by S. L. Menear
Mom whispered something to Angela, and she started singing “Nobody Does it Better” by Carly Simon from the James Bond movie, The Spy Who Loved Me.
I hugged Mom and kissed Duncan’s cheek. “I knew he’d be perfect for you the first day I met him. Hard to believe that was nine months ago.”
She nodded. “A lot has happened since then.”
“Boy, is that an understatement!” I laughed and glanced around the room at all the smiling faces.
The men and women seemed to be paired up, at least for tonight.
Carlene clutched Lance’s arm while Ross congratulated Duncan.
Mom flashed her fabulous engagement ring at me. The stones sparkled, reflecting light from the crystal chandeliers.
I gazed at the glittering gems and suddenly felt like I’d been transported to a distant land. An image of the diamond rhombus I’d taken from the underwater pyramid filled my head, and an invisible force tugged at me.
“Sam?” Mom’s voice sounded far away.
Ross squeezed my waist and pressed his lips to my ear. “Sam.”
My diamond-induced trance ended as suddenly as it had begun.
“Sorry, I drifted off. I’ve been under too much stress for too long. It’s good to be back with family and friends.”
I gave Ross a quick kiss and said, “Mom, your ring is fabulous!”
She grinned and held her hand close to her face, admiring the ring. “You’ll be my maid of honor, of course.”
“I’ll look forward to it, and I’ll be happy to help you plan the wedding.”
“Thank you, dear.” She hugged me and strolled away to show off her ring.
I glanced up at Ross and wondered if we were headed down a path to future matrimony. I’d never meet anyone better than him.
My mind drifted.
The diamond rhombus invaded my head again. Maybe it would lead me to a new adventure.
That’d be fine with me as long as I could fly there safely, and there’d be no caves, spiders, krakens, giant snakes, or nukes at the destination.
I laughed when Angela and Mario sang an oldie hit by Meat Loaf, “I Would Do Anything for Love, But I Won’t Do That.”
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VANISHED
Acknowledgments
As always, I’d like to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ for his many blessings.
My favorite destination for nighttime dining with live entertainment is The Islander Grill inside the elegant Palm Beach Shores Resort on Singer Island. Restaurant owner Niko Bujaj is a supremely talented master chef and a fun guy. Ideas for my stories flow into my head as I dine on the delicious food, sip wine, and listen to the fabulous singers and musicians. And the friendly staff always makes me feel welcome.
Favorites Angela Buzzeo and Mario Rodriguez (sometimes with Greg Carroll) sing every Friday night at The Islander Grill, inspiring guests to fill the dance floor and let loose. The Islander Grill provides top-notch live music every night.
Special thanks to my friends at the Singer Island Hilton for being so supportive of my work. They make the world a far better place, and the covered deck there provides an ideal spot to dine and write my books. The food and service are always superb, and the fresh ocean air stimulates my creativity.
I’d like to express my deep appreciation to my brilliant critique buddies, George A. Bernstein and Fred Lichtenberg, who invest their valuable time and effort in helping me improve my work. Thanks, guys!
Afterword
Dragon currents, or ley lines, are rivers of electromagnetic energy that flow through our planet and crisscross the globe. Many of them intersect but probably not where I put them in my books.
The ancient underwater city exists, but it’s not Atlantis. It’s located in about 3,000 feet of water between Cuba and the Yucatan Peninsula. It has a huge pyramid, but it’s not made of obsidian, and the city lacks many of the things I put in my imaginary Atlantis.
Hardsuit 2000s are real, and the U.S. Navy uses them to rescue submarines. The dive suits also have many commercial uses. I “imagineered” the USS Leviathan and the little Scorpion attack submarines, but similar vessels probably exist in the military.
Although Stranded is fiction, many of the characters in the story are based on real people I know, which made writing it a lot of fun for them and for me. The epilogue was written to wrap up the story and include my friends in one last scene. It made them happy, and I hope you enjoyed it too.
Vanished
A Samantha Starr Thriller, Book 5
June 3, 7:30 a.m.
The 1939 biplane corkscrewed inverted ever closer to the ground as swirling air whipped my long ponytail into my face. The spinning terrain seemed to rush up to meet us. If I didn’t do something fast, the airplane would become a dirt dart, and we’d be splattered across the wreckage like an exploded can of tomato sauce.
The student harnessed into the front tandem seat had frozen with his hands gripping the control stick and his feet locked on full left rudder. My windshield and instrument panel separated us. All I could see through the Plexiglas were the back of his head and shoulders.
Shouting into the intercom mike hadn’t worked. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I tried reaching over my windshield to bonk him on the head. My girly arms were too short. I couldn’t unbuckle my seat harness without falling out of the open cockpit, which was upside down and spinning. Reaching through the narrow space along the sidewall and stabbing him in the thigh with a huge hatpin would be my last resort.
I tried belting out dark lyrics from Phantom of the Opera. My voice-activated microphone blasted the Phantom’s chilling words into his headset.
Kent snapped out of his trance in the nick of time.
“Holy hell, Sam! If that song was supposed to calm my nerves, it didn’t work!” He relinquished the controls and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.
I neutralized the stick, let the nose fall through, and applied rudder opposite to the spin. Once the rotation had stopped, I gently pulled out of the dive and added power to recover our altitude. Our world was right-side up again.
