Racing through the closing door, she turns in a narrow hallway close on the heels of the two-legged one. She sees it crash into one of the side walls and falter. She is now right behind it. A few more steps and the feeding will commence. The chase and thrill fills her and she hungers for that first bite. Her mind registers the thuds of the others of her kind hitting the door as they enter the hall. She reaches out and catches hold of the shirt that is barely clinging to its body. Remembering another time when she brushed the shirt of another fleeing two-legged one, brushing but not catching hold, she clenches her hand on the shirt and doesn’t let go. That one a while ago managed to get away and escape. This one will not.
The two-legged one screams as she jerks back and it loses its balance, falling to the soft flooring below. She immediately falls upon it, biting and tearing at the tender skin. Blood flows from the wounds she creates, its sweet smell permeating the air. The two-legged one is screaming beneath her heightening the thrill of the feeding. She shrieks loudly with pleasure and leans over, sinking her teeth into the soft neck. Twisting her head violently, warm blood spurts out from the wound coating her with its stickiness. The one below her goes limp and the spraying blood slows to a trickle.
Shrieking once again, she lowers her head to feed as the rest of the body is covered with other pack members. They claw at the body seeking to get their fill. The clothing is shredded away exposing the delicious meat underneath. Mouths and hands attack and soon a sickly sweet smell pervades the air as the insides are laid bare. She goes for the tender parts of the face tearing strips of flesh from the cheeks. Her exhaustion is forgotten as she and the others feed until only a few strips of flesh, tendon, and hair remain on the bloody bones.
Lacing up my boots early in the morning, I feel exhaustion creep through me. Lynn and I stayed up late enjoying each other’s company, not wanting the evening to end as that meant being the beginning of days on end apart. However, as time does, the night passes without any input from either of us. I throw more items into my bag as Lynn tiredly ties her boots. She looks up with eyes reddened from lack of sleep and exhaustion. No words need to be spoken, dawn is upon us and it’s time for me to be on my way.
We grab a bite to eat together and watch as the others who are going with us emerge from their cubicles one at a time. Robert, dressed in a flight suit with an M-4 draped over his shoulder and packed duffle bag on the ground beside him, leans against the upper railing with his arm around Michelle. Bri exits with a huge yawn and stretch that belies her diminutive stature, nods at Robert and Michelle, reaches back inside for her carbine and pack before heading downstairs. The others of Red Team and the reorganized Echo Team gather around one of the tables on the first floor.
“Well, hon, I guess it’s about that time,” I say to Lynn.
“I know. I hate that you have to leave, Jack. I don’t like this one bit,” she replies.
“I don’t either. One of these days, it will come about that we don’t have to do this. This just, well, sucks,” I state.
“Yes it does and I’m so looking forward to that time. We might as well get this over with. You know, the band aid approach. I’ll walk you down and see you off, again.”
We walk downstairs hand in hand. Tired ‘good mornings’ make their way around and we gather our gear. The light of the early morning fills the parking lots without a cloud in the sky. The brisk breeze that was prevalent yesterday has passed by leaving a calm morning. The morning still has a chill to it that speaks of a new season approaching. I turn and wrap Lynn in my arms holding her tight. I notice Robert and Michelle enacting the same scene a short distance away.
“I love you, Lynn,” I whisper into her ear.
“I love you, too, Jack. So much,” she returns.
We stay that way a moment later exchanging a long kiss before she finally says, “Now get out of here. I have a busy morning.”
I know it’s her way of dealing with the pain of separation and, to be honest, without her saying something like that, I wouldn’t depart. We release from our hug and I grab my bag. Our hands are locked together and then slowly drift apart with our fingers trailing. Fuck! This really sucks, I think as our hands part. With a heavy heart, I turn toward the parked Humvees where the others have finished loading their gear. Robert catches up and, together, we walk to a Humvee and throw our things in.
The drive is like many of the others we’ve had. My head doesn’t clear much from its tiredness as we proceed through the base. I reach out with my mind and don’t feel the presence of any night runners in the area. Wondering if the ability has receded, I reach out farther but still come up empty. I’ll have to test it out if we receive visitors during the night on any of our stops. I was able to detect faint presences the other night when flying above the hordes of them emptying into the night. I just don’t know. As we pull onto the ramp and the 130s parked there come into view, the tired feeling leaves and I focus on what’s ahead of us.
We load our supplies and fuel on board. Robert has questions about the seating arrangements for the flight and I let him know I’ll be flying the first leg due to the increased weight on board. Later, I’ll let him get some stick time in to get a feel for the heaviness. He begins to load the flight data into the computer. There isn’t much room in the bag with the metal monster tied down but we manage. I double check the tie downs. It really wouldn’t do to have it shift on takeoff or in flight. On the list of bad things to happen, that would come close to topping the list. Twenty-six tons of metal shifting around in the cargo does some funny things to flight characteristics. Like turning it from having flight characteristics into that of having falling characteristics. A C-130 does not make a good parachute.
We are soon started up and, with an increase in power, the 130 reluctantly begins to move. It takes more runway than usual but we are airborne and slowly claw our way to altitude. I look across the Puget Sound thinking I may catch a glimpse of the Santa Fe but there is nothing to be seen plowing the waterways. Turning toward the morning sun, we set a course to the southeast and our first stop at Mountain Home AFB where one of the soldiers has a wife and two kids. They apparently chose to reside in their hometown while he deployed to the Middle East.
It’s only about an hour and a half flight to the base so we may be able to launch our search of the town of Mountain Home upon our arrival depending on what we see. I plan to fly over the town to scout it out before landing. The snow-capped peak of Mount Rainier is off to our left and we pass directly over the crater of Mount St. Helens. The warm crater has wisps of steam rising from the dome in the middle. The forested hills of the Cascade Mountains give way to the brown fields of eastern Washington and we are soon over the Blue Mountains of northeastern Oregon.
We pick up Interstate 84 on the other side of the mountains and I begin a slow descent. We will basically follow the highway to Mountain Home. Boise passes off to the left and looks much like the last time we passed by. Mountain Home soon appears on our nose as we edge down closer to the ground. Mountains rise on either side of the brown valley that the Interstate cuts through. Some areas are agricultural with the once green circle pattern of irrigation systems now overgrown and brown. Some others have cattle still roaming about in the fields. Only a few natural ponds exist in this dry, arid land and it’s only around these that the black dots of cattle still thrive.