by H. L. Wegley
The man in the flight suit with two silver bars on his shoulder stood about six feet tall, with a medium build, athletic looking and maybe a bit cocky. “Yes, sir. And you are …”
“Captain John Towery.” He smiled and stuck out a hand. “I’m your ride to Adventureland.” Towery’s infectious smile and his wit pulled Steve out of the quicksand that had been sucking him under.
Steve reached out the window and shook the man’s hand. He had a firm grip, the look of a straight shooter, but his air of confidence seemed a bit over the top. Steve had heard that tended to be a characteristic of these cowboys of the wild blue yonder.
The captain pointed down at Steve’s lap. “You know, Sergeant Bancroft, we don’t have to go through security to get to my plane, but you can’t just walk through the terminal building carrying an M4.” Steve’s words to Jeff, almost verbatim. “Brought a jacket for you. Might be cold up where we’re going. Wrap up the gun in it. I’ll bluff our way out onto the tarmac. Then we hop in, kick in the afterburner, and we’re outta here. But if anybody gets testy on our way out there, whatever you do, don’t pull out that gun.”
“Understand, sir. I’ll let you do the talking.”
Steve got out and turned back toward Jeff, realizing this could be the last time he saw Jeff. It’s not the kind of thing one man stays to another, not out loud. But the look in Jeff’s eyes spoke it.
Steve stuck out a hand. “It was the best of times and the worst of times, but I’m glad I got to know you, Jeff. If I can, I’ll be back soon and …” He’d better wrap this up quickly or Steve was going to choke up. “I … I’ll pray for you all and … please take care of Julia. She’ll try to sacrifice herself at every opportunity. And don’t believe her when she says she can’t do something. She may not look it, but she’s as strong as KC. And, Jeff—”
Captain Towery tapped Steve on the shoulder. “He gets the point, sergeant. He’s to take care of your girl. Now, we need to go.”
The niggling, burning question returned. His girl? He doubted that. But that kiss ….
He followed Towery to the terminal building with a deformed jacket in Steve’s arms, one that looked like he’d put too much starch in the wash.
Steve drew some strange looks inside the terminal. There just aren’t many ways to conceal an M4 inside a jacket without looking like one is hiding something. But they made it onto the tarmac with no resistance.
Captain Towery pointed ahead at a sleek, silver jet with twin stabilizers.
The cockpit hardly looked big enough for Steve’s six-foot-four frame, let alone two men. “Can two people actually fit in that thing?”
“It’s an F-15E, a two-seater. Works great for training … and for getting the right people to the right place at the right time.” Towery gave Steve a sly smile, then they continued walking to the plane two hundred yards ahead.
This might have been the adventure of Steve’s life—flying at Mach two across the continent in a mere two and a half hours, then making an assault on one of the most secure places in the world to capture a runaway POTUS and save the republic. The stuff of dreams.
But seeing Julia heartbroken, sobbing, telling him they were through and that he needed to go do his job—this seemed more like the great misadventure, or the great misery.
He had never failed as a Ranger. He’d only failed when women he loved were in danger. First Steph and now Julia.
Towery tapped Steve’s shoulder as they walked. “Sergeant Bancroft, still worried about that girl?”
“Maybe so, sir.” He wasn’t going to go there, no matter how hard the captain pushed the subject.
“There are stories going around about that Daniels’ group that would curl a man’s hair. Even a fighter pilot. Are you a praying man?”
“Sometimes.”
“I thought so. But it’s hard to pray when you’re really down. Makes it seem like your faith is gone. So I take it you’re a Bible reading man, too?”
Steve nodded but kept his eyes on the F-15 fifty yards ahead.
“From what I heard, this is a David and Goliath story. Daniels’ seven against the most powerful man in the world. Yes, David and Goliath. But we know how that story ends, don’t we?”
He met Towery’s gaze and saw the blazing fierceness of another kind of warrior, the one Steve had dubbed the cowboy of the wild blue yonder. Steve was in good company and he served a good God. Maybe Towery was right, but it didn’t stop the ache in his heart.
