by John O'Brien
“Are they fighting?”
“No. They’re just tired like everyone else,” I answer.
I lean over and give her a kiss on the lips. “I love you!”
“I love you too!”
Walking into the cockpit, I see that all of the parts of the world, mainly the sky and ocean, are in their correct locations and Robert and Bri are still alive. Michelle glances over from her seat at the navigator table on my arrival and says something into the mic. That apparent something is that I am back as Robert and Bri glance back at me. I hold my thumb up and shrug my shoulder to give the indication that it’s a question. They both give a thumbs up in return. I give the instruments and fuel panel a quick look to ensure everything is in order and that we have a chance of staying airborne a bit longer. The world passes slowly by the windows as we drone ever westward.
With a quick nod, I turn back, and walk once again down the stairs. The soldiers are gathering in a semi-circle as I return. I join in completing a circle with Bannerman on my left and Lynn to the right. We begin by sharing stories, filling each other in on the details of our experiences and what we have learned.
“So basically what we know is this: They prefer the dark due to some adverse reaction to light and seemingly only sunlight as far as we can tell. Light from flashlights and such don’t seem to bother them. So, that gives us the daylight hours of relative safety although we don’t really know what that margin is or how cloud cover affects them. Of course, darkened buildings are to be treated with care,” I yell over the droning engines, summing up our conversations. “I am guessing that they don’t seem to remember who they were or have any cognizance in that regard because of how they behave by attacking on sight. They also seem to strike without provocation and in packs so they’re to be treated as hostile. Their bite seems to cause some sort of infection that is deadly so close-in combat is to be avoided if at all possible. Lastly, this is wide-spread and there are a lot of them. Does anyone else have anything to add?”
Everyone glances around to see if there is anything else but no one speaks up.
“Okay then, we should talk about where to go from here.”
“I’ll take it from here, Captain,” Bannerman says taking a step into the circle.
“Hmmm… You know, I think this is as good a time to talk about leadership as there’s going to be,” I add causing Bannerman to look over his shoulder at me.
“How is that, Captain? I’m the senior ranking member here. You may be in command of the aircraft, but I’m in command of the personnel.”
“I’m thinking time and circumstances have changed that strict hierarchy of command somewhat. We’re obviously dealing with a completely new situation and I think we need to have the one with the most combat experience to lead us. Someone who will give us the best chance at surviving this.”
“And you think that’s you, Captain?” Bannerman asks turning to face me.
“I’m completely open to any ideas on the subject,” I reply.
“Captain Walker, I’m a Major and the highest ranking military member here. Being in the military and an officer, you should understand that. You are also bordering on insubordination and mutiny!”
“Yeah, well, here’s the deal with that. In the sake of honesty, I should tell everyone that I’m not in the military anymore and left some time ago.”
“You’re kidding me!” Bannerman say in an incredulous voice. “Impersonating an officer as well!?”
“I did what I had to do to get over here to find Lynn and if I hadn’t arrived, you’d be in pretty desperate straits right now.”
“Be that as it may Mr. Walker, I am in charge of these soldiers. You may do as you wish once we land.”
“Bannerman, which country and military do you belong to?” I ask.
“The United States of America of course.”
“You do understand that doesn’t exist anymore right? You were listening as I told you that I flew half way across the world without a response from anyone. No responses from any military or civilian frequencies. Nothing!”
“I did. But that doesn’t change anything here. As long as there’s a viable force together, the government and military exists.”
The problem is that I completely understand what he is talking about and relate to what he is saying. He is right. We need that type of cohesiveness if we are to survive. We can’t break down into separate camps and need to build a safe community that works together if we have any chance in the long run. But we also need a leader who can get us there.
“I get that. I truly do. But we need to stick together and also have a leader who can carry us through and, as I said before, someone who will give us the best chance of surviving,” I say, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “Call it more of a functional versus hierarchal leadership. That is very much a part of military leadership. I trust you do understand those aspects of leadership right?”
“I do,” Bannerman says with a pause.
“I am completely open to whoever that may be. That can be myself, Sergeant Connell here, you, or my fourteen year old daughter Brianna for all that I care. Just as long as it gives us the best chance.”
I glance around the group and notice that most of them have taken a deep interest in their boots. I guess this is an uncomfortable situation for everyone.
“What do you say we all talk about our experience, then put it to a vote and let everyone decide?” I ask, noting several heads and eyebrows rise in interest.
I speak about my experience in Bosnia, Iraq, Korea, and various parts of Africa. Lynn outlines her experience in Afghanistan and Iraq. Bannerman doesn’t have any combat leadership so outlines the schools and training he has. After everyone has had the chance to say something, I find some paper to tear up for everyone to write their votes on and grab my helmet from the cockpit to put them in.
