Manuel Quintana, Cathy Quintana, the three Quintana boys—they had met the beast, and they had lived! Millions had died, but they had lived.

But why me? Manuel wondered. Why not someone else more holy, more worthy, more capable? Cathy sensed Manuel’s thoughts, for they were her own. She reached over and took his hand. “Manolo,” she yelled over the noise, “soon enough we will learn the reason why our lives were spared, I imagine. But right now, let’s enjoy life and thank God.” The couple continued to hold hands until the Osprey touched down in a desert area, not too far from Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada.

What they saw as they jumped from the rear of the plane amazed them. A piece of raw desert had been transformed into an air base. A runway had been marked out on the desert floor, and one after another, U.S. Air Force cargo planes were coming in to land. A portable ground control system had been set up. Tents had been hastily erected for offices, mess areas, and temporary sleeping quarters. Clouds of dust rose in the air as columns of tanker trucks loaded with jet fuel swung in off the nearby highway. Convoys of eighteen-wheelers were rolling in with food, medicine, tents, blankets, and drinking water.

Manuel remembered from news clips at the TV station that the C-130, with various upgrades and modifications, had been the workhorse of the armed forces since at least the 1950s. Because of its lifting capacity, the C-130 was called the Hercules, or “Herc.” The C-130s could haul over fifty thousand pounds of cargo. They could drop into short-field hostile environments. They could also deliver specially cushioned pallets of cargo from the air by parachute. The C-117, the upgrade of the C-130, carried more cargo and flew farther and faster, but hardly enough to justify the threefold increase in price.

Some planes were landing empty, but they were being quickly loaded with cargo, refueled, and sent off to help flood victims.

Manuel could not believe that anything run by the government could be so efficient. Major Burns had radioed ahead, and within minutes the Osprey was met by a handsome, athletic-looking officer in a flight suit with the silver star of a general on his lapel. “Hey, you incredible people,” he said with a big smile, “I’m Archie Gladstone. Came out here yesterday from Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina to head up this joint effort. I just had to meet you all. And Secretary of Defense Al Augustus sends his personal greetings. He asked me to make sure you get whatever you need to make yourselves comfortable.” The general opened the door of a waiting van, and they all stepped inside.