A New World: Return (14 page)

“I love you,” I say laughing for the first time in a while and leaning over to give her a kiss.

“I love you too, Jack,” she says after we separate.

I head down the stairs with the thought and wondering if we are just going through the motions.
 
Is it really just a matter of time before we all come to an end?
 
Wow!
 
I sure can be a pessimist at times.
 
No, if we can survive and get our sanctuary built, we’ll have a fighting chance
.
 
We just have to maintain our vigilance, be smart, and not make any more mistakes.
 
We were lucky this time
.

The metallic sound of boots ringing on steel lets me know that Lynn is coming down the stairs behind me as I head over to wake Robert and Michelle, stepping over soldiers scattered haphazardly on the deck.
 
That is an easy process as they are both lying together on the top bunk by the window, the soft glow of the sun caressing their faces as they sleep peacefully.
 
I am pierced by an intense feeling of love for my kids and feel a protective nature sweep through me.
 
It is mingled with a feeling of sorrow for the situation we are in.
 
They do not deserve to be thrust into this.
 
I must continue to be strong for them
.
 
But I also realize there is a tremendous strength that lies within them.

“Robert, wake up,” I say gently nudging his shoulder.
 
His eyes open with that tired sleepy aspect that only teens know.
 
I see Michelle’s eyes open with the same sleepy look.

“We have to get ready.
 
Go wake Bri and Nic and get strapped in.
 
I’m going to do a walk around,” I say when I know he is awake enough to comprehend my words and will not just fall asleep again.

“Okay, Dad,” he says sitting up and jumping to the cargo floor.

Lynn has started waking the soldiers inside.
 
I head outside to do a walk around of the aircraft.
 
The breeze has died down and the shadows from the vehicles parked near stretch long as the day begins to come to a close.
 
Some soldiers are lying on the ramp while others sleep in the seats of the vans.
 
Some begin to sit up, perhaps feeling the energy of others waking.
 
Or perhaps it’s Lynn’s yell of “everyone up” echoing across the pavement.

Her voice startles me and I turn to see her standing part way down the ramp with a look of determination.
 
I certainly wouldn’t have liked to have been one of her troops when she was a drill sergeant
, I think seeing her stand there with her hands on her hips.
 
But I also know deep down she really cares for the people under her.
 
Her yell causes a stir among the soldiers and they all begin to do the ‘just got up’ stretches and gather their stuff.

“We’ll need to move the vehicles away,” I call up to her.

She walks over to Drescoll as I begin to walk around the aircraft checking for any obvious damage.
 
I have a touch of worry about the maintenance and our long journey over the water.
 
Aircraft of this nature requires continual maintenance to maintain its ability to stay airborne.
 
Luckily, the 130 is a tough old bird.
 
One of the best around in that regard.
 
I hear the vans start up as I walk around the wing and see the streaks of blood that once dominated the side by the props from our previous excursion to Brunswick have mostly vanished.
 
Some small stains remain that blend in with the olive drab paint.

Walking around the nose, I see Robert’s face in the cockpit window, with his helmet on, sitting in my seat and looking over to his left.
 
I round the rear and start up the other side and see Michelle and Nic by the ground power unit.
 
They have taken their station without asking.
 
We almost have this down to a routine
, I think.
 
I see Nic’s mouth move and she starts the cart up.
 
She is obviously in contact with Robert.
 
He has started the pre-start checks on his own.
 
Pride swells up inside.
 
They really seem to have adjusted to this new world.
 
Perhaps it’s me who needs to adjust to their adjustment and that all is well with them.
 
Wow! I’m losing it
.
 
I also see the vehicles have been moved off to the side.
 
The sun is lowering to the horizon, turning the sky around it to deeper oranges and yellows.
 
The color will soon change to reds giving the day its last glorious look before disappearing until another time.
 
The next time it sets, we will hopefully have some answers or at least a bigger clue.
 
But for now, it is time we leave.

Lynn is standing at the top of the ramp as I walk back in.
 
The interior is filled with the noise and movement of shuffling soldiers.
 
I quickly glance at the supplies stacked about with red cargo netting over them and lashed to the deck, making sure they will not shift in flight.

“Everything ready to go?”
 
I ask Lynn.

“Yeah, we should be good to go,” she replies.

“Okay, can you make sure everyone gets strapped in and detail a couple to help Michelle and Bri with the cart when they come in?”

“Will do,” she says in return.

I notice her strict military demeanor is relaxing somewhat in the conversation between us as we both strive to find that balance between the necessary military bearing, which I never really had, and our relationship.
 
She grabs the headset by the rear and plugs into the intercom system.

I head up the walkway to the cockpit.
 
Robert’s head turns my way from the pilot’s seat, says something in the mic, and moves over to his seat making way for me.
 
Bri is sitting in her engineer seat setting switches on the electrical panel.
 
I move past her to strap and plug in.

“Where are we on the checklist?”
 
I ask hearing the click of my coming on the intercom.

“We’re ready for startup,” Robert answers.

I do a quick check over the system panels and settings assuring myself we are indeed ready.
 
It’s not that I don’t trust them, I just have to make sure myself.
 
They have done a great job getting ready and all seems to be in order.
 
