the intermediate landing. The horde tramples over the bodies in their desperation to get to her. One of them is down for good, its chest riddled, and the others that tripped are out for the count. The first floor landing is empty with the exception of two soldiers in the hallway waiting for her; one holding the doorway and the other on his knees, weapon pointed at an angle down in front of him but in a position ready to raise it should he need.
Tearing out of the door with the mass of night runners closing, Lynn darts to the left heading for the safety of the sunlit lobby. She sees a line of soldiers facing her and the hallway she is heading down. Running across the glass shards littered on the ground, scattering some across the tiles, she raises the goggles and turns to face the night runners she imagines are fast on her heels.
She spins around dropping to her knees, ready to both fire and retreat further if necessary. The door to the stairwell is closing slowly, slowed by the pneumatic lever. Nothing enters the hallway. The door is about to shut when a massive shriek sounds out, muffled by the closing door but reverberates down the hallway. Click. The door closes. The last tinkling of glass kicked across the lobby from their quick exit comes to a halt. Silence ensues. The only noise is her heavy breathing and that of the soldiers lined up next to her. Breathing hard from the adrenaline and fast run down the stairs. Adrenaline though still courses through her but slows as her body and senses recognize the danger receding. She checks her watch — 18:27. They were in for a little over an hour. The time seeming both longer and shorter.
“Everyone alright?” Lynn asks glancing from one soldier to another. Each one does the quick pat down and nods that they are fine.
“Let’s head outside and head back to the airfield,” she says in a deflated tone and feeling bad that they did not find what they came for.
Walking out of the open entrance door, Lynn hears the drone of an aircraft overhead. Looking up, she sees the 130 in a shallow left turn a short distance to the west, passing over the sun sinking close to treetop level.
“We’re out, Jack,” she calls over the radio.
“You okay?” She hears him ask.
“Yeah, we’re good,” she answers knowing he is asking about her personally and the group. “We’ll meet you back at the airfield.”
“Okay, see you there,” he says.
She watches the aircraft reverse its bank and heads back north towards the airfield, its gear dropping shortly thereafter as it begins a slow descent. Walking slowly to the lead pickup, the sweat not drying from her fatigues due to the still humid air, she sighs with both frustration and exhaustion. The tension slowly leaves her body and she wants nothing more than to lay down in peace.
The CDC campus appears promptly off our nose, the buildings rising high into the air. I do a quick flyby looking for a spot to land if needed. I only need a little distance but the problem will be width. It is certainly not going to help anyone if I manage to clip the wings off. That would make it very difficult to get aloft again. Well, plus the massive explosion that would most likely ensue. Confident that I can set it down on the main road, I bring the aircraft around to circle the campus area in a shallow bank, not sure of which building they are in.
Several vehicles are parked here and there but I don’t see the pickups Lynn and her group were riding in earlier.
“Lynn, this is Jack. I’m overhead with three teams. Need any help? I think I can set down on the main road,” I say keying the mic.
“I think we have it but standby,” I hear Lynn respond.
I continue my slow circle, anxious with not knowing what is going on inside but knowing something big is going down from the previous calls over the radio. Worried that my plan to gather information may result in casualties or, the spirits forbid, something happening to Lynn. I know how she cares for the troops under her and the risks she will take for their well-being. Knowing she will be in the thick of whatever is going on.
“Dad,” Bri calls over the intercom.
“Yeah,” I say looking back over my shoulder at her.
She is leaning upward tapping the fuel indicator, the tap asking if we have enough fuel to get back to McChord. She is a quick learner and knows how much fuel we burn over time. Our total fuel weight indicator is almost down to the half way mark. Our flight down from Brunswick and the subsequent flight training has taken its toll on our fuel. I knew we would burn a bit of fuel doing the touch and go’s but felt it important to have someone else able to get everyone home in case something happened to me. Sure would hate to go to that big sleep at the end knowing I left people stranded.
“Thanks Bri. We’ll do a flight plan check when we get back to the airfield,” I say acknowledging her tapping finger. She is doing her job well and flawlessly.
I want to ask for a situation report but know that I would only be interfering. The lack of radio calls increases my anxiety and I want to set it down to disembark and help. There is not much room width-wise on the road so the risk is great, really only something to do in an emergency and if requested. We are here if Lynn needs us but that does not ease my anxious feeling. She can handle it and will call for assistance if she needs, her not being one to do the ‘I can handle it on my own’ business if it truly gets messy and help is needed. Flying to the west once again, I start to see soldiers exiting the building to my left and below. I count them as they exit and the numbers equal the amount that went in.
“We’re out Jack,” I hear Lynn call over the radio, seeing her on the ground with her hand to her shoulder pressing the transmit button.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, we’re good,” she answers. “We’ll meet you back at the airfield.”
“Okay, see you there,” I say turning the aircraft around and heading back.
The turn places us almost on a direct, long final with the runway. We are already to set up for a landing, my having gone through the pre-landing checks ready to plop it down on the road with a moment’s notice.
“You take this one in,” I say to Robert and pass control of the aircraft to him. Nothing like giving someone the aircraft on final and saying ‘go’ to see if they have a handle on landing.
He starts a little behind the aircraft but quickly catches up and we touch down just a little long but still one of his better ones. We taxi in and shut down, letting the others out while I sit and go through the charts with Bri and Robert, figuring our fuel requirements for the flight back. We will need some but herein lays my quandary. This is a civilian field with only civilian aviation fuel. The fuel differs slightly in content with military fuels in that the civilian ones have additives to prevent fires and explosions. We can use it but only for a one-flight scenario. The civilian fuels tend to burn hotter in military jet engines requiring maintenance at the end of the flight. Adding that into our fuel tanks will effectively ground our aircraft on arrival. Not a big deal given that this will be our last hop but it sure is handy having this aircraft available due to its range.
I sit thinking about our alternatives. We could fly to a nearby military base to fuel up, fly back to Brunswick, which I almost immediately discard as I do not want to run into the marauders we let loose, or fuel up here. Pulling out the charts, I find Dobbins Air Force Base a scant fifteen miles to the east.
“Okay, that’s our plan then,” I say absentmindedly.
“What is?” Both Robert and Bri ask in at the same time.
“Dobbins Air Force Base is about fifteen miles east of here. We’ll do a quick hop over there for fuel and come back. We should have enough daylight left for that,” I answer looking out the side cockpit window at the sun sitting lower in the sky, early evening setting in.
“What do you mean come back?” Bri asks. “Aren’t we supposed to leave tonight?”
“Let’s wait until Lynn and the others get back before making any decisions,” I say getting up and walking outside to wait for Lynn’s arrival.
The wait is not long. I just step outside in the cooling air of the coming evening when I hear vehicles along the road adjacent to the airport. The pickups come into view shortly thereafter and make their way through the gate and onto the ramp, stopping a short distance away from the aircraft. The day is cooling down with the lowering of the sun. It is still humid, but cooler. Eighteen weary souls emerge from the cabs and beds of the
