Samantha rolled herself over on to her right side and used the momentum to work herself all the way around to her backside. Once she was sitting, she grabbed the bulkhead with her right hand and pulled herself up.
She leaned into the cockpit and screamed into Mike’s ear. “I’m going to go check on Joyce! I’ll be right back!”
As she turned and began extricating herself from the cockpit opening, she saw a piece of metal shrapnel lodged unto the cabin wall. It was covered in blood.
The pitching and rolling of the plane made it difficult to walk. The difficulty was compounded because there wasn’t any intact upright furniture left to hold on to. To steady herself, Samantha placed her hand on the ceiling of the cabin. As she approached the two prone bodies on the floor she saw that they were riddled with bullet holes and inundated with shrapnel. There was no need to check for a pulse. They were dead.
She turned and worked her way back up to the cockpit and stood behind Mike. The ringing in her ears had subsided somewhat so she was able to hear herself scream this time.
“They’re both dead!”
Mike’s reply was short and direct, “Get your ‘chute on!”
“You’re coming with me!”
“Can’t! Autopilot won’t engage and the control surfaces are toast! I’m gonna have to land it somewhere!”
Damn it! Resigned, she turned and headed aft for her rig. Even with a damaged shoulder she was able to get her parachute on in only a minute or two. She probably could have done it faster had the plane not been pitching and yawing the entire time.
She leaned back into the cockpit and screamed, “Done!”
Another hail of fire tore through the cabin and managed to shred the last of the intact seat cushions and blow out the cabin door. The whoosh of wind and air nearly sucked Samantha out of the plane. It probably would have had they not already lost cabin pressure in the first fusillade of cannon fire.
“Idiot!” Samantha screamed into Mike’s ear.
“What?!” he screamed back.
“He shot the cabin door off!”
“Good! Then get the hell out of here!” Mike screamed over the wind.
“Bank left Mike! I think I see a farm down there! You could land in the field!”
Mike did as he was instructed so he could get a better look at the fields below when he saw the glint of moonlight off of the canopy of the F-15.
“Take cover!”
Another shot of cannon fire tore through the cabin. The engines started screaming louder. Debris was being sucked into the engine intakes like a bird strike.
“Son of a bitch!” Mike bellowed out in agony.
Samantha quickly got to her feet and began checking herself for new injuries. “Damn you all, you bastards!” Mike screamed.
Samantha ran into the cockpit to find Mike trying to use his necktie as a tourniquet on his leg.
“Mike!” Samantha screamed. “No! Mike!”
“Get out of here Sam or were both dead!”
“No, Mike! You have to come with me!” she exclaimed.
In a calmer, gentler tone, Mike said, “I can’t Sam. You’re gonna have to do the rest on your own.”
“Mike! No! I need you,” Samantha replied, pleading with Mike.
“Your mom and dad would be so proud of you, but you’ll need to see this through without ol’ ‘Mad Dog’ Mike watchin’ your six,” he answered referring to himself by his old Air Force call sign. “Now go!”
Samantha leaned further into the cockpit and wrapped her arms around Mike’s neck and shoulders.
One last hug.
She then turned her head and softly kissed him on the cheek.
One last kiss.
She had done the same for her father just before he passed. It was the least she could do for Mike.
“I love you,” she whispered in his ear.
“Love you too, kid. Now go.”
Through the on-set of tears, she invoked an old family saying, “See you on the flip side?”
Mike answered with the standard reply, “Sunny side up.”
With that, she turned, took two steps, and dove out the cabin door.
Chapter 7
January 18th, 2022
Josh sat on the front porch of his cabin taking stock of his life and enjoying the result of the latest arctic weather front. As he enjoyed his first hint of sobriety in weeks and the eerie silence from the snowstorm, Josh reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his pouch of tobacco. He had been growing his own as an experiment and had a few under the table customers among the other farmers. Even though the winter blast had only cleared in the last few hours, he figured that the fourteen inches of snow had caused many a traveler to stay home. The distant tire noise from vehicle traffic was non-existent on any of the roads around his farm.
He chuckled to himself thinking about the crush of patients that would descend on the labor and delivery rooms in about nine months if snowplow crews didn’t get out soon. He always thought the human condition was an interesting paradigm. Power goes out, have sex. Roads are impassable, have sex. Bored, have sex. What a strange species we truly are.
He flipped open his Zippo to the familiar click-ping sound and began working the flame around the bowl of the pipe. As he began drawing the smoke in, the calming silence of the brisk winter night was broken by the distant whine of an airplane.
“That’s odd,” Josh said to himself as he stood and walked to the railing in an effort to visually locate the offending sound on the otherwise quiet night.
Engine noise, let alone the hallmark contrail, was a rare sight. He took another pull from his pipe as he leaned over and scanned the cloudless moonlit night sky. He spotted the smoke trail at eleven o’clock on the horizon.
The damaged aircraft was traveling west to east. As his eyes followed the airborne track, the plane appeared to be spiraling counter clockwise, descending as it did so. That pilot sure is doing his damnedest to keep the thing from turning over and coming straight down.
