John O'Brien - Chaos

“Bri, Nicole, you have the two middle cots between the tanks,” I say pointing. “Michelle, you have the one over the window.”

They take out their bags, unfurling them on the cots with Robert unrolling his under Michelle’s location. Smiling inside, I unroll mine in the aisle by the front door. We find some small pillows in the storage compartments and heat up some canned food after arranging our beds and hunker down for some dinner. We are all exhausted so eat mostly in silence with little small talk.

“We’ll get some rest and head out of here in the morning,” I say as we finish dinner. “Flashlights by your bed in case you need to get up in the night. I’ll take the first watch.”

With everyone in their bags, I head up to the cockpit and flip the electrical system off plunging the aircraft into darkness. My path illuminated by flashlight, I head over to my bag and climb inside, laying the M-4 and pistol by my side and switching off the light. We all say our goodnights in the darkness.

I am just about to lay my head down and keep watch from inside my bag when a loud thump reverberates through the aircraft. Nicole gives a small yelp. “What was that?” Robert asks sitting up in the darkness. A shriek sounds outside.

“I guess that answers your question,” I say climbing out of my bag and grabbing my weapons.

Another thump as something slams into the side from outside, this one close behind me by the front crew door. It is followed by another close to the rear of the aircraft on the other side. Several shrieks sound out in the night and I hear growling outside, muted by the metallic skin of the fuselage. The thumps against the fuselage increase with the shrieks and growling growing in intensity and numbers. Apparently more are arriving outside the aircraft.

“Don’t worry guys and be absolutely quiet,” I whisper loud enough for everyone to hear just as two simultaneous thumps echo inside from opposite sides of the 130. “This thing took the beating the thunderstorms gave it so we are quite safe here. And, unless they know how to manipulate the doors, they can’t get inside.”

The slams and shrieks become a constant with the muted growls filling any void in-between. Exhaustion fills us but we are unable to sleep with the noise outside coupled with the tension that so many things prowling around brings.

“Okay!! Enough of this crap!” I say after three solid hours of this constant barrage on our senses. “This has got to stop!”

“What are you going to do?” Robert asks as I turn on my flashlight and start toward the curtains at the bottom of the cockpit stairs.

“End this shit,” I say drawing the curtains back enough to slip inside and up the stairs.

I sit, buckle in, and put my helmet on. Robert slides into his seat and buckles in. “Are we taking off?” He says after plugging into the intercom.

“No,” I reply switching on the battery and ensuring the fuel control panel is set correctly.

With the helmet on, the thumps and shrieks are muted even further; the thumps more felt than heard and the constant growling muted altogether. If the helmets muted everything altogether, perhaps we could just put them on and enjoy some quiet, but well, that’s just not the case. I don’t know how many are gathered outside trying to bash their way in, but from the sound of it, there are quite a few.

“Are we just going to move then? Won’t they just follow us?” Robert asks as I attach the NVG’s to my helmet and rotate them over my eyes.

“We’re going to move alright and I hope they do follow us.”

I glance out my side window. The runway and surrounding area is bathed in a greenish glow. Depth perception is a little off but details are not. I see at least fifty gathered on my side and in front; some just milling around but others running at the aircraft only to disappear below my line of sight, the only indication that their run continues is a solid thump against the aircraft. My line of sight cannot see much past our inboard engine toward the fuselage but I imagine it is the same all around us.

“There are about fifty over here. How’s your side?” I ask looking over at Robert to see he has put his NVG’s on.

“About the same I think,” he answers as the girls step into the cockpit and buckle into their seats.

“Are we leaving?” Bri asks once she attaches her comm cord.

“Nope.”

“What are we going to do then?” She asks only to be interrupted by Robert. “How are we going to start the engines with those things around them?”

“We just are,” I answer back as four sets of eyes turn toward me and I raise my NVG’s.

“I’m not even going to ask if it’s clear right,” I say moving the throttle lever to run and reach up to the number three engine start button.

Robert looks back in but keeps sneaking quick glances outside, both curious and appalled at the potential of what will happen when the engines start. I push the button and hear the turbine start spinning up and see the gauges on number three rise.

“Oh sick!” Robert says but he continues glancing outside.

I feel a couple of thumps as the props spin up to speed and the engine stabilizes smoothly at idle. I run up the engine a little and begin the start on number 4. I feel thumps along my side of the aircraft and some on Robert’s but they are distinctly lacking on the right rear. The hurricane force winds generated by the engines and giant props prevent anything from being able to exist behind.

“They’ve moved away from the engines but are bunched up below me,” Robert says.

I start the remaining engines and the drone drowns out all but the slams against the front. With everything stabilized, I flick on the landing and taxi lights flooding the area in front in light. The crowd around the aircraft comes into full view, their mottled skin showing up brightly. They are clothed in a variety of manners; some in flight suits, others in fatigues and other uniforms, and still others in civilian clothing; shorts, jeans, t-shirts, button up shirts; some shredded, some whole. The intensity of the lights causes them to appear as if in black and white with little color being reflected back to our eyes. They are milling about anxiously with only the occasional one slamming into the side but all give the blur of the props room. In the lights, more are running toward our front and sides from around the wind edges.

I release the parking brake, move the throttles up and the aircraft starts rolling forward. “Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?” Robert asks staring at the immense crowd outside.

“Yup,” I reply pushing the throttles forward. The engines respond to my request and the 130 begins to pick up speed, the nose of the aircraft forcing the things outside to part to one side or the other. “I wouldn’t look as it’s not going to be pretty.”

A change in the pitch and drone of the engines occurs as we head down the taxiway and onto the runway accompanied by a series of soft slaps against the sides of the fuselage behind us. The things outside closest to us try to back away from our advance but are slowed by those behind them. Some try to get away to the side only to be caught by the outside engines. In the middle of the runway, I start turning the aircraft around, the light we cast turns with us and illuminates the outside by degrees, picking up the things outside coming back at us, first in singles as we turn, and then in groups as we complete our 180 degree turn. The lights clearly show our previous path. Small and large clumps of shredded clothing and bloodied body parts are strewn on the taxiway with a clearly defined path down the middle.

Some are now coming toward us from in front with more from the sides as we start down the taxiway to where we were parked just moments ago. Some of those in front scatter to the sides and away at our approach but a few keep coming blinded by the intensity of our lights. There are a couple additional buzz saw-like sounds and meaty slaps against the sides as we turn left and proceed down the main taxiway paralleling the runway. The main ramp area opens to our right and I swing out onto it, doing yet another 180 degree turn at midfield. I bring the throttles back and step on the brakes bringing us to a stop. The lights pick out an immense horde of things running after us down the taxiway and in the grass between the taxiway and runway.