by T I WADE
“South,” the Captain replied, gladly shaking the hand offered to him. “Pam, tell everybody to relax, and send out a couple of armed men to search the hangars and offices over there for a place to stay while I chat with Ms. Roebels here. Did you see another convoy on your flight north?”
“Yes, they were less than a couple of miles behind you on the southbound side. You were heading south on the northbound side. By the time I lost sight of them, they had just passed this exit still heading south. They have ten vehicles—trucks, by the look of it, and not as pretty as yours. Do you want me to tell them where you are?”
“Negative,” replied the Captain. “We thought they might be okay at first, but we found two recently killed people on the highway north of Washington and we think they did it. They had driven straight over the bodies with every one of those ten vehicles they are driving in. I think they are a bad bunch, whoever they are.”
“They must be the people we are expecting,” Martie replied. “They should probably reach us by tomorrow morning.”
“Where is that?” asked the Captain.
“We are situated off US 64 in North Carolina, on the shores of Jordan Lake about 15 to 20 miles west of RDU.”
“I know the lake well,” replied Captain Mallory. “I fly into RDU a couple of times a month.”
“I have about 20 minutes of light left, so I need to keep going,” Martie calculated. “If you want to come and use our facility as a home base, I recommend that you get to RDU. It is safe and still locked. We have a dozen Air Force guards on duty there since earlier today. Mention that General Pete Allen sent you. I apologize that we have already cleaned out the Southwest terminal of food, but if you head there in the morning, I will come and find you once we have dealt with this other group.”
“How do they know where you are?” John asked.
“Simple. Our transponders were coming out of our airfield for a day or so, and the Chinese, or whoever they are, still have their spy satellites up. We are now on high alert and the president should be at our airfield by now.”
“The U.S. President?” the captain asked. “Do you have enough firepower?”
Martie laughed. “We have what is left of the entire U.S. Air Force, and we definitely need more pilots!” Martie chuckled. “Our Air Force is hiring right now, actually. Your passengers will be safe with us and then we can get them to Seymour Johnson Air Force Base, if they prefer more of an official military presence.”
“Count us in,” the captain and John said at the same time. “We have a badly injured lady with three small kids and the young girl with Pam, who we believe was raped in New York. Do you have enough room in the 210 to take them with you? The rest of us can sleep here tonight, and get to RDU by midday tomorrow, and then wait for you.”
“Get your wounded aboard, Captain. I have four spare seats and a couple of the children can share a seat. Little Beth here would be glad for the company,” Martie replied, saying her goodbyes and walking back to the aircraft.
They hurried and Pam helped the young girl, the injured mother, and her three kids squeeze into the six-seater aircraft. Martie took off just minutes later, waggled her wings, and disappeared to the north, climbing hard to hide in the sky and sneak a peek at the other convoy further south.
*****
The White House hadn’t changed. The streets were quiet, and people stayed away from the sacred building. Everyone knew that if they got too close, they were likely to get trouble from the guards in return. Nobody in the White House rose early since there was nothing to do except wait. The president had never been so bored in his life.
A hot breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast was finally delivered to the two men in the Oval Office. The Colombian ambassador and the president sat on the couch and enjoyed their first decent breakfast since New Year’s Eve. The president’s family stayed out of the area while their father worked, and went about as usual except without any modern electrical gadgets. The two kids drew, wrote stories, and did some homework that had not been completed before Christmas. The family had spent Christmas in Hawaii and returned on the last day of the year.
General Allen had promised the president that he would be back as soon as he could and an anxious president had forced him to say that he would return before lunch. He wasn’t able to keep his promise, due to circumstances beyond his control, but it made the president even more edgy. The general was currently taking off from Andrews AFB and heading to the White House with Buck piloting the Baby Huey, the overnight hours had not gone as he had planned.
At 1:00 am in Salt Lake City, the truck and trailer were sent up the mountain to get Carlos and Lee Wang as Buck was getting ready to take to the air in Lady Dandy.
