“That’s much appreciated. Thanks,” Jason says, accepting the phone and charging unit.
Robert and Craig grab one of the fuel trucks at the end of the ramp and we are soon refueled. With our next stop at Malmstrom AFB, Montana input into the computer, we say our farewells and, taxiing to the end of the runway, Robert takes off into the clear blue sky heading to the northeast.
The flight will be a short one of just under four hundred miles putting us there in about an hour. We slide over the Salmon River Mountains clawing for altitude. The brown patchwork of the valley quickly changes to forested hills and mountains with deep canyons between major off-shooting ridge lines. The blue sky is completely devoid of contrails that I was used to seeing on any point of the compass when flying during the day. We have the sky to ourselves. It’s too bad we have to share the earth with the night runners. As we traverse over the tall peaks and deep valleys of the Rocky Mountains, I’m not sure which is really worse — the night runners or the bands of marauders that we’ve come into contact with. The night runners are relentless and dangerous, yes, but the humans running around have knowledge of weapons and a modicum of tactics. Given one or the other, I’m not sure which I’d pick. With the bandits, at least I can factor in a semblance of understanding of their behavior and capabilities. I don’t seem to be able to do that with night runners as yet and I don’t like surprises.
The mountains give way to the plains of Montana and Robert begins a descent into the base which lies just east of the Great Falls. The Missouri River winds its way through the town before continuing on its way across the plains. I have him fly over the city as we look for any movement that would indicate survivors still existed in the large city. The sprawling urban area looks much the same as Mountain Home — much of the greenery has changed to match the surrounding brown fields. Some green still exists near the great waterway, but for the most part, without irrigation, the green fields and yards have been transformed.
Robert flies over the airfield at about five thousand feet above the ground. I want a good look at the base before we just merrily set it in like last time. Jason caught me by surprise by showing up like he did when we were doing touch and go’s. Like I said, I hate surprises. Complacency had set in and that can be a killer. Seeing so many towns abandoned, I just assumed that Mountain Home would be the same. I have to keep the A-game going all of the time. We’re just lucky they didn’t start shooting at us when we were the most vulnerable. We can’t figure everything but that was a no-brainer.
We fly over the airfield a few times and do a few low approaches. Nothing appears on the bare ramps. There are only a couple of helicopters sitting on the large pad. This used to be a base for missile crews and the helicopters were for flying the crews to their stations. If some form of military was still around and here, they will not take too kindly to our just setting down. Our radio calls go unanswered. To all appearances, the base is abandoned. We’ll park at one of the run-up areas just off the runway far away from any building and hangars. I tell Greg to get ready to exfil the Stryker in a hurry. Robert sets it down on the long runway with a slight thump as he still isn’t used to the extra weight. He’ll get it though.
We pull off at the end and park just off the runway but a distance from the ramp. Leaving the engines running, I glass the surrounding area with a pair of binoculars. I see nothing but tall brown grass growing in patches by the edges of the taxiways and ramp. The rest is dry, dusty fields. Nothing moves except an occasional dust devil rising in the air from a breeze moving through the area. Robert sends out additional unanswered radio calls and we eventually shutdown. The rear ramp is lowered and the Stryker untied and driven out. It too shuts down and quiet settles over the area. Even the birds and other wildlife that might be around are silent.
“Well, how do you want to handle this?” Greg asks as we gather around the Stryker.
“We can’t all go. I figure we’ll leave three of your team with Craig and the others. It might be a little cramped but we’ll take the rest of your team along with Red Team. The town is about fifteen miles to the southeast along that highway,” I say, pointing to a two-lane road just on the other side of the perimeter fence. “I don’t like leaving so few but I don’t see that we really have a choice.”
I would really like to take the full teams. The Stryker won’t carry all of us but we can always pull a vehicle from the depot next to the ramp. I don’t want to leave the ones we picked up in Mountain Home unguarded though. I don’t really know them and someone full of conspiracy shit may do anything if spooked. The 130 is our only way out of here. Well, quickly, that is. It’s a helluva drive to the next base with any aircraft and I’m not about to quick learn one of the Huey helicopters parked on the ramp. The last “first” helicopter lessons weren’t pretty. Plus, with the 130 being our only quick departure plan, I do not want to leave it completely unguarded. We’ll only be a short distance away and can respond quickly if called. I wish we had brought another team but I also didn’t want to leave the compound short-handed. We’ll make do with what we have, which always seems too few.
“Is all of Red Team going?” Robert asks, standing just behind me.
“Yes, you are going,” I reply.
“And, ahem, me?” Bri asks.
With a heavy sigh, I respond, “Yes, you can go, but you stay right with Gonzalez.”
“I will, Dad,” Bri says.
“Gonzalez?” I say, questioning with a raised eyebrow.
“No worries, sir. The princess warrior and I will be just fine.”
“I’m not shitting here, Bri. None of this ‘I think I’ll climb on top of the aircraft and shoot night runners’ shit,” I state.
I’m not very happy about taking them along but I’m even less happy with leaving them in this world unprepared and inexperienced. I would keep Bri by my side but I know I’d be far too protective and not allow her to gain any experience.
“Okay, Dad. I promise no climbing on the aircraft,” Bri replies.
“I mean it, Bri,” I state.
“Okay, Dad, sheesh… sense of humor much?” Bri responds with a smile.
Seeing her smile melts my heart but I’m also reminded of another smile that I miss so much. I just want to duct tape Bri in foam padding and set her in a room. Maybe even a padded room. It’s much the same thought I had when I thought about her dating. However, I know that has the same odds of happening as keeping her from dating has. And that is less than zero. However, I never thought of arming her if she dated. Seeing her now with her M-4 slung over her shoulder, perhaps I should have. That would have kept the hormone-induced fifteen year old boys at a distance. Hmmmm… food for thought.
“No, sense of humor nil. Now get your gear together and ready to saddle up,” I say.
Loaded up, we drive through a chain link fence surrounding the airfield, across a narrow ditch, and up onto the highway. Dry, barren fields line the road, with the occasional farm house and outlying buildings here and there, as we make our way to the southeast. Some fields have tall grass growing but for the most part, they are dry and barren. We pause at the entrance to each farm house looking for anyone around but come up empty, just like the road we are traveling. We are headed for the small town of Belt where one of the soldiers has parents.
Dust has blown across a lot of the road masking it completely in some places. The earth is slowly taking back its own and I wonder how long the roads will be distinguishable. I imagine the dusty places with little rain will be the first to disappear as the blown sands and dirt shift. The rainy part of the country will keep this at bay for a while but they will eventually crack with moss and plants retaking them. Over time, the outskirts of the cities will fall into ruin and vanish in a similar manner. Small towns, like the one we are heading to, will be the first to go.