“Yeah, I don’t know how far out, though.”
“Thanks, Alonso. I’ll call him.”
“See you later.” He left, and they heard him driving away, watching the pale rooster tail of dust from the road indicating his path.
Hunter said to Charlie and Pasqual, “Let’s get that coffee.”
Charlie slid open the hanger, and Hunter exited after him, followed several paces behind and to the side by Pasqual, walking slowly.
Charlie pointed at the door to the Pilot’s Lounge as he passed it, saying, “Help yourselves,” as he continued to the main office.
Hunter was five feet from the Lounge when she stopped to check on Pasqual’s progress. She turned and waited for him so they could go in together.
Behind him, on the roof of the hanger, Hunter saw something glide off and fly toward them.
A drone.
She yelled at Pasqual to run, but by then the small, fast device reached him, circling so it was only a few feet from his face.
The small soda straw extension spat a yellowish, oily mix of droplets and cloudlike gas, hitting Pasqual’s head and chest.
Pasqual dropped to the tarmac and almost immediately gasped and foamed at the mouth. His eyes rolled back, showing the whites, and he threw up watery, yellowish bile.
The Drone left Pasqual and stopped in front of Hunter, hovering in the air at eye level. It backed up a few feet as if realizing Hunter might attempt to slap it out of the air.
The round, shiny eye of the camera held her attention, although she could see Pasqual now thrashing and gasping as he fought to breathe with his cancer-riddled lungs.
Hunter could hear the drone’s propellers, not loud but noticeable, and she felt the sun’s heat on her back. She needed to do something, but what? She had no weapon, and nothing was within grabbing distance. Maybe she could make it to the Lounge door and get inside, but a sideways glance told her she’d never make it.
They stood in a stalemate, the woman and the drone, with neither moving.
A last gasping rattle came from Pasqual and he lay still. The drone rotated to look at the man, then turned to Hunter.
It spun in a one-eighty and whizzed away in the direction of the border, quickly disappearing from sight.
The pillow-sized gas cloud gradually dissipated above Pasqual, but Hunter didn’t approach. She knew he was dead, and if the gas and droplets were sarin…
Raymond stopped in the parking area, immediately seeing the body and Hunter standing several feet from it. He exited as Hunter said, “Call the county, and get someone to contact Hazmat, I think Pasqual was killed with sarin.”
Raymond felt his scalp crawl, and it shocked him that Hunter was so close to the dead man. He said, “Come over here, get away from Osorio. I’ll call, but you need to move back.”
~*~
Raymond and Hunter waited until the other agencies arrived, including the Hazmat team, the local police and Sheriff’s deputies, Game Wardens, and others. Hunter felt as if she answered a million questions, with half of those the same question but from different people. Raymond gently tugged Hunter’s sleeve and they finally left the airport an hour later. He dropped off Hunter at her vehicle and left ahead of her.
Hunter sat behind the steering wheel for a moment, with her hands on the wheel and arms hanging down, letting the silence help her release some of the tension in her neck and shoulders. Boy, she was tired. Surprisingly, she felt sad as well. She didn’t expect Pasqual’s death to affect her like that.
Starting the truck and driving through the gate to Highway 67, she decided to turn right and go back into Presidio rather than turn left toward Marfa. The thought of the drones nearby galled her. She knew the Mexican authorities were hunting for them, and probably CISEN, the Mexican equivalent of the CIA, but she wanted to be involved.
First things first, she thought. She drove to the Presidio Border Patrol Station and retrieved the pistol she had stored there before going into Mexico. If she’d had it at the airport…Hunter shook her head. There was no use playing what if, because that never solved anything.
She drove through town and out toward the school. She saw the three familiar drones circling and looping over the school, and her high school friends controlling them from the parking area. She pulled in and they all waved excitedly as they hurried to her.
David, the Harry Potter lookalike, reached her first, followed closely by Lonny and Carlos. All looked excited.
“Hey, guys.” Hunter said.
David said, “You’re not gonna believe what happened!”