INVASION USA (Book 2) - The Battle For New York by T I WADE

time to get into the private terminal. As they walked over to the separate private air terminal, they heard a car’s engine start up from the parking area and then a second one.
    Preston threw a rock through the window of the door leading from the apron into the terminal, and carefully walked in with Manuela and Mannie as protection. He found the flight office where several keys were hanging, and kicked the door in. The two Cessna 172s belonged to a small flying school, and both sets of keys hung on the wall with several others.
    The two followed Preston as he went through the whole terminal, Mannie found a kitchen and walk-in warm refrigerator full of food, and a small storage pantry to one side. Then they walked outside with the keys.
    Joe already was over by the Delta hub hitching up the trailer, and his sons were getting a second trailer attached. David, one of the soldiers, and Dani drove through the gate with an old rusty Suburban, a Mazda truck, and a small Ford half-ton. They stopped in front of Preston.
    “These are the biggest we could find,” reported David. “I think there are one or two more old ones up there among the hundreds of new ones. It’s like a car dealership up there.”
    “Get everybody together,” ordered Preston. “Let’s clean the private terminal out first and put the stuff in the Ford. It should all fit. Then we can get into the Southwest terminal and see what’s in there. We can always come back tomorrow and empty out the newer terminal. We’ll need Joe and a large trailer for that one.”
    With everybody working, it took an hour to fill all three vehicles.
    Preston found several still-sealed cases of good single-malt whiskey in the bar cupboards under the liquor display and packed these into the Cessna 172 that Martie was going to fly home. He asked Manuela to go with Martie, and they immediately took off in one of the 172s, with little Beth sitting on Manuela’s lap in the right seat, and she waved to the group as they raced down the runway. It was necessary for Martie to get back and monitor the radio.
    Preston got into the other 172 with Mannie, told the rest of the guys to deliver the three full trucks to the roadblock, and then get the fuel back to base. He started up the plane and taxied around to the newer RDU terminal he had never been to. It had only been built a couple of years earlier and he didn’t often fly commercial.
    As usual there were over a dozen aircraft at the gates and it wasn’t difficult to get inside. The inside was like the other one, semi-cleaned and empty. Security had closed the doors as they had left, and here there were dozens of closed restaurants, shops, and several bars. Now he only had the small Cessna and could take maybe 300 pounds in the rear seat. There were bread and bagels, still semi-fresh, and they packed a couple of boxes into the plane. They weren’t heavy, but it could be the last fresh bread for a long, long while. There wasn’t much more room, but Preston couldn’t resist spending a few minutes to break the lock into the Duty Free shop. Here, he was amazed. In the back were well over a hundred cases of top quality bottles of everything he loved.
    “Let’s take a dozen cases, Mannie. I’m sure we can squeeze them in, and this stuff could all be gone by tomorrow.” Mannie agreed and they found a trolley and took the cases back to the doorway where they had come in. He couldn’t help but add a bottle of Martie’s favorite perfume and a couple of odds and ends to the trolley.
    It was difficult, but they removed the big boxes and put the bread and bagels, still in plastic bags, back in. The little Cessna was now full to the roof, and so were its tanks, Preston realized. The poor aircraft was probably at maximum weight. He was right. She took a lot of runway to get airborne for a little 172 and slowly gained height, giving them a low view of the blackened vehicles now pulled onto the road and guarding the airport. David had even