to take the antibiotics every hour for the next few hours and then they’ll determine what quantity is needed.
“Don’t worry Nicole, we’ll take care of you and you’ll be okay,” he says putting his hand on Nic’s head to which she smiles.
“And, Nicole,” he adds, “thanks. You saved my life.”
We level off at 500 feet wanting to fly back at low level. It’s not a far flight back so there’s no sense in climbing high or conserving fuel. Plus, there’s an opportunity to teach some low level flying to Robert. Not that he’ll probably ever need it, but you never know and the opportunity exists to teach it so what the hell.
“It’s yours,” I say handing the aircraft off to Robert. “Just use I-5 as your reference and fly along it.”
I look back to see the incredulous looks from Kelly, Brian, and Jessica as they watch Bri handle the fuel and electrical systems and Robert fly without a hitch. Yes, we’ve come a long way in a short time. I know they’re watching two different people than they knew years ago. Robert takes the controls and makes a small turn to bring the Interstate up on his side. I am feeling a little lighter in one way having finished our little side venture but also have an underlying feeling of dread I can’t explain. Maybe it’s just nervousness with all that we have ahead of us.
The countryside slides beneath our wings as we drone northward. We pass over several small towns that dot the highway. A few columns of smoke drift upward from small fires either in the towns themselves or in the outlying areas. It doesn’t look any different than when I skirted small towns in times past with the exception that there isn’t anyone gazing skyward with our passage. The surreal ghost town feel accompanies each town we pass. The streets and parking lots, bathed in the late morning sunshine, stand empty of people. It’s so eerie looking down at a place where there should be cars moving along the streets or people going in and out of the stores but see only an emptiness. The sights make me feel a little empty inside as well. Perhaps it’s the energy of the people that used to inhabit these places that’s missing. We drone further north leaving one such small town in our wake.
We come up on Olympia with the waters of Puget Sound opening up to our left. I am eager to be back to see how the others are and begin setting up our new place; hoping that the evening went well for them and they are safe. The little boy in me however keeps glancing off to the waters sparkling under the sun; the small waves reflecting back the sunlight bouncing off their tops like glittering diamonds. The little boy in me wins out over the eagerness to be back with the group. After all, this may be the last time we get to or need to fly.
“I’ve got the aircraft,” I say.
“I can land it,” Robert shouts back obviously enjoying his flying and maybe feeling the same as me; that this could be our last time.
“I know but we’re going to take a small detour,” I shout back.
I bank the aircraft to the left and, once the waters of the harbor appear under our nose, drop the aircraft down until we’re just barely over the water. The Puget Sound shoots under our nose as I move the throttle up a little more. The memories come back of similar adventures under slightly different circumstances; mostly penetrating under radar. The thrill of flying so close to the ground, or water in this case, comes back. I always loved flying low level and I mean really low level. I remember taking jets up through the canyons of northwest Texas. Oh the fun!
We turn and follow the waterway up through the narrow passages. The tree-clad islands flash by our windows, their tops often above the horizon from us. I look over at Robert to see a big grin plastered on his face. Bri is grinning as well but I also notice she has her legs raised slightly as if to avoid scraping her feet on the water below us. Lynn has a smile on her face knowing the little kid within me is having fun. The others have wide open eyes as if they’re not enjoying this as much and instead see their imminent death.
“Okay, we’ve had our fun. We should head back. But there’s one other thing you should see and experience,” I say bringing the throttles back and slowing.
“Robert, lower the ramp,” I add once we’re below the safe operating speed for it.
“Okay,” he says with his grin getting even larger as if he’s guessed what I intend.
“Go take a look out back if you want but make sure you’re secured by the safety straps,” I shout over the roar from the engines. Robert, Bri, and Lynn unbuckle and begin heading to the back. Kelly, Brian, and Jessica all remain seated.
“You don’t want to go see?” I shout. All three shake their heads.
“Your loss,” I say in response to the negative answers.
Robert heads down the cockpit stairs eager with anticipation but with a touch of nervousness as well. The roar is louder in the cargo compartment with the ramp open. The view of the water rushing by the open ramp door causes a jolt of adrenaline. Lynn, Bri, and him find the crew chief safety straps and attach them before stepping out onto the open ramp. The water is rushing by and he feels as if he can reach a hand out and touch it; the tops of the small waves only feet below him. He looks up and the sight of the water scooting by only feet below him is dampened by the sight further behind the aircraft. The big-bladed propellers, themselves only a few feet over the water, are taking big bites out of the air and sending huge rooster tails of water into the air behind them. The sight of anything else behind them is lost by the immense amounts of water being launched skyward. He is mesmerized and feels like he could stand here forever; just watching the phenomenon unfolding. Knowing he can’t and that they need to get on with their day, he turns and walks back to the cockpit with Lynn and Bri in tow.
“That was intense,” Robert shouts settling into his seat once again.
“I know right!?” I shout in return. It’s a good feeling seeing the smiles inside the cockpit knowing we can still eke a measure of enjoyment out of our situation.
“Do you want to go in back?” Robert asks.
“No, I’m good. Seen it a few times,” I answer. Truth is, I would love to go witness it once again but any deviation from our course this low, even a slight one, would make a big splash and not in a good way. I’m just happy they could see such a sight.
The sound widens out and I push the throttles up, after closing the ramp, bringing the aircraft up in a climbing turn; the climb necessary to give us wingtip clearance for the turn to reverse our direction. We are about adjacent to McChord but I want to do a fly over Cabela’s to let everyone know we’re back. I bring the aircraft back down to our previous level and let Robert fly some of the way back with my hands hovering over the controls.
Reaching our entry point, Robert climbs out of the Puget Sound and picks up I-5 once again. The green roof of Cabela’s flashes by as we buzz the building letting the folks we left behind know we’re back. The now-empty transport vehicles and Humvees are parked in a line in the parking lot closest to the building. Several black-clad people look up as we pass overhead; shading their eyes from the glare of the sun as we zoom past. The only sign of life we’ve seen on our short journey back. The sight of them below us gives me a measure of relief knowing they’re okay. With the airfield just ahead of us, Robert goes through the checklist and sets us up for a landing. He has come a long ways with his flying and has become a competent pilot. I guess stress and extreme situations allows us to become proficient at a quickened rate.
The landing is neither his worst nor his best. It’s just a landing and we pull adjacent to our previous sanctuary, parking close by to give it some company in its retirement. Who knows if we’ll need to use this aircraft again but it is nice knowing it’s available if we do. I imagine several scenarios in the future where we could use a working 130 to find other survivors but for now, we need to see to ourselves.
The Humvee is carefully offloaded and we begin our drive back. The sun has passed its zenith as we maneuver through the dead base and out of the gate. The smiles that were prevalent a short time ago are replaced by looks of determination and seriousness as we re-enter our survival situation in earnest.
“Are we going to get Carrie now?” Kelly asks from the back.
“Yes, we’ll take a team and go look for her once we get back,” I reply.
“Why not now?” She asks with a touch of impatience. I certainly understand her eagerness and I know I would be feeling the same if it were my child.
“Because we’ll have more people to look for her and for safety,” I answer. “We’ll leave as soon as we can once we get back.” I know this isn’t the answer she wants but she remains silent for the rest of our drive.
I’m exhausted once again from a very sleepless night as we crest the hill to Cabela’s and park next to the line of vehicles. We have a number of hours before night hits once again but not enough to begin the process of