As the roaring engine propelled us higher into the clear morning sky, the South Florida sun warmed me, and the wind caressed my face.
“You said you wanted to learn spin entries and recoveries in my Bücker Jungmann.” I throttled back as I leveled off at three thousand feet. “When you froze, I sang gruesome lyrics to jolt you from your death grip on the stick.”
“Your singing was scarier than the inverted flat spin.”
“Funny. The words seemed perfect for the situation.”
“Perfect for dying!”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I had to do something, and it was better than stabbing you with my great, great-grandmother’s giant hatpin.”
“So, if plunging into ‘darkness deep as hell’ wasn’t bad enough, I’d also be gushing blood!”
“Geez, Kent, you sound like a drama queen.”
“I didn’t realize spins would be so terrifying.” He sighed. “I’m too young to die.”
“I’d never let that happen, especially since I have a hot date tonight.”
“Ooh, is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Scottish back in town?”
“He’ll arrive late tonight for a five-day visit, and I don’t have any airline flights scheduled until two days after he leaves.”
“Lucky you. He’s hot, but he’s not my type—too scary.”
“And too straight.” I laughed. “Ross is a captain in the UK’s Special Air Service. That’s why he’s so intense.”
I banked over sugar-cane fields and turned us back toward the Atlantic Ocean, sparkling like a sea of blue diamonds in the brilliant sunshine.
“Well, girlfriend, I think we’re done for today. I need to go home and change my underwear.”
“Don’t feel bad. Not everyone is comfortable with aerobatics. Next time, we’ll focus on approaches to stalls and spins and how to avoid them.”
“Avoiding death sounds good to me. Sign me up.”
“Good. Now take the controls and fly us home.”
The moment he took the stick, the airplane shook.
“Where did that turbulence come from?” he asked.
“The flight controls are so sensitive that if your hands are trembling, the airplane will vibrate. Try to relax.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen until I’ve downed half a bottle of chardonnay.” He sighed. “Take the airplane, Sam.”
“Okay, I’ve got it.”
During our flight to Lantana, steady airline traffic approached and departed Palm Beach International Airport a few miles north of the busy general aviation airport. To the east, the Intracoastal Waterway and Atlantic Ocean added hues of turquoise and deep blue to the panorama of Palm Beach County.
I announced my intentions over the UNICOM radio frequency at the uncontrolled airport and entered the empty traffic pattern for a landing to the east. As I flew the downwind leg parallel to the runway, I spotted a single-engine trainer taking off.
After cutting the power, I side-slipped down the final approach to keep the runway in sight. The soft whisper of air flowing over the wings was music to my ears as I eased the swept-wing biplane onto the pavement and turned off onto the broad ramp. It only took a few minutes to taxi to the rows of hangars along the southern boundary. Soon my baby was safe inside its home.
“Same time next week?” I asked my rattled student.
“If I don’t lose my nerve. I’ll text you the day before.” Kent waved and climbed into his silver Lexus sedan.
Straddling my red Ducati Diavel, I pulled on my full-visor helmet. Wearing it was hot in the blazing sun, but it was better than becoming an organ donor. The Sunshine State wasn’t known for safe drivers. I cranked up the almost-silent engine and zipped out of the parking lot.
Ten minutes later, I crossed the Southern Boulevard bridge to Palm Beach, turned left past Trump’s Mar-a-Lago estate, and cruised up A1A to my beachfront condo. I’d have plenty of time before picking up my beloved at PBI around midnight.
I breezed into my sixth-floor apartment, stripped, and stepped into the shower stall. Warm water from the nozzle massaged my shoulders and back, relaxing my muscles.
Without warning, the room darkened, and I experienced a vivid vision. Muscular black men were punching and kicking Ross and his SAS team, helpless with their hands and feet tied.
As I watched the brutal beatings, bile rose in my throat, and my heart hammered my chest.
“No!” I screamed.
The vision vanished.
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Also by S.L. Menear
The Samantha Starr Thriller Series
Flight to Redemption
Flight to Destiny
Triple Threat
Stranded
Vanished
Life, Love, & Laughter: 50 Short Stories
About the Author
S.L. Menear is a retired airline pilot. US Airways hired Sharon in 1980 as their first female pilot, bypassing the flight engineer position. The men in her new-hire class gave her the nickname Bombshell. She flew Boeing 727s and 737s, DC-9s, and BAC 1-11 jet airliners and was promoted to captain in her seventh year.
Before her pilot career, Sharon traveled the world as a flight attendant with Pan American World Airways.
Sharon also enjoyed flying antique airplanes, experimental aircraft, and Third-World fighter airplanes. Her leisure activities included scuba diving, powered paragliding, snow skiing, surfing, horseback riding, aerobatic flying, sailing, and driving fast cars and motorcycles.
Her beloved timber-shepherds, Pratt & Whitney, were her faithful companions for almost fourteen years, and she enjoyed riding her beautiful black and white paint stallion, Chief.
Sharon has flown many of the airplanes in her debut novel, Flight to Redemption, Flight to Destiny, Triple Threat, and Stranded, Books One through Four in her Samantha Starr Series featuring a woman pilot.
www.slmenear.com