The mood is tense as I hand the helmet to Lynn to count the votes. She takes a piece of paper out and makes a tally mark on a notepad. Necks strain to see the marks and where the vote is leaning. After all, with everything that we have all gone through in the past few days, there is a lot of interest in where the next few days will head, and who will lead them.
Finishing with the last scrap, Lynn stands from the bunk she had been sitting at. “Okay, listen up everyone. Jack has 12 votes, I have 9, Major Bannerman has 4 and,” she pauses momentarily and a smile forms, “Brianna has 2.”
Several chuckles develop throughout the group as some of the tension ebbs. She has always had a knack for breaking unease like that, I think smiling.
“Okay, everyone comfortable with that?” I ask.
Heads nod in the group and, glancing over at Bannerman, I see a slight relaxation in him as if relieved of a burden. “Oh, and I’m a little worried about the other one who voted for Brianna. Stay away from my daughter,” I add only half joking.
More smiles beam out. “Sergeant Connell, you’ll be the First Sergeant. Break everyone down into teams of six and determine your team leaders. Major Bannerman, I want you to help with the logistics end if you don’t mind. There’s going to be a lot we need to get done.”
“That’s fine with me but what will we call you?” Bannerman asks. “I mean, we can’t very well call you Captain and have you leading if I’m a Major reporting to you.”
“How about Jack for now and we’ll sort it out later.”
“Are you going to lead one of the teams, sir?” Lynn asks.
I see right away this is going to be tricky at times. We’ll just have to keep the professionalism when dealing with group and team matters. Hopefully I can remember to do this and not give her a big hug and kiss in front of formation. The image of this in my mind brings first a smile and then a chuckle.
“Yes, First Sergeant, give me one of the teams. Leave my kids off. If they go out, they’ll go with me. I’m going to head back up and see if I can guide this thing to Lajes.”
“Okay, sir.”
“Okay folks, the overall plan
is to get back to McChord and find a place to fortify as a sanctuary. We’ll stop for fuel in the Azores and then head to the CDC in Atlanta. I want to find out whatever information we can about the creatures we are dealing with. From there, it’s a straight hop back home. We’ll brief more on the ground. Any questions or concerns?” I ask.
“Okay, carry on,” I say seeing no one respond.
“Yes, sir,” the group responds in chorus.
I grab a headset with an extended cord and show Lynn the multiple locations to plug into the intercom before turning to the cockpit. “Oh, one more thing,” I add addressing her. “There may be a very upset General at Lajes when we arrive there.”
“What in the world did you do?” Lynn asks.
“You seem to have a knack for that,” Bannerman, having overheard, chimes in drily.
See, I kind of left off the final dialogue with General Collins while we were sharing stories. “I’ll, uh, fill you in later.”
Lynn gives me one of her looks. A look that says she knows basically what took place by my adding that terse statement at the end and walking away while giving a vague response back. It is one of those “You did it again, didn’t you?” looks. See, she knows my capacity and ability to have very wide boundaries while still keeping to a moral structure. She told me once she thought it was from my time with the ground teams when I had to be flexible and think quickly on my feet while still conforming to the mission and its guidelines. I told her I thought it was from the ever-decreasing number of active brain cells in my head. That they were no longer a cohesive unit functioning as one but rather a bunch of isolated pockets that bumped into each other once in a while and formed a thought. The resulting thought was not always a sane or coherent one. Or a safe one for that matter.
Strapping into my seat once again, I take a moment to look the instruments over before plugging into the intercom. I glance over at Robert and Bri. The guilty look on their faces says it all. “Hi Lynn,” I say into the mic.
“How’d you know I was on the intercom?” She responds.
“The guilty looks I’m getting up here pretty much told me. Plus, the absolute silence. You know, the silence like when you enter a room where everyone was talking about you. I also figured you’d be on wanting to know what happened.”
“You didn’t tell them did you?” Robert asks, referring to our Lajes departure conversation.
“No, I kind of left that part out,” I answer and fill Lynn in on the details adding that it ended well but the general may be mighty upset about having been disobeyed. Generals tend to get that way.
We continue to chase the sun, both of us on our westward journey but to different destinations. It is moving a little faster than us and will set down on its journey to the horizon much sooner than when we will set down on our journey to the Azores. I double check our fuel and make sure we are set at our best range cruise speed. The one that will give us the best bang for the buck. Or, put in better terms, will give us the most distance for the fuel burned. I’m exhausted and my mind ventures over to fuel and how things were not that long ago. Not only will the trees and air have a chance at recovering from our influence on them, but gas prices have plummeted. Way down from the four dollars per gallon they had just climbed to. The experts claimed that crises across the world caused the dramatic increases in cost. I guess they were right up to a point. This crisis drove the price substantially down. Although really, the price of free gas was a costly one, I think refocusing my mind on the flight.
