A Toy for Christmas

by Mary Jane Forbes

  “GK, I thought the warriors were ready,” Frank shouted.

  “They are ready. Must be the computer,” GK snapped under his breath.

  Frank stood over him, hands on his hips. “Oh ya. Really ready. You crashed the system. Really great code. You call yourself an engineer, a programmer, a graphic engineer…I don’t think so.” Frank snatched the phone from the cradle on Geoff’s desk, jabbing the buttons, his blue eyes turning steel grey.

  GK and Michael crawled around under the table checking cables, unplugging and re-plugging the power trying to restart the dead computer.

  No luck.

  Frank slammed the phone back on the cradle. The phone was dead.

  “Nice, GK. You managed to bring the network down. Come on guys. Let’s get out of here. We’ll be back in a few days, Dad. I suggest you notify your service provider that nothing works—the computer, the phone, the internet, probably your TV, too,” Frank called over his shoulder.

  Frank brushed past Charley as he left.

  “Sorry, Frankie,” she whispered. Her dad returned to the window, his arms to his side, fists balled, released, balled again. The last thing she wanted to do was tangle with him. She left him to say goodbye to her mother.

  A bad ending to a loser day.

  Chapter 5

  ────

  THE DARK-BLUE MUSTANG glistened in the afternoon sun. With the top down Charley let her hair fly about in the wind. She sighed as she approached Route 1 south to her fire trap as her dad called it. The cluster of cabins had survived hurricanes and tornadoes crisscrossing Florida for more than thirty years. Charley called one of the cabins home, temporarily.

  It was two days since the debacle at the Kingman homestead. Poor Frankie, she thought. His drone flying rogue. Dad stomping off to his den.

  Switching lanes, Charley glanced at the rearview mirror. “You, missy. Yes, I’m talking to you. Remember what Michael said—‘you need an edge to sell in the cutthroat real estate market.’ It was nice of him to invite me to see the possibilities of creating a video to sell houses. “You have to dig down, Charley, try harder,” she said slapping the steering wheel.

  She missed her turn.

  Slapping the wheel again, angry, she made a U-turn at the next light.

  “Learn to be a pilot? I could never—”

  A Walmart sign, TURN HERE, grabbed her attention. She swerved into the access lane.

  “I wonder if they have a drone, a toy. Something to get a feel…why not?”

  An hour later Charley was sitting on her bed cross legged inserting batteries into the body of Sky Rider. He was on sale for $29.99.

  Doable.

  Running her finger down the instructions, she closed the battery compartment in the remote and was ready to give Sky Rider a test flight.

  Jumping off the bed, pulling her hair into a ponytail secured with an elastic band, she marched out the front door of the one-room cabin. Her eyes swept over the large patch of grass in front of the row of cabins spaced out in a semicircle deciding there was space enough for Sky Rider’s first outing. A few scrawny bushes were haphazardly placed in front of the cabins separated by carports. Only one car besides her Mustang was parked. The rest of the stalls were empty.

  The cabins were cheap rentals. Perfect for couples spending the day at the beach, but this was not a place to raise a family. However, her neighbor, a Hispanic couple with a little boy they called Ricky, were doing just that. Charley never saw the father for more than a wave when they both drove out merging into the morning traffic.

  Closing her eyes, she visualized her brother’s routine as he prepared to launch Mercury.

  “Charley, can I play?”

  Ricky was tugging on her shirt, looking up with big brown eyes, a grin revealing two missing front teeth.

  “Okay, Ricky. Let’s see what you and I can do.”

  Charley set the little quadcopter on the middle of the asphalt circular drive in front of her cabin. She backed up a few steps. Ricky, mimicking her stance, stood tall next to her. “See these two buttons? The one on top says LAUNCH. The button below says LAND. The instructions state that if at any time I lose control, I should tap the LAND button. Got that?”

  Ricky nodded.

  “Okay, here we go.” Charley tapped LAUNCH.

