9
“Where the hell are we, anyway?” Cal asked when Henderson strolled up beside him.
Jeannie had gone off with Beale somewhere. Probably a pilots’ meeting. The 212 guys and Vern were missing as well.
“Australia. Exactly per plan. I need a plane. You coming or not?”
Cal looked around. Only the two of them left. No C-17 crew. After unloading, they’d fired up their plane and roared off into the night. The airstrip itself was dead quiet.
“What the hell?” He kicked at the soil. There was something familiar about it. He pulled his tablet out of his camera bag, tapped it awake, and turned it around to shine on the dirt. Red. Dry. Almost dusty.
“Your prognosis, doctor?” Henderson was still waiting for him.
“Nothing better to do; I’ll go with you.” He’d only seen this kind of dirt in one part
