Acceleration

by Lin Larson

  Suddenly, in a flurry of movement, Sam heard the side door being dragged open. The wind roared in response and tore through the plane. Sam was suddenly jerked up and over to the gapping opening.

  “Stone, we want you to remember your flight,” Kreider shouted. “You will fly now without using your arms, legs, or even a plane.” Kreider roared with laughter.

  “Hey, Buddy.” Sam desperately yelled back as the raging wind slapped and stung his face. “You don’t want to kill me.” Sam’s mind was whirling. Why? Why? There had to be a good reason, ah… “Tell Jensen I’ll give him the diaries, and that I’ve changed my mind. Tell him that I’m scared and I don’t want to die! Kreider, he’ll lose everything and he doesn’t like losing. Then you’ll pay. He’ll kill you. You need to at least tell him my offer.”

  “You’re making this up!” Kreider shouted. “You don’t want to die. I don’t blame you. Terrible way to go, your brain and body all eaten by fish.”

  “Funny.” Sam desperately threw his next words back. “Tell Jensen. Tell him now. He’ll be very angry with you if you hold back this information. He may even splatter your stinking body to the fish instead. You won’t like it either,” Sam taunted. He hated this creep.

  Kreider took his good old time making a decision.

  Sam shivered in the freezing wind. Oh, man! Well, at least he wasn’t still squashed on the floor! He wanted to laugh insanely. Instead he squirmed and fought his bindings... But he also saw Kreider talk to the pilot.

  “Hold still!” A voice whined. “Your squirming ploy might be for nothing. I’m very clumsy. I may just drop you,” Sam could see this guy’s profile. It was a kid dressed to the teeth in military hardware.

  “Thanks. Aren’t you a bit young for a terrible life like this?”

  “Ha! Nah. It will be a kick, dropping you from a plane,” he said sarcastically.

  “Oh, okay. It’s nice to learn that it’s not personal, I think.” Sam was amazed that he was feeling so clever, while dangling on the edge of the clouds.

  “I kinda like you, man. But, a job is a job. And I like it,” the lanky kid gloated.

  “There must be better kinds of employment,” said Sam. “What does your mother say? Probably, my handsome son drops nice guys from helicopters.”

  “Leave my mom outa this… You think I’m handsome? Thanks, creep.”

  “Name’s Stone. I like to be remembered as more than just a streak of blood in the water.”

  The kid cocked his head but said nothing.

  “What’d you say your name was?” Sam said sweetly.

  “Hell, I didn’t and I ain’t!” the kid shouted gleefully.

  Sam turned his head as far as he could. “This is a dirty job. You should quit.”

  “Shut up,” the kid’s stocky partner grunted.

  The pilot turned. “You can pull him back in. The guy’s got a reprieve.”

  “Cap him up,” Kreider snorted.

  Sam was roughly yanked back and the familiar gag reinserted. This time he was

  allowed a portion of the seat. The leather straps were tightened. But he figured it would be a short trip. Helicopters weren’t made for long cross-country flights. However, he mused, some of the high tech ones go pretty far. Well, at least he’s not hurling into into the mouths of hungry sharks, the fish kind that is.

  Sam had nothing to do but think now. Questions with no answers tumbled fast. He guessed that his life as Sinclair was definitely over. So what of Alex and Sarah? It hurt too much to think of them. We’re they dead or alive? Could he hope to see them ever again? He suddenly shivered uncontrollably. He should have brought a coat. Like he had time to get a coat. Maybe remembering Alex will make him forget his physical misery. He could almost smell her sweetness, lying beside him. He could feel her touch on his body. Damn, Jensen, why couldn’t you just leave us alone? You couldn’t let us go. …No. Stop it, Sam. These thoughts won’t help you escape. Forget the past for the moment. Think ahead. You may need to move fast soon.

  Suddenly the copter began descending. He could see an airstrip with a solitary building below. Time to change planes. Suddenly Sam felt intensely sad again. He was leaving the memory of serene farm country, the university, his Victorian house, the school kids, and his beloved wonderful family. They were now in his past. He was Sam Stone, trying to change the future of his country and save people. He must be as crazy as the bad guys are. He braced himself for what lay ahead. Somehow he’d handle it. He had to.