  Within a second Sky Rider’s four propeller pods rotated rapidly, so fast they were a blur sounding like a hive of angry bees. It was the same sound she heard when Frank’s drone launched.

  Also like Mercury, Sky Rider lifted off the ground a few inches, hovered, then shot up in the air. Startled, Charley hit LAND. Sky Rider dropped down hard, shaving off a few blades of grass. Laughing, Charley and Ricky ran several yards away to retrieve the little drone.

  Giggling, Ricky flopped on the ground. “That was cool.”

  “Oh Ricky, my young friend, this is fun isn’t it?” Charley said, giggling with the boy as she picked up Sky Rider. “Want me to do it again?”

  Ricky grinned, nodding as he jumped to his feet.

  “OK, here goes.” Charley set Sky Rider on the asphalt again and tapped LAUNCH. Sky Rider took off but this time Charley let it go, gently pushing a small lever to the right, next to the buttons. The drone snapped to the right, heading for a post. Laughing, Charley quickly tapped LAND but not quick enough as Sky Rider hit the post, dropped to the ground flipping over like a dead bird.

  “Is it okay. Is it broken?” Ricky asked dropping to his knees, his little hand reaching out to pick up Sky Rider.

  “I don’t think he’s broken, but I guess I need to practice. What do you think, Ricky?”

  The boy smiled, the gap between the two missing teeth showing again as he held Sky Rider up to Charley.

  “Thanks, partner. I think that’s enough for today. A breeze just kicked up,” Charley said, accepting Sky Rider from Ricky’s small hand.

  “Once more?” Ricky looked up, eyes wide, pleading.

  “OK, one more time. Tell you what, we’ll both hold the remote. You push LAUNCH, this button, and I’ll LAND. OK?”

  Ricky nodded several times, fast.

  Charley set Sky Rider on the asphalt launch site, backed up a few steps, Ricky close to her side. She knelt on the ground beside him so they’d be the same size. Charley nodded to him. “Now.”

  Ricky’s slim index finger pushed the LAUNCH button. Sky Rider came to life, hovered, then darted straight up to the sky. This time Charley twisted the lever slower, the drone responding left. “Oh, no, Ricky. I wanted to—”

  The drone flew into a bush, engulfed by the branches.

  Ricky took off carefully lifting Sky Rider from the bush then ran back to Charley. “Again?”

  “Not today, Ricky. I don’t think Sky Rider could take another crash. I’m seeing a friend. Get some tips on being a pilot. But don’t you worry, my little co-pilot. We’ll fly him again.”

  She tousled his kinky black hair and took Sky Rider inside to rest on the lid of his box. She stood staring at the sleeping drone. A grin spread across her face. Flying the drone was fun, make that piloting the drone was fun. She could see why Frank and his crew were excited about the possibilities of launching their fledgling company.

  Charley walked out of the confines of her fire trap, charged up and down the driveway not seeing little Ricky sitting again on his doorstep, laughing at his crazy friend. She was invigorated, adrenalin pumping. She always liked the challenge of learning something new, but this was even better. She had decided what she wanted to pursue, what path to follow and she was taking another step on that path, a big one. She was infected by the drone bug, infected by the possibilities. Maybe, just maybe this would be her edge to become a top producer like Kitty. Heck, she could fly circles around everyone in the agency, literally. Laughing, gulping for air, she marched back to her cabin. She was going to Google drones to start learning everything she could about being a pilot.

  Chapter 6

  ────

  THE SUN’S RAYS SPARKED off t
he ocean as the surf rolled up and out over the pristine sand. The beach bordering his dad’s mansion was empty. At 6:30 in the morning, the old man would not see him. He never shook off the bed covers before eight.

  A smile crossed Frank’s face. Mercury was dancing in the cool morning air, performing every signal to perfection. No flyaway, no taking off on his own today.

