Return

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.”

“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