It was a dark and stormy night. Melvin stared out the bedroom window at the desperately waving trees, the sheets of rain driving diagonally down from the black, impenetrable ceiling of clouds hanging like ragged curtains.
But to the rest of the world, including Chuck, Melvin’s older brother, it was anything but a dark and stormy night.
The end of the runway looked only a few hundred yards away. But it was at least a mile. Danny pulled the lever down to full flaps, checked his airspeed and pointed the nose down to the edge of the ancient asphalt. This airstrip had been here in the middle of the Everglades for decades, at least since the end of the war.
Sonny stares. It's always been a joke among the rest of the guys in the band that Sonny's always staring out the side window of the car, even when he's driving. Looking at all the billboards and road signs like a dog. Or a toddler.