Winchester Undead (Book 5): Winchester [Storm] by Lund Dave

Author:Lund, Dave [Lund, Dave]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Winlock Press
Published: 2016-07-10T04:00:00+00:00

Tucumcari Municipal Airport, NM

Andrew walked across the tarmac. His home for the previous night had been in one of the short rows of hangers. It had felt like a real home for all the time he’d spent in his hanger over the years. Oreo plodded along next to him, happy, alert, and ready, just like always. The two big tanks of aviation fuel for the field had Jet-A and Avgas. The Jet-A was of no use to him, but the Avgas was exactly what he needed for the Husky. For a field in the middle of BFE New Mexico, one of the runways was surprisingly long, and the fuel-delivery system was much more complex than it needed to be, which also meant that the system depended on electric pumps...electric pumps that no longer worked. Although if the tanks worked like the others he had used before, Andrew’s guess was that he might still be able to fuel from the tank. The short grip of a pair of bolt cutters stuck out of the top of his backpack, and, after the short walk from the hanger, he and Oreo stood inspecting the fuel tanks.

The tanks were idiot-marked with big bold letters labeling which tank held which fuel. For all the problems of filling a diesel truck with gasoline, fueling a turbine aircraft with Avgas was more annoying and more problematic. Pilots never being ones to trust a guy on the flight line, they liked big markings that they could see from the cockpit to help them feel safe in the knowledge that the correct fuel tank was being used. The filling connection and the output hose were of no use; the output would flow too fast and dump fuel all over everything, not exactly Andrew’s first choice. The two vents on top of the tank didn’t seem promising either, but small tank access in the middle of the tank on the top was their best bet. This wasn’t exactly a gamble; this exact sequence had played out with similar tanks all across the United States during the past few weeks. After cutting the two locks off the cap, an adjustable crescent wrench made quick work of the cap’s bolts, and Andrew was able to peer down the small hole into the tank; it smelled like Avgas and not Jet-A, and he could see tiny rays of sunlight shimmering off the fuel surface.

“We’re in business, buddy.”

Andrew climbed down to where Oreo sat dutifully waiting; the pair walked back to the hanger, started the Husky, and taxied off the tarmac, across the dusty desert ground, and right up next to the tank. After shutting off the engine, Andrew climbed out, loosened the fuel caps, and began siphoning fuel, filling the aircraft’s bladders and his small gas can.

“I bet we only have six more months of flying before the fuel all goes bad. Thank God there’s no damn ethanol in aviation fuel or we’d be going up shit creek already!”

Oreo yawned; he had heard the same thing repeated at every fuel stop.

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