Any person who thought dozens of hours of maintenance for a single hour of flight time was a good tradeoff had to be insane, or a politician. The current U.S. systems were the costliest to operate in the entire world before the virus had severely limited their ability to maintain the aircraft. In Windmer’s opinion, it was the single greatest flaw in the military’s capability.
Even in peacetime conditions, fighters and bombers were regularly grounded due to the lack of available replacement parts. Most squadrons couldn’t meet their minimum flying hour requirements simply because they couldn’t keep enough aircraft fully mission-capable. At Robins AFB, several airframes had been cannibalized for parts to keep others flying.
Now, without a regular flow of parts and lack of experienced maintainers, very few aircraft could be considered mission-capable. Not for the first time, he was jealous of foreign militaries. They might have inferior technical capabilities, but they cost only a fraction as much to maintain and operate.
It had taken less than a year for their once powerful force to become little more than hangar decorations. He wasn’t going to tell that to Snead, though. He had already been part of one operation where the new President had asked him to shoot down the helicopter of a man who had pissed him off.
“Sir, if you can get fresh fuel for us, I feel confident we can get some of these aircraft back in the air.” It was only half true; fuel uncontaminated by water or not in the beginning stages of breaking down would help, but he was still going to have to worry about changing fuel filters and other maintenance. At best, a regular flow of freshly refined fuel would buy them another year before the entire fleet was grounded.
The general wasn’t worried about these ‘insurgents’ to their north, but he was very worried about Chinese or Russian aircraft once they became defenseless. Most other countries had invested huge sums of money into surface-to-air missile systems, which were far cheaper and easier to maintain than fighter jets.
In contrast, the United States hadn’t fielded a new ground-based system since the Patriot system became operational in 1984. There were a handful of Norwegian manufactured SAM systems in operation using a surface-launched Advanced Medium-Range Air-to Air-Missile, but most of those had probably been destroyed in the nuclear attacks.
The U.S. strategy had been to simply overpower opponents with greater air-to-air combat capability, a strategy which was heavily dependent on the newest and most technologically advanced fighters. It had worked, mostly, but the finicky fighters required hefty investments in parts and maintenance to remain combat capable.
If those aircraft were offline, the United States would be almost defenseless against foreign attacks. General Windmer was worried, because those aircraft were now offline. “Mr. President, I have to caution against overusing these aircraft in a domestic altercation. We need to keep them in reserve in case a foreign power decides to take this opportunity to attack.
“Most of our surviving aircraft are older models, like the F-15 and F-16. We have more cargo planes than we do fighters. If Russia or China, or even a NATO ally chooses to attack, we won’t be able to defend ourselves.” Prior to the virus, the United States had been an integral member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, and had shared military technology with the remaining countries.
Nobody knew if the remaining members would continue to honor the treaty, or even if Snead intended to once he finished his rise to power. The combat aircraft they had purchased from the United States would certainly be grounded, just as his were, but they had alternatives. The Rafale, Eurofighter, and Tornado were all outclassed by the most modern USAF aircraft, but they would likely still be airworthy.
Likewise, the Saab Gripen and a whole slate of Sukhoi, Mikoyan-Gurevich, and Chengdu aircraft would probably still be flying long after the U.S. fleet was grounded forever. For all Windmer knew, the Mexican Air Force would be able to fly their turboprop Cessnas over North America with impunity by the end of the year if they wanted to.
In the past, jet availability had simply been a line on a briefing slide to him. If it was too low, which it frequently was, the general would make a comment to one of the Colonels at the table or as part of the video teleconference. The offending line on the slide would be fixed by the next brief.
Those Colonels would pass on the General’s displeasure to Lieutenant Colonels in command of the squadrons, who would pass it down through their Director of Operations, or sometimes in person, to the Flight Commanders and Flight Chiefs. In turn, they would work long hours with their staff, many times up to sixteen hours a day in the heat, to get more jets operational.
Deep down, the General knew what was happening. He’d come up through flight operations, but statistics impacted careers, and his career had been on the rise. Everything was different now. It wasn’t a matter of glaring at a subordinate to improve the slide deck so he could get a slap on the back; it could be a matter of life and death.
“I’m not worried about Russia or China, and I’m certainly not worried about NATO. We’ve always been stronger than them. Anyway, they’ve got their own problems to deal with. I’m worried about an insurrection in our own damn country, General, and you should be, too.” The implied threat from Snead was obvious, but Windmer had to wonder if Snead really had a grasp of foreign politics and just how angry the rest of the world had become at decades of overbearing military action as the self-appointed police of the world.
“I understand, Mr. President. If you can get me that fuel, I can restart operations.”
Chapter 20
“Were you ever in the military?” Brinkley asked as she opened another closet, looking for shoes which might fit Brent. He had already managed to find a suit. He’d found it in a single- story home only a couple hundred yards away from the high school.
The suit was dark gray and fit reasonably well, although it was tight in the shoulders and the hem of the pants was about an inch higher than he would have liked. Brent kept his eyes open for something better as they scavenged through master bedrooms around Franklin High.