Buck also inspected the cargo going into one of the C-130s as he inspected Lady Dandy for take-off. There were three television trucks advertising a local television station. One was being loaded into the C-130 and the other two were by the hangar doors waiting for Carlos to return. Several computers were also being loaded into both the C-130 and Lady Dandy with several old television sets. Buck then realized that Carlos must have satellite communication capability and that these were to give them more options than just the ham radios. It was so simple, yet it could work if they could bounce communications between these trucks via satellite.
Buck left the apron for the end of the runway as two more dark aircraft came in to land. The first C-130 looked like Jerry, but the second one took his breath away and he immediately wanted to fly it. It was a real AC-130 Gunship and, yes, it did have the 105mm howitzer sticking out of the side. He shouted “Yippee” with excitement and got on the radio.
“Pete, this is Buck. Is that YOU flying the second bird?”
“Now how did you guess that, Buck?” Pete replied. “I’m too tired to fly, so I’m acting as engineer and half asleep in the back. You get your lady friend home. There are strong tail winds up there. There’s a big storm on its way and we were blown south of our flight plan by 20 miles. It’s crappy flying without a GPS. It looks like you will get one hell of a tail wind because this stuff is cold and coming directly in from the north. How long is your estimated flying time?”
“Ten hours,” replied Buck, turning onto the runway and letting the engines warm up.
“You’ll do it in nine. Fly at high cruise. We have a busy day ahead. Yours is the only whirly-bird still operational at the moment and I need it to get up north. Radio Preston when you get close enough and tell him to fuel up Baby Huey and clear out her insides, I need three or four comfortable chairs in her before we take-off, and a nice rug and center table. She will be picking up the boss from you-know-where. Also, keep it a secret. Everything we have is going into the East Coast this morning and I already have a special passenger on board. We are going to need every bit of room around his airstrip. I hope to get there before you do, but I have to wait for our buddy, Carlos, and fill these babies up. I’ll get the base to try and give Preston a call as well. Travel safe. It’s getting nasty out there.”
“Roger that,” replied Buck.
“What does he mean by ‘the boss’?” asked Barbara.
“Our little Baby Huey is going to be ‘Air Force One’ for the 11 miles from The White House to Andrews,” replied Buck with a chuckle.
Carlos was still awake, as was Lee, when the men arrived a little before 2:00 am. Both men heard the snowplow arrive, and they were ready. They had worked most of the night and had three large pieces of equipment that had to be handled with care ready to be packed aboard the plow.
“There are two men staying behind to guard,” the sergeant told Carlos. “They have just unloaded 20 gallons of gas and the rest of the guard detail will return on the plow once you guys head down the mountain in the transporter. The ‘boss’ has ordered you, sir, to be at Hill by 3:00 am at the latest. There is a bad storm coming in and he’s flying in from Edwards ahead of it.”
The sergeant was quickly shown what to do to keep everything on and as warm
as possible. The telescope was set, and Carlos explained that although it was inside the building, it was in its own case and walled-in from the working area by thick Perspex. The snow wouldn’t do anything to it, and they could stay warm in the observatory. Carlos showed them the heaters and electricity switches, and told the men that the telescope with its antennae must be kept powered up at all costs. They nodded enjoying the toasty 50 degree inside temperature.
Then it was time to leave. It was bitterly cold on the plow, and Carlos was half frozen by the time they reached the truck—its lights still on, the engine running, their three large packs were quickly moved to the truck. They got into the warm cab and the driver pressed his foot on the clutch, slipping it into gear and jerking forward, leaving the others to take the snow plow back to the observatory.
It was pretty slow and slippery going back down the hill, but the driver was good and they made it back to base at exactly 3:00 am. Carlos was surprised to see four C-130s parked on the apron, their engines starting up as he arrived. “Lee, you are coming with me? How long will it take to get your wife and daughter packed up?” Carlos asked.