Josh continued to watch the decent, but couldn’t discern the make or model of the aircraft from that distance. He figured it had to be a corporate jet as most of the airline industry was now defunct. It was difficult for him to accurately determine the altitude, but he guessed it was around fifteen thousand feet. He should be able to parachute to safety. The deceleration maneuver the pilot was orchestrating looked like it had started around the twenty thousand-foot mark.
With a sudden whoosh of air, a military jet roared over the cabin from the south several hundred yards above the tree tops. A second later, the deafening scream of the engines caused Josh to cover his ears in protest. He could feel the thundering of the sound waves reverberate throughout his body as he tried to regain his purchase on the porch.
“What the hell!” Josh said in astonishment.
As he quickly regained his composure, Josh turned his head toward the night sky to see the screaming war bird ascend towards it prey. Seconds later, he saw the telltale signs of the murderous cannon coming to life as it bore down on the crippled aircraft.
“Holy crap!” Josh exclaimed out loud as he watched the unarmed jet being toyed with by the assailant. Heavier smoke began pouring from every exhaust vent and gaping port hole struck by the cannon’s incessant pounding.
The small damaged plane took the fight to the enemy and abruptly banked hard, rapidly descending toward its armed foe. He had turned directly into the path of the abusive fire.
“Turn you idiot!” Josh screamed into the night sky. “Get the hell out of there! What are you doing? Evade! Evade! Evade!”
It was apparent that the pilot had lost command of the aircraft. There was simply too much damage. The aircraft continued to corkscrew through the night air. Josh could hear the whine of the dual engines increase as the person at the controls throttled up. He’s stalling.
The plane started to nose over, and coupled with the throttling up, Josh was almost certain that the pilot had become disoriented in
the cockpit. He figured that if the pilot wasn’t already dead or severely wounded from the cannon fire, he was most certainly unconscious from the violent spinning. He’s a goner.
The small corporate craft spun in and exploded on impact northwest of Josh’s cabin. The NTSB will find the rubble somewhere in the middle of Wayne National Forest.
The war bird slowed and appeared to circle the crash site. It then leveled off, banked west, and engaged its afterburners. Shortly thereafter, Josh heard the sonic boom as the military hunter broke through the sound barrier.
As he stood and stared, transfixed on the glow in the distance, he was reminded of the images of his youth and during his time in the Marine Corps. The burning Iraqi and Kuwaiti oil fields during the First Gulf War, the news footage he’d seen as a kid of the Chicago fires, and the LA riots when looters had burned blocks of the city to the ground. Those were just pictures in his school texts and on TV. This was right outside his house, on his front porch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the distinct shape of a canopy opening only three or four thousand yards above the ground. My God. Someone actually jumped from that thing.
Josh raced to the barn to start-up the Rhino. The animals, already spooked and stirring due to the fly-by, were unfazed by the firing of the ATV farm vehicle. This was a familiar sound to them. He pulled the Rhino out of the barn and began heading across the fields in the direction of the parachute. Surprisingly, the Rhino handled remarkably well in the deep snow.
He rarely took his eyes off the descending pillow of silk. Fortunately, he looked down enough times to keep from running into the parked machinery and implements strewn about the farm from the fall harvest. The fresh blanket of snow made the identification of some of the tools difficult to discern. He was so focused on maintaining visual contact that he narrowly missed the darkened greenhouses.
The parachute eventually made its way into the thick hedgerow dividing the property. This only served to complicate the search for the survivor. They could be hung up in a tree or down in the ravine and lying in the creek bed. Josh flipped on the assortment of lights attached to the Rhino and, after fifteen minutes of searching, he finally found what he was looking for.
The parachute was caught about twenty feet up in a dormant oak with the survivor hanging only a scant few feet off of the ground. Blood was beginning to dry on the left arm of the parachutist. Josh took one look at the hanging body and thought, this guy’s in danger of exposure. I need to get them back to the cabin.
Josh pulled the Rhino up to the swinging jumper and surveyed the area. As he dismounted, he pulled his knife from its sheath so he could cut the harness free. As the knife came into full view, the parachutist kicked out with both legs and struck Josh in his chest. Josh rolled backwards from the blow, but managed to use the momentum of the roll to carrying himself back onto his feet.
With the plume of snow wafting back to the ground around him, Josh growled, “Not very smart buddy. I’m holding a knife and you’re stuck in your ‘chute five feet off the ground. Now calm down. I’m not here to hurt you. Okay?”
Without looking up, the dangling stranger reached up and pulled the quick release latches attached to each strap. They tumbled to the ground in a heap and screamed out in pain as they hit the frozen earth. Josh stood there dumbfounded. That scream belongs to a woman.
“Hold still,” Josh commanded in a stronger tone than he truly meant. He began walking over to her to assess the various injuries on her body.
As he examined her he declared, “Yup, your tibia’s broke.” He worked his way around the rest of her body. “Looks like you took some shrapnel in your shoulder too.”
“Through and through,” she responded.
Josh looked up to see that she was studying his face when he replied, “Sure is.”
