American Blackout (Book 2): Slaves Beneath The Stars

by Tribuzzo, Fred

  With Fritz’s blessing, Lawrence Davies settled his in-laws permanently at the Holaday farm, and Marty and Betty soon discovered that the Clines were distant cousins, giving the two families a greater bond.

  Predator Jones and his two companions moved their air-war enterprise to the Holaday property also, taking up residence in the bunkhouse and continuing to teach Ethan and the girls how to fly using the J-3 Cub for instruction with Cricket’s help. Sister Marie had once again made contact with Sister Teresa, who was working on Cleveland’s West Side. Her friend and mentor relayed that it was still unsafe for Sister’s return, with food being scarce for the mouths they already had to feed.

  Fritz heard word of bigger problems further downriver near Cincinnati. Ajax’s name kept coming up in intelligence reports, and Fritz was asked to fly more recon flights over that city and the surrounding countryside, searching for drug movement along the Ohio River and the rise of a new slave trade spanning to New Orleans.

  Early Sunday morning, Fritz and Predator were at the plane getting it ready for the day’s mission. Cricket and Fritz hadn’t made up after last night’s fight over whether to take the girls downriver with them if he received new orders.

  “It’s too dangerous to take those girls,” Fritz had insisted. “We don’t know the new dangers we’re walking into.”

  “Fritz, where’s safe anymore? Even if the next place is more dangerous, I want those girls with us.”

  Still cool from the fight and from his even cooler response to the news that morning that he was going to be a father, Cricket decided against riding the Mule to the airstrip to watch her husband take off. She wondered if she’d be able to think more clearly once she heard the deep strum of the Mustang’s engine overhead. She would go wherever her husband’s orders took him, but her heart painfully accelerated, knowing Christmas and New Year’s might be without the people she loved so dearly. Sister Marie’s wish was to live closer to Cleveland in the hope of joining her fellow sisters once the city became safer. Lawrence was toying with the idea of moving his boys and in-laws to the Clines’ for greater security, but his sons claimed the beehives needed their attention.

  Even though Diesel was at her feet, the Lab had a new habit of sleeping in the bunkhouse, to Cricket’s chagrin. She missed the big Lab snoring at the foot of their bed.

  Seated at the kitchen table, Sister Marie pulled her teacup closer and added a large teaspoon of honey. Both she and Cricket watched Lawrence help the children stand the tree up on the patio to check out its stability on the wooden base that Caleb had designed and Ethan and the girls had built.

  Sister said, “Everything changes right before our eyes. Even Diesel gets a wild hair and starts sleeping under the same roof with Mr. Jones and his men.”

  “I could see that change coming when they brought all that dried meat and fish with them. The big, unfair change is having to celebrate Christmas without Hank.”

  “It’s a question I’ll lovingly put to God until my last breath.” Sister sipped her tea, both hands warmed by the cup. Outside it hovered above freezing. The sky was cloudy, the trees finally bare.

  Cricket said, “I’m not angry with God, just cried out, exhausted by all the freedom of choice I have—all of us do. Freedom to mutilate your face and pretend you’re an alien creature and then kill an innocent woman with a family and her entire life ahead of her. Kill a close friend because of the horrible ideas you’ve indulged in for years.”

  “And the choice to protect those we love, like you’ve done, over and over again.”

  Cricket didn’t immediately respond but looked out the window at the group admiring the eight-foot spruce, tall and straight. Between the large and small barn, Predator’s men had postflighted the yellow Piper J-3 Cub, a plane that would drive Cricket’s heart out of rhythm every time, reminding her of her dad, especially the day he’d stepped out of the plane, offered a few words of wisdom, and then watched her solo for the first time.

  “You know why Diesel isn’t sleeping in our room?”

  Sister smiled at the turn in conversation. Cricket eyed her friend, who had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Merry eyes that sparkled, Cricket thought, waiting for her friend to answer. But Cricket’s impatience wouldn’t allow her to wait for Sister’s reply.

  “Competition.” Cricket leaned back and folded her arms.

  “How’s that?” Sister moved closer, pausing before she took a sip, the cup slightly shaking in her hand.

  “I’m having a baby.”

  “Oh, Cricket, that’s the best news ever.”

  “Well, not everyone’s thrilled. I’ve had the test kit since Fritz and I met, and this morning it finally turned baby blue. I ran up to the airfield, couldn’t wait for a vehicle, and right in front of God and the P-51 Mustang, Fritz took the news like some new tragedy. He tried to make it up, but it wasn’t convincing. And there’s something else.”

  Cricket shook as the tears came. “Sister Marie, this baby should’ve had an older brother… or an older sister.”

  “That’s a terrible wound,” Sister said sadly. “A broken world we walk in, but also a beautiful one, always on the verge of renewal. This baby inside you is your rebirth.”

