Dust from the knobby tires of Zeke’s buggy drifted out and over the cliff’s edge as he skidded to a halt on top of the jutting prominence. The government helicopter was strewn out across the lightning scarred ground at the base of the cliff. It had hit the ground skidding, the big bird’s belly ripping open and spilling out crates and rag dolls that used to be men in black suits of body armor.
Zeke climbed out of his buggy and looked over the cliff.
The helicopter looked relatively intact but for the shorn away lower half.
“I don’t know why them fellows was flying through that rad storm but they brought along a lot of stuff”, said the gray haired trader. “I sure as Texas wonder what’s in them.”