Tillamook, part 12

The plot has arrived! Just in time for the weekend. Where, I mentioned yesterday, I have plodding editing work to do for “A Texas Naval Affair.” I hope to have something to post over the next two days and am trying very hard to come up with a short podcast subject (as my throat is still not back to 100%)

While I have seen about the next two reels I just do not have the time to write them down right now. But I’m trying.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

Just before oh-eight-hundred the next morning, Gil stood just outside the huge Tillamook Air Museum hangar and watched something he’d not seen since before the Breakup:  passenger aircraft in flight.  They circled the tiny airstrip once before the lead peeled away and prepped for a landing.

“Don’t know nothing about planes,” Gil muttered to the small crowd he found himself in.  “Twin props… high wing.  And it looks thick.”

“The SkyCourier was designed and built right before everthang went to shit,” Ray, the man in his seventies who was about the only one who bothered with the airstrip and the old museum no one visited anymore, said.  “Meant for short cargo hops but could carry passengers, too.”

The first just touched down.

“Mebbe they found a couple in the hangars up by Seattle once the cannibals were beat,” Ray went on.  “What gets me is whereinthehell did theys get the fuel?”

The plane had turned about on the runway, there were no taxiways, and moved slowly south.  A kid with two yellow flags waved it northeast.  Fifteen hundred feet later, another waved it west, where the group stood, three hundred feet away.  They waited while the port prop spun down.  When the hatch toward the rear opened, a dozen heavily armed men spilled out.  Two made for their group.  The other ten raised their rifles and machine pistols and fanned out to form a small protective screen.  At that, they heard the other on final approach.

“I am Chieftain Kult,” the only one not actively holding a weapon said as Mayor Peale stepped forward.  The chieftain gave a traditional salute and shook the mayor’s hand once.  “Is this area secure?”

“Ah, erm…” This was far out of Peale’s experience.  “The sheriff and a couple of his deputies are just here…  But no one else knows of this meeting.  Until they heard and saw your planes, of course.  That will attract the curious.”

Kult’s neutral face went to a frown.

“Then get that sheriff and his two to close whatever goddam fence you have here!” he shouted.  “Shoot anyone who tries to force their way in!”

“Now, I don’t think…” the sheriff began.

“Thomas?” the mayor tried, turning to the officer.  “Your offices are just up there, north of us.  Think you can keep a lid on things for just a little bit?”

From where Gil was standing, he could make out the beads of sweat on the mayor’s forehead.

“Sure… sure, Mister Mayor,” the sheriff replied with a nod.  He shot a glare at the newcomer while he waved for his two men to follow.

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