As we pulled out into the parking lot, I lost all care and just mowed them over. John was busy pulling the stickers and tags off his new Remington.
It was time to find shelter, as the sun was starting to get low. We got on the service road along 1-35 north and started to look for a spot to shy. I recommended lo John that we find a semi-sale spot and just sleep in the Hummer. He agreed and joked, "The motel six isn't exactly open anyway."
I kept driving, until we reached a small town called "Kyle" just south of Austin. There was a sign that read, Kyle, Texas "Welcome Home." That was when I noticed the spot. There was a large hay field with a fence around it, and no sign of any of those things shambling wound. I pulled into the drive and picked up the t-handle that held the gate in place. Motioned John to switch seats and pull through so I could secure the gate again. We pulled the Hummer in between four round bales of hay. The bails covered up the sides of the vehicle so I hat if anything approached, it would have to do so from the front or the back. John and I made sure all doors were locked, and John went to sleep. It's 2330 now, so I suppose I should do the same.
January 24th, 1534 hrs
John and I awoke at 0615 this morning to the sound of a rooster crow in the distance. I started the H2 up and pulled out from between the hay. We pulled over to the gate, and looked down the load in the direction that we came. There were a lot of them in the distance. Couldn't tell if they were heading our way. Could it be possible that they heard our vehicle and were following the sound this far? I hope not.
We arrived at the outskirts of Austin, TX at 0705. The smoke was almost unbearable. Visibility was only at around a hundred yards. Every now and again when the wind would blow just right, I could catch a glimpse of the taller buildings in the distance. One of them looked like a torch, as its tip was burning brightly. To the right, I could see what looked like an airport air traffic control tower. John and I took the next road to the right toward the tower.
We made it to the outer perimeter fence. It was a small private airport, with a few Cessna aircraft, and two small jets sitting inside open hangars. A section of the fence was destroyed, so we drove right up onto the tarmac. We surveyed the area, and didn't see any immediate danger. I tied off a rope to the front nose wheel of one of the Cessna 172 (picked out the best looking one), and opened the cockpit door. To my surprise, sitting in the passenger seat, 1 found the aircraft pilot's kneeboard, flight computer and chart.
I climbed in the cockpit and yelled at John to take it slow and easy, and to pull us over to the refuelling station. I shut the door and concentrated on the checklist, so that I could turn the aircrafts electrical system on and check the gauges for fuel or anything out of the ordinary. Every few seconds I felt the aircraft tug, as John towed the aircraft and I to the pumps. After checking the gauges, I was happy to find that both wing tanks were full, so I opened up the door, jumped out and ran ahead to tell John to flip a bitch, and pull the bird back to the tower.
At the tower, I used the aircraft checklist to do a walk around inspection. I didn't fancy the idea of losing my engine over a heavily infested area. I prepped the bird for flight, and discussed with John our next plan of action. We took out our atlas and looked for the nearest airport to our homes back in San Antonio. I looked and looked, and all I could find was the international airport in the centre of the city. That was unacceptable.
John bent down and had a puzzled look on his face. He asked me if I had ever been to the "Retama Park Racetrack" off of 1-35. He told me we passed it on our way out of town. I had never heard of it since I hadn't lived there long. John asked how much length I needed to land the plane. I went out
It was time to find shelter, as the sun was starting to get low. We got on the service road along 1-35 north and started to look for a spot to shy. I recommended lo John that we find a semi-sale spot and just sleep in the Hummer. He agreed and joked, "The motel six isn't exactly open anyway."
I kept driving, until we reached a small town called "Kyle" just south of Austin. There was a sign that read, Kyle, Texas "Welcome Home." That was when I noticed the spot. There was a large hay field with a fence around it, and no sign of any of those things shambling wound. I pulled into the drive and picked up the t-handle that held the gate in place. Motioned John to switch seats and pull through so I could secure the gate again. We pulled the Hummer in between four round bales of hay. The bails covered up the sides of the vehicle so I hat if anything approached, it would have to do so from the front or the back. John and I made sure all doors were locked, and John went to sleep. It's 2330 now, so I suppose I should do the same.
January 24th, 1534 hrs
John and I awoke at 0615 this morning to the sound of a rooster crow in the distance. I started the H2 up and pulled out from between the hay. We pulled over to the gate, and looked down the load in the direction that we came. There were a lot of them in the distance. Couldn't tell if they were heading our way. Could it be possible that they heard our vehicle and were following the sound this far? I hope not.
We arrived at the outskirts of Austin, TX at 0705. The smoke was almost unbearable. Visibility was only at around a hundred yards. Every now and again when the wind would blow just right, I could catch a glimpse of the taller buildings in the distance. One of them looked like a torch, as its tip was burning brightly. To the right, I could see what looked like an airport air traffic control tower. John and I took the next road to the right toward the tower.
We made it to the outer perimeter fence. It was a small private airport, with a few Cessna aircraft, and two small jets sitting inside open hangars. A section of the fence was destroyed, so we drove right up onto the tarmac. We surveyed the area, and didn't see any immediate danger. I tied off a rope to the front nose wheel of one of the Cessna 172 (picked out the best looking one), and opened the cockpit door. To my surprise, sitting in the passenger seat, 1 found the aircraft pilot's kneeboard, flight computer and chart.
I climbed in the cockpit and yelled at John to take it slow and easy, and to pull us over to the refuelling station. I shut the door and concentrated on the checklist, so that I could turn the aircrafts electrical system on and check the gauges for fuel or anything out of the ordinary. Every few seconds I felt the aircraft tug, as John towed the aircraft and I to the pumps. After checking the gauges, I was happy to find that both wing tanks were full, so I opened up the door, jumped out and ran ahead to tell John to flip a bitch, and pull the bird back to the tower.
At the tower, I used the aircraft checklist to do a walk around inspection. I didn't fancy the idea of losing my engine over a heavily infested area. I prepped the bird for flight, and discussed with John our next plan of action. We took out our atlas and looked for the nearest airport to our homes back in San Antonio. I looked and looked, and all I could find was the international airport in the centre of the city. That was unacceptable.
John bent down and had a puzzled look on his face. He asked me if I had ever been to the "Retama Park Racetrack" off of 1-35. He told me we passed it on our way out of town. I had never heard of it since I hadn't lived there long. John asked how much length I needed to land the plane. I went out
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