A Time for Patriots

“It felt great, Dad,” Brad said. “I think I’m getting used to crosswind landings. They always got me so nervous.”

“It’s the same with just about every pilot in the world,” Patrick said. “No one likes crosswind takeoffs or landings, and a lot of takeoff and landing accidents happen when crosswinds are involved. It just takes practice. Had enough for today?”

“Heck no,” Brad said. “I wish we could go somewhere, but I’m ready to go flying, even if it’s just around the airport. Let’s do some more.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve got stuff to do, and they’re restricting everyone unless they’re on an IFR flight plan,” Patrick said. “Let’s head back to the barn.” Brad’s face registered a hint of disappointment, but he steered the Centurion back to its hangar without complaint. When they arrived, they noticed Jon Masters, Rob Spara, David Bellville, John de Carteret, Ralph Markham, and Michael Fitzgerald standing in front of the hangar.

“What’s going on?” Brad asked. “Did we get another alert?”

“I have no idea,” Patrick said. “Park it out front and let’s find out.” Brad parked the Centurion in front of the hangar, accomplished the shutdown checklist, and stepped outside, with his father following closely behind.

“So, how did he do?” Jon asked.

“He needed a do-over on the crosswind landing,” Patrick said, “but he did good the second time around, and otherwise he’s good to go.”

“I had no doubts,” Jon said. “If you’re good, I’m good.”

“Thank you, Jon,” Patrick said. He turned to his son. “Hop back in, big guy. Three landings with a full stop in between, then bring it in.”

Nye County Administrative Offices and Sheriffs South Area Substation, Pahrump, Nevada

That same time

The express delivery truck turned left onto Kittyhawk Drive and was met by a crew with a tractor, which was lifting three-foot-high concrete jersey walls into place on the side of the street. The truck driver had to stop to let the tractor pass. He slid his door open and asked a nearby worker, “What’s going on?”

“The county is closing off Kittyhawk and Vaqueros Streets and the parking lot in front of the administration building,” the worker replied. “Added security, I guess, although it’s not going to protect anybody from another damned plane.”

“Well, who’d want to attack the county building in Pahrump?” the delivery driver asked. The worker just shrugged. “So where do I make the deliveries?”

“You can go ahead for now around to the loading dock — we haven’t closed the streets off yet,” the worker said. “But after this they’ll be setting up the vacant lot across the street for parking. I don’t know about deliveries — they’ll probably be inspected before being allowed in.”

“The times we live in, I guess,” the driver said. As soon as the street was clear, he proceeded on. He took a right onto Vaqueros Street, then another right toward the parking area marked DELIVERIES. He let a security guard see his delivery manifest, then let him peek inside the truck. “All these here in the back,” the driver said, pointing to several large boxes and one wood-framed crate. “Copiers, paper, and office furniture.”

“I thought there was a recession going on,” the security guard grumbled. “Who has the money for all this stuff? The security staff gets cut by half, but some suit gets all-new office stuff?” The guard initialed the manifest. “After today, you guys will have to park across the front parking lot in the vacant lot for inspection.”

“I heard. I’ll pass the word.” The guard handed the driver his manifest, and the driver drove to an empty bay at the loading dock. He took his electronic clipboard inside to the receiving office. Just as he reached the receiving clerk’s window they heard an electronic siren followed by the words, “A FIRE ALARM HAS BEEN ACTIVATED. PLEASE EXIT THE BUILDING THROUGH THE MAIN ENTRANCE IMMEDIATELY,” followed by the same message in Spanish.

“What’s that?” the driver asked.

“It happens about once a week,” the disgusted receiving clerk groused. “Someone’s pissed because they’ve been laid off or had their hours reduced, so they pull a fire alarm or call in a bomb threat.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Unfortunately, no,” the clerk said. “Follow me.”

“Why don’t we go out this way?” the driver asked, pointing toward the loading docks.