so odds are that anyone we meet will have automatic weapons. Robert and Bri, you’ll be staying here with Echo and the rest.”
I see Robert’s and Bri’s faces fall with the last sentence. “It’s because you are the only other pilot and flight engineer. If something happens, you’ll be needed, along with Craig, to fly the others back.” Robert and Bri both nod their understanding but I can tell they are still not happy about it.
The small gusts continue across the ramp blowing lighter pieces of paper and debris along as Red and Blue Teams make their way to the Humvees. The building heat and humidity makes it feel like we are in a hot tub; each inhalation like breathing water. We check our gear and load additional equipment in the vehicles and, with a last look around the desolate ramp, drive the short distance off the tarmac and start through the small base.
The drive past the buildings is much the same as the other places we’ve been; deserted and empty with a touch of emanating malice. I’m tempted to reach out to verify the feeling but I’m still not all that comfortable with my seemingly being able to. I’m still not entirely convinced that it’s not just a product of my imagination but I think that’s just my not wanting to fully come to terms with it. Again, I think it may be a handy thing to have but I’m thinking they can “see” me as well when I do. Last night they definitely looked directly at me when I opened up so I have to assume for now that they can. What I don’t know is if they can always see me even if I tuck the images in the back of my mind.
We pull to a stop at a large intersection just before the main gate. Older and newer aircraft are mounted in a circle to the left; the usual array of aircraft on display that is associated with the base and found on all installations. Well, that is if they had smaller aircraft. It’s very difficult to mount a C-5 on a pedestal. The covered security guard shacks of the gate are blockaded by security vehicles. Uniform-clad, mummified bodies lie on the ground near each vehicle. The hot, dry summer has rendered it difficult to see if they were night runners or not but my guess is that they were. It’s a smaller version of the scene at the McChord gate.
I turn and proceed on a bypass loop around the visitor’s center. Looking over to the guard posts, I see a couple of bodies lying just behind the vehicles there. They are in the same uniforms as those out in front. It must have been a confusing scene in the last hours; your seeming comrades attacking and it being difficult to distinguish friend from foe in the dark.
The entrance road crosses over railroad tracks and we take the off toward highway 60, or 84 depending on the signs. We enter a freeway with two lanes in either direction separated by a brown grass median. I look out of the side view and see Horace drive through the median and swing onto the other lanes on the opposite side; our vehicle vibrations making the soldier manning the gun of the other vehicle a blur. Horace stations herself and her team about thirty yards behind us on the left side of the highway.
The highway is mostly clear on the drive towards Clovis. There are a couple of cars parked to the side of the road; some with their doors open and others sealed. We occasionally pass groups of houses but it is mostly brown fields stretching to either side and into the distance. The edge of a town begins abruptly; one moment it’s the brown fields and the next houses abutting the highway. The green “Clovis City Limit” sign stands by the side of the road looking as forlorn as the houses that line the freeway.
Horace moves closer as the highway comes together and begins to thread its way through the town. I glance to Gonzalez to see her looking pensively out of the windows. Paper is carried across the street as the gusts from the building
I see Robert’s and Bri’s faces fall with the last sentence. “It’s because you are the only other pilot and flight engineer. If something happens, you’ll be needed, along with Craig, to fly the others back.” Robert and Bri both nod their understanding but I can tell they are still not happy about it.
The small gusts continue across the ramp blowing lighter pieces of paper and debris along as Red and Blue Teams make their way to the Humvees. The building heat and humidity makes it feel like we are in a hot tub; each inhalation like breathing water. We check our gear and load additional equipment in the vehicles and, with a last look around the desolate ramp, drive the short distance off the tarmac and start through the small base.
The drive past the buildings is much the same as the other places we’ve been; deserted and empty with a touch of emanating malice. I’m tempted to reach out to verify the feeling but I’m still not all that comfortable with my seemingly being able to. I’m still not entirely convinced that it’s not just a product of my imagination but I think that’s just my not wanting to fully come to terms with it. Again, I think it may be a handy thing to have but I’m thinking they can “see” me as well when I do. Last night they definitely looked directly at me when I opened up so I have to assume for now that they can. What I don’t know is if they can always see me even if I tuck the images in the back of my mind.
We pull to a stop at a large intersection just before the main gate. Older and newer aircraft are mounted in a circle to the left; the usual array of aircraft on display that is associated with the base and found on all installations. Well, that is if they had smaller aircraft. It’s very difficult to mount a C-5 on a pedestal. The covered security guard shacks of the gate are blockaded by security vehicles. Uniform-clad, mummified bodies lie on the ground near each vehicle. The hot, dry summer has rendered it difficult to see if they were night runners or not but my guess is that they were. It’s a smaller version of the scene at the McChord gate.
I turn and proceed on a bypass loop around the visitor’s center. Looking over to the guard posts, I see a couple of bodies lying just behind the vehicles there. They are in the same uniforms as those out in front. It must have been a confusing scene in the last hours; your seeming comrades attacking and it being difficult to distinguish friend from foe in the dark.
The entrance road crosses over railroad tracks and we take the off toward highway 60, or 84 depending on the signs. We enter a freeway with two lanes in either direction separated by a brown grass median. I look out of the side view and see Horace drive through the median and swing onto the other lanes on the opposite side; our vehicle vibrations making the soldier manning the gun of the other vehicle a blur. Horace stations herself and her team about thirty yards behind us on the left side of the highway.
The highway is mostly clear on the drive towards Clovis. There are a couple of cars parked to the side of the road; some with their doors open and others sealed. We occasionally pass groups of houses but it is mostly brown fields stretching to either side and into the distance. The edge of a town begins abruptly; one moment it’s the brown fields and the next houses abutting the highway. The green “Clovis City Limit” sign stands by the side of the road looking as forlorn as the houses that line the freeway.
Horace moves closer as the highway comes together and begins to thread its way through the town. I glance to Gonzalez to see her looking pensively out of the windows. Paper is carried across the street as the gusts from the building
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