Lynn does a quick calculation in her head measuring the distance travelled with their ammunition expenditure. She knows it will be close but calculates that they will have enough ammo to continue making the leap frog maneuvering back to the aircraft.
The line in front of her rises quickly, turns and sprints through the line Lynn is kneeling with. She brings her M-4 to her shoulder and begins sending out her special message-grams; delivered on the tip of her 5.56mm, steel-jacketed delivery system. Aiming for upper body shots, her first round catches one of the night runners in mid-stride, hitting its neck just above the chest. The round tears through the cartilage, hits the spine and the juncture of C5 and 6 with tremendous force, and explodes out of the back after splintering, taking large amounts of tissue and bone with it. The head flops to the side, almost severed, and comes to rest on the shoulder before it flops backwards as the night runner falls forward, hitting the ground. Its head then slings forward and separates from the body with the force of the impact.
Lynn only sees her target begin to drop before quickly aligning her sight with the next, that one spinning to its left as the bullet, fired almost immediately after the first, strikes it in the upper chest, the round splintering on impact with a rib and ripping through the lungs and heart; grabbing handfuls of tissue and severing veins and arteries on its passage through. Ten more fall, spin or are knocked backward from her rapid but carefully delivered fire before she yells “Go!” and runs through the line behind her. They are making progress and able to control the situation so far. Another muffled explosion reaches her ears off to the side; heard above the sound of her boots pounding on the pavement with the other three beside her, along with the sound of the opening rounds from the soldiers she just passed through.
“How are you doing Jack?” Lynn calls as she heads towards the rear.
“Little busy right now,” he responds after a pause.
They make their way back close to the tarmac thirty feet at a time. In what seems like hours, a roadway to the ramp opens behind them. They have dropped hundreds of night runners, the bodies littering the road and marking the path of their retreat. Many other night runners joined the initial mass on their march back but their numbers have dwindled substantially. Lynn passes through the line for the seemingly thousandth time, passing Drescoll along the way.
“Heard from Jack lately?” Drescoll yells above the tremendous noise from the volleys of gunfire surrounding them.
“Not a word for some time,” Lynn answers, slowing slightly with her lips tightened with worry.
“Robert, this is Lynn,” she calls on the radio after taking her station at the rear of the formation.
“This is Robert,” she hears after a slight pause.
“Open up the ramp, we’re coming in,” she says further.
“Okay, it’s opening now,” Robert says.
“Be ready to close it as soon as we’re in,” she says.
“We’re ready.”
“All those not on the line, ready a grenade and toss it in front of the night runners on my command. Run for the rear of the aircraft immediately after,” Lynn bellows, her voice heard above the deafening noise of gunfire and howls.
“Now!” She yells after a moment to give the soldiers nearby time to pluck grenades from their vests and pull the pins.
The last of their grenades arc through the air and land on the pavement in front of the oncoming mass of night runners. Lynn and the soldiers turn and run with everything they have left across the tarmac for the lowering ramp of the 130. The sound of their boots, the clink of slings banging against the stock and rails of their M-4’s, and the heavy breathing of those next to them reach their ears in their flight across the concrete. Seconds later, a series of explosions to their rear drowns all other noise momentarily. The sound of boots on concrete is replaced by the sound of boots on metal as they reach and run up the ramp into the interior.
Lynn runs past Nicole who is standing at the rear of the ramp near the controls. Nicole starts the ramp up as soon as the last of the soldiers have reached the bottom of it. Lynn turns at the top, seeing a much diminished horde of night runners rocketing across the ramp in their direction. The ramp begins its upward travel but is moving in slow motion as compared to the closure rate of the night runners.
“Teams, open fire!” She bellows, her shout heard above the shrieks of the closing mass.
Gunshots echo in the metallic interior and across the ramp as rounds are expelled outward, dropping more of the night runners in their tracks until the ramp raises to a level that they cannot fire anymore. The outside tarmac slowly disappears as the ramp continues upward. A sliver of the outside visible through the greenish glow of their NVG’s, almost there, as a set of hands grasp the outer edge; the fingers gripping the ramp as it rises ever upwards. A scream is heard outside as the ramp closes and seals. Fingers roll down to Lynn’s boots as they are severed by the hydraulically-actuated ramp closing.
Thumps against the side of the aircraft, accompanied by muted shrieks, demonstrate the frustration of the night runners outside. Howling at the closeness of their prey and the frustration of not being able to get at them. Lynn turns and races up to the cockpit. Climbing the stairs, confusion crosses her face as she enters and looks around. Robert is sitting in the co-pilot seat, his helmet sitting loosely on his head so he can hear both radios; Brianna is camped in her usual location in the engineer seat.
“Where’s Jack?” Lynn asks continuing to look around the cockpit as if he could be hiding behind any of the objects or panels. She almost looks under the bunk to see where he is hiding.
“What do you mean?” Robert asks.
“You mean he isn’t with you?” Bri asks worriedly.
“No, but he should have been here by now,” Lynn responds, her look now changing to worry.
“Jack, where are you?” Lynn says into her mic. Silence is the only return over the radio.
Robert looks out of the side window into the darkness that is the ramp around them. Thumps continue along the aircraft as the night runners attempt to find entrance. He lowers the night vision goggles and returns his look outside. Night runners surround the aircraft; some look up and jostle from position to position while others take runs at the aircraft, each run terminating with a thump against the 130.
“How is he going to get through that?” Robert asks in a worried and fearful tone as he continues to stare outside.
Lynn crosses the flight deck to look out the same window over Robert’s shoulder and then moves to look out the opposite window, seeing the same picture. Night runners surround the aircraft.
“Can we start the engines and do like we did in Kuwait? Blow them away from us?” Lynn asks looking at Robert over her shoulder.
“We could,” he says turning to look at her. “But he won’t be able to get in the side door with the engines running and the ramp is too slow considering how many are out there.”
“Good point. Then I don’t know. I’ll go brief the teams to rearm and be ready,” Lynn says disappearing down the stairs.
She heads down to get the teams ready. Ready to exit and take on all of the night runners if need be.
I turn and run, glancing back over my shoulder to verify that I have drawn off a large portion of the night runners as my feet obey my mind and pick up speed. The quick glance verifies that, yep, I indeed have. My feet respond to the sight, picking up even more speed. I exit the parking lot and cross a main road with the sound of shrieking behind me. My initial burst of speed was to gain a little distance as the night runners changed directions but I now settle into a ground eating pace. Sustainable so as to not wear me out instantly but quick enough that the night runners will not be on me immediately. That would kind of defeat the purpose of luring them away.
I head between two buildings, which are rather close together, not worrying about any fencing as there is very little of that on bases for some reason. It would be bad news indeed if I did happen to run up against something like that as the night runners can surmount that obstacle faster than I. Another quick glance behind and I see a mass of them closing. I pull a grenade from the hook on my tac vest, straighten and pull the pin with my teeth as I run, carrying my M-4 in my right hand, and drop it on the ground just before exiting out from between the buildings. I turn to the right down a side street, stopping and turning around just as the grenade goes off. The
