between the night runner’s eyes. She is aware that she can’t shoot near the aircraft or any of its vitals so she picks one standing a little distance away. The shrieks and howls escalate and the night runners renew their efforts against the 130 in an attempt to get to her.
She eases the trigger back feeling a slight kick against her shoulder sending a round streaking through the night air. A muted cough mixes with the shrieks of the night. The night runner started its charge for her so the bullet misses where she aimed but forcefully impacts the night runner high on the forehead. The small 5.56mm round flattens on impact with the thick skull but punches through leaving a small entrance hole. The downward angle of the shot alters the bullet’s path even more downward and to the right. Bone splinters and the steel-core round plows through the gray tissue. The force of its passage turns the millions of synapses of the brain into jelly. Impacting the skull near the jaw, the enlarged bullet explodes outward in a spray of blood and gray tissue. Meaty chunks and blood splash on the night runner’s shoulder and the ground. It falls instantly to its knees and then forward impacting the ramp face first.
Bri only registers the hit and knows the night runner is taken care of. She watches as another tries to climb the outboard propeller and shifts her aim point. The parallax view allows her to sight in quickly and, mindful of not hitting the large propeller, she sends another sub-sonic round into the night. The night runner jerks from the bullet slamming against the side of its head just in front of its ear and is thrown from the prop, hitting the tarmac with a heavy thump. Bri shifts her sight aligning with another target. Ever conscious of her surroundings, the knot in her stomach, her fear, and her anger all vanish into a business-like function as she is now just shooting at targets.
Greg and I move away from the group and head into the cockpit. I’m guessing he wants to talk about whether we should even be attempting this. I wonder the same thing but these soldiers, some standing in the rear of the aircraft, have risked themselves for my kids so why shouldn’t the same happen for their families. I would have gone into the high school compound alone for my kids and done anything to get them safely out. I’m sure McCafferty would do the same for hers and trusts the group to come up with a plan to get them safely out. True, I don’t know if they are even in there but if it were my family and there was even the remotest of chances they were inside, I would turn the world upside down getting to them.
“Jack, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, seriously,” Greg asks once we are alone with only the silent dials and instruments an audience to our conversation.
“Can you think of another way? I’m seriously open to any and all suggestions,” I answer.
“No, I can’t. Look, I’m the first to want to help, especially with one of our own team members, but sometimes we have to just chalk it up as a ‘no-go’,” he comments. “Jack, neither of us is young anymore, especially you, old man, and it’s been a long while since I’ve done this kind of jump. However, with that said, I’m with you whatever you decide.”
“I appreciate that, Greg. Well, all except the ‘old man’ comment, but I owe these people and…” I pause noticing an increase in the decibel of the shrieks and glance outside through the side window. A night runner is climbing on the prop. I have the quick thought again of starting the engine when the night runner is thrown from the propeller to the ground.
“What the fuck?” I say knowing instantly it has been shot off. I grab a set of NVG’s lying on the bunk and step closer to the window to get a better look. I don’t need them to see outside but I am ever thoughtful of Gonzalez’ words. I’m not ready for the others to know anything as yet and don’t want to raise any eyebrows. I know I have already raised a couple thinking back to Robert’s reaction when I heard his whisper and to Greg’s when I heard the vehicles long before he could.
“What’s up?” Greg asks as I slide the goggles down. The only change that occurs is the night changes from gray to green. However, one other thing becomes visible, there’s a laser pointing down from the top of the aircraft and is aimed at one of the night runners. The night runner rocks backward, spins, and falls to the ground.
“Holy shit! What the fuck?!” I say again, louder this time. “There’s someone shooting night runners from the up top.”
“You’re kidding,” he says incredulously.
“No, that I am not,” I say raising the goggles and heading quickly down the stairs to the cargo compartment.
“What the hell is going on here?” I shout to the group standing near the back of the aircraft. I’m actually surprised to see them where Greg and I left them. I was expecting them to be standing around the top hatch. I look to the ladder and see the hatch closed.
Heads turn in my direction and I am met with surprised looks which confuses me even further. Judging from their reactions and their positions, they aren’t aware someone is on top shooting. But how can you not be aware someone climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch right next to you? I think staring back at them.
A stab of fear grips me. I scan the faces quickly and see Robert looking back at me with surprise still on his face. I can also see the cogs inside his head turning as he tries to figure out what I’m talking about. He knows something is amiss. He has hung around me long enough to know I don’t just blurt shit out. Okay, well, I do, and often, but he also knows when I’m serious. One face, one very important face is missing. The stab of fear doubles and drops from my heart to my stomach. I scan again.
“Where the fuck is Bri?” I shout knowing the answer. The group looks around in their midst searching for her familiar face expecting to see her standing near. She was there not long ago.
I don’t notice as I’m already climbing the ladder with Greg standing below me. He tells the others about my seeing someone on top shooting night runners outside. I register the instantaneous gasp from several but I’m already pushing the hatch open. I poke my head through and see Bri on one knee by the wing root; her M-4 at her shoulder. Her shoulder rocks back slightly in unison with the muted sound of a round leaving the chamber. A night runner running across the ramp towards the hangars drops in its tracks.
Bri continues firing at individual night runners watching them fall to the ramp below. Not being able to get to her, they howl and shriek in frustration. Some dip underneath the wing trying to get out of her line of sight. She shifts her position and fires at another. She is careful with her shots in order not to hit the aircraft or at too much of an angle that might ricochet up into the wing or engines. Another night runner drops heavily to the ground. She hears a shout emanating below her. The shout has words attached to it and she knows she’s been found out, or at least missed. She worries about her dad’s reaction and knows it won’t be a pretty one.
A shriek sounds loud above the others. The total volume has diminished to a large degree as there is not the same number of mouths to emit those screams. Dead night runners lie on the tarmac around the 130. Like fish in a barrel, she thinks lining up another shot. With the loud shriek, the night runners turn as one and begin pounding across the ramp. She hears the hatch behind her open as she cracks off another shot at a fleeing night runner. It falls forward from the round slamming into its back. The remainder scatters, disappearing between the hangars and into the night.
“Bri! What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck back in here! Now!” She hears her dad’s sharply whispered voice.
“Bri! What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck back in here! Now!” I say watching the last of the night runners disappear between the hangars. I keep my voice down to a sharp whisper as I don’t want to startle her to the point of actually falling off. I thought of going to grab the back of her vest to prevent that but that may have startled her even more and she could have put a round in the aircraft.
The silence of the night returns with the exception of my rapidly pounding heart. I watch as Bri calmly rises, clears the chamber before reinserting a mag, flips the safety on and shoulders her M-4. She walks towards me and the hatch lifting her goggles. She has a grim determination painted across her features. Her eyes are large from the adrenaline that must be flooding inside of her. It’s not really a look I wanted to see on my little girl unless I was watching her during one of her sporting events or if she was studying for a final, but I also know her. I head down the ladder with Bri climbing down after me. She closes and seals the hatch.
“Into the cockpit, now!” I say pointing as her boots hit the deck with a ring. I am relieved she is safe. Relieved is putting it mildly but I’m also pissed. See the aforementioned times when the fear resolves itself.
I watch Bri as she walks ahead of me to the steps leading upward. Watching my fifteen year old daughter walking in her black fatigues and vest with an M-4 slung on her shoulder and NVG’s on her head is disconcerting. Her fine blond hair hangs down to the middle of her back. This is my sweet girl walking in front of me, I think. I feel
