“Yeah, it does,” he replies.
My memory tracks back to a time when temporal distortion, the slowing of time in an extreme situation, killed a good friend of mine. He was doing a touch and go in a T-38 with a student who was on his first flight. My friend let the student try to land — the T-38 is one tricky aircraft to land. It has short wings built for speed and the second highest landing airspeed of any aircraft in the world. At any rate, he let the student go too far and did not take corrective action until too late. The aircraft hit the runway hard and bounced high back into the air. My friend attempted save the situation by initiating a go around and rammed the throttles into what he thought was afterburner. The resulting bounce had angled the aircraft off to the side a little so they were not flying parallel to the runway. The wings wobbled a little — not a good sign in the T-38 — but it finally looked like he might make it.
There were two problems though. One, they were headed straight for the tall control tower that directed transient and civilian aircraft, and two, they were not in afterburner. Still, it looked like they were going to make it but the jet, in an attempt to avoid the tower, suddenly pitched up, rolled onto its back, plummeted to the ground, and slid across it in a fireball. The crash investigation revealed that the throttles were only set at about 70% power and concluded that temporal distortion was the cause. My friend was putting the throttles into afterburner but was not seeing the corresponding results on the instruments. It was thought that he did not think he was getting the afterburner to light and was cycling the throttles in an attempt to get them lit when all he was really doing was moving the throttles very rapidly back and forth. The temporal distortion made him think he was moving the throttles up smoothly but not getting the afterburner to light, when, in actuality, he was not giving the instruments time to respond. Yes, temporal distortion can be a life saver most of the time, but it can also have disastrous consequences if you are not aware it is happening.
“Anyway, you did well. Oh and thanks.”
“For what?” He asks with a hint of confusion crossing his face. The gears of his mind cycling through events trying to figure out what I am referring to.
“That night runner would’ve had me cold in the aisle if you hadn’t shot him,” I say with a small smile.
“Oh, I forgot about that,” he says with a trace of pride flashing through his eyes.
“Let’s get these loaded,” I finish our conversation with a nod.
It is a silent drive back to the airfield and ramp. Everyone is lost in their thoughts. Having been there in the post adrenaline combat moment a few times, I know that some are thinking about and reliving the events while other thoughts move towards the future and the odds of survival. Seeing Horace’s van behind us in the rear view, I know the same silence must be riding along with them, especially with the loss of two of their team. Any loss of that nature brings second guessing. I know it is affecting me and wondering two things. What could I, or we, have done differently? What do we need to change in future endeavors to prevent or minimize any losses? And, do I still have the confidence of the team? Okay, that is three things.
“Sir,” I hear McCafferty say behind me.
I turn in my seat to see Red Team sitting on the bench seats with their weapons propped between their legs and looking from McCafferty to me.
“Yes,” I respond back.
“I know I speak for the rest of us when I say thank you for getting us out of there,” she says.
“It wasn’t me. It was our teamwork and working together that got us out of there,” I say feeling relieved, realizing that my worry about their confidence in me has been answered.
She merely nods at my response along with the rest of the team and they fold back to their private thoughts.
“We’ll debrief with everyone else after we get back and unload this stuff,” I say and turn around to stare outside at the passing buildings.
As the buildings pass by, they take on an even more foreboding aspect. I wonder how many night runners lurk behind each darkened window. In my mind, I imagine a horde of night runners hiding behind each of the windows. Watching and waiting. Ready to pounce on any intruder into their domain. Ready to take advantage of any mistake we make. It is like riding through a ghost town where tragedy overtook and the ghosts of the past watch from their rooms as the living pass by. Jealous. Vengeful. Eagerly waiting and beckoning for the living to enter.
The foreboding passes but leaves other thoughts in its wake. Were all of the night runners gathered at the BX because there sure were enough of them there? Or are there others gathered in the darkened recesses of the other buildings around? Are they going to gather in larger and larger groups like they were in the BX here or in smaller groups like at the McChord hospital? I can’t see a discernible pattern emerge. Will one emerge or take hold? After all, this is a new world to them as well? I start to think about our tactics but realize that will need to be a discussion with the group.
We arrive back to the airfield proper. Small heat waves rise from the pavement as the day begins to warm up only to be blown sideways and disappear momentarily with the passing of each light breeze. Heads turn towards us from those milling about the aircraft, following our progress across the ramp. Pulling to a stop near the rear of the aircraft, I realize just how exhausted I feel. I don’t want to get out of the seat but just want to sit here and veg. The exhaustion comes from the post adrenaline, the lack of proper rest and sleep over the past few days, and from the stress thinking about the days to come. The stress comes from thinking about the days to come, getting back and the overwhelming aspect of setting up our long-term survival once we do get back. As I continue to sit and contemplate the future, the others in both our crew bus and Horace’s get out and begin to unload the supplies into the C-130.
Thoughts of our long-term survival surface — food, water, shelter. We can live for a while on scavenged food and water but need to work on building a protective sanctuary soon. We need a place of safety where we can relax and plan. A place that is not under the threat of constant attack at night. We have the day but need a place at night that is secure so exhaustion does not overwhelm us. Thoughts of Cheyenne Mountain and NORAD surface. There’s really not a place that can be more secure, I think. Stocked supplies, away from civilization and therefore numerous night runners, and secure. The only reservation I have for this option is that I do not know about a constant water supply nor do I have knowledge of the area. Without electricity, the water supply for the facility will be unavailable and getting fuel supplies there to keep the generators going will be a challenge. Plus, I just don’t know the status of facility. Knowing an area like I do the Northwest will be an important element for any long-term survival. I know where food and water can be obtained and it will be easier to keep us supplied. I think finding a place in the Northwest is a better solution but keep Cheyenne Mountain in the back of my mind.
With a partial plan formed, I step out from the van to see the last of the supplies being loaded onboard. Great timing as usual. Always ready to help when the job is done. The sound of vehicles nearing drifts across the ramp. I turn and see the two vans from Lynn’s escapade driving in our direction. Well, I hope it’s Lynn and her group and the night runners have not picked up the ability to drive. Let alone during the day. That would totally suck! The vehicles pull to a stop close by and the teams exit. Lynn walks over with Watkins in tow as the other soldiers begin offloading crates and weapons.