Free Breeze Corinth (Book 1): Sky Shatter by Michael John Olson Page A

him as the gangplank retracted into the ship. Flashing strobes underneath the liner flickered as the engines spooled up. The liner glided away from the terminal with a grace that defied its size. The bow turned into the open desert, and the liner disappeared into the depths of the rain soaked night.
    Breeze opened the door to the terminal. The worn out hinges creaked as he stepped inside where he was greeted by more emptiness except for a lone individual sitting in the passenger waiting area. The man looked up slowly from his slumber to cast a wary eye at him, and then returned to his nap.
    Breeze strode across the terminal to the main exit. The automated doors opened briefly, and then shut themselves on him as he stepped between them. He leaned his shoulder into one of doors and forced it open.
    He stepped again into the pouring rain. The lightning had subsided, but the rumble of deep thunder persisted. Breeze pulled in his jacket as he stumbled down the washed out street that led to the rural service road to his home. He stopped and looked back, half expecting to see his father waiting for him or pulling up in one of the scrap yard trucks to pick him up.
    Nothing.
    The deep rumbling of thunder continued far off in the distance.
    He began the long walk back home.
    He arrived at the foot of his driveway in the early morning hours. He could see smoke rising from the foundry smokestacks in the distance. He took in a deep breath and trudged down the driveway to his home.
    Upon arriving he went up the steps, and then hesitated before opening the door. He turned to his left and saw his father had the tractor out with the rake implement attached to the back. Breeze shook his head. His father had been out again filling up the holes he would leave behind in the desert floor from his crash landings when he would practice his flying at night. He long ago gave up the pretense that he was hiding his evening flights from his father. The tractor and the rake attached to it was proof enough that he knew, and had known for quite some time.
    The hinges on the door squealed as he stepped inside.
So much for the quiet approach
, he thought to himself.
    Walking into the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of his father sitting at the table.
    Jacob looked up at his son as he carefully placed his cup of coffee down.
    Breeze stood his ground. His clothes were damp and his hair was wet and dripping onto his face. His boots were muddy and left tracks on the floor. “Dad, I can explain.”
    Jacob immediately held up a hand. “No need to. I understand. Took off for a few days to cool off. I was a little bit harsh with you about that air show. My fault. Should’ve gotten you into training a long time ago.”
    “Really?” Breeze’s eyes lit up.
    Jacob nodded as he lifted his cup and took a sip. “Yeah, would’ve been the right thing to do.” He pointed toward the window. “I know I have a couple of old propeller trainers out back somewhere in the storage. I could teach you to fly one of those. You probably would’ve been pretty good, had I started you out when you were younger. Who knows, you could’ve become the next Buck Bonanza. Now there is one hell of a pilot!”
    Breeze’s shoulders slumped as he looked down at the floor. He became transfixed at the puddle of water he had created.
    Jacob put his cup down and began tapping his fingers on the table. “Yep, would’ve cured a lot of problems, I see that now. Could’ve had you competing in those air shows to give you a chance to show off a bit. Would’ve made things a lot smoother for you.” He looked down at his cup, then up to Breeze. “But that’s the thing son, life is never smooth or easy.”
    “You’re not even going to ask me where I’ve been, what I saw? You’re just going to sit there at the table and tell me you’ve made mistakes?” Breeze said.
    Jacob began tracing his finger along a grain line on the wooden table. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. “I