  PART III: COMBUSTION

  CHAPTER 34

  The landing was uneventful. His guards untied Sam’s ankles and pushed him onto the frozen dirt. He would have pried more info from the kid, but they neglected to take out his mouth stuffing. Sam tried sputtering for attention, but the guardians merely grunted their amusement and made no effort to ease or extract the irritating material in his mouth. Sam was then dumped into a large crate for safe keeping.

  Time crawled. Hours passed. He decided that he must be feeling better because his stomach rumblings reminded Sam that he was damn hungry. How long had it been since he’d eaten? It was just before he’d entered town with the kids. It seemed so long ago. Sam started kicking the sides of the box. Hell, why not? Starvation was no way to treat the holder of Sean’s precious diaries. Sam stretched as best he could. All he gained was a terrific headache and sore legs, like they weren’t hurting already. Either the men had deserted him or they were ignoring his pesky ruckus. He wanted to know what was going on. He was beginning to hate mysteries, he mused sarcastically. He thought about laughing insanely, but he still had his disgusting gag in his mouth. Jensen was definitely letting Sam squirm.

  #

  Sam dozed. Suddenly the crate was ripped open. He tried to focus, but a light blinded him. He grunted his protest and was greeted by the “joyous” removal of the hated rag in his mouth. He felt like vomiting immediately afterwards, however. His dry mouth took a moment to adjust. The gagging stopped, and he managed to whisper.

  “Thanks, guys. I knew you cared.”

  Hands reached out and yanked Sam from his horrid box. A cup of water was held to his lips. He drank greedily.

  “More, please,” Sam voice croaked.

  “You are polite. No more.”

  Sam was hauled to his feet and cut loose except for his hands. Arms from the darkness pushed him forward and into the inky depths of the outdoors.

  Night, it was dark again. He had to have been in that crate for twenty-some hours. No wonder his body felt mistreated. He didn’t feel like talking anymore, at least not without helpful responses.

  Sam followed in silence, as he was led to a military aircraft that seemed to suddenly appear in the darkness. Bright ground lights quickly turned on and focused on the plane. It’s wings and body were like gleaming black marble. He was prodded up the stairs and cuffed into a seat in the rear of the plane. Voices rattled from the front, but he could not understand the words. His stomach rumbled and reminded him that he could be human again. He was amused and wondered if they served meals on the flight. Sam’s wish came true as a tray was set in front of him and his one hand released. The other was still cuffed to the chair, however. It was the usual airline prepackaged fare, but Sam downed it greedily. He even wished that he had a few more platefuls. It was definitely a good idea to feed the condemned man a last meal. He’s less likely to make a fuss, Sam rationalized. The plane was now airborne, and no one deigned to chat. So he settled back. California might be its destination if they want the diaries. If so, it would take a while, so he might as well relax. Things will pick up later, he was sure of that.

  His mind drifted aimlessly. I wonder if Ben still wants his house back. He should have paid him a huge cleaning fee. Or, is Alex stuck with the mess? Alex, they wouldn’t hurt her. She must have been visiting friends. She’s fine or is she? He had a sick feeling in his chest. He hadn’t prayed in years, maybe he’d give it a try.

  A voice interrupted. “I see that you’re still alive. Why?”’


  Sam opened his eyes, as Elizabeth Martin slid into a seat next to Sam.

  “What a surprise,” Sam said with shock. “You do get around, sweetheart.” She was the last person he expected to run into on this flight.

  “Don’t call me that!” she snapped.

  “You mean “sweetheart.” Oh, macho revulsion. I should have guessed. So why glue yourself to a stinker like Jensen? Oh, I know, he pays well with his little pills.”

  “I used to think that way,” said Martin. “But I’ve changed, and I like it. You’ll see. Maybe you won’t though. I don’t really care.” She took down her hair and flipped it about her face. “You men have begun to bore me.”

  “Give me a chance to change that. If you’ll just unlock these pretty bracelets?” Sam said as he held up his handcuffs and taunted. He had definitely lost respect for this lady.

  “I bet you are a male chauvinist,” she eyed him haughtily.

  “Try me.” He smiled, but inside he felt revulsion.

  “Maybe later.” She uncrossed her legs seductively. “I’m not exactly unattractive or

  inexperienced myself.”

