Return

you’d like.”

The remaining marauders, seeing their chance at living to see another sunrise, take to their heels, vanishing off through the trees. Kenneth looks after them in a moment of uncertainty and then remains.

“Let’s get out of these trees and back,” I say to the group. “Black Team in the lead, Red Team following. Keep an eye out to where they went.”

“Hooah, sir.”

“All other teams, this is Jack, we’re heading back with three civilians in tow,” I say into the radio letting the others at the aircraft know. “Robert, is the aircraft refueled?”

“Just finished, Dad,” he answers.

“Okay everyone, let’s be ready to go on our arrival. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes,” I say pressing the mic button again.

“We’ll be ready, sir,” I hear Drescoll respond.

Following our path back through the silent base, we make our way through the warm, humid morning back towards the aircraft with our three new passengers tagging along with us. We keep the same staggered formation with Kathy, Kenneth, and Little Robert, that’s how I think of him now, in the middle of our formation. We are going to be way crowded in the aircraft now. I mean, a regular C-130 would start to feel crowded, but this one was not meant to handle a lot of people. It was meant to handle a lot of fuel. But we will manage. We may have to figure something else out though if we run across another large group.

This last little escapade did answer one question, or at least prove a nagging thought that was in my head — there are others. I hope that a majority, and there have to be others, are not like this last band and just out marauding or out for themselves; treating others with impunity. I mean, why would you do something like that when it’s obvious we are on the brink? Doing harm to others instead of helping? To me, that is truly evil and I just don’t get it.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, turn my head, and see a dog paralleling us. It has been out there since we started back. Trotting or walking along; keeping the same distance away but definitely intrigued by us. I keep alert for any sign of others remembering back to the pack we saw by the side of the road when we were heading up to McChord. Thinking they may develop into packs as dogs are wont to do. But from all indications, this one is alone. I cannot really tell just what kind of dog it is from the distance it is keeping away from us, but I can tell it is a larger breed and mostly black.

“Sir,” Henderson says nodding toward the dog.

“Yeah, I see it,” I respond back. “I just think it’s curious. And alone.”

We are about to take the short road back onto the ramp, to disappear between the building and leave the base proper. I turn back and see the dog has stopped as if seeing us off and not wanting to follow us. Probably because it would have to draw closer in proximity to us to do so. In order to follow us, it has to come closer to some extent, but it seems to want to keep its distance. I can sense a longing in the way it stands to follow but then sits right back down.

“Everyone hold up a minute,” I say out loud. The clatter of boots on the hard top ceases and everyone turns, setting up a small perimeter automatically.

I turn and walk back out towards the dog a few feet. It takes a couple of running steps away as I advance but then stops and looks back. I squat down and call out to it holding my hand out in front of me; showing it the ‘I don’t mean any harm’ signal that seemingly all animals, humans included, know and understand. Its ears perk up at my call.

“Really!? You’re halting us because you want to pet a dog,” Lynn says close by my shoulder. She has a point but something is calling me to this dog.

“Five minutes. If it hasn’t come by then, we’re on our way,” I say to her but keep facing the dog that is doing the low slink and wait as it edges closer. I can tell it wants to come but is quite hesitant. I do not blame it considering what it must have seen and been through with the night runners and perhaps not being able to distinguish between the two.

The dog edges ever closer and I can make out that it is a Rottweiler. A young one but the features are distinct. I call softly as he creeps ever closer, until he is only a few feet away. I see a wound on his left shoulder that is in the early stages of healing. I am guessing from another dog or night runner. Judging from the size of this one, another dog would be very wary about attacking it, unless it was a pack of dogs. I continue holding my hand out, keeping it steady and not making any sudden movements, until his nose touches the end of my fingers, and sniffs. I move them up slowly and start rubbing the top of his nose. He, yes, it is evident that is what it is, gives my fingers a tentative lick and I move my fingers to his ears and start scratching. Then, as if released, he comes in to me and begins to lick my face; happy we are not going to hurt him and that he may have found a home. Or at least some attention.

“Mom, can I keep it?” I ask teasingly turning back to Lynn who is standing there with a small smile on her face.

“You have to clean up after it,” she replies.

“I will, Mom. Promise.”

The aircraft is ready to go as promised as we emerge onto the ramp with our now fourth additional passenger who is trotting along at my side. The start cart is ready with Michelle and Nic by its side. Drescoll’s team is the only team out providing cover and security. I direct Red Team to stay with Drescoll to provide additional security while we start up. I leave instructions to enter after we crank up the starboard engines and not to walk behind them. I am leaving the security out as I am not sure what those marauders will do once they get out of sight and feel safe. Those types often feel their “manhood” rise and try to do something to restore their lowered self-esteem. I do not want to deal with their insecurities right now, and, frankly, they could take the lot of us down if they were to do something while we are taking off or still low to the ground. I am feeling a touch nervous about that.

I walk inside with the Rottie in tow. He seems quite content to follow me and stays right at my heels. I will be interested to see how well he is trained as he seems to have had some. I ask Kathy if Little Robert would like to come up into the cockpit. She asks him and his eyes light up. Up the stairs and into the cockpit we all go. Bri turns and nearly comes out of her seat, even though she’s strapped in, when she sees my new companion. The new companion being the Rottweiler and not the young lad.

“Jesus, Dad!” She says in a loud, startled voice. “Where’d you get him?” Everyone else in the cockpit turns and has the same reaction.

“Found him along the way,” I say getting myself settled.

The Rottie, I’m going to have to think of name for him soon, sits down on the cockpit deck next to Bri. I introduce Little Robert around and set him on the bunk. I am not all that comfortable with him not being strapped in somewhere but there is going to be a bit of that going around now. I see Kathy standing at the bottom of the stairs and motion her in. Our little cockpit has become quite the hangout. She sits on the bunk alongside her son. This truly has the makings of either an airline disaster or some Mary Poppins type of movie — you know, the family all together on a trip. The family dog sitting by the throttle quadrant with the kids singing happily along. Okay, we need to get going before I truly lose the rest of my marbles.

“Would you like to take care of the dog for me as well?” I ask Little Robert.

His eyes shine brightly and soon he is busy petting the grateful canine; both becoming enthused with each other. I see the shock of the day disappearing from Little Robert’s eyes. Kids are amazingly resilient. Too bad we lose that capability somewhere along the way.

The startup goes without a hitch. I am really watching the instruments closely. We have travelled quite a distance without any maintenance and I do not know when the last maintenance was accomplished on this aircraft. I could check the maintenance logs but that was always Greek to me and I would not have much of an idea what they were saying. At least we will be over land if something happens. Much easier to find a field and put it down as opposed to trying to land in an ocean. The swells are the kicker. Oh, and one interesting point to the ‘ol Hercules, there is an almost zero chance of living through a water landing. Thus one of the little aspects I was nervous about with the crossing.

It is before noon when we take off, angling away from the base and airfield in case those “men” left on the ground try to do something to us in flight. We should still have enough time to get to the CDC, find what we need, and get back to the aircraft before dark. Climbing out and turning to the southwest, I see small cumulus clouds