Piling into the Humvees and the Jeep, we begin our own trip. I have Mike jump in the back of the Jeep and Robert climbs in the passenger side. The 130 is sitting on the ramp with the rear ramp still open and the sun’s rays reflecting off of the surface of the wings and fuselage. With a last look around and giving the old bird a silent thanks, I close the door and drive off the ramp heading to the armory; the three Humvees carrying the others in my wake.
We stop briefly at the armory and take measurements of the doors. Looking at the hinges, it will be work getting them out but not impossible. They are basically bolted into the thick concrete walls. We’ll just have to make sure we have the right tools. Those we gathered from the hanger should suffice. And of course lots of people to lift them and something to transport them.
Gonzalez and Henderson were based here prior so know the way to one of the firing ranges. We drive that way with the sun slowly making its way across the western sky and me trying to will it to stop. It doesn’t listen. We manage to make our way to one of the ranges and park close to the firing line. I step out and dust eddies around my boots as they hit the ground. The range itself is surrounded by trees with the all-too-familiar dirt berm set up on the far end. Several covered sheds dot the firing line with individual positions marked with small, white, box-like indicators. The range itself is quite wide but the downrange targets are shorter, which is okay as our engagements have been short range ones and its best to sight in at the engagement distances we’ll be facing.
I have everyone attach the aiming devices and make sure the suppressors are attached. The M-4, as do others weapons, has a different ballistic trajectory with a suppressor attached so it’s important we sight in with them on. We spread out on the firing line and I give a lesson on the operation of the aiming devices and SpectreDR sights. I gather the spare carbines I threw in the Jeep and hand them to Nic, Bri, Michelle, and Mom.
“Dad, what?” Nic says holding the carbine.
“You need to learn and I’ll be more comfortable knowing you have them and can use them. I’ll show you how they work and the nuances,” I say assigning them places on the line next to the rest. They had a small lesson with the M-16 back in Kuwait but I want them to become more proficient. I hand the remaining spares to Kathy and Kenneth. Little Robert is a little young to be handling a weapon of this size so I leave him out.
I give the okay to commence firing. The soft sound of suppressed rounds being fired on semi-automatic fills the air. I make sure the girls’ and Mom’s carbines are set on semi and show them how to sight in using the SpectreDR – how to change the magnification and to make adjustments until the reticle is matched to the bullet impact point. After getting the sights correct, I have them switch to the aiming device, setting it to the visual laser. The infra-red laser will track the same point as the visual one. I let them shoot through a couple of mags until they become comfortable firing the M-4. I show them how to change magazines and to reload individual mags.
Robert lies on the ground next to us, popping a round and then making an adjustment on the sight. I see him fire a few rounds without stopping to adjust and then nod with satisfaction. He goes through the same process with the aiming device attached to the top, front of the rail; nodding once again as he becomes satisfied with his settings. With the girls now feeling somewhat comfortable, I kneel with Mike at my side and begin sighting in my own M-4. We switch to the M-9’s and begin the sighting-in process again. The sounds of firing eventually diminish and come to stop.
“Everybody good?” I ask in the ensuing silence. A smattering of “good here” and nods answer.
We disassemble and clean our guns, teaching how to break the weapons down and clean them to those that don’t know how, at covered tables set to along the rear of the long firing line. Reassembling them, we pile back into the vehicles and chase the sun, beginning our journey out of the base and toward the Interstate south. We retrace our route back to McChord wanting to go out of the gate there. I would take the more direct route to the gates of Fort Lewis but I remember those gates being blocked. I’m not sure how blocked they are and what it will take to clear a route so I take the route I know is open. Time still weighs heavily on me and I don’t want to come across anything else that will impede our progress. We come to the guard booths, once again having to traverse over and around the now highly decomposing corpses, just as the phone in my pocket vibrates.
“Are you coming?” The text appears. Yes, it’s from Kelly.
I radio Lynn letting her know we are exiting the base and heading south.
“Okay, Jack. Be careful. See you soon,” she replies over the airwaves.
“Roger that. You too,” I reply.
The afternoon is passing quickly as I begin typing my response to Kelly.
“We’ll be leaving in a few hours. Thinking around eight tonight. Might have to stay the night. Have water and scent-free candles handy.”
The phone vibrates again a short time later as we are coming up on the outer gates.
“That late?” Ugh, I swear, I think starting to reply.
“I’m moving as fast as I can. You can drive up if you want,” I text back.
“No. We’ll wait for you here,” Kelly texts.
“Okay. Call you when we’re on the way,” I type and press the send button.
Hitting the Interstate, we turn southward once again. This is beginning to feel like I’m driving a mail route. The sun is far too low in the sky for my taste given all that needs to happen between now and when it dips below the western horizon. I can almost literally see it shoot across the sky. Continuing south, we drive past the lower marshlands of the Nisqually Basin. The tide is out and the mud flats are revealed. Cranes line the water edge, standing elegantly on their long legs and occasionally dipping their beaks when they find something that interests them. I look out over the waters of the South Puget Sound, glistening and sparkling with reflections of the sun on its surface, and see a bald eagle sitting on a tall post jutting out of the water. The eagle leaps from the post and soars across the water, climbing higher into the afternoon sky. My heart goes out and I wish I could soar along with it.
Climbing the hill on the far side of the basin, with the exit we want lying just ahead, I look anxiously ahead. The tops of the fir trees lining the tall embankments sway slightly in an afternoon breeze. I see the Humvee directly behind me trudge up the slope in my rear view. Cresting the hill, I take the exit and turn onto a recently paved road. Passing by two round-a-bouts and taking a side road, I turn into the drive leading to the outdoor store.
The store is hidden by a slope in the long driveway, slowly showing more of itself the closer I get; first the green, metal roof, then the large yellow sign before the reddish-brown, wooden building comes fully into view as we top the small hill. Large paved parking lots encircle the area around the store with light poles set in a scattered pattern throughout. The building exhibits both the feeling of hiding danger behind its walls and one of safety. The danger comes from my experience within buildings and the safety from my thought that this will provide a sanctuary for us.
I pull up to the front of the store, staying back from the covered drive-thru area by the front doors. Four sets of double glass doors, two sets on the left and two on the right, with two large panes of glass between them, make up the front entrance. A small foyer exists inside with a second set of entrance doors identical to the first ones across a small tiled vestibule. My heart leaps into my throat looking at the entrance. Shards of glass litter the wide concrete sidewalk; one of the large panes of glass is broken and very little glass remains in its frame.