The shores of North Africa and Europe are coming together ahead, signaling the end of the Mediterranean and the beginning of the vast Atlantic. The sun begins its descent below the horizon, filling the sky with oranges, reds, and pinks, delivering its goodbye in splendor. Silence has claimed the aircraft as we all rest wrapped in our own thoughts, trying to grasp the reality of what has happened and what the future holds.
“Lynn, are you still on?” I ask over the intercom.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” she answers in a tired voice. “Just laying here.”
“Just letting you know we should be in Lajes in about three hours if you could let everyone know. And get some rest. I’m not sure what kind of reception to expect. We’ll get everyone together and brief in two hours.”
“Sounds good. How did you ever manage to stay sane on these long flights?” She asks.
“Nintendo and a good selection of games,” I reply. “Oh, and books. Now you know why insanity and I get along so well. There’s a bunk up here that may be a bit quieter if you want to use it instead.”
“Normally I’d send someone else up to use it but I’m flat out beat,” Lynn says before I hear the click of her disconnecting the intercom.
I look back to see her climb the stairs and give her a smile as the last glow of the setting sun reflects off her. She flops down on the lower bunk and pulls the thin, flimsy cover over her. She tries to adjust the too small pillow for comfort before giving up entirely.
“I thought you were going to beat that pillow into submission for a sec,” I shout over to her.
“Very funny, Jack,” she shouts tiredly back.
Everyone is tired, Michelle has slumped over and is asleep in her jump seat while Nic has put her head on her arms at the nav table. Robert is staring off, but from his slumped posture, I can tell he is exhausted. Bri, with her boundless energy, is constantly checking the fuel gauges. I unstrap and tell Robert, Michelle, and Nic to go get some rest in the remaining bunks. I’ll wake them for the brief and approach but I’ll need them to have a couple hours rest at least. We may need another night approach without lights and having them misread an instrument close to the ground could end in a very unfavorable result. It comes highly recommended to not impact the ground at high speed as the ground will always win such a contest.
“You go get some rest Bri. I’ve got the fuel.”
“Are you sure, Dad?”
“Yeah, babe, go rest. Oh, and Bri, thanks. You’ve been a tremendous help.”
She smiles and gives me ‘ol thumbs up. “You bet, Dad.”
We are about 300 miles out when I wake everyone. The cargo bay is filled with soldiers laying down wherever they could find room; doubling up on the cots or just on the cold, hard floor. Their weapons are by their side but they are finally able to get some sense of safety for a short while and are taking advantage of it. After introducing them, I send Robert and Bri back to the cockpit to monitor our flight. Everyone gathers once again in a circle.
“Okay, here’s the deal. We’ll be landing at Lajes in about an hour. Well, hopefully anyway. If no one is home, it’ll be a search for the field at night. Our GPS should be right on but if it’s not, well, let’s just hope it is. We won’t have a lot of gas to play ‘find the field’,” I say opening the brief.
“I’m not sure of what kind of reception we’ll receive given, um, the last conversation I had with the base commander. I assume you’ve been told I’m not exactly on his best friends list. I can tell you that I don’t expect to get the other half of a best friend’s forever bracelet from him,” I add evoking more than a couple of smiles.
The smiles tell me I may have been elevated to a god-like status by pissing off a general. This has always been the way in the military, well, at least in the circles I ran with. Where conformity and cohesion is the need and the way, individualism in that regard has always been revered.
“At any rate, we’ll know soon enough. I’ll be radioing as soon as we finish here. At no time will we engage or threaten unless it’s against any of the creatures. When I was here last, they had taken care of that problem so I don’t anticipate any problems in that regard. However, we need to be ready for any possibility. We’ll conform to whatever their instructions are. My plan is to continue along with the charade that I was sent on a mission to bring you back to McChord and my mission isn’t over until I arrive back. Are there any questions?”
“Sergeant Connell, have the teams been assigned?” I ask after
no one responds.
“Yes, sir. Sergeant Drescoll, Corporal Horace, you and I are the team leaders,” Lynn says and I shake their hands. “Do you want to meet your team?”
“Yeah but let’s do that and talk more when we get on the ground. Busy time is starting up front. Plug in and you can follow along on the radio and keep everyone informed as we go,” I say gathering up Nic and Michelle and turn for the cockpit.
“Yes, sir,” Lynn responds.
I sigh thinking we are going to have to change that. Well, maybe not right away as we will need to introduce some changes gradually. Besides, I may be able to use that to my advantage later and smile at the thought. Hmmmm, maybe not, I think as the story in my head continues. The story that continues ends with a loud growl and a knee to a very tender place.
“Oh,” I add. Everyone turns their head back in my direction. “This is off limits,” I say pointing to Nic and Michelle. This, of course, invites a punch in the arm from Nic and a, “Dad!”
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.”
