and head back to the cargo compartment.
The pack assaulting the exterior leaves a short time later and is not replaced. The rumbles of thunder vanish into the night as well leaving us in comparative peace. The quiet is almost as startling as the noise but I’m not complaining. We set up a schedule for watches and fold where we can on the steel deck and bunks to rest.
The night passes and the morning comes with little disturbance from either Mother Nature or mother fuckers. I rise and stretch the kinks out — there are more than a few of them. The air inside is warm and stuffy from so many bodies in one place for an extended period of time. The ramp is lowered and cool air sweeps in refreshing the stagnant interior. The light of the dawn filters in and we all groggily, in ones and twos, step outside hoping for the new day to invigorate us. Soldiers, grabbing meals and water, park themselves in small groups near the rear of the aircraft. The Humvees are opened up and placed in flanking positions. Provisions for the coming trip to Lubbock are set in neat piles next to the open ramp. The earlier we are off on our adventure, the more time we’ll have to look for McCafferty’s family and deal with anything unforeseen that may arise.
I hear the sound of vehicles approaching in the distance. I radio Greg and Echo team standing guard telling them to be alert. I let the soldiers around the ramp know what I hear and get some funny looks, but there is a scramble to dispose of wrappers and water bottles. In short order, Blue Team has taken cover behind the concrete barriers near the edge of the ramp. I wait with Red Team near the aircraft ready for any eventuality.
Cars enter the ramp between two hangars, hesitate a moment, and then begin driving in our direction. The guns on the Humvees track their progress. Eight cars packed with people approach and stop a short distance away. Miguel steps out of the car in front and I tell everyone to relax. The group from our little encounter yesterday has arrived.
More people step onto the ramp as Blue Team leaves their cover and meanders back to us. I hear Gonzalez gasp beside me. She gives me a quick look asking if it’s okay if she goes. I nod and she takes off in a run. She races past a small knot of people that have gathered around Miguel and embraces an older woman. Okay, older being relative as she appears to be only a little older than me. I notice Gonzalez’ younger sister, Isabella, join in the embrace. Gonzalez has apparently found her mother.
Miguel and several others gather around. He quickly tells his story about how he and a couple of his friends gathered everyone in the neighborhood when they figured out what was happening. They cleared the area as best as they could and fortified the high school gym. They had run-ins with some roving gangs but they managed to hold their own. He mentioned collecting weapons and ammo that were lying around on the base and that is what has given them the edge so far. He also added that they were beginning to run low on supplies. I inform him that we are heading down to Lubbock for the day to search for one of our soldier’s family.
“You’re taking your entire group?” He asks.
“Yeah, running into you yesterday made me want to have everyone available just in case. I was thinking of leaving the three we met in Albuquerque but haven’t decided on that yet,” I answer.
“And you trust us?” He asks tilting his head to the side confused.
“It’s not like you’re going to steal our plane,” I reply with a chuckle.
“What about your supplies?”
“Look, we have more back home. If you decide you don’t want to come with us, take what you need, just leave us some food, water, and ammo,” I answer.
Miguel pauses and then says, “No, I think we’ll be staying with you guys. Like I said, there’s nothing here for us anymore. I’ll leave some people here to keep your shit safe until you get back.”
“Sounds good. And thanks. We’ll be back before dark.”
“I hope so or your shit’s going to be open for anyone to steal. We’re not hanging around once the sun hits the horizon,” he says.
“See you this afternoon,” I say.
Gonzalez gives her mom and sister another hug before heading back. Miguel and his group pile back into their vehicles and, with a great flourish, drive away with the sounds of their vehicles fading into the distance. He leaves one car and several people behind. Silence spreads across the ramp and we are left alone with the beginning of the day. The morning is chilly but I can feel the heat already beginning to rise from the concrete ramp. The sky overhead is clear of clouds and promises a sunny day free from storms. The moist, humid air mass that gave rise to the majesty of the thunderstorms has moved on.
