and mutilating all of the gristle and cartilage; destroying its capability of breathing.
I scramble to my feet, pick up my weapon lying on the tarmac nearby, and run up the stairs with a multitude of night runners close behind streaking toward me.
“Shut the door! Quick!” I say reaching the top and leaning over with my hands on my knees, panting heavily.
The door closes behind me, the shrieks and howls, once sharp in the night air, become muffled as the handle is turned, sealing the door and aircraft to the nighttime world outside. I try to catch my breath, bent over with my hands on my knees, marveling at the close calls of the night. I guess marveling is not the right word but amazed I made it through.
“Everyone make it back?” I ask once I gather a bit of breath.
“We did,” Lynn answers with her hand on my back.
“Good. What do you say we get ready and get this beast airborne?” I ask standing.
I turn off my NVG’s and take them off to find the cargo compartment darkened, lit only by the reflected glow of the stars illuminating the outside ramp. Sergeant Mullins stands in the gray gloom behind Lynn.
“Thank you both so much,” he says with a weary but relieved tone.
“Glad to help and have you aboard,” I say shaking hands with him.
“What’s an Army unit doing here on an Air Force base? How did you get here?” I ask.
“We’re part of the security detachment for NORAD facility. We headed down here when everything hit the fan figuring any help would arrive at an airfield. We’ve been holding out in the BX since arriving. We found a radio in the control tower yesterday and have been broadcasting on the hour ever since,” Mullins replies.
“And the NORAD facility?” I ask.
“Gone. Completely overrun with those things,” he answers sweeping his hand indicating the night runners outside.
“Why don’t you and Lynn here sit down and you can brief her? Lynn, will you catch him up to speed and brief him on our organization? Introduce them and organize them into squads as you see fit,” I say.
“Will do,” Lynn responds.
“In the meantime, let’s get this bucket of bolts off the ground and head home.”
I climb into the cockpit only to be immediately swept up as Bri and Nic throw their arms around me. Robert looks over from the right seat and nods in both welcome and relief.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Bri says with her face pressed against the left side of my chest.
“Glad you’re back, Dad,” Nic says looking up into my eyes in the gloomy shadows of the cockpit. “I was so scared and worried.”
I stand there hugging them close for a few moments longer before releasing them. Mike is sitting on the deck with what’s left of his tail swishing lightly across the steel. It looks more like he is trying to polish the floor with his rear end.
“Let’s be on our way shall we?” I say heading toward my dreaded left seat but also thankful for the ability to sit down; thankful for even having the chance to sit in that tiresome seat. I am feeling completely, and utterly exhausted.
“Are you okay?” Robert asks as I plug in.
“I’m good,” I say in response.
“Good,” he says. That is his way of saying he is thankful I am back safely and that he was worried.
The muffled thumps persist against the aircraft as we go through the checklists. Those thumps diminish substantially as the first inboard engine starts and the prop begins to turn, tailing off completely as we crank up the others. I verify our GPS coordinates in the nav computer and input the original coordinates for McChord, programming a route home. We taxi out as the moon rises from the east, bathing the vast areas of concrete, grass and dirt in its silvery glow.
The runway, lit by our powerful landing and taxi lights, rushes by in the night as we race down it with the twinkling stars above us, inviting us to join them and welcoming us as our wheels leave the ground, leaving this now desolate, high altitude base behind. We climb into the thin air, struggling for altitude, circling around until we reach flight level 250 (25,000 feet). I want the higher altitude for the mountain crossing. Our cargo compartment is now filled to almost standing room only and we are fortunate that our fuel weight is down somewhat from our trip across the country from Atlanta. Leveling off, we start our last leg home, hopefully. A little over four hours and we will land to begin the next phase of our survival.
We transit over the moonlit snowcaps of the Rocky Mountains stretching upward as if trying to reach out to us as we glide over their pristine wilderness. Each peak and subsequent valley slides below our wing and behind us as we drone to the west and north. Yellowstone passes by off our right wing, no longer inhabited by the summer crowds flocking to see its wonders. The bison and wildlife left to their own without the constant transit of cars and gawkers; the geysers erupting without anyone to marvel in their glory.
The westward side of the great mountain range falls off only to be replaced by the rocky and hilly wilderness of Idaho. The distinctness of the hills and forests lost and replaced by the silver light of the moon shining on the tops of trees and hillsides with the dark shadows of valleys gliding by far below us.
We are still about two hours away when I glance down at the instruments and notice that the turbine inlet temperature gauge on number three engine — the inboard one on the right side — has crept up. Still within limits but each time I look at it, which is about every four seconds, it has climbed slightly higher.
“See that,” I point out the instrument to Robert.
“Yeah,” he says with a bit of worry edging into his voice.
“It’s still within limits but creeping up. Open up your checklist to the turbine overheat section and mark the engine shutdown checklist for quick reference,” I say tapping on the gauge. This is an old aircraft and sometimes the needles can get stuck or move on their own. Rare but I have seen it happen before.
“Are we going to have to shut down the engine?” He asks turning up his map light and thumbing through the checklist strapped to his leg.
“I hope not,” I say opening my own checklist.
“Bri, be ready to shut off the fuel to number three engine when I say so,” I add looking at the fire/overheat indicators on the T-handles centered above us. The red lights within each of them remain dark and unlit.
“Okay, Dad,” she says turning her own light on the fuel system panel. I turn the instrument rheostat up so we can see the indications better.
The turbine inlet continues to rise, approaching the upper limit. I retard the throttle back slightly toward idle, watching the gauge needle fall back and feel the nose want to slide to the right as the thrust on that side is reduced, only to slide back as the autopilot makes its correction to bring the aircraft back to its course. I push the throttle for the outboard engine on that side up to compensate for the nose drift bringing the wings back to level. I reach over and switch the autopilot off to fly manually so I can feel the aircraft.
I descend down to flight level 200 in order to give the propellers more air to bite into. The temperature gauge continues to climb with me pulling the throttle back a little further each time the needle approaches the upper limit, additionally moving the number four engine throttle up an equal amount.
“Why don’t we just shut it down?” Robert asks watching my actions.
“Because I want to keep the engine operational as long as I can. The thrust will help us and every minute we can fly at a higher airspeed gets us closer to McChord. And, I don’t want to find a closer airfield to set it down as once we’re down, we’re stuck there,” I answer.
“Nic, will you go get Lynn please? Robert, go back and take a look out of the window at the engine to see if you can see anything. Look for anything streaming out,” I add turning on the wing light so he can see outside a little better.
“What’s up?” Lynn asks as she arrives behind me.
“It looks like we may be losing an engine,” I answer her. “It shouldn’t be anything to worry about.”
“We can still fly right? Will we have to set it down?” She asks yelling in my right ear through the helmet.
“We should be okay. We can fly on three engines without too much difficulty. I plan to continue on to McChord as we’ll be stuck wherever we land,” I respond.
She nods and sits on the lower bunk next to our other passengers already seated there. Robert returns a