Outside, the light was already beginning to fade. This would have to be the last house for the day, since neither of them had a flashlight and were in an unfamiliar town. This home appeared to belong to a teacher at a local school based on the framed degree on the wall from Norfolk State University. Whoever or wherever Reginald Cooper was, he had an M.A. in Elementary Education. Probably not a teacher from the high school then, but hopefully someone who dressed up from time to time.
It seemed as though wearing suits had gone out of style, as most of the homes they’d been through had been bereft of suits and ties. In Brent’s younger years, most men had at least one ‘good suit’ for special occasions, like weddings or funerals. It appeared that formal dress had virtually disappeared now, at least in Franklin.
“No, I wasn’t. I owned a construction company,” he replied from the floor, where he was looking under the bed, hoping the owner had shoes in his size and had simply tucked them under the bed instead of in a closet. “Why do you ask?”
Brinkley opened a cardboard box to find some matches and a couple of MREs. If this guy had been a prepper, he had been extraordinarily inept. She turned her gaze from the contents of the box to look over at Brent. He had risen to his knees and was looking in her direction.
“I guess it’s just the way you carry yourself. You walk with your shoulders back and your head high, normally something I associate with military folks.”
He laughed softly. “I think I keep my shoulders back because it relieves pain in my lower back. I’m feeling older every day, and my back hurts. How about you? You were military?”
Brinkley nodded. “I was in the Army, but only for one tour. Then I got out and went back to school to become a physician’s assistant. I couldn’t afford it without the GI Bill.” She stepped out of the closet and turned toward the door, watching carefully to see if Brent would be able to stand on his own.
The older man put one hand on
the footboard and another on the mattress to help push himself to his feet. “I think it’s really cool that you went to medical school. I have to say, I appreciate your talents. You’re the only reason I’m still around.”
She sobered up quickly, uncertain about how to respond. “Are you happy about that? I mean, it sounds like I got in the way of your plans.” Only days before, she had been sent by Colonel Simmons to save this man. When she arrived, he had been on the verge of death at the side of his wife’s grave.
He looked at her seriously. “I am.” Brent looked at the dying light through the window and told her, “Let’s get back. It’s getting dark and I’m feeling unsteady. I can find shoes tomorrow.”
As she turned to lead the way out of the house, she asked, “So you’re happy?”
From behind, she heard his reply. “I’m happy you saved me, but I’m not really happy. I still want to be with my wife.” Brinkley stopped just outside the doorway and turned to look at him. Brent stood there barefoot in an ill-fitting gray suit. He looked gaunt and haggard, and there was a sadness in his eyes the likes of which she’d never seen before.
She tried hard to find the words to express her regret at revoking his personal decision. Her drive to save lives along with the demands of Colonel Simmons had made everything so clear in the moment. Now she wasn’t sure if it had been the proper thing to do.
Brent could see her disquiet and put a hand on her shoulder, looking her directly in the eye. “Don’t beat yourself up. I think it was meant to happen.” He put his hand down and brushed by her as he slowly walked to the front door. “Do you believe in God and heaven, Brinkley?”
Religion was one of those topics she really didn’t talk about, like sex. Brinkley felt those things were personal and not to be shared, but this situation seemed different. “I believe that there’s a God, yes. I don’t really follow any one religion, though.”
He smiled wearily. “That’s fair. I’m Catholic, and I don’t know how well I follow that religion. The only thing I’m truly certain of is that there’s a God and a heaven. I think I saw it before you saved me.”
Her curiosity piqued, Brinkley asked, “What, like a white light or something?”
“No, nothing like that. I saw my Rebecca. We spoke. She told me I was being foolish and I didn’t get to decide when I died, that it wasn’t time yet.” He turned and smiled a Brinkley. “Maybe it was she who sent you. I don’t know, but I’m not going to question it.
“So to answer your real question, no. I’m not going to try to die, but I’ll be ready when it happens, and I want to look my best when I see her again.” He looked down at the white shirt tucked into gray trousers and pressed his shoulders against the seams of the jacket, “So keep an eye out for a better suit, would you?”
She followed him out the door as they headed back in the general direction of the school. Brinkley pushed on, emboldened by their conversation so far. “So you’re not planning to hurt yourself?”
Brent laughed softly and shook his head. “I never planned to hurt myself. I don’t believe in suicide, the whole Catholic thing, you know? I figured I’d stop trying to live and put it in God’s hands. If He wanted to let me die, I’d die. If He wanted me to live, I’d live.
“I think it’s pretty clear how that turned out, don’t you?” Brent smiled after his question. “I’m not going to second guess it.”
Brinkley asked, “Then do you want a gun?”
He saw her motioning at her pistol in a shoulder holster. “No, I’ve already made my confessions. I’m not going to shoot somebody and have to start all over.” After a few more steps, he asked, “You were worried I’d shoot myself, huh?”
Brinkley nodded before realizing he couldn’t see the movement of her bobbing head behind him in the fading light. “Yeah, I was worried,” she admitted.
