Did something happen that changed your mind?”
I undo my vest and lay it on the sandy tarmac beside me. I unbutton my shirt and lay it on the vest. Lifting my T-shirt, I show Gonzalez the scars on my chest, side, and back.
“Courtesy of three AK-47 rounds marked ‘Anonymous,” I say putting my shirt and gear back on.
“Damn, sir,” Gonzalez says quietly. “And that changed your mind about being invulnerable.”
“Yes and no. It did for a little while but then it reverted back to ‘I survived that and am still alive’,” I answer.
I continue, “We’re still the baddest ones around and it’ll take a lot to bring us down. And if it does happen, there’ll be a mountain of bodies around testifying to that.”
“Hooah, sir,” Gonzalez says with a smile.
“Seriously?” I say shaking my head but returning her smile.
“I have another question, sir,” Gonzalez says.
“Still two soldiers sitting?” I ask.
“Yes, sir,” she answers. A moment of quiet passes. I’m guessing she’s either thinking of how to word the question or is hesitant to ask. The question finally emerges, “Can you sense the night runners?”
Now it’s my turn for a moment of silence. I’m not quite sure how to answer that or if I even want to. She doesn’t do the ‘Only answer if you want to’ thing. It’s just a straight up question.
“I see you stare off toward the door at dinner sometimes and you knew there was a night runner in my dad’s house just like you knew night runners were coming in the hospital when none of us heard a thing,” she states.
“I guess I don’t hide things very well, do I?” I say with a chuckle.
“No, sir, not very well at all,” she replies with another smile.
“Just between us?” I ask.
“Just two soldiers sitting here, sir,” she answers.
“Yes, I can. Or at least I think I can. I can even hear them talking although ‘hear them talking’ is a matter of perspective. I get these picture images which I can understand. The downside? I think they can sense me when I reach out so I’ve learned to park it in the back of my mind,” I respond.
“That’s kind of handy,” she says.
“Not as handy as you might think. If I know they’re there, they know I am as well so it’s kind of a catch-22,” I say.
“You can see in the dark as well, right?” I look at her a little astonished that she’s gleaned as much as she has. I wonder if others have as well.
“I noticed you didn’t have your NVG’s down in the house. You might want to lower those if you want to keep it a secret,” she answers my look.
“I’ll keep that in mind Gonzalez. I’d call you Rosa but that just seems weird as I know you as Gonzalez,” I say.
“Gonzalez works, sir. I actually like that better. I never did like the name Rosa,” she replies.
“Do you think you got those abilities from the scratch?” Gonzalez asks.
“I think so. I can’t imagine where else. I never did get the flu shot,” I answer.
“Do you think you’ll turn into one of them?” Ah, the crutch of the questioning. However, looking at her and knowing her just a little, I revise my thought as it doesn’t seem this is what she really wants to know. I think she is just verifying some guesses she’s been making.
“Nah, I don’t think so. I think whatever it is, or was, has run its course. The headaches have disappeared and I haven’t noticed any changes. You have my permission to shoot me in the head at the first sign I’m becoming one of them,” I answer.
“The first sign, sir?” She asks chuckling.
“Better make that the fourth or fifth,” I reply. “Our little secret?”
“We’re just two soldiers sitting on a ramp shooting the shit, sir,” Gonzalez answers.
Stupidity Does Kill
Sizable droplets of rain begin to fall sporadically creating large circles in the sand. I pat Gonzalez on the shoulder and rise; the pat really hiding my using her as leverage. Sealing up the Humvees, we make our way into the 130 and close it up as the first rumble of the storms reverberates across the tarmac. Before long, the pouring rain deafens us inside the aircraft. It sounds like being inside a tin shack with marbles falling from the sky. Well, I guess in a way we are stuck in a tin shack.
We pass the rest of the day with the sound of downpours, flashes of lightning flickering through the windows, and the rumble of thunder that sometimes shakes the aircraft. I’m not all that keen on being inside one of the tallest objects in the middle of the open ramp and a metallic one at that. The aircraft does have the ability to dispense static but that doesn’t give me a multitude of warm fuzzies sitting in our tin can. We find what little comfort the aircraft holds with so many inside and strip away packages of MRE’s. I turn the battery on so we can heat our dinners in the little kitchen situated just below the cockpit entrance stairs.
The dark of the storms outside gives little warning of the approaching night. One moment it’s a shadowy gray light filtering in that quickly transitions to the inky blackness of night. The flashes of light that occasionally reach inside from the thunderstorms are in direct contrast to the darkness and startle us each time. Our confined area and having to be inside during the day brings attention to the fact that we are all in need of a shower. Or maybe it’s just me. I can’t tell beyond my own area of aroma. The locker room smell is getting to the point where I’m sure others are contemplating whether being outside with the night runners isn’t a preferred solution. I head to the cockpit to change and at least do my part in not forcing others out into the arms of the nocturnal hunters.
In the cockpit, I quickly change tossing the old clothing on the bunk where they immediately threaten to run into a corner to find darkness and perhaps a lair. I look out of the side window and see shapes heading our way. The lightning is playing havoc with my night vision, enhanced or not and it takes time between flashes to adjust. The small number of night runners trotting across the ramp show up in the intermittent strobes of light; their gray skin seeming to glow with each flare.
I watch as they approach, shielding the language images in a tightly locked compartment in my mind. Hollow, metallic thuds echo inside as bodies slam into the thin aircraft fuselage. It looks to be another sleepless night inside an aircraft with night runners trying to work their way in. So far they haven’t been able to but we’ll post guards to keep watch. It isn’t like any of us will be getting any rest. I look out at a similar scenario as last night; a night runner hanging behind the others while they work their way around the aircraft trying to find a way in. I watch as two try to climb a propeller on the outboard engine. They manage to get part of the way up before slipping back to the ground. The thought of starting that engine while they are climbing floats through my mind. I mean, how funny would that be watching them get launched over one of the hangars. Not realistic as the propellers don’t rev up that fast but the idea is humorous.
The rain coming down is definitely impeding their ability to hang onto the blade. I keep an eye out because they could potentially damage the aircraft, stepping on control surfaces and other vital areas, should they get on top. I watch as the pack outside leaves only to be replaced by another of about the same size. The storms have tapered off to intermittent flashes of light in the distance. I decide to experiment and open up slightly. I want to see if they can sense me when I do. I immediately sense the night runners and the images of the apparent leader. The leader turns in my direction abruptly as all activity ceases for a moment. I guess that answers that question, I think as the moment passes and they resume their efforts.
I send a quick message of me associated with the sun. I notice the leader is immediately startled. There is a hesitation but only a very slight one. The others also pause and look to the pack leader as if looking for guidance but then immediately return to what they were doing. Well, at least it causes a little distraction, I think wondering if I can send them instructions and have them obey. I send a series of images to one of the night runners just under the window telling it to go into the hangar directly across the ramp. That does absolutely nothing. So much for being able to take control, I think. Perhaps it’s because they realize I’m not one of them.
“So, I can’t control them. Oh well, it was worth a try,” I say quietly to myself as I gather up my ripe clothes
