THREE HOURS LATER they stood on the edge of a small airstrip about as long as a football field and at one end was a Quonset hut and a little single engine Aero Commander 200. No one else was visible and Harry would have walked out onto the field had Sara not stopped him. They sat quietly for some time until Harry couldn’t stand it any longer.
“What’s the plan? It looks good to me.”
“The pilot should be around, but I don’t see him.”
“Let’s get a closer look,” he said, and started for the plane crouching as he went staying within cover of the trees. Sara tried to stop him but he took off and she followed as they stopped twenty feet from the hut. She told him to stay put and kept going to the other side. She looked through the trees and walked out into the open and motioned for Harry to do the same. They met at the tail of the plane and threw their things inside. Harry couldn’t believe how much “Shit” she wanted to bring from her hotel room and had to remind her that they should travel light.
“Good thing you left those shoes back at the hotel,” he said. “This thing is light and couldn’t handle three people for any long trip.”
“Shut up Harry. You wanted to bring a whole library with you.” Through the open door to the hut came a humming noise, like a small motor running. Sara went inside and came out immediately holding her nose and waving her hand in the air as if she was brushing away flies. “He’s dead.”
Harry went in. The pilot lay with his throat cut from ear to ear slumped over the desk. He looked closely at the body and saw that the eyes were missing. The head fell back down on the table. He jerked back with a start. The noise came from a generator attached to a gasoline pump just outside the Quonset hut.
“Harry we’re screwed.” With his shotgun in hand, he searched the room and stepped outside.