They agreed to leave early that next morning.
Katie had spent the previous evening packing up various packets of paper that Lindsay didn’t understand. Some were lists of names, some were maps of places she didn’t recognize. When she asked, Katie just said her dad would want them.
The rest of their supplies were food, ammunition, first aid and other survival supplies. Lindsay didn’t know why they’d need all of that, since the radio station would only take a day to get to and then they’d be taken to a shelter or something. Katie insisted so Lindsay didn’t say anything. Continue reading
The whine of the A-10’s engines filled the air as James popped the canopy. He pulled off his helmet and let the frigid evening air wash over him. It was cold but at least it was fresh, compared to the stale, sweat-scented atmosphere of the cockpit. Nearly being shot out of the sky by a shoulder-mounted, guided missile tended to do that.
He leaned his head back against the ejection seat, closed his eyes, and laid his hands on the canopy rail. For a moment he just sat there, glad to be alive, thankful his training had saved him and his plane. Sometimes he wondered which his father would miss more.
Opening his eyes he glanced down at the instrument panel, looking for the picture he used to hide away there during his time in the Air Force. It wasn’t there of course, but the habit remained. He looked for it every time and every time it made him angry. He wasn’t sure if it was because it wasn’t there or because he still cared. Continue reading