  Eyes glued to the remote’s display, Frank sent the command to Mercury to RETURN HOME. His brow furrowed. A jogger with a Golden Retriever tethered to a leash appeared on the small screen. The man was dressed for a serious run—tank top, shorts, black running shoes. Frank immediately aborted the return home signal sending Mercury high in the air, leveling off, continuing to hover sixty feet above the landing pad. The dog would have a field day with Mercury, a very expensive stick to fetch for her master. “Not on my watch,” Frank mumbled.

  The jogger stopped shielding his eyes from the brilliant morning sun. The dog stood ridged, nose pointing skyward, barking at the thing buzzing above her head.

  “That’s quite a drone. Nice tricks darting over the water. Ever lose one out there?”

  “At first.”

  What are you planning to use it for? Just playing? A hobby?” the jogger asked, giving his dog a pat on her head. The barking stopped.

  “Taking him to a Vegas show. His debut,” Frank said.

  “A new toy?”

  “A hobbyist might look at him that way, but he’s perfect for taking videos—special events outdoors, surveying construction sites, search and rescue. He’s especially adept at real estate marketing. Outdoors and hand-held inside.”

  “Nice. Good luck.” Slapping his thigh, the intruder and his dog continued down the beach.

  Mercury dropped from the sky, paused over the pad laying on the sand, then landed soft as a feather at Frank’s feet returning to the remote’s location, returning home. “Perfect landing,” Frank mumbled, retrieving his cell on the first ringtone.

  “Where are you?” the caller said.

  Frank frowned. “On the beach with Mercury.”

  “Anyone with you?”

  “No, I’m alone. What’s up?”

  “I want to set the time and place to meet when you’re here in Vegas. My home. Secluded in the desert. How does that sound?”

  “Good. Sounds good. As for timing, it will have to be at the end of the conference. I’d have trouble breaking away during the seminars, other events. Remember, no leaks that we’re meeting or I’ll cancel and return to Florida.”

  “Understood. I’m looking to nail down a deal.”

  “We’ll see.” Frank shoved his cell back in his pants pocket. He rolled up the landing pad, stashing it in the case. Picking up Mercury, he trudged up the path to the left of his boyhood home. His mind pinged with Mercury’s successful outing and the phone call.

  He’d worked hard on the drone’s design—hardware and software. He wondered how long his dad would continue to back him. Frank knew his dad looked at his venture as an investment. A lot was riding on what transpired in Vegas. If he didn’t set off a buzz, didn’t come home with orders, Frank felt sure his dad would end his investing, or worse, demand his money back. But Frank had contingency plans. The phone call confirmed one of those plans.

  One thing Frank had learned over the past year, he had to have nerves of steel to pull together a startup company, and then to develop a profitable business. He always had to be two steps ahead of the current situation, always ready with a plan B and C. Ready should something go awry—one door closes he had to be ready to open another. He couldn’t stick his head in the sand accepting the status quo. He had to look at every opportunity to push forward.

  His heart had skipped a beat at the end of the phone call.

  Chapter 7

  ────

  THE MOTEL WAS RENOVATED into a condo fifteen years ago. Not a high-end condo, more of an efficiency unit during peak season. Frank and his partners rented the large top unit on the north end—three bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms with a narrow balcony outside the living-room overlooking a pool, the ocean beyond. Formerly four stories, the renovation combined the levels, each unit now 2 stories, a spiral staircase carved through the first floor to the second story.

  Charley pulled into a slot marked Visitor Parking. Turning off the motor she looked up at the run-down building. As bad as it looked, the condo was definitely a step-up from her cabin—one bedroom, one bath with a shower, and definitely no balcony. The next hurricane would surely reduce the cabin to rubble.

  Anchoring her hair securely through the hole in her ball cap, she grabbed her shoulder bag off the passenger seat. Locking the car, she headed to the outside staircase leading up to the walkway. She pushed the doorbell and was instantly greeted by a barefoot Michael. It was 10:02 a.m. and the smell of stale coffee permeated the air.

  “Welcome, Charley. I love a woman who arrives when she says she will. Come on in. Your brother’s not here. He said he was going to some parking lot to figure out what happened to balky Mercury so he’ll behave next time. Coffee?”