Brent stopped and turned to her. “Don’t be. I’m no danger to myself.” He thought for a moment and continued, “Or anyone else, for that matter.”
As he turned back toward the school, his bare foot landed on a pine cone. “Shit! Oh, that hurt.” He smiled sheepishly, “Okay, maybe a slight danger to myself, at least until I can find some shoes.”
Chapter 21
Analiz finally managed to get Jessica alone for a few minutes after her dinner with Colonel Strenke. It had been tough to get away from Dave, who had been following her around like a puppy since she had insinuated he might have a chance with her once they got to a safer place. After he’d walked outside to relieve himself, she grabbed Jessica’s arm and pulled her into an adjoining room.
“We need to talk.” She turned toward the door to make sure it was closed “about Dave.” Jessica smiled. She had expected something of the sort and was curious about their relationship. Dave had left months before, alone, and had recently returned with this woman.
“It seems like you two have been friends for a long time, right?” Analiz seemed stressed as she talked. She nervously pulled at the ends of her long hair.
“We have,” Jessica answered. “We were stationed together and worked in the same division. I’ve known him for about seven or eight years now.”
“Did you two ever date?” Analiz looked concerned as she asked. “I mean, I know it’s none of my business, but—“
Jessica cut her off with a laugh. “No, we never dated. Purely platonic.” Jess sat down on a folding chair near the large glass window of the classroom. “Why? What’s going on?”
Analiz fidgeted with the belt loops on her jeans as she said, “We’ve been spending a lot of time together since I got shot and I … I’m wondering if he’s really as good of a guy as he seems.”
Jess scooched forward in her chair and pointed to another one nearby, urging Analiz to sit down. “I don’t even know where to start, but yes, Dave’s a good guy.”
She watched Analiz limp slightly as she moved to the second chair and sat down.
She smiled toward her and continued, “I’ll answer any questions you have if I know the answer.”
Just then, a soft rapping on the door got their attention. Jessica knew who was there, but she yodeled,“Who is it?”
Dave’s muffled voice came through the door. “It’s Dave.”
In the same sweet voice, she called out, “Go away. We’re having passionate lesbian sex in here.”
Her smile grew even wider at the silence from the other side of the door and Analiz’ slight blush.
In a fierce whisper, Analiz asked, “Why did you say that?!”
Jess smiled again, relishing her little joke at Dave’s expense. “I’m guessing from this conversation that you and Dave have not been intimate, yes?
Analiz blushed even more. “Well, we’ve kissed a little bit, but that’s it.”
“Fair enough,” Jessica said as she nodded in thought. “So let me ask you a question: Dave is a young man in his prime. He definitely hasn’t had sex this year, probably longer. He’s been hanging out alone with a beautiful woman, who has been kissing him, for a couple of months, and he hasn’t tried anything?”
Analiz looked at the ceiling.
“Am I right so far?” Jess asked.
“I don’t think I’m beautiful, and I don’t know about anything before we met. Maybe,” Analiz replied.
Jessica waved her protests aside. “No, you’re beautiful. Do you have feelings for him?” She searched for the words. “Do you want to have something with him now that you’re in a safer place or are you looking to move on?”
In the other chair, she watched as Analiz weighed the options and thought about what she really wanted. The olive -skinned woman swirled the ends of her hair around her forefinger as she replied, “I think I want to see where this goes. I mean, I like him.”
“But you’re not comfortable going any further right now?”
“It’s not that, exactly. I was raped and I haven’t been with anyone since then. I’m not sure how I’d react, or if it’s something I even want to do yet.”
Jessic
a stood up, moved quickly to Analiz, and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Analiz squeezed her and held back tears. “I just don’t know what to think. “ She sniffed. “Dave said he left you guys because he was lonely. I just don’t want to be some girl he picked up because he wanted to get laid.”
Jessica stood back up and stared at Analiz. “He said that?” She shook her head. “I always wondered if he had a brain injury; I guess we have our answer.” She kept her hand on Analiz’ shoulder as she looked down at her. “I don’t think that’s the case at all, but if you’re not sure, then wait until you know.” She twitched her thumb toward the door saying,“He’s not going anywhere. I think he’s in love with you.”
“Really? Why do you think that?” Analiz asked.
Jessica laughed. “I’ve known him for a long time. I’ve never seen him act like this. He’s like a lost puppy every time you leave the room.” She pointed back toward the other room. “He’s probably in there right now staring at the door waiting for you to come back.” Jessica reached down and held Analiz’ hands in her own. “You do what feels right to you. He’ll wait until you’re ready.”
Analiz squeezed Jessica’s hands. “What if I’m never ready?”
“If you’re never ready, he’s not the right one for you. It’s that simple.”
Analiz seemed to come to some sort of decision as she said, “Thank you. Thank you, Jessica.”
“I’m not sure what I did, but you’re welcome,” Jessica said as she moved toward the door. Analiz walked out behind her and caught sight of Dave. Just as Jessica had predicted, he was on the other side of the room staring dejectedly at the door.
His face brightened as they came back into the shared room. “Down, horndog,” Jessica told him.
Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 4): Gathering Storms Page 10