“Uh-oh.” The captain motioned toward two armed security guards walking briskly their way.
“Keep in mind, Bancroft, they aren’t really against us, they just—”
In unison the two guard’s fingers on their left hands swiped the sides of their rifles.
“Sir, those two guys who really aren’t against us just flipped off their safeties.”
“Well, at least they didn’t flip us off.”
“They’re going to do a whole lot more than that.”
One of the men raised his rifle.
“We have two choices, Bancroft. We go talk to them, or we make a run for it.”
“No, captain. There’s a third choice. You run like heck for your plane and get ready to take off.”
“But they’ll start—”
“No they won’t.” Steve jerked the coat from his weapon and fired a burst beside the two men.
The bullets sprayed chunks of concrete into an open area while the cracking of the M4 echoed off the buildings.
The two guards turned and ran for cover.
When Steve turned back toward the F-15, Captain Towery slipped into the pilot’s seat and waved Steve toward him.
Steve sprinted toward the plane, looking for a way to climb in. A ladder hung down from near the cockpit. Five seconds later, the engine whined as Steve slid into the rear seat. He glanced back toward the terminal as the cockpit closed.
The two armed men ran out of the building followed by two others. “Captain Towery … four of them, now.”
The engine screamed and the F-15 whirled in place pointing a menacing arsenal at the men.
The four men bolted, sprinting toward the terminal.
When Steve pulled his helmet on, he heard the captain laughing. “That’s called bandit busting.” He swung the plane around in a one eighty and shot out onto the runway. “The tower’s gonna go crazy but, near as I can tell, there’s nobody taking off or on final. Hang on, Bancroft. I’ll tell you how to gear up once we’re outta here. Oh, yeah … you might pass out right after takeoff, but not to worry.”
Pass out? An invisible hand shoved Steve back into his seat and held him there as the whole world roared around him. Was he dizzy or was the world really passing by at the incredible rate it appeared—
Steve gasped as the F-15 leaped into the air, nosed upward, and pushed the breath out of him.
A loud boom still seemed to echoing somewhere. Probably inside his head. But the cockpit was relatively quiet except for a high-pitched whine.
“Lost you there for a few seconds,” Towery said. Then proceeded to tell Steve to go through various impossible contortions to get “zipper suited.”
After nearly pulling several muscles, Steve had wriggled into the flight suit and had his M4 and sat phone in his lap. Something about his gun drew his attention.
Good grief! He’d left the gun in automatic mode. Steve reached down and pushed the safety lever.
“Bancroft, what are you doing with that gun?”
“Just checking it out.”
“Please don’t tell me you were still in machine-gun mode when you climbed into my bird.”
“Alright, I won’t tell you that, if you won’t tell me how many airport violations you committed during that take off.”
“Touché. Now … if you’re comfortable enough, I suggest you take a nap. Rumor has it you’ve got a long night ahead of you.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard that rumor, too.”
At some point between the images of Julia playing thro
ugh his mind, Steve actually did doze off. But a ticklish vibration in his lap yanked him back to consciousness. Was his sat phone actually working? It looked like it. “Captain, I’ve got a call coming in on my sat phone. Is that possible up here at this speed?”
“Evidently for a short while.” The whine dropped in pitch like someone had pulled on the end of a slide whistle. “I’m slowing down. Maybe you can keep a connection long enough for a short phone conversation.”
“It’s a text message. That’s probably how it got through.” Steve scrolled through Craig’s message, hardly able to believe what he was reading. Was he being given a second chance?
Steve stopped and returned to the beginning, reading slowly to let the significance sink in.
Hannan suspects. Must move now. Will rely on KC’s info for access. Believe Daniels’ location compromised. Turn back & help them. Godspeed. Craig
“What’s it say? I mean … if I have a need to know.”
“Captain Towery, my commander said he can’t wait for me and we must turn back so I can help Daniels’ team. They’re in danger. Maybe a whole company of Rangers descending on them.”
Steve sucked a breath and nearly choked on it when the F-15 banked ninety degrees. The centrifugal force pushed him into the seat until his vision went fuzzy.
