Return

hunters and killing machines. I hear faint footsteps on flight of stairs coming up followed shortly thereafter by Lynn lifting the cover and sliding in next to me.

“Watch schedules set?” I ask.

“Yeah, we’re good,” she answers.

“Goodnight, hon. I love you,” I say in a tired whisper.

“I love you too,” she says quietly.

My thoughts drift dreamily toward tomorrow, shifting randomly from thought to thought without any sticking around for any length of time. Outside, faint shrieks drift into the cockpit from time to time from night runners on the prowl. Some close and others farther away; echoing forlornly in the night. Moonlight is filtering into the cockpit bathing the pilot seats, instrument panel and center console with a silver glow and casting the rest of the interior in darker shadows. This scene is the last to filter into my semi-conscious mind before I fall into the oblivion of sleep.

I wake with a start in the morning from a deep, dream-filled sleep. Early morning sunlight replaces the moonlight from the night before. The dreams of the night, of being chased while seeking desperately for something intangible, fade quickly from my mind. The images clear on first awakening but become muddled and indistinct as I try to relive them, finally fading into the distant recesses of my mind. The shadow of a bird flying close to one of the cockpit windows flits rapidly across the interior giving me a start before the bird materializes in the windshield, darting from side to side as it flies away from us on its mission to catch its breakfast and no doubt glad to have survived the night. The glow from the sun, just rising above the horizon, catches its back and wings with each turn.

Lynn stirs beside, sensing either my waking or the sun rising as we adjust to the cycle of the sun. Perhaps this is the way it’s supposed to be, I think lying here wrapped in my thoughts. We are creatures of the day so our normal body rhythms should be in synch with the sun’s cycle.

“Morning, babe,” I say lazily not wanting to get up.

“Morning, hon,” Lynn says stretching and rolling over to give me a kiss. “You’ve got to do something about your new four-legged friend. He woke me up twice licking my face.”

“Lucky dog,” I respond.

Lynn gets up slowly, sitting on the edge of the bunk as she puts on her boots. She rises with a sigh to go wake everyone else. I feel like I could just lay here and sleep the day away. Feeling both exhausted and not wanting to really face another tension-filled day. Wishing I could just laze the day away reading or putting my kayak out on the waters as in the days before this virus hit. Well, the virus and vaccine that is. Wanting a day of rest from the constant tension, strain, and lack of sleep that the past days have brought. Knowing there will be no sanctuary from the constant peril until we get home and build one. Then, maybe, a little reprieve can be had. But that is a long ways away, I think rising in the same slow manner as Lynn. Robert appears in the cockpit shortly thereafter, followed by Bri, Michelle and Nic, all looking disheveled and tired.

“Good morning,” I say as they enter, looking up at them wearily and wondering if my eyes show the same tiredness they seem to feel and that they each present.

I am greeted by either a tired ‘good morning’ or a grunt from each. Rising from the bunk and doing my own stretching to align my sore muscles, I amble over to the pilot seat. My rear end is sore and rebelling against the idea of sitting down there once again. The one good thing is that my head has stopped feeling the slight ache inside and has adjusted to the lack of its morning caffeine fix. Sitting, well, rather more of a slumping, down into the seat, I see Nic and Michelle start to head towards the stairs.

“We’ll just start on battery with this one,” I say knowing they were heading to get the start cart out and ready. They turn and settle into their seats without a word.

Letting everyone know we are ready to go and giving them a chance to settle in as best they can, considering the crowded nature of the aircraft, we start up and take off into the morning sky, climbing into the morning and leveling off at a low altitude. The sun is glaring directly in front of us, having only just crested above the horizon. We make our way across the short distance to the other airfield in the east. Landing on the now familiar runway, and taxiing in to a stop adjacent to the pickup trucks we left parked there the evening prior, I shut down the aircraft.

Passing through the aircraft, I ask Lynn to send a detail out to find dry wood in varying thicknesses in order to be able to build a fire. I also ask them to bring back live wood with lots of green leaves and such still attached. They head out on foot, venturing through the open gate and into the neighborhood beyond.

I notice the ripe aroma emanating from my flight suit offending not only myself but I am sure those around. I reach into my bag to remove a fresh one, noticing my cell phone lying within. Hmmmm, I think retrieving it and wondering if it still works but knowing the likelihood and odds of that are slim to none. Nonetheless, I bring it with me, sticking it in one of my upper pockets after changing into a fresh flight suit and contemplate burning the one I just changed out of; completely amazed it doesn’t stand on its own, run away or start beating me for the way I treated it.

I see Kathy, Little Robert, and Kenneth standing off to one side looking a little lost. I feel a little lost as to what to do with them as well. Not in regards as what to do with them overall as they are a part of us now, but more of how to incorporate them. We are basically integrated into fire teams and our business lately has largely been fighting to survive. They are the first of hopefully many we will find alive. I am sure they will find it easier to integrate once we get back.

I find a similar circumstance and feeling with Frank and Bannerman. Although ‘former’ military men, they are not involved tremendously in any of the operations. Bannerman has the logistics end so is keeping moderately busy with our supplies and formulating plans for when we arrive back. Frank will be busy as well once we arrive back as he will be working alongside Bannerman in the Intel role. Plus, if we do find any information today, he will be busy pouring through them to help formulate our tactics. They are all basically passengers, as we all really are, until we arrive back at McChord. These feelings and thoughts occupy my mind for a moment as I pass through the cargo compartment.

Out on the tarmac, the day promises to be another warm, humid day even at this early morning hour. I begin to gather my tools of trade together with my new canine friend quietly following me around or at my side. The others leave me to myself, sensing my want and need to be alone to focus on my adventure to come. I want this time in order to settle into a frame of mind. Each mag I insert into my tac vest puts me deeper into my ‘business’ mindset, reminiscent of so many other pre-mission moments of gearing up, both physically and mentally. Setting my mind into the single focus of the mission yet opening at the same time. Expanding my senses of awareness but filtering and refining that awareness down to intercept signals of danger. Becoming more aware of my actions and the sounds, smells, and movement around me.

As the last mag is inserted and checked for rounds, I begin the process of taping loose items down, hopping intermittently to test for any slight sound coming from me; finding items that make the slightest noise and taping them into quietness. The rope I coil and also tape down, looping it over my head and under one arm, ensuring it doesn’t interfere with the ability to freely move. Ensuring also that it doesn’t interfere with my ability to grab magazines or get to the radio transmit button. I also gather lengths of 550 cord. A very thin, lightweight cord that has incredible strength. The same kind as is used for parachute cords. Stepping away from the aircraft and making sure no one is in my line of fire, I test fire my M-4, both on semi and burst, emptying the chamber to ensure it will work properly in the event I need it, and refill the spent rounds. There is nothing worse than having something that should function automatically fail at a moment when you need it most. It tends to drastically reduce your options in that moment. Basically reducing them to run and run fast.

Lastly, I insert the radio earpiece, feeling myself slip into total awareness and calm. Confidence solidifying inside. Emotion has taken a back seat. The only sound on the ramp is from a few others getting something to eat from our supplies. A small morning breeze springs up, gently blowing across the ramp, moving a few scraps of paper in fits and starts along with it. Instead of the fresh morning breeze and scent of summer it should be carrying, it brings a hint of something rotting in its midst, souring the otherwise peaceful morning with the scent of human decay. That smell jostles me momentarily out of my frame of mind, worrying me about what else may be carried on that slight movement of air. The diseases that will be rampant with the decaying of so many bodies. Wondering, with a little bit of hope, if disease will affect the night runners as well. Will they know it from an instinctual aspect and move out of the cities and the once dense population centers? Will it kill some of