Packing our gear together, the sound of the starting Humvees resonates off the metal sides of the hangars a short distance away and breaks across the still morning air. I leave with Red Team and search the base for another Humvee. It takes a while but eventually we come across a couple parked in a maintenance area. The second one we try starts and we drive it back to the ramp. Greg and Echo Team pile into the third Humvee and we are shortly ready to head out into the day. Leaving Thomas, Laurel, and Jeremy behind with Miguel’s people, we exit the base and proceed along the same road as yesterday driving in the same formation with the exception that Greg is in my lane offset from Horace. McCafferty is driving as we pass the familiar brown fields. There are patches of green from the rains of the days prior; already springing up as only it can in the desert.
We pass through the ghost-like town of Clovis. The downpours have cleaned the streets of sand to a degree but the runoff has left still wet sand piled against the curbs and by the tires of the few parked cars. The bottoms of the doorway entrances are still filled with dirt and debris where they are inset from the street. It gives that lonely and abandoned feel of most towns that we’ve seen, either from the air or ground. I keep an eye out for any of the roving gangs Miguel mentioned but we pass through without incident.
A few miles out of town, the highway turns to the southeast. The scenery doesn’t change much as we begin our journey to Lubbock. McCafferty, in the driver’s seat, is displaying much of the same tightness around her eyes that Gonzalez did the day before. I’m guessing she is worried about what Gonzalez found with regards to her dad and thinking the same thing could be awaiting her. The scale of sorrow was tipped, however, when Gonzalez found out her sister and mother were still alive. To be honest, it was fortunate that she found her sister, or vice-versa really, when she did as things were about to get ugly. Timing is such a wonderful thing. Luck doesn’t hurt either. I just hope I have enough of both in my shrinking bag of tricks.
Henderson, manning the top gun and keeping an eye out far ahead of us with a set of binoculars, pulls our attention to the fact that we’re approaching a city or town of some sort. I notify the other teams and we slow to a stop. Taking a few moments to glass the area, Henderson reports no movement and we press forward slowly. The highway passes along the outskirts of the town and is lined with warehouse and industrial style buildings. It’s definitely not the roadside burger, gas station, or strip mall kind of place. We pass through slowly, alert for any movement or indication that there are survivors. Nothing moves except an occasional dust devil swirling in dry, dusty lots.
Our passage through the abandoned and empty town is quick and we are once again presented with the same scenery; brown and mostly barren fields with patches of green. A few small, stunted trees crop up here and there but for the most part, you can almost see the curvature of the earth. Some of the fields we pass have cattle grazing aimlessly while others have only dark lumps lying in them. It seems the surviving cattle are dependent on whether the water source and irrigation was natural or not. The natural irrigation is scarce as this appears to be mostly an agricultural area, or at least it used to be. The scenery passes by with only the hum of our tires on the pavement, the air passing over the open turret on top, and the vibration of the diesel to keep us company. The vibrations and sounds are lulling.
“Sir, we are approaching another town. It appears there are vehicles creating a roadblock on the highway before it,” Henderson calls out on the radio.
“Any movement?” I ask as McCafferty begins to slow down.
“I can’t tell for sure with the heat waves. I thought I saw something but I can’t be sure, sir,” he answers.
I radio the others and we come to a stop on the highway. I step outside with another set of binoculars and climb onto the roof. Standing on the roof looking over the expanse through the binoculars, I’m reminded of a picture I once saw. It was of a German commander staring at Moscow from just a few miles outside of it. He was staring at the city with smoke rising all around. That was as close as he ever came, or anyone from the German side for that matter. It has no bearing on our situation but the image comes to my mind anyway.
Vehicles, parked perpendicular to the road, are definitely blocking the highway but Henderson is right, the heat waves make it difficult to see if there is in fact anyone manning the road block. I focus off to the sides around the small town strung along the freeway. More dry fields separated by slightly raised dirt roads. There doesn’t
