A New World: Return (20 page)

This last little escapade did answer one question, or at least prove a nagging thought that was in my head – there are others.
 
I hope that a majority, and there have to be others, are not like this last band and just out marauding or out for themselves; treating others with impunity.
 
I mean, why would you do something like that when it’s obvious we are on the brink?
 
Doing harm to others instead of helping?
 
To me, that is truly evil and I just don’t get it.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, turn my head, and see a dog paralleling us.
 
It has been out there since we started back.
 
Trotting or walking along; keeping the same distance away but definitely intrigued by us.
 
I keep alert for any sign of others remembering back to the pack we saw by the side of the road when we were heading up to McChord.
 
Thinking they may develop into packs as dogs are wont to do.
 
But from all indications, this one is alone.
 
I cannot really tell just what kind of dog it is from the distance it is keeping away from us, but I can tell it is a larger breed and mostly black.

“Sir,” Henderson says nodding toward the dog.

“Yeah, I see it,” I respond back.
 
“I just think it’s curious.
 
And alone.”

We are about to take the short road back onto the ramp, to disappear between the building and leave the base proper.
 
I turn back and see the dog has stopped as if seeing us off and not wanting to follow us.
 
Probably because it would have to draw closer in proximity to us to do so
.
 
In order to follow us, it has to come closer to some extent, but it seems to want to keep its distance.
 
I can sense a longing in the way it stands to follow but then sits right back down.

“Everyone hold up a minute,” I say out loud.
 
The clatter of boots on the hard top ceases and everyone turns, setting up a small perimeter automatically.

I turn and walk back out towards the dog a few feet.
 
It takes a couple of running steps away as I advance but then stops and looks back.
 
I squat down and call out to it holding my hand out in front of me; showing it the ‘I don’t mean any harm’ signal that seemingly all animals, humans included, know and understand.
 
Its ears perk up at my call.

“Really!?
 
You’re halting us because you want to pet a dog,” Lynn says close by my shoulder.
 
She has a point but something is calling me to this dog.

“Five minutes.
 
If it hasn’t come by then, we’re on our way,” I say to her but keep facing the dog that is doing the low slink and wait as it edges closer.
 
I can tell it wants to come but is quite hesitant.
 
I do not blame it considering what it must have seen and been through with the night runners and perhaps not being able to distinguish between the two.

The dog edges ever closer and I can make out that it is a Rottweiler.
 
A young one but the features are distinct.
 
I call softly as he creeps ever closer, until he is only a few feet away.
 
I see a wound on his left shoulder that is in the early stages of healing.
 
I am guessing from another dog or night runner.
 
Judging from the size of this one, another dog would be very wary about attacking it, unless it was a pack of dogs.
 
I continue holding my hand out, keeping it steady and not making any sudden movements, until his nose touches the end of my fingers, and sniffs.
 
I move them up slowly and start rubbing the top of his nose.
 
He, yes, it is evident that is what it is, gives my fingers a tentative lick and I move my fingers to his ears and start scratching.
 
Then, as if released, he comes in to me and begins to lick my face; happy we are not going to hurt him and that he may have found a home.
 
Or at least some attention.

“Mom, can I keep it?”
 
I ask teasingly turning back to Lynn who is standing there with a small smile on her face.

“You have to clean up after it,” she replies.

“I will, Mom.
 
Promise.”

The aircraft is ready to go as promised as we emerge onto the ramp with our now fourth additional passenger who is trotting along at my side.
 
The start cart is ready with Michelle and Nic by its side.
 
Drescoll’s team is the only team out providing cover and security.
 
I direct Red Team to stay with Drescoll to provide additional security while we start up.
 
I leave instructions to enter after we crank up the starboard engines and not to walk behind them.
 
I am leaving the security out as I am not sure what those marauders will do once they get out of sight and feel safe.
 
Those types often feel their “manhood” rise and try to do something to restore their lowered self-esteem.
 
I do not want to deal with their insecurities right now, and, frankly, they could take the lot of us down if they were to do something while we are taking off or still low to the ground.
 
I am feeling a touch nervous about that.

I walk inside with the Rottie in tow.
 
He seems quite content to follow me and stays right at my heels.
 
I will be interested to see how well he is trained as he seems to have had some.
 
