John O'Brien - Return

“Yes, sir,” she says lapsing back into her professional form as the four pick themselves up and walk to the dead man with two members of Black Team to the rear and side covering them.

“Would it be a fitting place under those trees?” I ask Kathy. She blinks her tears away, looks over to the trees indicated, and nods. It does seem a peaceful place sheltered by the trees.

“The rest of you over to those trees and start digging,” I say eyeing them carefully, not expecting them to bolt due mainly to my outright shooting of their leader. I see the abject obedience and low esteem written across their faces and in their eyes. “One grave and make it snappy!”

“What about Joe?” One of them asks looking over to where their former leader lies by the evaporating pool of blood circling his head and running in lines along the uneven pavement.

“He stays where he lies,” I say. I don’t have the stomach or time.

“What about us? Are you going to shoot us?” The same man asks with fear in his voice.

“I haven’t decided yet. Compliance will certainly be in your favor,” I say trying to keep the balance of uncertainty and hope in each of them. Knowing their fate, whether for good or bad, will cause a reaction of some sort on their part. Knowing they will die for sure will cause them to find a way to flee or attack knowing they have nothing to lose. Letting them know they may live and giving them a semblance of hope will keep them docile and doing what you want. Off balance and indecisive, that is what I want them to feel.

“Red Team, keep a moving perimeter about us as we move over to the trees and notify the others at the airfield that all is in hand and well,” I say in the radio.

“Roger sir,” I hear McCafferty respond.

The group of men, and I use the term loosely, are sweating furiously by the time they finish digging a large enough hole in the ground. The temperature is climbing as the morning progresses and the sun makes its way higher into the clear, blue sky. The trees here provide some shelter but it becomes warm nonetheless, the lack of a breeze is stifling. The smell of freshly dug up earth fills the air as Robert’s dad is lowered into the five foot hole, seventeen men can dig a hole pretty quick, even in this hard packed earth. I am not really a good one for words for these times so I ask everyone to say a prayer in their own fashion with a moment of silence.

Red Team is still keeping a small perimeter and I ask them to recover the guns dropped by the marauders — a much better word for them than men. They return carrying a variety of weapons with them, mostly hunting rifles, shotguns, and handguns. I have the marauders stand and searched without finding any additional guns; they only have their now dulled knives with them.

“Are we going to get those back?” Asks the one man questioning earlier, referring to the guns and now fairly sure we are not going to annihilate them. At least he could think; I mean, who would search someone a while after being captured if we were just going to shoot them down. Why not just do it?

“Nope,” I answer.

“Are you going to shoot us?” He asks.

“Most likely not.”

“You’re just going to leave us here defenseless?”

“Should’ve thought about that before,” I say not having the least ounce of remorse for them. This new world, if we ourselves live long enough to keep mankind going, does not need these types around to foster or bring about their kind of thinking. The kind that thinks bullying women or forcing them is okay. And that goes for a large variety of actions. We really need to foster morality and, not only the ability to know right from wrong, but to act in that manner. Harmony with our environment and peace with those around us. Hopefully this new age, which will be a while in the making considering how few of us there are left, will have that facet to it. This time, we can hopefully do it right.

“You there,” I say pointing to the one I thought I saw some uneasiness in with prior our intervention.

He is a strong looking young man with a medium build either in his late teens or just out of them with short black, tightly curled hair. His dark eyes and face turn towards me with a look of fear and dread.

“How do you feel about what happened?” I ask sweeping my hand in the general direction of where they had Kathy and her son cornered.

“I didn’t like it at all, sir,” he answers lowering his head and then looking back into my eyes. I perceive no deception in them or with him.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” I ask further.

“Well, I really didn’t know what to do. I was worried they’d turn on me,” he answers. The other marauders direct quick, dark looks in his direction.

“What’s your name?”

“Kenneth. And I’m really sorry ma’am,” he says directing this last to Kathy.

“Can we go with you? Will you take us with you? We’re really sorry too lady,” the other man with all of the questions pipes up and asks.

“Not a chance in hell. Now all of you get the fuck out of here before I change my mind about everything. If I see you again, you die!” I give him my answer in no uncertain terms. “Kenneth, you can stay and go with us if you’d like.”

The remaining marauders, seeing their chance at living to see another sunrise, take to their heels, vanishing off through the trees. Kenneth looks after them in a moment of uncertainty and then remains.

“Let’s get out of these trees and back,” I say to the group. “Black Team in the lead, Red Team following. Keep an eye out to where they went.”

“Hooah, sir.”

“All other teams, this is Jack, we’re heading back with three civilians in tow,” I say into the radio letting the others at the aircraft know. “Robert, is the aircraft refueled?”

“Just finished, Dad,” he answers.

“Okay everyone, let’s be ready to go on our arrival. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes,” I say pressing the mic button again.

“We’ll be ready, sir,” I hear Drescoll respond.

Following our path back through the silent base, we make our way through the warm, humid morning back towards the aircraft with our three new passengers tagging along with us. We keep the same staggered formation with Kathy, Kenneth, and Little Robert, that’s how I think of him now, in the middle of our formation. We are going to be way crowded in the aircraft now. I mean, a regular C-130 would start to feel crowded, but this one was not meant to handle a lot of people. It was meant to handle a lot of fuel. But we will manage. We may have to figure something else out though if we run across another large group.

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.