Free A New World: Awakening by John O'Brien Page A

turn quickly in his mind as he absorbs this information.
    “Makes sense.   We could stall out if it came behind us,” he says after a moment of contemplation.
    I’m glad to see him able to work through these thoughts while setting up for a landing as well.   It gives me more confidence about our return flight.   I give him a pat on the shoulder.   “You’ve got this handled,” I say glancing at the overhead panel to make sure Gonzalez, under Bri’s supervision, has them set up correctly.   I still remember our near glider experience.
    The gusty winds and turbulence make the final approach a tricky one with the threshold of the runway bouncing around in front of the nose, like a drunk trying to fit a key in the lock, but Robert manages to get us down.   The turbulence continues into the flare, we rise and then set down a little abruptly but we are able walk away from it so it’s a good landing.   We taxi in to where a couple of HC-130’s are parked and shut down.   The wind continues to buffet the aircraft as strong gusts blow through the area.   I’m not sure if the storms will venture this way during the day or evening but their presence is certainly felt.
    We unbuckle and head into the back.   There is the unmistakable odor of someone that didn’t enjoy the turbulence much.   The 130 is notorious for shaking so I’m not surprised.   I open the ramp and, after setting a schedule for the teams to guard the area, tell everyone they are free to loiter outside as long as they don’t venture far or alone.   We find a shop vac in one of the open hangars and clean up the mess inside.   We even find some of the aromatic “kitty litter” used for such messes.   I’m not sure which is worse though, the original smell or the “aromatic” nature of the kitty litter.
    The gusts continue to sweep through the area but other than the occasional deep rumble of the storms in the distance, no other sound is heard.   Surely there must be other survivors , I think surveying the ramp.   After all, we’ve found others in our area.   Perhaps they’ll respond to the sound of our arrival .
    Although it was relatively short flight, we are all thankful to be outside regardless of the blustery conditions.   It’s warm and humid but it’s nice to be out of the aircraft.   If the storms alter their direction and decide to pay us a visit, we’ll be confined back in the 130 and all of its “comforts.”   Read facetious.   MRE’s are opened and we take as much protection from the gusts as the leeward side of the aircraft will allow.   The thin air of the high desert is keenly felt.   After being at sea level for so long, I feel like I can’t catch my breath.   The team on guard splits into teams of two and stations themselves, with binoculars, around the ramp.   They should be able to give us some warning of anything untoward.
    Sitting on the ramp, I notice just how gritty and covered with sand it is.   The desert is slowly beginning to take back what was once its domain.   I look across the ramp and notice a wide trail cut through the grit where we taxied in.   It’s not something that will affect us greatly at this point but definitely something to keep in mind.   We’ll have to conduct low passes at each field to verify its condition.   I should have thought about that here but my attention was focused on both Robert and the near thunderstorms.   Even sheltered against the wind, the gusts continue to blow bringing more sand with it.   I even feel the grit of it in my mouth as I chew.
    “Are we going to fuel up here?”   Robert asks finishing his meal.
    “I think we should be okay.   The storms look like they may be building in this direction and I don’t want to be in the midst of fueling if they do.   They can move rather quickly when they want,” I answer.
    “Makes sense,” he says.
    “Sir, we have company,” I hear Horace say over the radio.   Blue Team is currently on guard.