A New World: Awakening (33 page)

It’s been so long since I’ve done this and I can’t believe I’m doing it now.
 
With the engines and aircraft rumbling, we lurch forward on the ramp and to the runway.
 
I feel the familiar game time approaching and settle my thoughts down.
 
The butterflies continue but I focus my mind on the upcoming night.
 
The engines rev and we thunder down the runway.
 
It seems like forever but the nose eventually rises and we are free of the earth.
 
Greg and I are silent, lost in our own thoughts, as the aircraft claws for altitude in the late afternoon sky.

I feel us level off after a while.
 
The heaters are keeping the aircraft warm in the cold, unpressurized altitude.
 
There are enough portable oxygen kits for everyone and we drone on for a short time.
 
McCafferty walks over at one point to tell Greg and I thanks.
 

“No worries,” both Greg and I reply.

A sound at the rear of the aircraft draws my attention from the scenarios I had been running through my mind.
 
The top of the ramp lifts and the roar of the outside thunders in.
 
The bottom of the ramp begins to lower.
 
The sky behind is painted in yellows and oranges as the sun drifts toward the horizon.
 
The ground, painted in square brown shapes, is far below us.

The horizon tilts as the aircraft banks to a new heading.
 
I have a sudden, deep pride for Robert and Bri.
 
They are controlling this behemoth and doing it well.
 
I would swear it’s an experienced crew up front.
 
Well, they are actually; one of the few left on earth that could be doing this.
 
The horizon stabilizes back to its normal position as we level off again.
 
It’s just about go time.

The red light illuminates.
 
Five minutes.
 
Greg and I disconnect, stand and jump to settle our gear in place; tightening straps, making sure our gear is in place and secured.
 
I tighten my M-4 across my chest.
 
The cargo compartment has become frigid with the warm air being sucked out of the open rear of the 130.
 
We check each other over and shamble over onto the level ramp.

He leans over and shouts, “The screaming you hear on the way down will be me.”
 
The roar threatens to carry his voice away but I catch what he says.

“And the rain drops you feel will be me,” I shout back.

I tighten my chin strap and make sure the clear goggles are firmly in place as I watch for the green light.
 
The ground, rolling slowly below us from the edge of the ramp, is bathed in the dark glow of the setting sun.
 
The western outskirts of Lubbock appear to the right.
 
It’s cold but we won’t be at altitude for long.
 
Our free fall will take us quickly to the warmer and oxygen rich levels.
 
The land below grows darker as the sun hits the horizon, beginning its slow sink to mark the end of another day.
 
The roar of the air whipping by and the engines fills the space in my mind.
 
The red light vanishes and the green light illuminates below it.

“See you on the ground,” Greg shouts.

“Better that than in it,” I shout and launch out of the aircraft into the free air.

I feel myself start to tumble before old memories flood into my brain.
 
I stabilize quickly feeling the rush of air against my body.
 
My clothes flap madly in the freezing air.
 
It’s a lot like jumping into a cold pond and feeling the shock of it.
 
Brown fields stretch out below with the city showing fully now.
 
Long shadows paint the ground with the sun half way down its day’s final path.
 
I turn a 180 looking for the white roofed compound that is our target, picking it up immediately to the side – side being relative here.
 
The familiar roar of the wind rushes into my ears.
 
It’s amazing just how old things can come back immediately – just like riding a bike.

Greg is about at my altitude and he adjusts to bring us close together.
 
We won’t have much time on our little journey down as we reach our terminal velocity.
 
We are falling at close to 120 miles per hour; almost 200 feet a second.
 
I just hope we aren’t observed as it’s not entirely dark.
 
I look up and see the 130, high above us, finish a turn and begin heading back to Canon AFB.

“Be safe,” I whisper.

I look down and see the ground drawing closer by the second.
 
A glance to my altimeter tells me we don’t have much longer until we deploy.
 
I already feel the warmer air.
 
I think momentarily of other times and the places I’ve had to do this before; the adrenaline that always accompanied this kind of drop and mission.
 
I don’t have time to let my mind meander much beyond the recognizable feeling.
 
If I think beyond the immediate moment, the next thing I’d see would be the walls of the prison flashing by and that would be it; without even enough time for an “Oh shit.”

My fatigues whip as if they’re trying to leave my body.
 
The needle on my altimeter decreases non-stop.
 
It looks like we are right on the money as far as being positioned so I don’t contemplate deploying at a higher altitude and keep dropping.
 
We are approaching our deployment altitude.
 
Greg waves his arms from his chest out.
 
He repeats it again letting me know to clear the area as he is going to deploy.
 
I turn slightly to gain some separation.
 
He reaches down and throws his pilot chute into the slipstream and immediately vanishes upwards.
 
Not that he went up mind you, it just appears that way.
 
He is still falling.

I count a second longer and reach down to deploy mine as soon as I see him disappear.
 
That will give us some altitude separation.
 
My descent slows drastically as my chute deploys.
 
I never did like opening shock but then again, who in the hell does?
 
I look upward to check the chute and see it fully deployed.
 
