All for One: An EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series (The Crusader Book 5) by Tom Abrahams

Author:Tom Abrahams [Abrahams, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Piton Press LLC
Published: 2023-02-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

D-DAY + 6 YEARS, 7 MONTHS, 9 DAYS

WICHITA, KANSAS

Hugh Castor stood with his hands on his hips. He stared down at Beck; a smile pressed beyond the fraying edges of his gray mustache. The morning sun reflected off the front of his bald head.

The air was cooler than the night before, though this was the coldest of the day. Beck was on the asphalt behind the tail of the Cessna. The aircraft was fully fueled, and Turtle was in the midst of his preflight walkaround.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Castor said. “If you’re ever on your way through these parts again, please make sure you stop to say hello. Plenty of bone broth to go around.”

“I’m grateful,” Beck said.

He was. Hugh Castor had, for the time being, renewed his hope in people. Not everyone was a pirate or a marauder or a wannabe gangster affiliated with black-market cartels. At least there was his old boss and the young soldiers he’d recruited as his post-D-Day family. They were good. They were the light.

“You should be.” Castor laughed heartily and opened his arms for a hug.

Beck obliged, and the two men embraced. Castor squeezed too hard and almost sucked the breath from Beck’s lungs, but he played it off. “If you’re ever in Canada, you’ve got a place with us.”

“It’s beautiful,” Millie said. “We’re on Lake Superior right on the southeastern shore. Plenty of fish to eat and fantastic sunsets.”

“Sounds like heaven,” said Castor. “And while I don’t see myself ever leaving Wichita, if somehow the compass points north, I’ll be looking for you.”

“I’d like to repay you somehow,” said Beck.

“Not necessary.” Castor shook his head. “But if you really insist…”

“Anything.”

“Find your friend. Gabe’s a good guy. He was a hard worker like you. Had less of a temper, if I remember, and was more into movies.”

Beck chuckled. “Good memory.”

“Those were good times. We should’ve enjoyed them more. That’s always how it is, isn’t it? You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”

“Wasn’t that a song?” asked Beck.

“Probably.”

The men hugged again. The others said their goodbyes and gave their thanks. Castor and his men stood watch while Turtle steered the Cessna down the runway and lifted it off the ground.

Beck looked out the window as they ascended into the sky. Castor shrank in size until he and his men looked like specks on the ground far below.

Turtle arced the aircraft to the west and then south as he found his course toward New Mexico. He adjusted his headset with one hand and kept the other on the yoke, and the plane climbed at a steep pitch that pushed Beck against his seat back.

“We’re a little less than six hundred miles away,” Turtle said. “The weather is clear until we hit New Mexico. There’s some activity west of the Manzano Mountains, but I think we’ll be okay.”

“Four hours?” Beck estimated.

“Between four and five. Depends on the winds.”

“Where are we landing?” Lucy asked. “What’s close to Torreon?”

Torreon was the village nestled on the western edge of the Manzanos.

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