When the wings leveled out, the engine roared and the plane surged ahead.
“Sir, what did you just do to me?”
“We pulled a few Gs when I turned around. You’re not going to pass out on me again, are you?”
“Not to worry, not going to pass out on you, captain.”
They were headed westward, toward his six friends who should now be in the Skylight Cave. Headed home to Julia.”
“You know something, Bancroft? I don’t think we’ll get a warm reception back at Redmond Muni, do you?”
“Not after I shot the place up and you threatened them with even bigger weapons.”
“Where do you need to go? I mean your final destination.”
“It’s a remote spot about seven or eight miles west of Sisters? I need to get there the fastest way possible.”
“Well I can’t jettison my canopy to let you bail out of my plane. No, sir. You’re getting no nylon letdown from this bird. We’ll need another aircraft to get you there. One you can bail out of.”
“What kind and where do we get it?”
“Madras Municipal Airport has a skydiving club. A good one.”
“Can this thing land there?”
“It ain’t a thing, Mr. Ranger. I call it my Silver Eagle.”
“This is an Eagle and it’s all silver. Not very original, if you ask me.”
“Oh, it’s original. Came from an old Ray Stevens song my dad used to play for me about the Doorights.” Towery chuckled. “Nobody knows it, except for my DCC, but this bird’s got the name I gave her hidden on it.”
Chatting with Towery about his plane was the last thing Steve wanted to do. “Back to our plan. So we’re landing at Madras. What then?”
“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll land and you use that M4 you’re carrying to make them take you to Sisters.”
“Hijack a plane? Come on, captain, I don’t want to have to shoot anybody.”
“Then tell them you’re a Red Ryder and need a quick ride to save Brock Daniels. They’ll help.”
“Don’t you mean a red Ranger?”
“Yeah. You’re a red Ranger. Beats a BB gun, anyway. Pretty conservative bunch at Madras. They’ll help you if they know you hate Hannan.”
“I don’t hate anybody. But I despise Hannan.”
“That’s good enough. Bancroft, this is how we’ll do it. I’ll taxi you right up to the terminal … providing you let me come in and watch you hijack that plane.”
“I’ve always heard you fighter pilots were crazy. Now I believe it. You can come in, because I might need your word on what’s going down. I don’t want to end up shooting somebody.”
“That works. I know a couple of the pilots there. Friends, more or less. But please tell me none of them will end up in a smoking hole because they flew you to Sisters on this sortie.”
Steve replayed the captain’s pilot jargon until he caught the meaning. “I don’t think so. If the bad guys show, we’ll need to sneak in without letting anybody on the ground know what’s up.”
“About the smoking hole …you don’t think so? Those Rangers on the ground—they’re not going to have triple A are they?
“Come again, captain?”
“AAA, Anti-aircraft artillery.”
“Sir, if we’re flying in a small plane, like a Cessna, I think an M4 qualifies as triple A. But I’ll do my best to keep your friends safe.”
“Bancroft, you do realize that you just traded twelve Special Forces types versus West Wing security for a situation where three women, two men and two soldiers take on 200 Special Forces?”
“Yeah. I guess you fighter jocks don’t have a lock on crazy.”
Chapter 29
Partially covered with blankets and other supplies, Julia rode in the small back seat of her grandparent’s SUV as Jeff drove down a dirt road through a sparse pine forest.
Allie rode shotgun beside him.
Brock and KC were crammed into the second seat with Benjamin.
Even Benjamin had someone, a fiancé in Israel. But Julia rode alone, odd person out. A woman who had sacrificed her own heart and Steve's for her country.
Had it been worth it? What if Craig failed and Steve was killed?
No. Deep inside her heart Julia Weiss knew the truth. A skilled warrior commander like Craig would prevail, no matter the odds. America should have one more chance at freedom, but Julia would never live to see it. Odds were, she would die in the cave that lay less than a mile ahead.
Jeff turned off the road and drove slowly toward a thick stand of Ponderosa pine. “We'll hide the SUV here, about a half-mile from the cave, and carry everything.”
