Hidden Courage (Atlantis) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Christopher David Petersen
three days later, he was warm and comfortable. As he breathed in the fresh salty air, he could detect the essence of seawater. It was a wonderful smell to him.
He thought to himself, ‘I could get used this.’
The coast was beautiful; everything he imagined and more. The sands of the beaches looked white from his altitude. The blue-green water looked inviting. The beaches appeared to be deserted for the most part, something that appealed to Jack, as he was mostly introverted and preferred solitude to crowds.
As he viewed the rolling mountains in the distance, the vegetation was far different than the oak and pine forests he was accustomed to in New England . From his altitude, the vegetation looked tropical, with ferns and large palms that dotted the edges of the far inland waters.
Time raced by as he flew, fascinated by every turn of the beaches. His next destination, Tampico , was less than a half hour away. He mentally prepared himself for his landing at this next big airport.
A short time later, he was vectored to the airport, just as he had been in the States. There was no mistaking this airport: it was huge. The congested city appeared as if someone had removed a large ‘chunk’ of the population from it and left in its place blank land - blank, that was, except for a very long runway. As Jack was on his final approach, the tower radioed to him at the last minute to land on the shorter, alternate runway to his left. He broke off his approach, added power and leveled the wings, then flew left to the designated runway. As the runway came up off his right wingtip, he banked hard and dropped the nose, still flying about eighty knots as he descended directly toward the runway. As he crossed the threshold, he reduced his power setting to idle and lowered full flaps, quickly slowing himself down. Seconds later he lightly touched down and was requested to take the first taxi way on his left.
All this happened so fast he hadn’t had time to think about it, but as he was now slowly taxiing, he realized that someone in the tower must have spotted his floats and heard his English and realized that he was an American flying on Mexican soil. He would need to go directly to customs.
“Pretty sharp,” Jack surmised. “Now the fun begins.”
His logic was correct, as he heard the ground controller directed him to the customs.
As Jack taxied to their location, he could see two men in military dress standing in front of the building. They had their rifles slung over their shoulders, but stood menacingly and waited for him to roll to a stop and shut down. Jack started to worry a bit, wondering if this was going to turn into one of those horror stories he had read about. He stopped his plane a few feet from them, composed himself and got out. He waited with papers in hand, anticipating their request.
“Papers, señor,” one guard said in broken English. He was all business; no smiles or warmth in his body language.
Jack stiffened and handed him the required papers. He forced a smile to try to break the tension, but the two military men weren’t buying any of it. They looked at him stoically, then began to look at his paperwork, occasionally glancing back up at him.
The two military men took the paperwork and circled around the plane, pointing and making notations on their clipboard. After a short conference between the two, their posture changed slightly. They became a bit more relaxed. They handed back the paperwork and smiled. This was the first time they had done this and Jack took this as he being in the clear.
“Qué es su destino, señor?” one guard said in Spanish.
Jack looked at him, confused. He had picked up a few phrases that he thought would help him on his trip. One of them was ‘I don’t understand.’
“Yo no entiendo,” Jack replied, shrugging his shoulders, telling them he didn’t understand in their native
He thought to himself, ‘I could get used this.’
The coast was beautiful; everything he imagined and more. The sands of the beaches looked white from his altitude. The blue-green water looked inviting. The beaches appeared to be deserted for the most part, something that appealed to Jack, as he was mostly introverted and preferred solitude to crowds.
As he viewed the rolling mountains in the distance, the vegetation was far different than the oak and pine forests he was accustomed to in New England . From his altitude, the vegetation looked tropical, with ferns and large palms that dotted the edges of the far inland waters.
Time raced by as he flew, fascinated by every turn of the beaches. His next destination, Tampico , was less than a half hour away. He mentally prepared himself for his landing at this next big airport.
A short time later, he was vectored to the airport, just as he had been in the States. There was no mistaking this airport: it was huge. The congested city appeared as if someone had removed a large ‘chunk’ of the population from it and left in its place blank land - blank, that was, except for a very long runway. As Jack was on his final approach, the tower radioed to him at the last minute to land on the shorter, alternate runway to his left. He broke off his approach, added power and leveled the wings, then flew left to the designated runway. As the runway came up off his right wingtip, he banked hard and dropped the nose, still flying about eighty knots as he descended directly toward the runway. As he crossed the threshold, he reduced his power setting to idle and lowered full flaps, quickly slowing himself down. Seconds later he lightly touched down and was requested to take the first taxi way on his left.
All this happened so fast he hadn’t had time to think about it, but as he was now slowly taxiing, he realized that someone in the tower must have spotted his floats and heard his English and realized that he was an American flying on Mexican soil. He would need to go directly to customs.
“Pretty sharp,” Jack surmised. “Now the fun begins.”
His logic was correct, as he heard the ground controller directed him to the customs.
As Jack taxied to their location, he could see two men in military dress standing in front of the building. They had their rifles slung over their shoulders, but stood menacingly and waited for him to roll to a stop and shut down. Jack started to worry a bit, wondering if this was going to turn into one of those horror stories he had read about. He stopped his plane a few feet from them, composed himself and got out. He waited with papers in hand, anticipating their request.
“Papers, señor,” one guard said in broken English. He was all business; no smiles or warmth in his body language.
Jack stiffened and handed him the required papers. He forced a smile to try to break the tension, but the two military men weren’t buying any of it. They looked at him stoically, then began to look at his paperwork, occasionally glancing back up at him.
The two military men took the paperwork and circled around the plane, pointing and making notations on their clipboard. After a short conference between the two, their posture changed slightly. They became a bit more relaxed. They handed back the paperwork and smiled. This was the first time they had done this and Jack took this as he being in the clear.
“Qué es su destino, señor?” one guard said in Spanish.
Jack looked at him, confused. He had picked up a few phrases that he thought would help him on his trip. One of them was ‘I don’t understand.’
“Yo no entiendo,” Jack replied, shrugging his shoulders, telling them he didn’t understand in their native
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