John O'Brien - Takedown

“Okay. Open the hatch. Everyone out. Teams on the perimeter. Reynolds, you and your team stay with the kids. Make sure they don’t wander off,” I say.

The lights go off causing the kids to begin crying again. Fresh, chilled air rolls through the interior as the ramp is lowered. Teams at the rear un-pile from one another and exit, setting up a small circular perimeter. Telling Robert to stay put, I exit so that the others toward the front can get out.

The interior rapidly empties with just the driver, gunner, and Robert remaining within. I catch Reynolds as she passes by.

“Can those kids read? Or the oldest?” I ask her.

“I’m not sure, sir. I never thought along those lines to be honest,” she answers.

“See if the oldest or one of the others can. Write a note telling them they’re okay or something like that and have her sign to the rest,” I say. “And give them a flashlight so they can see.”

“Will do, sir.”

With that, I step inside. Robert has his pants leg rolled up and is looking at the wound. Walking to him, I immediately see a bite mark. Fuck…fuck…fuck. Kneeling, I look closer. There aren’t any chunks that have been ripped out but several of the teeth marks have penetrated through the skin. The one thing that just about sends me over the top is the vast amount of drying blood covering his pant legs and skin from the gore that was blasted out of the night runner’s head. That has soaked through and coats his skin around the wound. Fuck…fuck…fuck.

“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, knowing full well what I went through.

“Yeah, Dad, I feel fine. It just stings a little,” he answers.

“What in the hell were you thinking…running back like that without cover?” I ask, reaching for a bottle of water.

“I did say something. Besides, there wasn’t time. They were almost on her.”

I’m torn between telling him good job or what a foolish thing it was. I mean, I get it and, as I thought before, I would most likely have done the same thing. That doesn’t make me feel any better though. Taking my knife out, I slice his pant leg upward and then around, cutting the lower section away. I toss the scrap of clothing outside and begin pouring water over the wound to clear away any remaining blood. I remove my T-shirt and begin quickly cleaning the wound trying to keep the blood from the breaks in the skin.

“Next time, wait for cover…and, although I’m not really in much of a frame of mind to say so, that was the single most courageous thing I ever saw…or the most stupid. Just don’t ever, I mean ever, do that again,” I say, wiping the last vestiges of gore clear.

“Sir, is there anything I can do to help?”

I turn to see McCafferty standing at the opening. Bri is standing just behind her looking on with worry.

“Yeah. Crush these up,” I reply, handing her a few antibiotic pills that we all carry. “And get some bandages from the first aid kit.”

I hand Robert a couple of the tablets along with a fresh bottle of water. “Here, take these.”

“Thanks, Dad,” he replies, downing the pills.

I stare at the wound with dread as McCafferty finishes grinding up the tablets.

“Here, Dad,” Bri says, handing me bandage packets from the first aid kit.

“Thanks,” I reply, ripping several open.

McCafferty pours the powder on one of the bandages and I compress it over Robert’s wound, taping it in place.

“Does it feel any different?” I ask Robert.

“I really can’t feel it at all anymore.”

“Okay. You just sit here and don’t fuck with it.”

Turning to McCafferty, I ask her to tell Greg to get everyone loaded back up pronto. I’m in a rush to get back to the aircraft and hope that it hasn’t been overcome with night runners. If we can get onboard, I’d like to take off immediately, but I don’t know what to do about Harkins and the others. If the ramp is filled with our screaming comrades of the night, we won’t be able to load the others onboard. I suppose we could come back and get them.

I don’t really know what’s driving me to think that there’s anything that I can do for Robert at Cabela’s that I’m not already doing. Well, I do, it’s called fear. It’s that I will be doing something getting him home. I feel that the quicker I can get him home, the better his chances will be. However irrational that may be, it’s what I feel.

This places me in a quandary, though. I made promises to the others to take them back with us. I don’t really know what to do about that. I stow that aside knowing I really won’t be able to make a decision until I return and see the situation.

I step outside to let everyone crowd back onboard. Standing on the remote overpass in the middle of nowhere, with the empty highway passing underneath, I stare at the stars glittering though breaks in the clouds. The fields stretch into the night in shades of gray. A chilly breeze brushes against my pants legs. The sparkles high overhead make me feel so small and the barren fields mimic the emptiness I feel inside.

“Please don’t take another of my kids,” I whisper to the clouds passing slowly overhead.

They change shapes and, without responding, move on their way across the plains.

“We’re loaded, Jack,” Greg calls from inside the Stryker.

With a sigh, I step inside and close the hatch, never to visit this place again, but it will forever remain in my memory. The Stryker is packed, but a little more organized, so it seems roomier. With her head on his shoulder, Bri huddles close to Robert. Robert has his arm shyly around her shoulders. His look says that he really doesn’t understand all of the attention he is getting. Several of the soldiers reach across and pat him on the shoulder.

We start forward, heading down the dirt slope and enter the highway. The Stryker revs up and we pick up speed. Everyone knows the reason for the rush, but no one voices it. I mentally will the vehicle to move faster but the adrenaline is diminishing to a certain degree allowing a bit of reason to surface. I know in my mind that there is nothing I can do here or anywhere to help my son any more than what we are already doing. That doesn’t make me feel much better as I really want nothing more at this very moment than to be pulling into our sanctuary.

I know that, for me, this part of our search is over, however fair that may be to the soldiers. I need to get my son home. I also know that we will more than likely have to wait for morning before we can leave, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to hurry to the 130.

Pulling onto the ramp a short time later, I see night runners filling it. Some are gathered around the grills with the smell of freshly cooked meat drawing them. They are attempting to overturn or break open the firmly chained down barbecues. Others stand under the aircraft howling upward in their frustration at not being able to get in. The 130, with its ramp down, is being swarmed inside and out. Some of our goods are scattered across the tarmac. Seeing this settles any argument about taking the others and getting immediately airborne with Robert. No, we’re not going anywhere in the aircraft tonight.

“Take us out of town and find us a remote place to hole up for the night,” I say, watching several night runners start after our vehicle.

“Do you want me to take them down, sir?” the gunner asks.

“No. We can’t take the chance of an errant ricochet. Let’s just get out of here,” I reply.

I have Greg radio Harkins telling them our situation and that we’ll see them in the morning. The speakers echo in the interior as Harkins asks about the people we set off to rescue. I don’t hear Greg’s answer but Harkins’ reply of, “That’s good,” says it all.