John O'Brien - Return

Setting up on the approach and finishing the checks, I bring the aircraft down final with the airspeed a touch higher to give us a margin in case we do have to go around for some reason. Our landing lights reach out into the darkness, searching for the runway. There are no visual references with which to judge our approach so I just have to trust the instruments. Robert is in the right seat reading off airspeeds and altitudes, transitioning to the radar altimeter which gives us our height above the ground. I cannot rely on the actual altimeter for accuracy as we do not have a correct atmospheric pressure to set into it. On down the glide slope we continue.

The runway threshold suddenly materializes out of the dark as the landing lights pick it up. We are coming in with a little crab due to our asymmetric thrust which will slowly vanish as I pull the throttles back. The end of the threshold disappears under us. I begin to pull the throttles back bringing the nose up, reducing the crab as the asymmetric thrust vanishes. The centerline stripes rush past the windshield as I continue to gently raise the nose. The main wheels thump on the runway and the aircraft settles. I lower the nose and let the aircraft slow on its own, not wanting to use reverse thrust as that will create a tremendous amount of reverse thrust differential due to our lost engine and possibly veer us off the runway. I could use just the outboard engines to reverse thrust with but we have a long runway and will be able to slow down without using them. Although the C-130 will do well as an off-road vehicle, I do not really want to experiment with that right now. The airspeed slows and I apply the brakes to slow us further.

We taxi in to the ramp where we started this whole trek across the world, our mission a success. Our landing lights pick up the lunch area outside of the base operations building where we began planning this crazy trip. The table still sits where we left it with a couple of the chairs knocked over on their sides. It all seems very surreal and eerie as if we experienced the flight planning just a few days ago in another life or dream. We have arrived a lot wiser to our situation but the expenditure of energy and lives has been high in acquiring that knowledge and getting Lynn. Too many close calls. Hopefully the west coast night runners are a little more laid back than the east coast ones as the ones out east really did not seem to like our presence. Well, come to think of it, the ones here did not especially seem to appreciate us either.

The drone and vibration of the our three remaining engines decreases as we shut the fuel off to them and the giant propellers begin to wind down in the night air. I turn off the taxi lights plunging the night outside into darkness. The moon is high overhead casting its light on the ramp outside and illuminates the cockpit, which has been our home for the past few days, in a silvery glow. This will be the final resting place for this aircraft which has experienced our journey with us and seen us through safely. I pat the dash lightly and tell it thank you.

I unbuckle and rise with a tired sigh, feeling a touch of melancholy now about having to leave the aircraft here but feeling an anxiety and nervousness about our new journey that will begin with the rising of the sun. I reach into my flight suit pocket and pull out my phone. Flipping it open, I press the start button powering it up. The screen lights up, illuminating my face with its glow. The main screen shows and, there on the top, four bars show. What? I think seeing this. How is this possible? I think along several avenues until I realize there has been a revolution around this area with putting solar panels on a lot of the cell towers and powering them using solar energy. I guess they must have done the same with some of the central offices and the servers so these links are still powered up. Lucky us, I think as my phone vibrates suddenly in my hand.

There, displayed on my screen is a text message. I stare in disbelief at the words printed on the screen:

“Are you still alive? I need help.”

The bright light is out again this night, causing a slight tingle on his skin where it is exposed. Not enough to cause any discomfort or pain but like a small, barely felt itch on the back where you cannot reach it. Not close to the pain of the ball of light during the light hours but noticeable if thought about.

His pack is out again this night like all of the others, the sound of their feet striking the street behind him echoes off of the silent buildings as he runs searching for food. He has gained numbers over the last few nights making him the leader of a medium-sized pack. They have needed to range further from their lair each night to find food as it has become scarcer around the buildings and the lairs of the two-legged ones. The food lying freely about in the buildings has been taken and their meals now consist of having to chase down live prey. They will have to move their lair soon.

These ‘thoughts’ do not come as words in his mind but more as images and instinctual reactions and knowing. He hears distant shrieks throughout the night as other packs find a scent or food; too distant for him and his pack to respond in time. He stops and sniffs each passing breeze for a scent that will lead them to food. They have eaten some this night but there have been other nights when he and his pack have had to retire to their lair, with the failing night, hungry. He runs on, searching the area in patterns hoping for the elusive scent that food is near.

There have been moments, when running in this fashion, when objects appear on his search that trigger a sense of recognition, but the hint of recognition is forgotten almost immediately. His awareness of the other night runners around him fades when these triggers occur, leaving him confused as to why he cannot detect them or why they fade from his mind. But even that confusion is forgotten with the moment passing. He has remained the leader and added to his pack because of his ability to find food and keep the pack relatively safe.

He has only his instincts; keep fed, keep his pack whole and growing, and to mate with the females when they give off their irresistible scent. An image comes to his mind that he needs to add more females to his pack. That will prevent a rivalry with the males that are following him down the darkened street. He does not register the additional fact that his sight has improved in the night. What does register is the fact that the two-legged ones, that are favored for food and creates an anger within, do not show themselves in the night anymore. They keep to their lairs that are becoming increasingly hard to get into.

Some of the places where the two-legged ones live are still relatively easy to get into but are becoming harder to find. The boards are sometimes easily torn from the sides and the pack can eat. Sometimes though, they try for hours to get in before leaving to find other food or depart because the lightening in the sky forces them to retire back to their lair. Few of any other food roams at night or hides within the buildings; fewer each night and the competition for food between packs is building. They have not had to defend their food when they have found it as yet but he instinctually knows that they may have to.

A scent reaches his nose, carried on the night breeze as they pass a side street. A small scent but food nonetheless. The instinctual shriek rises from his throat mimicked a second later by the others running behind him. They all turn in mid-stride toward the scent hoping to fill their hungry bellies before the night is over. They run down two more streets before catching sight of a smaller, furry creature darting off the street and into a yard. The pack shrieks louder as they catch a glimpse of food. The striking of their feet on the road grows quicker as their legs pick up speed.