Washington D.C. speaks of the same story but not with the same intense statement. We steer around in the same manner, seeing the White House, Congressional buildings, and the Washington monument off in the distance; silent testimonies of a time past. The fires are not as prevalent here but it still has the same empty look of a city where the inhabitants have disappeared. I have flown into these places before and there was always movement. Cars and aircraft and people; all moving with an intended personal agenda, caught up in the errand at hand. Now, there is not a thing in sight moving. It is completely giving forth a sad and melancholy feeling. There is a vast and deep loneliness present. I feel like an intruder encroaching into the serenity of the city. But there is a tension prevalent as well. Something horrible lurking underneath the serene picture. Waiting. Watching.
The other cities we pass, Richmond, Greensboro, Charlotte, are the same and give the same feeling. Each passing city brings to mind the possibility of survivors. Are they still in the city or have they moved out into the countryside? I think on what they must be facing down there. What must be going through their minds as the sun begins its downward path to the western horizon. The fear that must grip them as they watch the unrelenting approach of the night and are unable to stop it. I do notice fewer fires within the cities as we pass further south. I search my mind for a plausible reason but can’t come up with anything. There shouldn’t be power so it can’t be started from anything electrical. Could it be survivors burning buildings to remove the night runners from within them? I just don’t know, I think as my mind wonders what Atlanta will be like.
I do not have that long to find out as the city comes into view ahead through the windshield. There is a distinct lack of the smoke plumes compared to the other cities we saw on our way down. Sure, there are small columns of smoke rising in the afternoon air but the dark, oily plumes that existed in all of the other grand cities is absent. I don’t know the reason why but I’ll take it, I think setting the aircraft up for descent.
We descend over the outlying suburbs surrounding the actual city of Atlanta. Tree-lined roads and neighborhoods fill the areas in between, shadows filling the paved streets. The sun, lighting the tops of the trees and rooftops below us, sits halfway through the western sky. Browns, grays, and reds show through the green foliage with ribbons of gray outlining these colors and encircling them. Below us are not the usual box patterns found in developments but swirls, curves, and meanderings that are pleasing to the eye. With exception of the lack of movement and the brownish smoke ascending in several places, you would not think anything is out of the ordinary. It certainly presents a different picture than those cities further north.
Completing the descent checks, I descend down to 500 feet, calling the team leaders into the cockpit making it one very crowded place indeed. Standing room only. The airport we are shooting for is actually a little to the northeast of the city with the CDC to the south and east. It is only a little less than ten miles travel time on the ground from the airfield to the CDC. I hope we can find some vehicles to use close to the airfield for transportation.
“I’ll do a flyby over the airport and then we’ll look for a route to CDC so we can get an idea of what we’re looking at. We’ll also do some flybys of the campus itself,” I say to those assembled, yelling to be heard.
The airport parking lot shows a few cars and pickups sitting in the afternoon sun, the tops of their colored roofs and a sparkle from their windshields glare back. I have the coordinates of the CDC set as a waypoint in the navigation system and dial it up, flying directly to it. Being so close, it immediately comes into view just off our nose. Well, at least the area does. It appears to be set up in a campus-like fashion. I have never been here so this is all new to me, but I have had to determine locations and routes like this many times in the past.
“Wow! This is going to be more difficult than I imagined,” I say looking at the multitude of buildings passing by below.
The enormity of it with our limited manpower almost makes me want to just try somewhere else, but we are here so we will try what we can with what we have.
“Yeah,” I hear Lynn shout over my shoulder.
“Okay, let’s head back and find the best route to get there,” I shout back.
We climb up, picking our way back to the airfield close by, analyzing the roads to find the best route. Finding one, we memorize the landmarks and turns. Looking at the same picture on the ground is so much different than what it looks like from the air. You can fly over a piece of ground a hundred times and think you have it down, but then easily get turned around when you get your boots on the ground. The mind lends itself to doubt when traversing something new. ‘Is this right?’ is a common question. But we are all trained for this type of situation so it should not be too difficult; especially with the short distance involved.
“Get everyone buckled in if you would,” I yell to Lynn. “We’ll do a team leader brief immediately after landing.”
The cockpit empties somewhat as I circle around to line up on a final approach, our before landing checklist is completed in record time. I push the nose down slightly keeping the runway threshold glued in the windshield. One of the keys to landing is to put the aim point right on the threshold, so that if you did not flare the aircraft, that is where you would hit. Another important key is to not hit the ground, well, without your tires touching first.
“Gear down,” I call over the intercom.
Robert reaches over to the gear handle and pushes it in the down position causing an immediate rumble through the aircraft from the gear and gear doors disrupting the airflow. The rumble stops and three green lights illuminate by the handle indicating success.
“Flaps to 10,” I say liking the fact that we have three safe gear indications as the medium-sized, light gray runway grows larger in the screen.
The number ‘2R’ appears on the runway near the threshold through our windshield. The nose of the aircraft tries to rise up as the flaps come down due to the change of the airflow over the wing. I anticipate that with a small, quick movement down on the control wheel and flick the trim button to correct the aircraft’s behavior to our aerodynamic change.
“Flaps at 50,” I call out as we continue our descent into the airfield. Once again experiencing the rise and correcting.
I finally call for full flaps and, in my peripheral, watch Robert move the flap lever all of the way down. The slowing and pitch change is noticed dramatically as the flaps, which are basically barn doors, extend down from the wing and out into the slipstream. The runway begins to fill our field of view, my attention divided between the approaching ground and airspeed indicator, adjusting the throttles in small increments accordingly. Just as it seems impact with the ground is imminent, I raise the nose as the threshold passes underneath, bringing the throttles back smoothly as we transition from a descent to level flight just above the runway. As the airspeed bleeds off, I raise the nose higher trying to keep the aircraft aloft for as long as possible yet allowing it to descend slowly to the runway.