Julia needed to pull herself out of the depression she had slipped into after Steve left. She couldn’t help this group of six with a mind mired in the muck of self-pity.
The SUV stopped.
Brock opened his door and climbed out, displaying the large US flag on the back of his white t-shirt. “Carry everything you can. Let's try to make this in one trip. We need to minimize our exposure to satellite surveillance.”
Jeff climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Load up, then follow me. I'll take us under the trees as much as possible. But, when I give you the word, follow my footsteps and be careful. We'll be walking along the ceiling of the cave. It has large cracks and gaping holes in it that let in light. If you slide into one, you'll end up thirty feet below, smashed on the rocky cave floor.”
After five minutes of trekking through the pine forest and avoiding jagged lava rocks, Jeff stopped the group. “See the rock outcropping to our left? That's where the spring flows out from underground. This time of year it will be running low, so we'll need to filter all our water.”
Allie knelt and set her heavy load on the ground. “Will somebody please remind me why we're stumbling across lava rocks carrying fifty pounds of who knows what to crawl into a big hole in the ground?”
She looked from face to face, but no one looked like they wanted to reply.
Finally, Benjamin cleared his throat. “Remaining well-hidden for the next several hours is the only way we can stay alive.”
“Yeah,” Brock said. “If Craig's men capture Hannan this evening, we still need to stay hidden until word gets out that his reign is over. Remember his plans for us?”
KC stepped to Brock’s side. “Getting killed by an army that hasn't heard the war’s over … well, it isn't how I want to die.”
“I wish Steve was here,” Julia whispered to herself.
A hand came to rest on her shoulder. Allie's hand. “Me too, Julia.” Allie raised her voice. “Hannan is nothing but a rattlesnake. He's the one who should be crawling into a hole in the ground.
”
Ahead, to their right, a rattling sound crescendoed, turning to a loud buzz.
KC dropped the load she’d carried and nearly leaped into Brock's arms.
He pushed KC behind him. “Everybody back!” Brock motioned backward with both hands, but held his ground, eyes fixed on a small bush in front of him.
Julia followed Brock's gaze to a stick, standing upright, moving back and forth. She refocused on it—a coiled rattlesnake, head erect, mouth open, fangs extended.
Brock nudged KC farther away from the snake and scooped a baseball-size rock from the ground. “This is what Craig will do to Hannan this evening.” Brock's body moved like a major-league pitcher using a full windup. His arm cracked like a whip when he let the rock fly.
Brock had thrown so hard that Julia lost sight of the rock.
Thwack. The rattlesnake flew several feet away from them, its head smashed, its fangs useless, and its body writhing in death agony on the ground.
“And Steve will help Craig do that,” Julia whispered.
Allie's hand squeezed Julia’s shoulder.
She met Allie's gaze, saw the concern in her eyes, and Julia's tears came like a flash flood, carrying away everything—her resolve to be strong, her self-respect—everything but the agonizing pain in her heart from betraying the man she loved.
Somehow, Allie knew. Had Steve told Jeff what happened in the garage and then Jeff told Allie? No. It wasn't like Steve to reveal matters of his heart until a relationship grew deep, like it had that night on Bolan Peak when he told her his story about Steph. Allie, the mother of this band of rebels, had instinctively known.
Fighting for control, Julia blew out a breath, wiped her cheeks, and picked up the load she’d carried. “Which way to the cave, Jeff?”
Julia was third in line when they approached a twenty-foot wide hole in the lava rocks surrounded on two sides by pine trees. The trees formed two rows running parallel to the lava that had hardened forming the long cave.
Jeff dropped his load on the ground, stepped onto a ladder, and backed down into the hole.
Julia peered over the edge. A metal ladder descended ten or fifteen feet to the floor of the cave. The lava tube ran nearly parallel to the surface into a dark area about fifty yards ahead. Beyond the darkness, a blue column of light stood like a pillar, creating an explosion of white and yellow where it hit the floor of the cave. A skylight. Erie, but beautiful.
