by John O'Brien
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.
Donn
ing 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.
Greg and I move away from the group and head into the cockpit. I’m guessing he wants to talk about whether we should even be attempting this. I wonder the same thing but these soldiers, some standing in the rear of the aircraft, have risked themselves for my kids so why shouldn’t the same happen for their families. I would have gone into the high school compound alone for my kids and done anything to get them safely out. I’m sure McCafferty would do the same for hers and trusts the group to come up with a plan to get them safely out. True, I don’t know if they are even in there but if it were my family and there was even the remotest of chances they were inside, I would turn the world upside down getting to them.
“Jack, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, seriously,” Greg asks once we are alone with only the silent dials and instruments an audience to our conversation.
“Can you think of another way? I’m seriously open to any and all suggestions,” I answer.
“No, I can’t. Look, I’m the first to want to help, especially with one of our own team members, but sometimes we have to just chalk it up as a ‘no-go’,” he comments. “Jack, neither of us is young anymore, especially you, old man, and it’s been a long while since I’ve done this kind of jump. However, with that said, I’m with you whatever you decide.”
“I appreciate that, Greg. Well, all except the ‘old man’ comment, but I owe these people and…” I pause noticing an increase in the decibel of the shrieks and glance outside through the side window. A night runner is climbing on the prop. I have the quick thought again of starting the engine when the night runner is thrown from the propeller to the ground.
“What the fuck?” I say knowing instantly it has been shot off. I grab a set of NVG’s lying on the bunk and step closer to the window to get a better look. I don’t need them to see outside but I am ever thoughtful of Gonzalez’ words. I’m not ready for the others to know anything as yet and don’t want to raise any eyebrows. I know I have already raised a couple thinking back to Robert’s reaction when I heard his whisper and to Greg’s when I heard the vehicles long before he could.
“What’s up?” Greg asks as I slide the goggles down. The only change that occurs is the night changes from gray to green. However, one other thing becomes visible, there’s a laser pointing down from the top of the aircraft and is aimed at one of the night runners. The night runner rocks backward, spins, and falls to the ground.
“Holy shit! What the fuck?!” I say again, louder this time. “There’s someone shooting night runners from the up top.”
“You’re kidding,” he says incredulously.
“No, that I am not,” I say raising the goggles and heading quickly down the stairs to the cargo compartment.
“What the hell is going on here?” I shout to the group standing near the back of the aircraft. I’m actually surprised to see them where Greg and I left them. I was expecting them to be standing around the top hatch. I look to the ladder and see the hatch closed.
Heads turn in my direction and I am met with surprised looks which confuses me even further. Judging from their reactions and their positions, they aren’t aware someone is on top shooting. But how can you not be aware someone climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch right next to you? I think staring back at them.
A stab of fear grips me. I scan the faces quickly and see Robert looking back at me with surprise still on his face. I can also see the cogs inside his head turning as he tries to figure out what I’m talking about. He knows something is amiss. He has hung around me long enough to know I don’t just blurt shit out. Okay, well, I do, and often, but he also knows when I’m serious. One face, one very important face is missing. The stab of fear doubles and drops from my heart to my stomach. I scan again.
“Where the fuck is Bri?” I shout knowing the answer. The group looks around in their midst searching for her familiar face ex
pecting to see her standing near. She was there not long ago.
I don’t notice as I’m already climbing the ladder with Greg standing below me. He tells the others about my seeing someone on top shooting night runners outside. I register the instantaneous gasp from several but I’m already pushing the hatch open. I poke my head through and see Bri on one knee by the wing root; her M-4 at her shoulder. Her shoulder rocks back slightly in unison with the muted sound of a round leaving the chamber. A night runner running across the ramp towards the hangars drops in its tracks.
Bri continues firing at individual night runners watching them fall to the ramp below. Not being able to get to her, they howl and shriek in frustration. Some dip underneath the wing trying to get out of her line of sight. She shifts her position and fires at another. She is careful with her shots in order not to hit the aircraft or at too much of an angle that might ricochet up into the wing or engines. Another night runner drops heavily to the ground. She hears a shout emanating below her. The shout has words attached to it and she knows she’s been found out, or at least missed. She worries about her dad’s reaction and knows it won’t be a pretty one.
A shriek sounds loud above the others. The total volume has diminished to a large degree as there is not the same number of mouths to emit those screams. Dead night runners lie on the tarmac around the 130. Like fish in a barrel, she thinks lining up another shot. With the loud shriek, the night runners turn as one and begin pounding across the ramp. She hears the hatch behind her open as she cracks off another shot at a fleeing night runner. It falls forward from the round slamming into its back. The remainder scatters, disappearing between the hangars and into the night.
