They'd managed to break the glass on the outside doors the month before, but with the shopping carts tied together, there was no way they could get in that way. The kids looked worried, they must have heard the shots that had stirred up the dead, but they'd done what he'd told them and stayed there waiting. He knew just how hard that could be. "It's okay, they didn't get close enough to touch us." He saw their relief at the news.He took off his hat and shucked out of the sweatshirt, shaking the snow off before hanging it up to dry. Matt had boots on, they didn't fit as well as they had six months ago, but at least they kept his feet dry, Val only had tennis shoes, like the others. She sat by the stove, staring at the flames, shivering. She had taken off the outermost of her sweatshirts before she sat down though.Matt put the bags of food on the shelf, and knelt by her. "Give me your feet," he said, taking one of them and pulling the shoe off. It was soaking wet, he had to peel off. We mounted up and headed north at a canter.It was about ten miles and Bennie had us put on our radios to make talking easier. He said, "We can get off and cut across country and come to the airport from the west. At least, I think so. If this is an ambush, we will have some element of surprise."I replied, "I agree though I hope they are nice people." Me, too. I just don't want a surprise."We rode on until we could see the airfield to our right. We left the Interstate and headed across old streets in an almost direct line to the airport. We could see the plane stopped out in the middle of the runway and two people were standing outside it. We left our rifles in their rigs and rode up. At about a hundred yards, they heard us and turned our way. Bennie yelled, "Hello!" in a joyous voice and we both waved. The others waved back.We came to about fifteen feet, stopped, and dismounted. Holding the reins, we came forward and Bennie said, "Hello, again. My name is Bennie Sullivan and this is.
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