasm for everything she did. She feels like a piece of her was ripped out when Nic died. The night runners took Nic away just as they almost took her dad. They also changed her dad; both physically and emotionally. She doesn’t recognize this part of her dad. He used to be playful and funny and she misses that. She misses the laughter they shared.
Now he seems tired and too business like. She sees glimpses of the old dad from time to time and relishes those moments but now, with him contemplating doing something so dangerous without her really understanding why he has to, a deep fear of losing him surfaces. The slams against the aircraft and howls from the night runners continue, igniting a deeper hatred for them. She is tired so emotions bubble to the surface easier.
She watches as Greg and her dad head into the cockpit for some reason. The others mill about in the back of the aircraft. A slam pounds against the fuselage nearby startling her. Bri feels a knot form in her stomach and her teeth clench in frustration and anger. She’s tired of this and just wants things to go back to the way they were. The frustration of knowing it will never be that way again adds to already pent up feelings. She looks behind her noticing the ladder in place leading to the overhead hatch. Looking back at the group, no one is paying any attention to her.
The emotion she had on the firing range returns with one notable exception – there is cold calculation involved. The feeling of wanting to see every night runner dead resurfaces. A part of her feels numb but she remembers Gonzalez’ words to her that day. She battles her emotions and feels a fear filling her knowing what she is about to do. She’s tired of reacting and wants to act. Determination sets in.
Donning a set of NVG’s and with her ever-present M-4 shouldered, she begins to climb the ladder fearful of being caught and even more fearful of what waits outside. She knows from watching the night runners that they can’t scale the aircraft so the top should be safe enough. Bri doesn’t feel she is putting the others at risk by opening the top hatch but she will close it when she is outside.
There isn’t any cry of alarm or shout of discovery as she reaches for the hatch opening. She opens it and the shrieks outside increase only slightly. The night runners are below so the increase doesn’t reach the opening. She climbs out onto the top of the aircraft and gently closes the hatch. Lowering her NVG’s, she looks across the area. The wings stretch flat away from her with the four engines and huge props attached. The large tail rears into the night and she looks forward to where the flat surface of the top arcs down to the cockpit where her dad and Greg stand.
Bright stars twinkle overhead against the black velvet sky but are unseen in the green glow of her goggles. The chill of the night envelopes her and sends a shiver down her spine. The chill is even more noticeable because of the heat that was prevalent during the day. Mindful of not stepping on anything and following the pathways marked safe for walking, she edges to where the wing merges with the fuselage. On top, the screams of the night runners are more succinct and louder. She may not be able to kill all of the night runners but she can take care of these around the aircraft.
She becomes suddenly mindful of what she is doing and where she is at. She is outside with the night runners. Bri turns to head back fearful of what she is doing. Killing the night runners here will not change what her dad is planning nor make it any safer for any of them. She’s here though and the knot in her stomach is just as tight as it ever was. She halts her retreat and goes to a knee near the leading edge of the wing but on the flat of the fuselage. The curvature of the top is not so bad that she feels fearful of slipping off. Bri unshoulders her M-4, ensures a round is chambered, flips the selector switch to semi, turns her night laser and sight on, and brings her carbine to her shoulder.
The night runners below halt their runs against the aircraft and look up at her. They’ve smelled me, she thinks centering her small cross hair on the head of a night runner. The laser, as seen through her NVG’s, paints a dot near where her sight is set. Aim small, miss small, Lynn’s words
echo in her head. Bri centers her sight right between the night runner’s eyes. She is aware that she can’t shoot near the aircraft or any of its vitals so she picks one standing a little distance away. The shrieks and howls escalate and the night runners renew their efforts against the 130 in an attempt to get to her.
She eases the trigger back feeling a slight kick against her shoulder sending a round streaking through the night air. A muted cough mixes with the shrieks of the night. The night runner started its charge for her so the bullet misses where she aimed but forcefully impacts the night runner high on the forehead. The small 5.56mm round flattens on impact with the thick skull but punches through leaving a small entrance hole. The downward angle of the shot alters the bullet’s path even more downward and to the right. Bone splinters and the steel-core round plows through the gray tissue. The force of its passage turns the millions of synapses of the brain into jelly. Impacting the skull near the jaw, the enlarged bullet explodes outward in a spray of blood and gray tissue. Meaty chunks and blood splash on the night runner’s shoulder and the ground. It falls instantly to its knees and then forward impacting the ramp face first.
Bri only registers the hit and knows the night runner is taken care of. She watches as another tries to climb the outboard propeller and shifts her aim point. The parallax view allows her to sight in quickly and, mindful of not hitting the large propeller, she sends another sub-sonic round into the night. The night runner jerks from the bullet slamming against the side of its head just in front of its ear and is thrown from the prop, hitting the tarmac with a heavy thump. Bri shifts her sight aligning with another target. Ever conscious of her surroundings, the knot in her stomach, her fear, and her anger all vanish into a business-like function as she is now just shooting at targets.
A New World: Awakening Page 16
