A New World: Awakening by John O'Brien Page A

appears to be in his early thirties with his sandy brown hair cut tight against his tanned head.
    “We aren’t looking for trouble and if you’re thinking the same, what do you say we stand down?”   I say.
    “Are you part of a military unit?”   He asks as his reply.
    “Most of the folks with us were when this all went down.   I’m prior Air Force,” I reply.
    He nods.   “Okay, I’m for standing down.   We have some itchy trigger fingers behind me as I’m sure you have as well,” Prescott says finally answering me.   We both speak into our radios telling our individual groups to stand down but standby.
    “I take it you and your group are military?”   I ask.
    “Most of us,” he replies.   “We have a few civilians we’ve met up with as well.”
    “I don’t suppose you have any pilots with you?”
    “No.   I wish we did.   We have a variety though; a couple of mechanics, medical orderlies, clerks, security personnel and such.   Most are Air Force like you.   I was with base security,” he answers.
    “We have about the same except most are, or were, Army soldiers,” I say and give a rundown or our situation and setup.
    We share stories.   Prescott and his group have holed up in the tower for the past couple of months.   They forage during the day and secure the tall concrete structure at night.   The night runners tried desperately to get in at the beginning but have mostly left them alone in the past couple of weeks.   Water has become scarcer as the summer progresses but they have been collecting rain water as the storms venture over their area.
    “Well, it might be a little crowded in the 130 at the moment but you’re welcome to join us if you feel so inclined,” I say as our stories draw to a close.
    “I’d have to talk it over with the others.   We’re pretty secure here and the water situation will clarify itself,” Prescott answers.
    “Okay.   We’re staying here tonight and leaving early in the morning.   We can drop by here on our way back if you’d like to talk to the others about it.   We’d be happy to have you but I get staying in a place you are familiar with and that feels secure,” I respond.
    “That sounds good to me.   It’ll give us time to analyze our choices.   Just a warning, the night runners, as you call them, prowl around the base at night,” Prescott says.
    “We should be pretty secure in the 130.   We’ve spent many a night with the pounding and shrieking outside.   It’s not the best situation sleep-wise but I doubt they can get in unless they’ve figured out how to manipulate intricate doors.   If we don’t talk to you before we leave, we’ll see you in a few days, weather permitting.”
    “Sounds good, Jack.   Good luck to you.   By the way, what did you do in the military?”   He asks.   I give him a brief synopsis of my military career.   I note concern creep into his eyes as I talk.
    “I guess that should be a ‘sir’ then,” he says as I finish.
    “Nah, Jack works.   See ya in a few days.”   With that, we turn and head back to our respective groups.
    Prescott rejoins his group and they head into the tower.   I let our teams know it’s all good and we break out of our cover.   The wind whips a little stronger bringing a sharp chill.   The first large drops of rain begin to fall as the storms expand and head our way.   We gather in the aircraft and button it up.   The flashes of lightning and subsequent rumbles grow closer and louder.   The angry looking clouds swallow up the sun and the day grows dark.   I have Robert start the 130 and taxi us closer to the hangar.   I don’t think New Mexico has a lot of tornadoes but my experience in Texas with these storms makes me a little cautious.   If we do spot one, we’ll dart into the hangar.   If one does come at night, like I’ve seen them do on occasion, well, I just hope it doesn’t sweep over us.   If that happens we’re pretty screwed.   It