Austin still trusted the man, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind: Jon wasn't all that he had made himself out to be. The first red flag was the fact him being in that computer room, back at the CDC building, with the others dead around. That was explainable, they were there when he got there, simple, easy... The next was how easily he handled each situation. Of course, before, at the building, he would stutter and seem hesitant, but he wouldn't reject anything.
The pilot hadn't wanted to give up his pistol, but he hadn't had time to conceal one like Jon had, that was a bad move, he should have thought ahead. "Look, it isn't that I don't trust you, Jon, but with all of this shit going on... Y'know what? Nevermind," He raised his arms in surrender. The man took Danny's revolver and its holster, looping the belt of his jeans through it and shoving the pistol into it. He walked over to Frank's dead body and took the AR15, putting the strap over his shoulder.
"Look, Jon... He said there are three more, maybe their camp has something useful in it. I don't know what the fuck that was, and I expect answers later. I don't care how rude my approach is, if we're gonna survive this, I have to know everything. Now, if there are only three more, we can go take 'em. I'm a hell of a good shot, so I'm taking the rifle. Clearly you have more close-quarters combat training, so you take the shotgun," He said commandingly. Yes, it was blank; yes, it was rude; yes, it was reckless going up against somebody who could clearly kick his ass. He didn't care at this point, everything was beginning to bubble up. He'd kept a poker face while flying because he could concentrate on that, he'd been fine while they were with the suspicious trio because he had other things to think about, but now... His best friend was dead, his entire family was either gone or dead, he would never see his kids again, he'd just survived his second helicopter crash (clearly he was in the wrong business) and the world had, literally, come to an end.
"Cuz y'know what? Fuck me, right? For being a little bit stressed out." The man was scowling, but he didn't point his rifle at Jon or Harris, he wasn't going nuts, he was just blowing off steam, his voice wasn't at a shout, but it wasn't really an 'indoor voice' either. The pilot cracked his neck, the rifle nestled into his shoulder and pointed down as he took several deep breaths, a few moments later he spoke, more calmly.
"I'm sorry, Jon, I'm just a little overwhelmed..." The stress was slowly subsiding as the pilot began to realize that really, there should be less stress. The divorce was rough... She took just about everything, and but now... What was there? Nothing. Survival was the only part of life, which could be stressful in itself, but at least if you fail, then you don't have to worry about it, right? His mood became a bittersweet melancholy after that, he took another deep breath, "Alright, I'm ready..."