Reaching down, I release my ruck and watch it drop.
 
It halts and dangles by the lanyard.
 
Everything appears to be in order so I grab the steering handles and begin maneuvering for the most open part of the flat roof.
 
I notice a faint glow of lights from the eastern wing windows on the ground floor.
 
The other wing remains dark.
 
It appears our guess was correct and that’s where we’ll make for.
 
It also means there is a measure of power from a generator located somewhere.

There is a tangle of large pipes and assorted obstacles but I find a large open area.
 
I look around the yard, lost for the most part in the gloom of the evening, searching for anyone outside or some sign we’ve been spotted.
 
The large area between the buildings and the walls appears clear.
 
I focus on the landing.
 
There isn’t any wind so my inbound direction is left to my discretion.
 
It is light enough that we don’t need to deploy our NVG’s mounted on our helmets but I wouldn’t need those in any case.
 
My landing spot draws close and I flare just above the ground, taking a few steps until I stop.
 
I drop the handles and release the chute which falls to the roof, draping over pipes and air vents.
 
I move out of the way and Greg lands moments later.
 
We gather our chutes and shrug off our packs, stuffing them under several pipes.
 
We then gather our gear and look around.

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Michael wakes just like he has so many nights before, present to the other packs in the area waking and readying for the nightly hunt.
 
He tamps the thought to the back to his mind and scampers through the main store.
 
This night is different though as he looks to the shelves, some a little bare but all still with packages of some sort.
 
He knows a lot of them hold food and some of them definitely don’t.
 
He could just sit inside again and break item after item and fill himself.
 
The store holds evidence of the night before when he did just that.
 
Broken bags lie in some aisles while others hold torn and twisted cans.
 
Some cans lie near the outside walls where he bashed them until their contents fell to the ground.
 
Some aromas of that food linger in the still air.

Tonight though, he wants to hunt.
 
He wants the rush of the chase and the thrill of the catch.
 
Michael wants to smell the musky scent of prey and the sweet taste of flesh and blood.
 
With the excitement building, he heads out of the broken doors and into the chill parking lot.
 
The remains of his previous pack members lie decaying on the pavement where they fell.
 
The memory of that night is still fresh.

Sniffing the air, he sets off toward a lingering scent of food, his feet pounding the hard pavement as he sets off into the night.
 
Running down a street chasing a particularly elusive scent, a flash erupts near one of the buildings, turning the night into day for a brief moment.
 
Adrenaline launches through his system immediately bringing him into a fight or flight mode.
 
He changes direction in mid-step and hides in a recessed doorway.
 
The flash he recognizes from nights prior but he still doesn’t know what causes it.
 
It’s like the flashes from the stick the two-legged ones carry but there isn’t the resounding boom that follows.
 
He edges out of his hiding place and looks to where the light came from.

He sniffs and tests the night air.
 
Nothing out of the ordinary other than the trail he is following and a stale odor of a pack that passed this way a while ago.
 
He looks and doesn’t see anything moving.
 
Cautiously, he steps out from the doorway onto the sidewalk ready to dart back at a moment’s notice.
 
Nothing happens.
 
Michael walks into the street watchful for any movement.
 
Curiosity takes hold and he walks slowly over to the area.
 
His muscles tighten as he draws near the source of the light.

There, on the wall of a building close to the street, he sees something attached.
 
He walks closer stepping up on the sidewalk mindful of the flash of light just prior to losing his pack and almost his life.
 
This, however, is just the light without the roaring explosion.
 
Stepping in front of the object, the light flashes again leaving the aftermath of a bright spot of light in his sight and ruining his night vision.
 
He leaps and starts running down the street but halts after a moment.
 
His night vision returns.
 
He’s still alive.

The curiosity takes hold again and he warily walks back keeping to the side of the object this time.
 
It doesn’t flash.
 
He looks hard at the object on the wall about chest high.
 
Somehow, and he doesn’t know how, Michael grasps it’s from the two-legged ones.
 
A very faint lingering odor from them is attached to the object.
 
Along with the awareness that it’s from the dangerous two-legged ones, he understands it is not here for the good of his kind.
 
It takes some doing but he pries it from where it rests and throws it on the ground with a loud cracking sound.
 
There is a little sound of glass shattering and pieces shoot out from the object.
 
He quickly waves his hand over it but there is no accompanying bright light.

He opens himself quickly to the others sending an image message to destroy the objects if they’re found.
 
Tucking the others in the back of his mind again, he sets off on the trail he was following.

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She and her pack smash the glass door into a large building with the images sent the night before of a new food source fresh in her mind.
 
She is still intrigued about the sudden appearance and then disappearance of this strong one of her kind.
 
Sending a message to her pack, they begin to take items off the shelves and break them open.
 
Some smell like food while others are definitely not.
 
A few cautious tastes and the pack tears into those items that seem edible.
 
She smashes a heavy metallic object on the ground and then against the wall trying to get it to spill its contents, anxious to find out if its food.
 
The can hits wall with a thump and falls to the floor rolling around before coming to a stop.
 
The awareness she felt last night suddenly materializes again.