  Head down, drifting from God, Cricket said, “A broken world that eventually breaks us.”

  The two women held hands, and the greater part of sadness passed with the sun climbing higher in the morning sky. They began talking quietly about the baby, and time passed almost unnoticed until Lawrence walked inside.

  “All the animals are fed, including my boys, so where’s my right-hand man? It’s getting late. Predator’s never late. Did I actually miss the Mustang taking off?”

  “Oh, Sister, he’s right. Fritz was supposed to leave a long time ago.”

  Cricket ran to the Polaris, fired it up, and she and Sister took off. She yelled to Lawrence, “Stay with the kids. I don’t know what’s going on. Check the bunkhouse and see if Predator’s there.”

  Sister hung on to the row bar and both women bounced as Cricket pushed the utility vehicle to its top speed. Both women were armed. The Mustang soon came into view but no Fritz, no Predator Jones. A thought haunted Cricket: Doctor Claubauf was gone forever, but Ajax lived, a kidnapper of children, a destroyer of men and women, a monster begetting other monsters.

  Cricket braked roughly and fishtailed dangerously close to the plane.

  “Fritz!” she shouted, and Sister Marie drew her gun.

  The Mule was parked and there were no signs of trouble. The surrounding woods were beautiful and quiet. Cricket’s heart hammered with love, calling for her husband. Someone shouted from the woods, and both women saw movement. Out came Predator and Fritz, who carried what looked to be a wreath.

  Fritz smiled. “I know I’m behind schedule, but I had this idea…”

  She ran to him and hugged him fiercely.

  “What’s this? I haven’t been gone for a month.” Fritz looked lighter, more boyish, some change over the morning hours.

  “You had us terribly worried.” Sister’s smile threatened to break into tears.

  “Sister, I had to do something special for my wife and child.”

  Fritz offered the holly wreath to his wife, and she took it and cried out, “It’s beautiful! But this morning, you were so upset.”

  “I had a good talk with Predator. We both concluded it’s how we’re built.”

  Predator chimed in. “Men are roamers, don’t like being tied down. But after some mighty fast soul-searching, my pard here believes a baby puts all that on the back burner.”

  Deep green holly leaves and red berries were wrapped around a dark muscular-looking vine, bent and tied in nearly a perfect circle.

  “This time of year flowers aren’t an option,” Fritz said.

  “Aren’t you going flying?” Cricket wouldn’t take her hands off him.

  “Of course, but first we go back to the house and have a Christmas toast for our new baby.”

 
“You’re having a drink before you go flying?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “It’s a different world,” Predator said. “No bureaucrats around to punish a man for some warm liquid gold. B&B is only going to enhance every reflex of this fine aviator.”

  After a toast and a few words by everyone present, they ended with a final round of hugs, more tears, and congratulations. Cricket accompanied Fritz to the airfield and watched him depart. Later that day, upon his return, he reported that the Hilltop looked trouble-free for the moment. Together, they made dinner at the main house.

  Stan the cat made a brief appearance, staring at Cricket through the dining room window before disappearing. She thought of Hank, how tickled he’d been by this cat who just hung out and watched the human drama with unflagging interest.

  By nightfall the group was filled out with Sister Marie, Predator Jones, the two Bobs, Lawrence, four beautiful children, and a fine Lab named Diesel, who got several folks to play-roughhouse over the course of a long and lovely evening.

  Acknowledgments

  Once again I want to thank my editor David Swindle for his talents in bringing this current project to a strong completion. Also a big thanks to Taliesin Nexus and the Cinder Writing Group for their support, especially our mentor, David Angsten, for opening my eyes to the growth potential of the storyline. My special gratitude goes to David Bernstein and Adam Bellow for their leadership, guidance, and follow-through at Liberty Island and coming up with a really cool series title.

  About the Author

  Fred Tribuzzo spent his young adult life splitting his time between music and flying. He received a fellowship from the Ohio Arts Council for piano, oboe, and string compositions, played electric bass in a number of fine bands, and performed on several CDs while steadily building his flight hours. From grassroots aviation to flying the Citation Ten – the world’s fastest business jet – he incorporated those experiences into his memoir, American Sky: Good Landings and Other Flying Adventures, published in 2014. Fred also flew internationally for eight years on a Boeing 737. And it was on the far side of the world that he wrote Saint Nick, a modern-day Scrooge tale.

  Currently, his creative hours include playing guitar and electric bass for singer/songwriter Marilyn DeFrange. Fred can be heard at Outbound Music playing bass on Marilyn’s song “You Chose Me.” The rest of his day is spent “reporting” on the ongoing trials and adventures of heroine Emily Cricket Hastings.

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