Approaching the large expanse of paved runway and taxi area I saw yet another symbol of death.Ī Boeing 737 was on the tarmac with severe fuselage wrinkles indicating a hard crashed landing. I thought it safe to lower my altitude, as I would be able to see any living human figures below trying to shoot at me from the open concrete. It wasn’t forty-five minutes and already we were in sight of Hobby Airport. En route we flew over numerous small towns, all with the same speckles of walking dead dominating the streets below. It was just south of Houston, outside the center of the city. Before forcing myself to go to sleep last night I picked out William P. We were looking for a large airport outside a major urban center. If the girls were to get into any trouble, we would be able to communicate with them. We were able to establish a communications link with Hotel 23 via the VHF radio on the Cessna. It was a last-minute decision to take Will. In the distance, we could see some shambling stragglers moving about. We pushed it to the grassy strip where we would take off. We snuck out to the aircraft just before the sun came up on the eastern horizon. John, William and I took off early yesterday morning toward the west. Beyond Exile: Day by Day Armageddon Hobby
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