Oliver examined it more closely. "The landing gear looks fine, and there's no obvious damage to the fuselage. Let's just hope walkers haven't nested inside."
"All right, stick to the plan," Leah cut in. "Bossie, Jenson, take the high ground and provide overwatch and sniper cover.
Danny, set up a communications relay to keep our signal stable. Ethan, drive the mobile power truck and follow behind us. Be ready to support at any time."
She turned to the rest.
"The rest of you, split into two groups. Group A: me, Cali, Carver, Mike, Turner, and Wells. We clear the apron and the area around the hangars and establish a defensive line.
Group B: Robert, the four of you, plus Thompson. You inspect the aircraft, restore power, and get them operational. Move fast."
"Understood," everyone replied in low voices.
"Final gear check. Prepare to move."
The team conducted one last check of their weapons, ammunition, and communication equipment.
Calista took a deep breath, staring at the aircraft in the distance, barely able to contain her excitement.
"OK. Move."
At her command, the squad silently slid down the dirt slope, slipped through a gap in the damaged barbed wire, and infiltrated McGhee Tyson Air National Guard Base.
Inside, it was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the wind howling across the empty runway and the faint growls of walkers drifting from the distant barracks.
"Group A, spread out in a fan formation. Clear visible targets and advance toward the apron. Group B, stay close behind us."
Leah spoke in a low voice, her submachine gun slung behind her back. Her rifle was already shouldered, the muzzle moving steadily with her line of sight.
The six members of Group A immediately spread out into formation.
Turner and Wells took the left and right as heavy firepower, like moving fortresses.
Carver and Mike covered the flanks, while Calista and Leah coordinated from the center.
The four National Guard soldiers in Group B and Thompson stayed tightly grouped in the middle, both excited and tense.
"Ten o'clock. Two walkers at the eastern edge of the runway."
Bossie's calm voice came through the radio. He and Jenson had already taken position atop a water tower near the base entrance.
"Pfft. Pfft."
The moment Bossie called it out, Carver and Mike fired almost simultaneously. The two walkers in tattered military uniforms dropped instantly, their heads blown apart.
"Clear."
"Keep moving."
The team advanced quickly and quietly toward the apron.
The closer they got to the three massive aircraft, the more rapid Robert and the others' breathing became.
"My God. It really is our KC-135. Look at that body…" Robert murmured, like he had just found a long-lost lover.
"The one on the right is a T-model. The refueling pods are different," Kenny said, eyes shining.
"A C-130. The Hercules. It can carry so much," Thompson added, unable to hide his excitement. It had been a long time since he had flown a transport plane.
Suddenly, just as they were about to reach the apron, a low rasping sound came from behind the massive landing gear of one of the KC-135s.
Seven or eight walkers staggered out from behind it.
They had been hidden by the fuselage. Now, catching the scent of the living, they immediately lunged forward with hoarse snarls.
Two of them were still wearing ground crew uniforms.
"Watch it," Turner barked as his light machine gun roared to life.
"Rat-tat-tat-tat."
Even with a suppressor, the sustained fire sounded heavy and lethal.
A stream of bullets tore through the walkers, ripping them apart almost instantly.
Wells opened fire at nearly the same moment. His PKM delivered even greater force, cutting down the remaining walkers in seconds.
"Damn it, that almost got me," Turner muttered as he swapped out the ammo belt.
"Watch your ammo. Don't draw more of them," Leah warned, scanning the surroundings carefully.
The brief firefight did not attract the larger horde near the barracks. The team quickly secured the apron.
"Group A, set up a defensive line. Turner, Wells, keep eyes on the barracks. Carver, Mike, Cali, sweep and clear the surrounding area. Group B, you're up," Leah ordered rapidly.
"Roger."
Robert immediately led Kenny toward the two KC-135s.
Oliver ran straight to a ground power interface panel on the hangar wall and flipped it open.
"We need power. Try the backup generator."
He and Lee sprinted toward the nearby power distribution building.
A few minutes later, the deep rumble of a diesel generator echoed in the distance. Some of the base lights flickered, then came on.
"We have power, but it might not be enough," Oliver's voice came over the radio, uncertain.
"I've got it."
Ethan, who had been trailing behind, quickly drove the mobile power truck up beneath the nose of the KC-135 and connected it.
Inside the aircraft, parts of the instrument panels and lights immediately came to life.
Robert and Kenny had already climbed up the boarding ladders and slipped into the cockpits.
"Power-on self-check starting."
"Avionics partially online."
"Hydraulic pressure is a bit low, but still within limits."
"Attempting APU start."
A low hum rose from the rear of the aircraft, growing steadily louder.
The APU started successfully.
"Nice," Robert called out over the radio. "Aircraft One and Two passed initial checks. Ready to start main engines."
At the same time, Thompson had climbed into the cockpit of the C-130 and was running through the same procedures.
Soon after, the C-130's APU also started, and its massive propeller twitched slightly.
"Fuel. Fuel is the key," Oliver called out. He had located the control panel for the underground fuel pump station. "Lee, stay here and keep watch. I'm going to check the valves and pipelines."
With that, he ran toward the fuel storage area.
Calista's side was just as busy.
She and Leah, along with Mike and Carver, swept the apron methodically, taking out four or five walkers hiding in shadows or wandering out from the hangars.
"Hangar 3. F-16 fighter," Calista said, pointing to the half-open hangar.
Leah nodded. The two approached from opposite sides, with Mike and Carver covering from behind.
Inside, the hangar was dim, filled with the heavy scent of metal and engine oil.
A sleek fighter jet sat secured in the center, its outline barely visible in the shadows.
"Pfft. Pfft."
Leah fired first, dropping two walkers lingering near the wings with clean headshots.
Calista swept her rifle across the hangar, confirming there were no other threats.
"Clear."
Outside on the apron, the fuel check was complete.
"The underground tank is still more than half full of aviation fuel. We need to test the quality, but it looks good. The pipelines are mostly intact," Oliver reported, barely containing his excitement.
"Good. Start refueling the KC-135 and C-130 immediately. Priority is getting them airborne," Calista ordered.