I ask Kathy if Little Robert would like to come up into the cockpit.
 
She asks him and his eyes light up.
 
Up the stairs and into the cockpit we all go.
 
Bri turns and nearly comes out of her seat, even though she’s strapped in, when she sees my new companion.
 
The new companion being the Rottweiler and not the young lad.

“Jesus, Dad!”
 
She says in a loud, startled voice.
 
“Where’d you get him?”
 
Everyone else in the cockpit turns and has the same reaction.

“Found him along the way,” I say getting myself settled.

The Rottie, I’m going to have to think of name for him soon, sits down on the cockpit deck next to Bri.
 
I introduce Little Robert around and set him on the bunk.
 
I am not all that comfortable with him not being strapped in somewhere but there is going to be a bit of that going around now.
 
I see Kathy standing at the bottom of the stairs and motion her in.
 
Our little cockpit has become quite the hangout.
 
She sits on the bunk alongside her son.
 
This truly has the makings of either an airline disaster or some Mary Poppins type of movie – you know, the family all together on a trip.
 
The family dog sitting by the throttle quadrant with the kids singing happily along.
 
Okay, we need to get going before I truly lose the rest of my marbles.

“Would you like to take care of the dog for me as well?”
 
I ask Little Robert.

His eyes shine brightly and soon he is busy petting the grateful canine; both becoming enthused with each other.
 
I see the shock of the day disappearing from Little Robert’s eyes.
 
Kids are amazingly resilient.
 
Too bad we lose that capability somewhere along the way.

The startup goes without a hitch.
 
I am really watching the instruments closely.
 
We have travelled quite a distance without any maintenance and I do not know when the last maintenance was accomplished on this aircraft.
 
I could check the maintenance logs but that was always Greek to me and I would not have much of an idea what they were saying.
 
At least we will be over land if something happens.
 
Much easier to find a field and put it down as opposed to trying to land in an ocean.
 
The swells are the kicker.
 
Oh, and one interesting point to the ‘ol Hercules, there is an almost zero chance of living through a water landing.
 
Thus one of the little aspects I was nervous about with the crossing.

It is before noon when we take off, angling away from the base and airfield in case those “men” left on the ground try to do something to us in flight.
 
We should still have enough time to get to the CDC, find what we need, and get back to the aircraft before dark.
 
Climbing out and turning to the southwest, I see small cumulus clouds building in the distance ahead of us; a possible precursor to developing storms.
 
At the very least, a different air mass and frontal system.
 
Luckily we are in the summer months but scattered afternoon thunderstorms do develop in the south on occasion.
 
I am hoping for a worry-free flight.
 
Our flight should only take about four hours to get down there and, with summer upon us, should give us about five plus hours of daylight to get our stuff done.
 
Whether we take off again tonight to head home will depend on whether we can find what we want and our state of mind.
 
I have flown exhausted before and know the dangers inherent with it.
 
It is all good if nothing goes wrong but the chance of catching something amiss diminishes considerable.
 
And if something does happen, reaction times are slowed by a large degree.

Staying near the eastern seaboard, the ride down is calm for the most part with just a little skirting of some weather.
 
Our path takes us directly over New York City but I fly around it as the city is covered with a thick haze from the smoke of fires that rise out of the embattled city.
 
Large plumes of dark, oily smoke rise from many parts of the city, filling the air with its toxic content.
 
Many of those dark plumes billow out from the windows of the high-rise towers that dominate the skyline.
 
That city is going to look even dirtier when all of this settles
, I think staring out at the tall buildings rising from the thick haze.
 
The ash from those fires will coat everything giving it a very gray, dingy look.
 
This is more like what I pictured the end of the world would look like
.
 
The city looks exactly like what a post-apocalyptic city should look like according to the movies.
 
It also gives rise to the thought that many areas of the used-to-be Eastern United States will become uninhabitable due to the numerous nuclear power plants that supplied power.
 
There is not going to be anything to stop the meltdowns when the power supplying those facilities runs out.
 
Are they in the process of that due to the power being out now?
 
The very thought makes me subconsciously steer the lumbering 130 further to the west.
 
We’ll need to acquire a Geiger counter as well
, I think as the city eventually passes off to our left and behind us, leaving the taint of what we witnessed impressed in our minds.

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.