“It won’t take them long to get ready,” Lee replied and ran off to tell them they were leaving.
“Good morning, Carlos,” greeted Pete Allen, walking up to the tired astronomer. “We can sleep enroute. The men found and packed what you asked for. It’s packed in Tom. Sally is back at Andrews resting. We can fly together in Jerry, talk, and catch up on the way.”
“We need to wait for Lee Wang,” Carlos stalled. “It is imperative Lee comes with us, Pete. He and I think that we can find out who is behind this, and he might even be able to deactivate their satellites.”
“That’s worth waiting for,” Pete responded, and it was only five minutes later when Lee and his family returned from a room behind the Officers’ Mess and followed Pete’s instructions to follow him and get aboard Jerry. Carlos and Pete were far too exhausted to even think of flying themselves.
Carlos walked up the ramp into Jerry and got a tired hello from Jennifer who was resting on a foam mattress in the rear. A few familiar faces also looked at the new visitors. Maggie and the kids were there and she seemed to be half asleep next to a man that he assumed was her husband, and who was totally out cold. Carlos had never met him before, but he knew about Will’s phobia of flying and winked at Maggie.
“Hi, Carlos,” she smiled sweetly, sitting on the floor of the aircraft holding her husband’s head in her lap. “Will is under heavy sedation. I told the doctor at Edwards that if he was conscious he would not get on the plane, so the Doc gave him a double dose of whatever it was—a damn hurricane wouldn’t wake him up. I hear you have been busy!”
“Yep,” he replied. “I need some of that sleep medication Will was given, though. I’m very tired. Oh, this is my buddy, Lee Wang, his wife Lin, and their daughter Ling.” The newcomers were quickly acquainted and they all opened side seats next to Jennifer to sit down for take-off.
“You also look done in, Jennifer,” Carlos remarked as he seat belted himself in next to her.
“Lots of hours, Carlos,” she replied.
The pilots weren’t messing around. They taxied to the end of the runway at an alarming speed, completed their final checks on the way, and went straight into their take-off runs as each one reached the end of the runway. These guys were certainly in a hurry.
All four C-130s climbed into the dark, cold sky—dawn still many hours away—and General Allen came back to see everybody.
“Do we have satellite connection, Carlos?” he asked.
“Yes, we have a simple connection. Navistar P will soon be stationery over Utah. For how long, I don’t know. It depends on how good you guys made her, but she’s flying well up there. The re-positioning will still take a couple of days. It’s still dark, but with dawn an hour out over the eastern seaboard, I believe that our U.S. visual on screen is both coastlines plus 300 miles of ocean either side in a day or two. I could have made her go further out, but it would have taken weeks to align her even further, and I didn’t think it was necessary. With any shipping, 300 miles is at least a full 24-hour warning.” Pete looked at Carlos.
“We have a television truck on board Tom, and several of the computers you wanted and a couple of old television sets in storage. Are we going to see the satellite broadcast on them?”
“I believe so,” Carlos replied tiredly. “I also think we can set up a communication feed to the other bases. Lee and I are working on trying to mate the radio feed into the television trucks. Or, I was actually thinking we could use the old simple commercial Hughes Satellite Internet systems around the country to communicate to every base and the White House. It will take a few weeks to get that far, but I need your guys all over the country to go out and find the Hughes two-way satellite systems and we can go from there.”
Carlos then changed the subject, hardly taking a breath. “Two of those other C-130s flying with us look very different than the others.”
“Good eyes, as usual,” replied the general. “This is my secret project for my favorite air base museum at Hill AFB. The first one is one of the original Vietnam-era AC-130 Gunships. I have had people working on her for over a year now at Edwards. She is the same model as Tom and Jerry, but over the years has been made as original as she was back in ‘Nam. I reckon she has cost as much as an F-22, but she still has her added 105mm howitzer, fuel drop tanks and air-refueling intact. We were going to take them off next year. Most importantly, however, she has been refitted with all her original electrical gauges and flight systems. That’s why she can still fly but also still has the latest fire power— the same as the more modern 130 Gunships that are now all grounded permanently.