The electrics, fuel system, and switches are set correctly.
 
I keep thinking how far we have come in the past few days.
 
In one way, it seems like it has been a long time since sitting in this seat, in another, it seems like I never left.

“Clear right?”
 
I ask.

“Clear,” Robert responds.

We go through the startup with no problems, Michelle and Nic joining us in the cockpit after securing the start cart and closing the ramp door, effectively shutting us off from the outside.
 
The aircraft settles into its usual vibration and roar with the large props spinning in synch outside, their blades blending in a circular blur.
 
All of the instruments check out okay giving me a modicum of security for our hop across the rest of the pond.

I set the intercom selector over to the overhead intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying Apocalypse Air.
 
Your Captain today is Captain Crash and we are delighted to have you aboard.
 
We ask that you stay inside for the duration of the flight as it tends to get a bit breezy outside and walking on the wing disrupts our flight pattern.
 
We are pleased to have the best flight attendants in the industry; however, none of them were able to make today’s flight.
 
In the event of a water landing, paddle to shore and feel free to take the floatation devices with our compliments.
 
Should we experience a loss of cabin pressure, please stop your screaming and put the mask over your face.
 
Now buckle in as we found that saved over half of our passengers on our last take off attempt.
 
Relax and be comfortable while I try to remember how to make this thing go forward.”

I push the throttles forward, feeling more than hearing the engines respond and we begin to move forward.
 
The sun has descended half way below the horizon as our wheels roll across the ramp and toward the runway.
 
The wind sock sits still by the runway as we taxi past, as if everything is holding its breath, waiting for the change from night to day, from the time of mankind to the time of the night runners.
 
Hiding and waiting for the sun to rise majestically again signaling safety.
 
I hear the steady and comforting roar of the engines faintly through my helmet; feel the throb and pulse of the engines through the throttles.
 
I double check the fuel, cabin pressure, and electrical settings as we pull up to the runway checking for anything out on a possible final.
 
Habit pattern I guess but also, well, the one time I don’t check, there will be something there.
 
That is the way my karma works.

I pull out onto the runway and gently run the throttles forward feeling the aircraft leap to my command as if thankful to depart this island.
 
I know I am.
 
We are leaving two of us behind, lying on the pavement in an obscure parking lot.
 
Will we all meet that same small fate, lying in some remote and soon to be forgotten place along with all of the other debris left over from mankind’s time as ruler
?
 
The horizon moves as the nose wheel lifts off followed shortly by the mains.
 
We are airborne and each turn of the propellers brings us closer to home, well, what I think of as home.
 
A destination if nothing else.
 
First things first though.

Calling for gear and flaps, we claw for altitude.
 
I split my concentration between the instruments, which seem to be behaving, and the land disappearing beneath us.
 
The base and housing vanish behind our wings giving me a melancholy feeling.
 
I look down thinking there are trials and hardships for those alive below us; that they have their own life going on without regard for those overhead.
 
I used to get that feeling every once in a while during other flights.
 
I would think about each light below me and that it signified a story; that each would have love and fears and joys and hardships attached to it.
 
That people might be having dinner at that very moment or watching a movie with loved ones; wrapped in their own little bubble of their life and completely oblivious to the life passing by overhead.

Trees and hills now pass underneath, wrapped in the twilight shadow of the end of the day.
 
We climb higher and out over the now darkened water, yet we are still bathed in the last of the sun’s rays.
 
The dark blue sky overhead is clear and promises a beautiful starlit flight; for the next little while at least.

“Nic, warm up and turn on the weather radar if you would please,” I ask making sure the cabin pressure is working as our altimeter climbs through 12,000.

I check the flight plan in the nav computer to ensure I had input it in correctly and validate it with our charts.
 
Heading over open water doesn’t allow for landmark updates and heading in some random direction for hours over the endless ocean does not make for the ‘white horse and sunset’ ending.
 
If we were to make a mistake in our route and coding into the nav computer, we would just be slowly traveling to the scene of our own accident.
 
We continue our uphill journey until leveling off at flight level 200 – 20,000 feet.
 
Bri is switching our fuel tanks as I flip on the autopilot, unbuckle and wait for either the sound of sputtering and silence or the continued drone of a constant fuel supply to the engines.
 
She has her stuff down cold and the engines continue their uninterrupted speech.

“You have it,” I tell Robert.
 
“I’m going back to check on things and to the little boys room.
 
We’re on auto pilot.”
 
He merely nods.
 
In the darkened cockpit, his face is lit by the glow of the instruments with the sun having already said its goodbye in its usual, splendid fashion ahead of us.

I step down into the cargo compartment feeling the vibration of the engines through the soles of my boots.
 
The aircraft is lurching to the side slightly as we pass through some mild turbulence.
 
One of the bonus features of the 130; it tends to shake a bit but there is not a more rugged aircraft built.
 
The cargo area is lit by interior red lighting making it easier to see but giving it a cave-like aspect.
 
Lynn is sitting on the lower bunk talking with Drescoll, Bannerman, and Wilson.
 
The rest of the soldiers are sitting on the red nylon troop seats against the fuselage talking quietly in small groups.
 
Well, talking quietly being relative above the constant roar of the engines.
 
Another bonus feature of the aircraft.