Greg informs me of their entry and subsequent search. The house is empty and I turn to watch the team members walk into the alleyway and make their way back. The soldier has his head down with others patting him on the shoulders consoling him. I was hopeful that we would be successful with the partial success we’ve had so far. I guess every ending can’t be the happy one and I feel for him. I’m sure he was feeling hopeful after seeing some of the other team members find some of their family alive. I stroll over and give him my condolences as well.
“What about those folks we ran into that fled, sir. They might know something,” he says, hopeful.
“I wouldn’t know where to look for them and am not sure I want to run into them again,” I reply.
Seeing his head and shoulders sag tugs at my heart. I’d like for all of the soldiers to find their families, especially after they risked all to help rescue my kids.
“They might be holed up at the school, sir. That’s where I’d go,” he says.
Once again, that torn feeling surfaces. I’m not all that eager to run into those folks again, especially close to wherever they call home. They have the advantage of knowing the area better and will definitely hear us coming. Surprise — gone… knowledge — gone… advantage — marauders. However, we are here and I feel we should make every effort to find out what happened. He didn’t question going into an armed compound at night with night runners all around to get my kids. I just don’t want to sacrifice the many for one. If smoke trails appear, we’re outta there. I pull the others aside and ask them their thoughts. After all, it’s their ass. To a person, they not only agree that we should go, but are quite adamant about it. So, we board the Stryker and set off to see the wizard.
We backtrack to the center of town. The school is only a block up and on the left so it’s not like the large man and his merry band of followers had to trek far. I’m sure they were gasping for air upon arriving though. And maybe a few wet spots located just below the belt. I know I almost wet mine when the.50 cal went off and struck the street in front of us. That’s about as close to being on the receiving end that I want to get. The soldier shows us a side path to an open lot by the school so we don’t become trapped on the narrow street in front of it.
We edge around one of the houses and flatten the tall grass growing in the yard. The single-story light-colored school building appears with the gym on our side. I immediately spot, through the mounted camera, two men perched on the roof with weapons aimed our way. We halt and I open the top hatch. With a mega phone in hand, I call out saying that we aren’t looking to harm anyone but looking for some people and give them the names. There isn’t any response to my call except the men on the roof shifting positions.
“I’m going to need a response,” I say, asking again.
A shot rings out and I hear the ping of a bullet striking the armor close to the hatch. The ricocheting round pings off into the distance, quickly fading. Really?! How stupid can you get? I think. Why is it that people think firing on an armored vehicle is a good thing?
“A simple yes or no would have sufficed. Now, let’s try this again, are they there or do you know their whereabouts?” I ask. Again there isn’t any response. At least they don’t try firing on us again.
“Do you really want this.50 cal to start chewing your place to ribbons?” I state.
Finally, a voice calls out. It sounds very much like the man shouting in front of the store. “No, we just arrived a few days ago and there was no one here. Now, get lost!”
I think about opening up anyway but merely close the hatch and have the Stryker reverse out of there. I look at the soldier sitting amongst the others with tears streaming down his face. The others around him console him again. I ask if there was any other place they would go and he just shakes his head. With a very melancholy feel within the interior, we trace our route back to the 130. Parking the Stryker off to the side, we set up a small perimeter with each team taking turns on watch. We settle in with the sun passing its zenith and into the afternoon.
I make contact with the base. The delay seems a little long and the connection sporadic but I’m able to convey our location and update them. MRE’s are opened and we eat our meals in small groups. The fact of not being able to locate the soldier’s family casts a pall over us and our day. Shoveling the food in our mouths without really tasting it, we sit and wait for Carl’s group to show up.
The shadows lengthen as the sun settles into the later afternoon. There’s not really much to do so Craig and Robert load our next flight data into the computer. Our next stop will be Ellsworth AFB, South Dakota — a flight of close to four hundred miles to the southeast. The base itself sits a few miles to the northeast of Rapid City with our eventual destination being Sturgis. I wonder if there will be an abundance of Harleys in the area. We’ll leave in the early morning and begin our search right after landing if all goes well. These one day per location trips will cut our total time away from home down considerably. My only concern is continuing to use the 130 without maintenance. Well, that’s not my only worry but it is a major one.
I hear vehicles approaching in the distance and rise. I get a few strange looks as I stare off into the distance down the highway. Eventually, I catch the glint of the sun reflecting off a windshield and then see trucks approaching. The pickups pass through the hole in the fence we made earlier and park by the Stryker. Carl and his group offload their equipment piled in the beds and, with some help, load it into the aircraft. We then begin loading the Stryker in. There are fewer arm waving’s and shouts of dismay spelling impending doom this time. We tie the behemoth down and, with the sun beginning to settle behind the Rocky Mountains, seal the aircraft. With the last of the rays coming in the windows, we put the blackout window seals in place and settle in for the night.
Shrieks enter faintly through the metal fuselage. It’s been a while since I’ve heard the sound of night runners out hunting. I heard them in the warehouse when the sailors entered but hearing them outside prowling in the night raises my heartbeat. Well, hearing them anytime does that. That happens every time I hear that awful scream and it’s not something I’ll ever become comfortable with. We’ve been through too much not to have that sound elevate every sense. Lying in my bag, feeling the chilled air against my cheeks, parked in the middle of nowhere far away from home, I know the night runners will always be a part of this world. I’m only looking to clear them out of our little patch of woods.
Some shrieks grow louder and soon the first slam is felt against the fuselage. Although they have never been able to come close to breaching the 130 before, I am a little anxious thinking about their tremendous ability to adapt although I don’t know how they can adapt enough to get into a rugged aircraft like the 130. Even if they could manage to manipulate the door or ramp entries, we’ve chained them shut. However, I don’t want to assume anything with regards to the night runners so we keep a watch posted.
I notice Carl and his group sitting up and shifting in their bags nervously. I tell them we have been out a number of times and haven’t been breached yet. I see by their eyes this doesn’t put them completely at ease. I can’t imagine it’s too easy feeling trapped like this and sitting in the dark for the first time. For me, the slams against the aircraft seem heavier and the accompanying shrieks louder. This is most likely because it’s been absent, for the most part, since we established our compound and it’s been a while since we were out in the 130.
Not being able to sleep with the awful racket outside, I decide to experiment more and reach out with my mind. I sense only a few night runners just outside of the aircraft. They show up in my mind clear as can be. Reaching farther out, I sense others in and around the base. I relax rather than force the sensing and cast out even farther. I pick up a tremendous number of echoes from the direction of Great Falls. The city is filled with a multitude. I shut down the images from them and just concentrate on sensing them.