The sky promises another clear and brilliant blue day. That of course means another warm one. My eyes feel dry and gritty with the lack of sleep but we’ll hopefully be here only one more day. I feel so grungy but that isn’t an entirely new feeling, just one I didn’t really want to be having in my later years. During the wait, I let the ones who were held captive know about our place and that they are welcome to come with us. If they want to stay, we’ll make sure they get to where they want to go. Most take us up on our offer wanting to leave this place and the horrid recent memories. Some have family in the area and opt to stay. There are plenty of weapons inside and I offer up a team to escort them in when they arrive.
Greg radios and communicates with Horace as the sun rises to the top of the wall. They aren’t far away and arrive at the rear gate ten minutes later. We lift the big bar holding the gates shut and the teams drive in. Bri exits and runs over to give me a big hug.
“I’m so glad you made it, Dad,” she says.
“I’m glad to see you too, sweet Bri,” I reply. Robert strolls up shortly after.
“How was it?” He asks.
“It was okay,” I answer with a shrug. Yes, we do have that in common.
“Daaad,” I hear a shout and look up to see McCafferty running to the group of people gathered off to the side.
“Allie,” I hear her dad call back.
I give Horace a brief description of our encounter and the plan to take some of the others with. I ask Greg to take Echo Team in as an escort for the ones staying to gather up weapons if they want them. Some are reluctant to venture inside but he gathers a few and they disappear into the building, returning a while after. We gather the ones going with us, twenty-two in total, and start allocating pickups with drivers and riders.
“What about using one of the cargo trucks?” One of the soldiers from Blue team asks.
“That won’t work,” Robert answers. “We have to go around that one town and those cargo vehicles won’t make it through the fields.” It makes my heart proud to have him analyze this in that manner.
“Did they bother you this time through?” I ask.
“No, no sign of anyone, sir,” Horace answers.
McCafferty, the dirt on her face streaked by just wiped tears, walks over with her dad trailing just behind her.
“Sir, thank you,” she says.
“No worries at all. I’m just glad you found your dad,” I say. She continues standing looking a little uncomfortable. I tilt my head to the side inviting her to say whatever is making her uneasy.
“Sir, I know this isn’t really appropriate, but may I?” She asks with a quiver in her voice and holding her arms to the side. I’m confused by what she is asking but only for a second.
“Of course, I’m not a rabid dog,” I say shouldering my carbine.
McCafferty gives me a quick hug. “My mom didn’t make it but thank you for finding my dad, sir,” she whispers choking back a sob. I’m surprised the smell of my fatigues doesn’t make her pass out but she withdraws mostly intact. Her dad steps up. We introduce ourselves and he shakes mine and Greg’s hand.
“Thank you both so much. And thank you, Jack. For taking care of my precious Allie. I want to thank this Sergeant Connell as well when we get back. You have no idea how much this means to me,” he says.
“Sir, you have no idea how many times McCafferty here has pulled our bacon out of the fire so our making sure she’s happy and safe is more a matter of self-preservation,” I say. “You have quite the warrior here.”
We brief our order of travel and plans for the return trip. The ones staying say they can find their way so we leave them a couple of the trucks and depart. The drive back to Canon AFB is uneventful and we arrive with the sun overhead. Miguel and his group are waiting on the ramp standing around a myriad of vehicles.
The afternoon is spent searching for the ammo bunkers. We eventually find them located near the airfield itself but away from the base buildings — for obvious reasons. We transport crate after crate and load them into the AC-130. We have a lot of people and a lot of ammo to take so we opt to leave the Humvees here. The 130 can carry quite a lot of cargo but its capabilities aren’t endless. Besides, there are plenty of Humvees at Fort Lewis so they won’t be missed. The heat is no different from the other days and I’m thankful for the evening which brings cooler temperatures. We flight plan our return trip and plug the info into the flight computers. Robert will lead when we depart in the morning with me tagging along in an extended formation. I am absolutely exhausted by the time the sun touches the western horizon. I just hope we have a pleasant and uneventful flight back. I am so ready to be home. I think of Lynn and the longing becomes even more pronounced.
“I’ll be there tomorrow, hon,” I say into the sky as the sun drops below the horizon and we seal up for the night.
The night before, toward the end of the hunt, Michael felt a huge pull in the recesses of his mind. He was enjoying the thrill of being on the hunt; chasing down prey and running under the night sky. Even though that part of him was tucked away in the back of his mind, he felt a call of anguish and fear. Opening up, he searched and focused on the source of the pull.
Images of fear and frustration surfaced from a large pack, actually several packs co-located in one lair and unable to leave.
Trapped and hungry, they were close to succumbing. Michael knew he didn’t have the time to make it as they were a distance away. Instead, he sent the images of alternate food sources wrapped in the packages he’d found. He told them to hang on and he would be up the next night to help if he could. With that, he shut down and finished his hunt with the lightening of the sky chasing him back to his lair.
Tonight, Michael sets out immediately north to where the trapped packs are located. It will take some time and he may have to find another lair for the evening. It takes him over two hours to reach their location. He arrives tired from jogging this far but it’s really not much farther than what he usually travels on the nightly hunt. Finding that the large lair is encircled by a wall similar to the one at the two-legged lair, Michael sends images to the packs inside that he is there and trots around the entire circumference.
Close to the end of his trek around, he comes across one of the strange vehicles the two-legged ones use. It stretches high into the air a little away from the wall. He wants to see what is inside and scales the vehicle to get a better vantage point. On his perch, he sees over the top of the wall and looks into the compound. A large building stretches tall and covers a large area. Many of his kind are standing in the yard and in the parking lot looking in his direction.
They haven’t been able to get out and hunt. He feels their hunger; feels their fear and entrapment. He receives images of them being able to find some packages last night but those were far and few between. What they found kept them alive for another night but not much beyond that.
Michael searches the area for a way out but finds nothing that registers as a solution. One series of synapses fire and he wishes the vehicle he is on was on the other side of the wall. If it was, they might be able to leap the distance from it to the top of the wall. More synapses fire triggering a series of thoughts and ideas that flood his mind. A light flares in his brain and one of the thoughts locks into his head with an almost audible snap.
If they can build something on the other side, they might be able to scale the wall. Michael sends a flurry of images to the others in a simplistic form that they will be able to understand. The gist of which is to gather anything and everything they can find and start piling the objects against the wall; building it high enough so they can climb up and climb over. The packs turn and disappear inside. They return at intervals with chairs, tables, boxes, and a sundry of items. The pile of items quickly grows and eventually reaches the top, to the point where the packs can climb, scale over the top, and drop to the ground. They are free.