Read Online A New World: Sanctuary by John O'Brien - Free Book Online
Authors: John O'Brien
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buildings.
We secure the armory doors and gate, sliding the locks back into place without being able to actually lock them, and climb into our respective vehicles. The area comes to life with sound as the engines are started. Our small convoy begins our drive back to the ramp trying to retrace our route. We only have to turn around once after missing the correct turn to McChord. We finally pull onto the tarmac and park off to the side of the aircraft. The 130 sits on the ramp looking sad and forlorn as if it knows it has completed its last journey but knowing that its final trip was perhaps the most important one in its long life; able to retire with pride.
As I step out of the Jeep, Mike runs out of the back of the aircraft and across the ramp. I squat and put my arms around him as he licks my face, his hind end swaying from side to side. We are bonding well and he acts like I haven’t seen him in months rather than a couple of hours. I stand staring off at the hills of the Cascades waiting for Lynn and the other teams to arrive. The hills are a subdued blue and partially hidden behind a haze. The other nice thing, if one can think of nice things associated with such a loss of human life, is that the air will clear up. I remember looking at those same hills many, many years ago and I could see them with such clarity; able to see the actual trees residing on their slopes. Now, they are just a blur of color.
I begin to feel a touch of impatience just standing here. With all there is to do, standing idly makes me feel like I’m wasting time. I want to be doing something but, honestly, there isn’t anything to be done at this time. I know Lynn is moving as fast as she can and what she is doing is important, but I am eager for her to get here and for us to be off. We still have the search to do. It feels like I am running in molasses – time is passing but I’m getting nowhere. Looking around, my vision settles on the transport truck filled with items looking like Santa’s sleigh. All I need is reindeer to attach to the front.
Time passes slowly and Lynn finally calls that they are finished and on their way. My impatience has increased to the point that I want to start pacing just to do something when I hear the sound of the convoy approaching. The sun overhead passes its highest point and begins its downward trek, beginning the second half of the day, by the time the first of the vehicles enter the ramp. They are all in a line as they transit the ramp and pull up next to the already parked vehicles, shutting down individually as they park in a row. The sound of doors closing resonates in the still of the early afternoon and brings finality to their arrival.
Lynn’s face falls slightly as she looks around the ramp obviously hoping to see Craig’s jet. I feel her heartache and wish I could just make the jet appear. She gathers herself and walks over, giving a rundown of what they found and brought. Her face is streaked with dirt where the sweat has evaporated.
“How do you want to do this?” Lynn asks referring to the search for survivors.
“I think we should head off in teams and assign areas to each one. Have them cruise through their areas slowly, calling out and making noise as best as they can,” I answer.
“I’ll stay here with the others who aren’t assigned to teams in case someone shows up, alerted by our noise,” I continue purposely not adding that I am also staying to wait for her brother and mom.
“Okay, I don’t have a map to go by so I’ll just give general area assignments if that’s okay with you,” she says.
“Sounds good to me. How long do you think it’ll take to cover the entire area with what we have?” I ask.
“I would guess two hours to do it right,” she replies.
“Two hours!? Fuck! Well, it can’t be helped and if we’re going to do it, then we should do it right,” I
We secure the armory doors and gate, sliding the locks back into place without being able to actually lock them, and climb into our respective vehicles. The area comes to life with sound as the engines are started. Our small convoy begins our drive back to the ramp trying to retrace our route. We only have to turn around once after missing the correct turn to McChord. We finally pull onto the tarmac and park off to the side of the aircraft. The 130 sits on the ramp looking sad and forlorn as if it knows it has completed its last journey but knowing that its final trip was perhaps the most important one in its long life; able to retire with pride.
As I step out of the Jeep, Mike runs out of the back of the aircraft and across the ramp. I squat and put my arms around him as he licks my face, his hind end swaying from side to side. We are bonding well and he acts like I haven’t seen him in months rather than a couple of hours. I stand staring off at the hills of the Cascades waiting for Lynn and the other teams to arrive. The hills are a subdued blue and partially hidden behind a haze. The other nice thing, if one can think of nice things associated with such a loss of human life, is that the air will clear up. I remember looking at those same hills many, many years ago and I could see them with such clarity; able to see the actual trees residing on their slopes. Now, they are just a blur of color.
I begin to feel a touch of impatience just standing here. With all there is to do, standing idly makes me feel like I’m wasting time. I want to be doing something but, honestly, there isn’t anything to be done at this time. I know Lynn is moving as fast as she can and what she is doing is important, but I am eager for her to get here and for us to be off. We still have the search to do. It feels like I am running in molasses – time is passing but I’m getting nowhere. Looking around, my vision settles on the transport truck filled with items looking like Santa’s sleigh. All I need is reindeer to attach to the front.
Time passes slowly and Lynn finally calls that they are finished and on their way. My impatience has increased to the point that I want to start pacing just to do something when I hear the sound of the convoy approaching. The sun overhead passes its highest point and begins its downward trek, beginning the second half of the day, by the time the first of the vehicles enter the ramp. They are all in a line as they transit the ramp and pull up next to the already parked vehicles, shutting down individually as they park in a row. The sound of doors closing resonates in the still of the early afternoon and brings finality to their arrival.
Lynn’s face falls slightly as she looks around the ramp obviously hoping to see Craig’s jet. I feel her heartache and wish I could just make the jet appear. She gathers herself and walks over, giving a rundown of what they found and brought. Her face is streaked with dirt where the sweat has evaporated.
“How do you want to do this?” Lynn asks referring to the search for survivors.
“I think we should head off in teams and assign areas to each one. Have them cruise through their areas slowly, calling out and making noise as best as they can,” I answer.
“I’ll stay here with the others who aren’t assigned to teams in case someone shows up, alerted by our noise,” I continue purposely not adding that I am also staying to wait for her brother and mom.
“Okay, I don’t have a map to go by so I’ll just give general area assignments if that’s okay with you,” she says.
“Sounds good to me. How long do you think it’ll take to cover the entire area with what we have?” I ask.
“I would guess two hours to do it right,” she replies.
“Two hours!? Fuck! Well, it can’t be helped and if we’re going to do it, then we should do it right,” I
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