  “No. I can see that.” Sam placated with as much charm as he could muster, considering his battered body and the fact that he didn’t trust her. She obviously was with Jensen and was part of his gang now.

  “Did you sleep with my daughter?” she said quietly.

  Sam was stunned by that question, but he recovered quickly. “No. She’s a kid. Would that bother you as a mother or as a jealous female?”

  “Both,” she said as she leaned over and kissed him. She then crawled on top of him and began to pull open his clothes.

  “Is this some kinky game you play?” Sam drank in the air.

  “Suddenly Martin was pulled roughly from Sam. A hand impacted on her flesh with a sound that reverberated in the air. Martin gasped and shrank back into the seat across the aisle. Her eyes peeked through her tumbled hair like a wounded animal.

  “Jensen, wouldn’t like you messing with Stone. He’s being saved,” Kaupman sneered.

  “Jensen doesn’t tell me what to do. Don’t you touch me again.” Martin’s voice trembled as she straightened her red silk dress.

  “Ah. Excuse me. Would you mind terribly, if Ms. Martin put me back together,” piped up Sam.

  “Embarrassed, Mr. Stone? Allow me.” Kaupman leered.

  “I prefer her.” Sam said with a wink.

  “Yes, I’m sure you do. Go right ahead, lady.” He laughed lewdly.

  Martin slid seductively from her chair and slowly put Sam together, piece by piece. He had to admit to himself that he rather enjoyed it. His body felt like it would incinerate, if she touched him any longer.

  “I’m finished,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Thank you.” Sam mouthed the words.

  “Anytime.” She crawled out of the seat and stood in front of Kaupman.

  “Enjoy the show? Too bad all you can do is watch.” She reached out and grabbed a cup of coffee from an ogling guard’s hand. Smiling shyly, she quickly dumped the steaming liquid into Kaupman’s lap.

  Kaupman howled and sputtered incoherently, as he sprang from his seat. He raised his fist at the willful woman who dared to humiliate him, but she had run down the aisle laughing maniacally.

  “The bitch is crazy. I used to think she was one smart dame,” Kaupman grunted as he brushed frantically at the hot coffee running down his trousers.

  “Yeah. Well, I had a good time. Too bad she blistered your manhood.” Sam couldn’t help but reply.

  It was a mistake. Sam knew it but he loved saying it. He did have a physical regret, however. Large hands pulled him up and nearly broke his neck with the whiplash from the blow. Not his face again, he gasped in his mind. It already hurt like hell. He then felt his arm being twisted and tried to see the syringe needle which was jammed into his vein.

  “Jensen said I could start you on this, when I was sick of your face.” Kaupman said.

  “My face, yeah, me too, you.” Sam’s tongue felt thick. “What are you giving me?” he slurred.

  “What you’ve always wanted to try. The stuff, Mr. Stone, the stuff.”

  Sam wanted to fire back that he’d already had the brief pleasure of the hellish drug, but his mouth wouldn’t articulate. He suddenly was out.

  #

  Sam awoke feeling very seasick. Was it his head that was churning or the floor? “I’m sick!” He muttered through numb lips. He was surprised when a voice answered.

  Yes, you are and you’re going to feel much worse if you don’t let me help you. Tell me. Where are the diaries?”

  “Where am I?” Sam twisted in his chair and noticed that he had been divested of his clothes, and an intravenous solution was dripping into his arm. He stared at the wooden floor; it seemed to rise up and meet him.

  “You are on a ship. You will go swimming soon; we didn’t want your clothes to get wet.”

  Sam heard a chuckle and swallowed. “I’m cold. A blanket would be nice,” he said.

  “Your evasions won’t work here. Where are the diaries?” The heavy man’s sunburned face swam into Sam’s view. “There aren’t any, are there?”

  “There are diaries,” another voice said.

  Sam knew what he was up against now. He remembered his military training and fought the drugs. He gritted his teeth and pulled back his head.

  “Stone’s resisting. This won’t work. Just kill him.” A thin anemic face came forward. “Jensen said to give you a few minutes only. Hurry up, fellow. We plan to drag you for the fish after we shoot you. You won’t like it.”

  “No, I don’t expect so. I’m sick, I’m going to throw up. I’m going to mess up your little boat. Oh, here it comes….” Sam screwed up his face.