“Ghost Rider and one other, Easy Girl, have the only 105mm howitzers still flying, as well as the full load of 20mm and 40mm cannons. Ghost Rider actually went down twice in ‘Nam, but was repaired and survived. Her older sister had the call sign ‘First Lady,’ and was put out to pasture years ago in one of our museums. This gal has upgraded engines, and no modern electronics, or she wouldn’t be flying. Her underbelly is thin armor and that 105 mm howitzer makes your teeth rattle when it goes off. Ghost Rider is my real baby, and she is the only one of three old, secret Gunships still flying. I lovingly put her back together and later today she will serve as ‘Air Force One’—a real promotion for this old girl!”
“The president is moving?” Carlos asked.
“He wants to come and visit you guys,” the general continued. “The guy just wants to get out of Dodge and see the world, and I don’t blame him. Now let’s get some sleep. It looks like we all need it. Will Smart will be wide awake later when he realizes that he has flown across country and missed it all. I’m dying to see his face!” He smiled, grabbing a foam mattress from a pile and a few blankets and lay down. He was asleep in seconds, and the rest weren’t far behind him.
*****
Preston was up early, about an hour after everyone got to sleep in Jerry almost 1,300 miles to his west. Oliver and his new pal, Spot the puppy, were by his side. Preston couldn’t sleep and was beginning to worry about the possible incoming attack. They had such sketchy news about everything. It was a clear, but still dark morning. The temperature was 32 degrees and he wanted to walk. The Air Force guys had worked all night on the perimeter fence and it wouldn’t be long before the runway would be receiving visitors.
He had heard over the radio, from Edwards and now Hill, that aircraft were coming his way. He knew that Lady Dandy was airborne out of Salt Lake City, and that C-130s were headed into Salt Lake to refuel. They were all expected around lunch time. A radio operator had answered when Preston called and spoke for the first time to Hill Air Force Base relaying the weird instructions from the general. Pretty interesting instructions, but he felt something exciting was about to happen.
Baby Huey was predictably parked behind the fuel tanks, out of the way of the fixed-wing aircraft. She couldn’t just taxi forward an
d get fueled up, so Buck had lifted her up and landed her on the dirt where the fuel line could easily reach her. Preston hotwired the pump and began to fill her tanks. She was off to Washington as soon as Buck got in. Poor Buck would be having a very long day. It took nearly 15 minutes as the slow pumps, not made for large deliveries of fuel, pumped just under 200 gallons into the helicopter—she was thirsty.
After turning off the pump, he went to look for a rug to place on the floor of Baby Huey’s belly along with a couple of easy chairs. He went to the lounge and moved the wooden coffee table and the round rug underneath it out to the helicopter. The rug had been a present from Martie’s grandfather and was an oval copy of the American flag. Preston placed both in the rear of the helicopter. The six-foot rug fit well and covered much of the metal floor. He walked into the hangar and took the new set of EZ-Boys from the downstairs room. Nobody was upstairs. Carlos, Buck, and Barbara were on their way from Salt Lake City, both Sally and Jennifer were still flying, and the Smarts were in California.
Martie had washed all the bedding in their 20-year old washing machine the previous evening, which, with the old gas dryer, were the only electrical machines still working at the farm. The new washing machine he had purchased a couple of years ago was dead, and he was thankful that he had just put the old one out in the barn.
Preston moved each chair on a small four-wheeled trailer he often pulled around the farm behind his green lawn tractor, and then went back to get the two-seater couch—the smallest of three Martie had purchased for the party. The other two were double the size and wouldn’t fit. The radio operator had stated that they would need a minimum of three chairs.
He was done, and the inside rear of the helicopter looked like a small, comfortable lounge. He locked the side door behind the couch from the outside so nobody could get in or fall out of that side since the people on the couch would have no parachutes if the door was opened in flight. She was ready.
