With my light on, I creep down the hall. Adrenaline is already making its appearance again. My light shows the hallway ending in a door at the end with no light showing out from underneath. Drawing close to the thin, wooden door and with complete silence around me, I put my ear up against it. I hear a faint panting coming from within along with a now familiar shuffling-like noise. The shuffling sound stops and I flick the M-4 to burst mode. With my ear to the door, the shuffling changes to a sniffing sound.
A loud bang resounds as whatever is inside slams against the door, rocking my head off the door and ringing my ears. Fuck this!!! I think, recoiling backward and bringing my gun to bear. I fire a burst into the door noticing the rounds penetrate completely through. I fire two more bursts making sure the last burst centers on the door latch. I kick the door just beside the knob. The door flies inward before instantly rebounding back shut. I kick again and this time, the door flies all of the way open. My light picks up a creature staggering backward into the room. I fire a burst into the staggering thing propelling it even further backward, launching it off its feet to slam into steel shelves set against the walls. It slumps to the ground, sitting there momentarily before slumping sideways to the ground.
I quickly pan the rest of the room only to see another one launch at me from the back corner. Another quick burst into its chest and this one slides to the ground at my feet. A dark liquid begins gathering on the floor beneath; the flight suit it is wearing is shredded in the back and stained with fresh blood. My light flashes throughout the room but is now only met by cases sitting on the steel shelving around the room and the two bodies crumpled on the floor. Motherfuck this is getting old! I am getting really tired of this and it’s only been one day. Obviously populated areas are not the place to be.
With the smell of spent rounds strong in the air, I eject the magazine and replace it with a fresh one. I step into the room looking at the cases on the shelves. Markings on them indicate various regions. Now, that is a welcome sight, I think grabbing several cases and carrying them outside. I deposit the ones I need on the ramp, walk back into the lobby, grab some of the comfortable chairs, and drag them out onto the ramp. Lastly, I grab the large, round coffee table out and add it to the arrangement
Walking over to the 130, I find everyone gathered around the parked fuel truck. My watch reads 10:57 as I glance down at it. “Michelle and Nic, grab some packaged food from inside and meet us over in front of base ops,” I say above the sound of the running truck beside us.
I walk over to the fuselage and open the refueling point. After unwinding the fuel hose and connecting it to the aircraft, I put the truck into its PTO position and open the fuel lever, flipping the switches to the tanks at various intervals and fill them.
“Drive this back and meet us at the building,” I tell Robert after refueling. Bri and I walk to the outdoor seating area I have created. “I love you, sweetheart,” I tell her wrapping my right arm around her and giving her a hug. “I love you too, Dad,” she responds leaning into me.
Back in front of base ops, I take off the vest and set it beside a chair, sitting down as Robert, Michelle, and Nic arrive. “My guess is that we won’t be able to take off today, so we’ll flight plan, input the coordinates in the nav system, and hunker down in the aircraft for the night.”
Michelle and Nicole put packages of food on the table and we all dig in. I pull some of charts out and lay them on the table as I eat, marking routes and jotting down coordinates to input into the onboard navigation system. The only time I get up is to retrieve some rubber bands and sticky note markers so I can later quickly find various pages and approach charts.
The planned route takes us first to Naval Air Station Brunswick in Maine. The Coast Guard flies HC-130’s out of there so I know there should be plenty of fuel available. The route takes us basically along the US/Canadian border on a route of 075 degrees out of McChord. The first leg is about 2,500 miles and should take us a little over 6 ½ hours without any wind either helping or hindering us. From Brunswick, our next stop is the Azores, a flight of almost 2,400 miles and a little over 6 hours with a bearing of 085 degrees. Then the dicey hop from the Azores to Kuwait. That leg is about 4,200 miles leaving very little margin for error as our max range is about 5,000 miles. That will be the doozy taking almost 11 ½ hours to complete on a route of 075 degrees.
On our first two legs, we will lose three hours due to the time difference. The sun sets around 2030 so we will need to be off the ground by 1100 in order to make it there in daylight hours. Our last leg will cost us four hours so we need to be off from the Azores by 0500. Calculating the flight times and fuel, jotting down the coordinates, arranging the approach charts, marking the maps and putting them together has taken a little over an hour. Finishing the flight planning, I take the charts up to the cockpit, laying the ones for the first leg on the nav table and stowing the remaining bags under it. I sit and contemplate the options; leave now and try a night landing with night vision goggles thereby gaining a day but at substantially higher risk, or wait until morning.
I walk out of the aircraft and hear a noise that I have not heard in days; the sound of a vehicle and its noise shatters the stillness we have become accustomed to. It sounds as if it is coming from farther in the base. I look over at the kids and see they have all turned to look in the sound’s direction; Robert and Michelle stand alert and tense. The sound is nearing. I pick up the pace and trot over to our nice outdoor patio where I have left the M-4 sitting by my chair. I pick it up as a red car pulls out onto the ramp. It stops for a moment and then turns towards us, slowly approaching our position.
Stopping about thirty feet away, a man in his mid-twenties steps out, dressed in jeans and a blue Old Navy t-shirt. White tennis shoes poke out from the bottom of his jeans. Turning toward us, he is holding something and smiling from under his short, wavy brown hair.
“Lose something?” He calls, waving the wrench we threw overboard and walks over.
Setting the M-4 back down, I smile and take the wrench offered in his hand. “Yeah, we kinda dropped something back there,” I say nodding in the direction of the mall. “Much obliged to you for bringing it back.”
“You made a pretty big dent on that BMW. It’s pretty much scrap metal now. Impressive though,” he says smiling back.
“Did you hit a car with that?” Robert asks putting the current dialog and my previous ‘ouch’ comment together.
“Um, yeah, kinda,” I answer.
“I’m Jack,” I say reaching with my hand toward the young man.
“Andrew,” he says, shaking mine in return.
“Have you seen anyone else around?” I ask after introducing everyone else.
“I saw a couple of cars heading down my street yesterday and a few people in some windows but no one as yet today. Heard lots of those things screaming and hollering last night.”
“So, what’s your story Andrew?”
“Well, I’m a biology student up at ‘UW.’ At least I was until this whole thing started. I’ve been holed up in my apartment for the most part but ventured out to see if I could get some supplies then I saw you guys and your note, and, well, here I am. Are you in the Air Force?” He asks looking my flight suit up and down.