The grit picked up by the winds peppers our bare skin. Gonzalez and Isabella say their last goodbyes before the ceremony breaks up and we meander back to the vehicles. Miguel informs me that they would like to come along with us as there is nothing here for them. He lets me know it’s a temporary thing based on how his people are treated. I tell him everyone is treated equally and that he’s free to go at any time. I also let him know that we won’t be able to fly them back here as our times of being able to fly anywhere is drawing quickly to a close. Deteriorating fuel conditions will see to that. With that, we proceed back to the base with Miguel agreeing to meet us the following morning.
Back at the base, Robert pulls me aside. “Dad, why did you have Bri and I stay behind with the vehicles?” He asks.
“Because you were the only two who could fly the aircraft out if something happened,” I answer knowing that’s not totally the real reason but it’s the one I decide to give.
“I’m raising the bullshit flag on that one,” he says.
“Okay, look, I’m torn. It’s something you’ll understand when you’re a dad. There’s the balance of keeping you safe, letting you learn, and allowing you to be grown up. I don’t always make the right decisions and am torn each time I am confronted with it. You, Bri, and Lynn are the only reasons I keep pushing on. If something were to happen to you, I’d be lost,” I say.
“I get that, Dad, but I’m as old as some of the soldiers you let go,” Robert replies.
“Yeah, but they are not my son, or daughter for that matter. Look, you’re going to have to trust me on this one. If you’re with me, and I mean right next to me, then I feel better for some reason,” I respond.
“Dad, I have to learn and you have to learn to let go some. I get it with Bri, she’s only fifteen but I’m not,” Robert says.
“Okay, I get that. It’s just not easy. So here’s the deal, whenever I head out with Red Team, you can go with me. There will be times when that’s not true but I’ll try to make that happen. I know I said that earlier but losing Nic was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through and I don’t want to ever experience that again. It hasn’t left me for a moment and it won’t,” I say.
“I know, Dad. I think about her every day,” Robert says.
“Okay, I promise to try and keep the protective nature in check. We good?” I ask.
“Yeah, Dad, we’re good,” he answers.
We gather to discuss our next steps. “We’ll fuel up the Humvees and drive down to Lubbock in the morning to search for McCafferty’s family,” I say. “It’s only about 100 miles away so it should only take us two to three hours each way depending on how clear the roads are and what we run into. That will give us about three hours to search giving us a little leeway on time should anything happen. We need to be back before dark for obvious reasons. I think we’ll take all three teams considering what we ran into today.”
“So you’re planning to leave the aircraft and our supplies unguarded?” Greg asks.
“I really don’t see any other way. We could fly down to Lubbock but this weather creates an unknown,” I answer.
“Do you trust this Miguel guy?” Horace asks looking at Gonzalez.
“I haven’t seen him in a long time. He is a little rough around the edges but I think he means well, so, yes, I trust him,” Gonzalez answers.
“Good enough for me,” Horace says to which we all nod.
“Well, it’s not like he’s going to take the aircraft and we can always resupply,” I add.
“What about refueling the aircraft?” Robert asks.
I look up to the darkening sky. “Let’s do that on our return or the next day. These storms look like they could start giving us a light show any time. I’d rather we weren’t in the midst of refueling with JP-4 with lightning flashing around us. That’s a recipe for creating an entirely new crater in New Mexico.”
“Gotcha,” Robert responds.
“So, refuel the Humvees in the morning, head to Lubbock, return to refuel the 130’s then or the next morning, leave for Albuquerque the day after, and head home. We’ll be flying the 130 and an AC-130 back. We’ll need to visit the armory here and load the AC-130 up with ammo at some point. Any questions?” I ask. Everyone shakes their heads and we break up.
“Robert, take Bri and Echo Team and see if you can locate an AC-130 that’s fueled. See if you can find the maintenance books as well and bring them back. I’d hate to try and leave in an aircraft that’s been grounded for maintenance. That kind of thing makes for a very short flight and a structural integrity check at the end,” I say.
“Structural integrity check?” He asks.
“Yeah. It’s a check to see if the aircraft remains intact when it collides with the ground at a high rate of speed,” I answer.
“Yeah, let’s avoid that,” Robert says and they depart across the ramp.
Blue Team is stationed at intervals on the ramp with the Humvees. I look over to see Gonzalez sitting alone on the ramp; the wind, as it blows by, whips her short, dark hair. She is staring into the distance with her arms wrapped around her knees. I would have expected Isabella to be glued to her but I don’t see her little sister anywhere.
“Do you mind?” I ask referring to whether she wouldn’t mind some company or would just like to be left alone.
“No, sir,” she answers and I plop down next to her.
Plop is the correct term as my old bones don’t go to the ground gracefully anymore. We sit in silence for a few minutes with the storms building overhead and the gritty wind blowing in our faces. The smell of ozone faintly reaches my nose along with a myriad of other smells. This whole moment just feels odd. We are on the backside of an apocalypse yet here we are, two people sitting on the middle of a stark ramp in New Mexico surrounded by a sea of emptiness. It feels like I’m in a dream watching myself sitting here; that I’m really somewhere else observing this moment from afar. It just feels strange. It feels quiet.
“You okay?” I ask staring across the runway to our front and hating to break the silence.
“Yeah, sir. I’ll be okay. I’m just happy to see my sister and hear my mother made it at least,” Gonzalez answers.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” I say not knowing much else to say.
“Yeah, me too. At least I have the answer though. That’s something and now the gnawing inside of not knowing can end,” she replies. Silence ensues and we sit staring across the landscape.
“Sir, may I ask something?” Gonzalez asks.
“Of course. Anytime,” I answer.
“We’re just two soldiers sitting here, right?”
“Just two soldiers sitting here shooting the shit,” I reply.
“Do you think we’re going to make it?” She asks looking over at me.
“Yeah, I do. I have to think that. For my kids and everyone else. If I didn’t have the hope of us making it, then all of this we’re doing would be for naught and we’d just be spinning our wheels. And you and I are not one for just spinning our wheels,” I answer.
“I mean, do you think we’re personally going to make it?” She asks. “Not as a group but each of us individually?”
“I don’t know that one. Some days I look around and see just how much talent we have and how tough we are. Those days I think there’s no way we can go down no matter what happens; that we’ll be able to get out of any situation. I lived that philosophy in the field, well, used to anyway. Other days…. How many tours in Iraq did you do?” I ask.
“Two.”
“So you know that anything can happen on any given day then,” I say.
“Yes, sir. And on other days, you think what?”
“I think the odds stack against us each time we go out. That it’s only a matter of time. We’ve both seen friends killed so we both know it can happen but it was always someone else. That was something that couldn’t happen to us because, well, we were the ones watching. I was pretty sure there wasn’t a thing that could touch me, however there was a part of me that knew it was a matter of odds; that the odds shrank a little more each time I went out,” I answer.
“I know the feeling. The one thinking there isn’t a thing that can touch me. Today changed that to a degree.
