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

The call gets everyone’s attention and we stand quickly with weapons in hand; lunches half eaten fall to the ground.
    “What do you have Horace?”   I ask looking around the area.
    “Three people near the end of the runway to the west.   Two men and a woman.   Armed but not bringing them to bear in any overt fashion.   They are just standing and looking our way,” she reports.
    I look in the direction reported and contemplate getting the Humvees out for additional fire support and mobility.   There are only three reported but there could be others around.   I don’t see anything but it is some distance away.   I head into the aircraft to grab a pair of binoculars.
    “Keep an eye out for others,” I radio the team as I grab the binoculars and head back outside.
    I direct the other team members to cover around the other HC-130’s parked on the ramp.   This is the only C-130 I see and we’ll need it to carry our Humvees.   The move to different cover is to keep any rounds away from our transport in case gunfire is exchanged.
    “Any change?”   I ask Horace as we settle into our new positions.
    “No, sir.   They are just standing there watching us through a set of binoculars as well,” she replies.
    “They can see you then?”
    “I’m pretty sure they can, sir.   At least they appear to be looking directly at us.”
    “Okay, wave them in.   Everyone stay alert and keep an eye on the entire perimeter,” I say.
    A moment passes and I glass the area indicated by Horace.   Adjusting the focus, three people come into view.   It appears one of the men and the woman have hunting rifles with the other man carrying a shotgun.   All have a sidearm strapped to their side.   I see them talk to one another and begin heading in our direction.   They cautiously approach with their weapons ready but not threatening.
    As they draw closer, I head over to Horace’s position.   Reaching where she and Bartel are hunkered behind a concrete barrier along the edge of the ramp, I see the three have stopped about 100 yards away.   I rise and begin walking toward them telling everyone else to stay in position.   With my approach, they continue nearing once again until we are standing about twenty yards away from each other.   The men appear to be in their late twenties and have the appearance, with their stance and short haircuts, of being either in the military when everything happened or at least have prior service.   The woman appears to be middle-aged with dark, curly hair cut to her shoulders.   They are all a little disheveled with streaks of dirt covering their faces and stains ground into their jeans and shirts.
    “We mean no ill will and as long as you have the same intentions, you’re welcome to join us for lunch and conversation if you’d like,” I call out.   They look to each other.   One of the men shrugs and they all shoulder their rifles and close in.   I shoulder mine as well and have the teams stay on the alert but stand down.
    “I’m Jack,” I say reaching my hand out as we come together.
    “Thomas,” one of the men says accepting my shake.
    “Jeremy,” the other says.
    “Laurel,” the woman says with a hint of a Texan accent.
    We walk back to the group which has reconvened in our sheltered spot on the lee side of the C-130.   Our three newcomers are handed MRE’s which they dig into.   They share the story of their meeting during a day scrounging for food and water.   Thomas, Jeremy, and Laurel have been holing up in one of the gyms of a high school nearby and ventured our way after hearing our aircraft arrive.   They mention seeing a small number of others from time to time but haven’t made contact with them.   They heard our 130 fly over and thought perhaps it was a remnant of a military group left over from the calamity.   The supplies in the area were getting more difficult to gather with their small group and it was only a matter of time before their place was