The two continued to look the other over when Josh broke the silence. “Come on. Grab a hold of my neck. We need to get you out of the cold,” he said as he scooped her off of the ground, turned, and walked over to the cab of the Rhino.
What is that smell. His olfactory nerves began to awaken to the scent of something foreign, and extremely expensive. Through the stench of perspiration, smoke from the burning plane, and drying blood, Josh had noticed that the haggard looking woman was wearing a very exclusive perfume. It was actually kind of nice. I haven’t smelled anything like that since Paris.
“Stay here,” Josh said after he had her situated. “Go ahead an’ get out of your harness. Use my knife if you have to,” he said as he handed her his K-bar. “I’m going to go get that homing beacon of a parachute out of the tree.”
It took Josh about ten minutes to finally get the parachute rested from the brittle limbs of the hardwoods. She used the time efficiently. She was out of her harness and inspecting the various wounds on her body when Josh returned with the rolled up parachute. He threw the silk into the back of the Rhino and started heading toward the cabin.
Another few minutes passed as Josh navigated out of the woods before he was able to take stock of his passenger. She was wearing a tattered pantsuit that was incongruous to her expensive perfume. Her hair had recently been done too, not that you could tell given its current state. While they worked their way back to the barn and cabin, Josh spotted several helicopters circling an area near the wreckage off in the distance.
He switched off the lights and brought the Rhino to a quick stop.
“What is it?” she asked hurriedly.
Josh pointed to his left to direct her gaze to the driver side window and said, “That was fast. Friends of yours?”
She leaned over, bringing her face close to his for a better look, and replied, “Who needs friends with enemies like that.”
Josh chuckled at the comment.
With a fresh wave of her expensive perfume tickling his senses, Josh snapped himself back to reality and asked, “Any guesses as to who or why or what shot you down?”
He had to ask the obvious question.
“Well, that was an F-15. Pretty efficient killing machine, don’t you think? As for who or why, I have a damn good idea,” she replied evenly as she examined her broken leg.
“Care to share that?” Josh asked as he began driving back to the barn without the benefit of lights.
“Not until I figure out a few things,” she offered guardedly. “I need to make a call. Do you know where you’re going in the dark?”
Acknowledging her multiple threads of conversation, Josh answered, “I’ve driven this land every day for twelve years. I can tell you where every ridge, dip, and gully are located. Let’s get that leg and shoulder looked at and then we’ll talk about making calls.”
“No hospitals,” she quickly warned.
“Don’t worry. If what you say is true, an F-15 just broke the sound barrier getting the hell out of here. Keeping a low profile is the first order of business. A friend’s wife is a doctor. She’ll get you fixed up. We pretty much keep to ourselves round these parts.”
“That’s good because I think I’m bringing a world of hurt to your little farm,” she replied.
“I didn’t say anything about this being a farm.”
“Didn’t have to. We saw it from the air. Mike, that was the pilot, was trying to slow the plane down enough to land out in one of your fields.”
“Crazy bugger. Did you see him turn into the cannon fire?” Josh asked.
“Did he really?” she answered astonished.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Before she said anything more she paused a moment and reflected on the friendship. When she found her resolve she explained, “Figures. He was a former fighter pilot himself. To be fair, I didn’t see much on my way down. I was concentrating on my altimeter and trying not to pass out. I wasn’t really looking around until my chute opened. He probably figured he’d never land it with all that damage. Guess he decided to go out with his boots on.”
“Pilots always were the craziest bunch,” Josh replied matter of factly. “First things first, let’
s get you back to the cabin and I’ll call Basilia to come take a look at the wound and set the leg.”
“Basilia? As in ‘queen’?”
“You speak Spanish?”
“A little,” she offered and paused before saying, “Look, I really need to make a call.”
“Doctor, then call. In that order,” Josh said sternly leaving no room for dissent.
“Damn!”
“What? Is it your leg? Did it break through the skin?” he asked in a concerned tone.
“No, I left my bag on the plane and it had my SAT phone in it.”
Josh chuckled at the remark.
“Something about this funny to you?” she shot at him.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Care to share that?” she said as she playfully threw his previous question back at him.
“Let’s see, oh, and please bear in mind that this is just off the top of my head and the items are listed in no particular order,” he began sarcastically. “You’ve been blown out of the sky in the dead of night. You jumped out of a burning plane. Your leg is broken. You have a flesh wound from flying shrapnel, which is the result of repeated aircraft cannon fire, I might add. But, heaven forbid, what you’re most upset about is the fact that you left your bag on the plane because it means you lost your phone. I don’t know about you, but yeah, that seems a little funny to me,” he concluded slyly.
Reflecting for a moment on Josh’s words she started to smile and began laughing herself.
After she got all of the laughter out she turned to him and said, “You’re former military, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Major Joshia Grant Simmons, USMC. Retired just before the Second Gulf War. And I’m betting you were too. What gave me away?”
“Your knife and your tone when you said ‘hold still’. Sounded like a Drill Instructor. Dead giveaways. Well, to be fair, I was thinking either that or survival nut,” she responded.
When Rome Stumbles Page 9