  “No thanks. I’ve had my morning fix. I’m anxious to see what you were talking about…a drone video to market real estate. I have a couple of houses in mind that Ramirez Real Estate is handling. Hoping to sell. Rachel Ramirez, my boss, established the agency a few years ago. The agency’s website currently showcases each property with fifteen to twenty pictures.”

  “Great. Come on upstairs to my room. Frank has the downstairs bedroom slash office. GK and I have bedrooms, slash computer rooms, upstairs.”

  “You live in a palace next to my slash one-room rental I call home…for now.”

  Michael led the way up the iron, spiral staircase, chatting away about how nice it is to have a pool…maybe she’d like to go for a dip later.

  Ignoring his banter, Charley paused at the open door to GK’s room. He was hunched over his desk absorbed in the skirmish raging between several drones on the computer screen—missiles flying through the air, artillery exploding. GK’s eyes were fixed on the battle royal complete with sound effects as he manipulated the aggressive drones with the remote. The action stopped mid-attack. GK’s body jerked. “No, no, no. Not supposed to happen.” He turned to the screen on his left…hand over the mouse rapidly scrolling down lines of code, the heels of his sneakers tapping the green shag carpet, his hair spiked with fresh gel.

  Charley shut her eyes, exhaling a small puff of air. She’d witnessed her brother doing somewhat the same thing over the years since he had his first computer at age eight. “Boy’s a genius,” their dad would say. She often wondered if she’d been a boy, the first boy, would she have been a genius in her father’s eyes. Maybe. Before it was known that she was going to be a girl, her father named the baby-to-be Charley. No doubt in his mind that the infant would be a boy. He was positive. Ultrasound or not, the name stuck. Frank, born a year later, was always thought to be a genius. Charley not so much.

  GK’s room, what she could see of it, was neat—no clothes lying around, bed made. Michael’s room was a different story. Clothes mixed with backpacks, cameras with computer parts and flash drives. A blanket was pulled up over a pillow—Michael’s idea of making the bed.

  “Here, sit here, Charley,” Michael said clearing off a scratched folding chair with a sweep of his arm. “I’ll show you a couple of examples. One I shot for a friend…his house he wanted to sell. Can you see Okay?”

  “No glare. Crystal clear,” she said.

  “Now here’s what the drone saw—taken when Mercury was just a little guy we called Pigeon, before your brother built him big enough to carry a larger battery. See the sweeping views—the front to side garden, to the backyard. Smooth as silk. Pulling away for a broader view, then down to the roses in the garden. Up again he goes with an aerial view of the street, the neighborhood.” Michael glanced at Charley. “Neat, huh?”

  “Better than neat, Michael. The perspective from the air really shows the yard, the bushes, the flowe
rs, also shows the size of the lot the house is sitting on, a double lot I think. It’s much bigger than the neighbors. More value.”

  “You got it. Now look. The next shots were taken with Mercury. He’s slowly approaching the front door. My friend opens it, waving to him to enter. Here’s where I stop the action to remove the propellers. Inside I shoot the video in hand-held mode. Of course, I edit the video so it appears seamless entering the house through the front door. I pause, slowly sweeping around the living room and then slowly from room to room, turning in a circle in each, then out the front door. That does it, the end.”

  “Michael, it’s breathtaking, so fluid. Hand-held, I thought it might be jerky?”

  “No, there’s a camera stabilizer which takes my movement, walking, into account like I was light as a feather gliding on a breeze.”

  “Nice. Can a potential buyer pause the action?”

  “But of course, Miss. Now, do you see what I mean by having an edge marketing properties?”

  “Definitely. No contest. A buyer would be enticed to visit the real thing. How long was that clip—a couple of minutes?”

  “Just under. Of course, it takes a day to shoot, lots of takes. Add to that the time to edit. Overlaying the music is a snap. Pick a piece of music and it plays continually in the background. Free audio clips are available…nothing recognizable, random notes and instruments.”