  Sunburn man sprang into action. “He’s right. Un-cuff him. I don’t want to scrub this boat or smell his mess. Let’s get him up on top, come-on.

  They dragged Sam’s limp body to the top. Sam moaned and leaned into the scrawny anemic one and tripped him. Sunburn man reacted too late. Sam chopped his neck and then finished off Scrawny. Sam collapsed on the rail and breathed deeply. “You guys don’t know how close you came to me barfing in your faces.” He stayed on top for a while, despite the cold spray chilling his body. He needed to get the drugs out of his system and think. He looked at the empty horizon. “Where the hell am I? I’ll figure it out.” He turned and gazed at the small boat crew.

  Skinny and Sunburn were still out. “Silas, you should have sent more men,” muttered Sam, “Don’t you know me yet? Well, actually that’s good.” Sam sighed and proceeded to strip the ship’s unconscious men, tied them up, and put them in the ship’s dingy. He felt it only right to reciprocate as he was treated, by the removing of their clothes. He lowered the raft and tied the tow rope to the ship’s stern.

  Sam turned back to the cabin. He was alone and the ship was anchored. He needed to study the maps and compass before he set off.

  It was a clear night so the constellations should help his sense of direction. Sam played with the ship’s radio and got mainly static.

  He decided that now would be a good time to find his clothes, before he froze or he began to relish the nudist mentality. His jeans were in a heap with his blood stained shirt. Sam threw them back in the corner. He tried on the clothes removed from his guards. Sunburn’s simple shirt and slacks weren’t a bad fit. He tucked in the shirt and tried the shoes. The feet must have been tiny. He’d use Skinny’s “gunboat” shoes instead. Thanks, fellows. At least you stayed rather clean.

  Sam could hear the distraught bellowing from the crew in the dingy. He decided to ignore them. He figured his coordinates, plotted his course, and pulled up the anchor. They were off.

  Sam steered all night. By dawn he was in sight of the harbor. He unwrapped the tow rope and set the raft adrift.

  “I hope the sun doesn’t burn your pretty skin, men. Have a good trip.” Sam yelled and gave his best Navy salute.
>
  Sam turned back to the map. There was a spot circled near Santa Barbara. Could the LA Marina have been a ruse or earlier decision which was changed? Sam corrected his course for Santa Barbara. The breezes were building up. A storm was coming. It would be nice, if it veered towards the south. On second thought, keep coming. The storm could mask Sam’s investigations. He’d love to learn what the big pow wow was about on Jensen’s yacht.

  Now which yacht? Sam tried the radio again. He was close to the coast. It worked.

  ‘Harbor Master, this is Kentucky Rose. I’m meeting a Silas Jensen on his yacht near Santa Barbara. I’ve forgotten the name of the boat, and I’m bringing the wine. Could you do a lonely sailor a favor and check your registry for Mr. Jensen?”

  “Kentucky Rose. This is the Harbor Patrol. Only do it if you save us some refreshments or send a card of appreciation.”

  “The card is in the mail. Refreshments may follow,” Sam replied. This was too easy.

  “Mr. Jensen has docked a big one. It’s the Excelsior Star. You need to be government cleared to board. Are you Big Time?”

  “You bet. Thanks Harbor Patrol. I’ll put in for more government funding.”

  Sam chuckled. He wished he could really help out those guys and gals.

  “Kentucky Rose out.” Sam disconnected. Eh, little Rose, let’s go get ‘em.

  Sam had no idea who really owned the Excelsior Star. He’d seen the boat in Santa Barbara. He had been there with Susie at the time, and they had rented a small sail- boat for the day. It had been the first time that both of them had tried a sailboat. He chuckled and remembered.

  Sam had studied the book as prep for their small water adventure, but nothing was like the real thing. It was a very windy day. He was doing well driving their little sailboat, or so he thought, when suddenly he veered right too sharply and quickly, the boat lost its balance, and capsized. They had finally managed to right the craft with advice from laughing experienced sailors on a nearby boat. Susie had maintained her sense of humor throughout it all. They had returned the boat and vowed to maybe check out a speed boat next time…Well, actually, they did later try a sailboat again and did well, but he would never forget that first time. Sam chuckled and it felt good. He’d forgotten the good times he had shared with Suzanne, his Susie.