Tom

Next to the tower and FAA center at Craig Airfield there is a gazebo and picnic table. This ia a viewing center, where people can come and watch planes. On most days, around lunch, Tom can be found there. 

He works nearby, at an auto parts store. When he was younger, he and his friend were in the Civil Air Patrol together. When his friend disappeared, he dropped out of the CAP, and tested out of school. 

Since then, he's had a restless life, though he never traveled far. 

At age 18, he tried to join the Air Force. While his ASVAB score was outstanding, the Air Force rejected him, due to what they termed "inconsistencies" in his background.

Now, in his fifties, he clung to those old dreams. Those dreams of getting his pilot's license. Those dreams of space. Those dreams of exploring. To many people, he was just another listless soul. It was hard enough to have grown up the sole black kid on his street, now he seemed to be some warped stereotype. 

In short, he had nothing. 

But he had that picnic table, and he had a nice lunch from the local Chinese take-out, and he had his motorcycle. And he had the planes. 

The guys at the FAA center knew him well, and appreciated his love of flight. He had been in the CAP with one of them, Mark, who had gone off to the Air Force and had returned to his home town. Sometimes, they'd join Tom at the table. They were impressed with his knowledge of aircraft. 

The lo mein was only mediocre today. It was saltier than usual, too much soy sauce. The shrimp was also overdone and chewy. Tom swirled around the last few noodles on his chop sticks when the klaxon sounded behind him. As he turned to see what was wrong, the crash trucks started rolling, sirens blazing as they headed out towards the runways. Mark ran out of the building. 

"Hey Tom, you may need to leave in a few minutes," he said.

"What's up?"

"Uhm... something... weird. Some strange aircraft heading in, has escort."

Tom stood up, fumbling in his jacket pocket for his binoculars, "I want to see it."

"I'm not sure if they'll let you."

"They... who?"

"FBI is in route as well."

"Look," Tom said, "I'll stay here until the Feds show up, then I'll bail, how's that?"

"Ahhh, man, okay, but you didn't hear it from me. Gotta run," Mark said, as he ran back inside.

There was a sonic boom.

The rumble of the Eagles could be heard some distance out. Tom ran to the north side of the tower and raised his binoculars. Off to the northwest, he could see the aircraft. There were four - three large F-15's, and a smaller one between two of the Eagles. At this distance, he couldn't make out a clear shape, but it was definitely triangular. They were coming in steep. 

Suddenly, a parafoil popped out of the top of the strange aircraft, and the F-15's began to pull away. 

Now, a helicopter could be heard, coming up from the south. Peering around the corner, Tom watched as a UH-60 came in low and fast over Atlantic Boulevard, and positioned itself over the center of the runways. 

Tom turned his attention back to the small unidentified. He used his binoculars again. Beneath a large gold and white parafoil was a wedged shaped aircraft, white on top, dark gray underneath, with what looked a couple of silver panels. Two stubby fins jutted diagonally from the back, and a smaller one was seen center, a tail. The two silver panels glistened, probably the hatch covers for the parafoil. 

It was a lifting body. 

Now, it was closing in on runway 14 now, a couple hundred feet up. Three landing gear emerged, a nosewheel and two skids. The craft shifted over, its right, to the side of the runway instead of on it. It touched down, kicking up a little dirt, and jettisoned the enormous parafoil.

Now, the sound of vehicles speeding down the main road leading into the airport could be heard. They went through the open gate and out to the small craft. 

Mark ran back out of the FAA center and called out for Tom.

"Yeah", Tom answered as he ran back to the picnic table.

"You better leave, like now. They say this is a classified mission," Mark said. 

"Okay, I'm out of here. Some real excitement, huh?"

"Oh yeah, fun. See ya later," Mark said as he headed back inside.

Before leaving, Tom raised his phone, and stealthily snapped as many pictures as he could at maximum zoom. "Classified?" he whispered to himself, "something's wrong here."

As he rode his motorcycle out of the airport, the F-15's did a low, thunderous pass.