John O'Brien - Return

“Gear down and verify three green for me Robert.”

I see his hand appear in my range of vision and move the gear handle down. A vibration rumbles through the aircraft as the gear are released and forced into the slipstream.

“Three green,” Robert says as the rumbling comes to a stop.

“Lynn, make sure everyone is strapped in please.”

“Already done, Jack.”

“Thanks,” I say to her. “Robert, flaps at 50 if you please.”

The aircraft starts to rise up as the configuration is changed. I compensate by pulling the throttles back a touch and push the nose down, retrimming the aircraft as I do. We continue down the flight path with only a few bumps of turbulence, the ILS needles perfectly centered. I’m tired and things that were normally done by rote become almost a chore. The lights come ever closer. Why did this have to happen? I could be home right now playing Xbox , the momentary stray thought runs through my mind. Focus, focus .

“Full flaps.”

I again change the throttle and pitch as the aircraft responds to its configuration change. “We’re looking for 135 knots,” I say to Robert.

Into the radio, I say, “Lajes approach, Otter 39 on short final.”

“Roger Otter 39, cleared to land. Remain on this frequency. Runway looks clear.”

“Roger that Lajes. See you on the ground,” I say pressing the transmit button.

The tendency at night is to flare high so I hold the nose down a moment longer than what would normally seem right after we pass the threshold lights and our landing lights pick up the runway markings. I pull the throttle back while raising the nose. Low and slow like this is the moment I hope to God that we don’t hit something. Even something small will throw us off our flight path enough so that we would become a flaming wreck and a memory. Something to talk about for a week and then forgotten. The right wheel contacts the runway first, then the left as we rock slightly and the aircraft settles to the runway. The nose comes down as I apply reverse thrust, slowing the aircraft rapidly. Approaching taxi speed, I ask Robert to bring the flaps up.

“Lajes, we’re clear of the active and taxiing to the ramp.”

“Roger Otter 39, taxi to parking.”

It is amazing how some things like proper radio communication remain when everything else is gone. Just a product of nature I guess or maybe we are just trying to hold on to something. There was no need for us to carry on like that. Those radio communications were introduced for brevity and to control vast amounts of aircraft in a short period of time. As far as I can tell, we are the only ones, possibly in the world, flying. Yet here we are practicing standard radio communication when we could have just been talking normally. Go figure.

Just as these thoughts are crossing my mind and we are taxiing in, a shadow runs across the taxi way in our lights.

“Is that what I think it was?” Michelle asks.

“I think so,” Robert answers her.

“Lajes, be aware that we may have visitors. I just saw one cross in front of us,” I say into the radio.

“Roger Otter 39, we see several of them heading your way across the ramp from the base.”

“Okay, we should be fine in here as long as they can’t figure out how to open the doors,” I reply as we come to a stop on the ramp. “We’ll shut down here. Once we shut down, be aware that we won’t have our radios on so we can conserve our battery.”

“Copy that.”

“See you in the morning Lajes,” I say and begin shutting down the engines.

“Did you catch that we might have company, Lynn?”

“I did.”

“Okay, I’ll be back there when I finish up here.”

“See you the..” That’s all I catch as the engines wind down and the cockpit plunges into darkness.

Damn, I forgot to switch to DC power , I think reaching up to turn the switch. I’m too tired to think .

The internal lights come back on the moment I click the switch over. “Let’s head into the back,” I say to everyone in the cockpit after removing my helmet. I get no response. The only indication I have that they heard me is their movement out of their seats and down the stairs.

“Robert, put the blackout covers on the windows,” I say once we are in the cargo compartment. The blackout covers will prevent any light from escaping outside and therefore drawing more attention to ourselves.

“There are creatures around and they’re most likely heading our way. We should be safe inside here unless they’ve figured out the secret of opening the doors,” I say gathering the group around.

Noticing some startled and worried looks, I add, “Not to worry, I don’t think they’ve progressed to that point yet. We’ll settle in for the night keeping a watch, meet up with the folks stationed here in the morning and go from there. Silence is our best friend so limit movement and keep talking down to whispers. We need to become a deep, dark, black hole. Let’s settle in and lights out in five minutes. Sergeant Connell, will you see to the watch schedule?”

“Already handled, sir,” Lynn responds.

“Any questions or comments,” I ask.

“How about calling them night runners?” Corporal Horace asks.

“That’s as good a name as any,” I answer. “Anyone have any problems with that?”

“Night runners it is,” I say seeing most everyone shake their head.

SLAM! The first of the anticipated bangs against the side of the aircraft echoes inside startling everyone. This is quickly followed by another under the right side window as the night runners close in and try to gain entry. Muffled howls and shrieks of frustration and calling reach inside as soldiers scramble to get their rifles. Lynn walks to each one and quietly tells them to stand down and be at ease knowing that silence is our best weapon at this point.

“Sir, why don’t we take off and fly around until morning like we did last night?” Sergeant Drescoll asks as everyone settles back down.

“We don’t have enough fuel for that. We’re down to about an hour at best,” I answer thinking I have really screwed up my planned times for landing. Not once have we landed during the day time like I wanted. That’ll have to change , I think. It puts us with too few options and increased risk .

The howls and shrieks continue outside as I step into the cockpit to turn off the battery plunging the aircraft into darkness. Putting on the night vision goggles and looking out of the windows, I see approximately twenty of the night runners gathered around the aircraft moving in an agitated state. Several disappear out of view as they take runs at the aircraft and slam into the side. Further out, I can make out others heading our way across the ramp. At the base of the tower, I barely make out other night runners gathered there. There should be enough of us to handle them if need be , I think removing the goggles.

I settle into the lower bunk in the cockpit and pull the thin blanket over me amidst the frequent slams and the vibrations they cause on the aircraft. I am exhausted and begin to drift off. I feel a coma coming on. The kind of deep sleep that only being on fire will wake you from and maybe not even then. Just as I’m about to fall into that darkness, I hear feet shuffling up the stairs and the blanket is pulled aside. A dark shape settles in next to me.

“I really hope you are Lynn,” I whisper into the ear of the person next to me. “If you’re not, you’re terribly lost.”

“Mmmmm, yeah, it’s me,” I hear her whisper with her back to me.

She reaches back and I feel the zipper of my flight suit zip down. “I guess we’re not waiting for a shipping container eh?” I ask chuckling quietly and pleased that we are not.