A New World: Return by John O'Brien Page A

civilian aircraft, and two, they were not in afterburner.   Still, it looked like they were going to make it but the jet, in an attempt to avoid the tower, suddenly pitched up, rolled onto its back, plummeted to the ground, and slid across it in a fireball.   The crash investigation revealed that the throttles were only set at about 70% power and concluded that temporal distortion was the cause.   My friend was putting the throttles into afterburner but was not seeing the corresponding results on the instruments.   It was thought that he did not think he was getting the afterburner to light and was cycling the throttles in an attempt to get them lit when all he was really doing was moving the throttles very rapidly back and forth.   The temporal distortion made him think he was moving the throttles up smoothly but not getting the afterburner to light, when, in actuality, he was not giving the instruments time to respond.   Yes, temporal distortion can be a life saver most of the time, but it can also have disastrous consequences if you are not aware it is happening.
    “Anyway, you did well.   Oh and thanks.”
    “For what?”   He asks with a hint of confusion crossing his face.   The gears of his mind cycling through events trying to figure out what I am referring to.
    “That night runner would’ve had me cold in the aisle if you hadn’t shot him,” I say with a small smile.
    “Oh, I forgot about that,” he says with a trace of pride flashing through his eyes.
    “Let’s get these loaded,” I finish our conversation with a nod.
    It is a silent drive back to the airfield and ramp.   Everyone is lost in their thoughts.   Having been there in the post adrenaline combat moment a few times, I know that some are thinking about and reliving the events while other thoughts move towards the future and the odds of survival.   Seeing Horace’s van behind us in the rear view, I know the same silence must be riding along with them, especially with the loss of two of their team.   Any loss of that nature brings second guessing.   I know it is affecting me and wondering two things.   What could I, or we, have done differently?   What do we need to change in future endeavors to prevent or minimize any losses?   And, do I still have the confidence of the team?   Okay, that is three things.
    “Sir,” I hear McCafferty say behind me.
    I turn in my seat to see Red Team sitting on the bench seats with their weapons propped between their legs and looking from McCafferty to me.
    “Yes,” I respond back.
    “I know I speak for the rest of us when I say thank you for getting us out of there,” she says.
    “It wasn’t me.   It was our teamwork and working together that got us out of there,” I say feeling relieved, realizing that my worry about their confidence in me has been answered.
    She merely nods at my response along with the rest of the team and they fold back to their private thoughts.
    “We’ll debrief with everyone else after we get back and unload this stuff,” I say and turn around to stare outside at the passing buildings.
    As the buildings pass by, they take on an even more foreboding aspect.   I wonder how many night runners lurk behind each darkened window.   In my mind, I imagine a horde of night runners hiding behind each of the windows.   Watching and waiting.   Ready to pounce on any intruder into their domain.   Ready to take advantage of any mistake we make.   It is like riding through a ghost town where tragedy overtook and the ghosts of the past watch from their rooms as the living pass by.   Jealous.   Vengeful.   Eagerly waiting and beckoning for the living to enter.
    The foreboding passes but leaves other thoughts in its wake.   Were all of the night runners gathered at the BX because there sure were enough of them there?   Or are there others gathered in the darkened recesses of the other buildings around?   Are they going to gather in larger and larger groups like they