Black Flag Rising: A James Jackson Thriller

by Jesse Russell

  “Why can't we just go home, Dad?” Payton asked.

  “Honey, that's not possible right now. That's what we need to work on.” Jackson reassured her.

  “Jim, what is going on? What are you working on? You promised you would tell me. Tell me now,” Sam demanded.

  “Once we get a couple things done, I promise I will tell you everything. Until then, you guys do not need to worry about things. I am hoping we can make some progress. It shouldn't take long.” Jackson reassured and looked lovingly into her eyes.

  “OK, Dad,” Jackie chimed up. “But what about the helicopter ride?”

  “Oh, yeah. That. I'll make sure we all get an extra-long one when we’re done. OK?”

  Sam was having none of it. “I have no idea where we are now, and you want to take us somewhere else? And with some people we don't even know? A few hours ago I was taking these kids to a baseball game, and somehow we ended up kidnapped in the back of a truck. Now, you are going to tell me: what’s going on, Jim?”

  Jackson had been on his own for so long that he had totally forgotten about the day to day needs of a wife and kids. He was smacked with the reality of things.

  Sam had her hands on her hips, facing him. “These kids are still in baseball and play clothes, and we have been through a ton. They need clothes, food, showers and everything. Kids don't just hang out like you do! My SUV is still sitting at a gas station! Who's going to go get that?”

  Crap, he hadn't thought about any of that. The cops had probably been in full swoop mode about the kidnapping, unless they had put the clamps down on it from on high and were keeping things off the books and off the local news.

  “Let me make a call.” Jackson said.

  He walked into the bedroom and called George. “Where are you?”

  “Chugging down the road here in Miss Rhonda. I'm almost to the trailer. What's up?”

  “I need you to call Lindsay and ask her if she can pick up some clothes at Walmart for my kids and wife. Also, ask the kid if any news has broken about the kidnapping from this morning. Let me know what he says.”

  “OK. I’m here now and will pick him up. I'll call you when we’re on our way.” George said.

  “OK. Don't get in any trouble and hurry up,” Jackson warned.

  He walked back out, thinking that by making arrangements for some clothes, he had addressed everything.

  “I think we can get everything under control. They’re going to get some clothes for you all. Once you get over there, I don't want you going out and about until we get a handle on things.” Jackson said.

  “No. We are not going over there. I am insisting that we either stay here or go home. I refuse.” Sam was crossed her arms and took a defiant stance.

  “Sam, please come with me.” He walked her over to the side and said quietly, “Listen, Sam, I must have you guys all go. I told you I would fill you in, and I will. There is a major terrorist attack coming and we are the only ones that can stop it. This could be very bad. Very bad. You need to trust me on this. I need to talk openly with these guys. They don't know much about all this yet. You really must take them and do this for me now.”

  Sam stood with her arms crossed and stared holes into him. She could still bring him to his knees without saying a word. Her gaze became wary, and she eventually made the concession; she called the kids over and had them gather all their stuff.

  Tom hobbled out, and Brad stood with him on the porch. They gave high fives to the kids and told them they would have a big time when everyone came back.

  “I'll be right back. I'll read you in on everything, so be ready,” Jackson told the brothers.

  Sam hugged them both and thanked them again for their help. The kids did too. They handed Jackson the key to the gate and waved.

  They jumped into the Suburban and took off down the driveway. Pulling through the gate, he went back and locked it up. He headed south and passed an idling semi parked on the side of the road. He was so concerned about the kids and Sam, he never noticed it.

  37

  George and Ryan were motoring up to Fountain Hills, trying to avoid cameras. Ryan looked ridiculous in the camo gear with his giant ‘fro sticking out of every cranny.

  “Is this as fast as this thing will go?” the kid asked impatiently.

  “She ain't much, but Miss Rhonda here is all we got, kid.” George said.

  “This thing sucks! How did people ever get anywhere back in the stone age?” He asked sarcastically.

  George rolled his eyes. “You little dipshit. We got around just fine. Stick a sock in it, OK?”

  The kid sat quietly the rest of the way.

  Back at Lindsay’s, the mule was asleep in the bedroom, and Adam was watching a replay of a football game on ESPN.

  They both walked in and took off the cammo gear. Ryan sat down and retold them about the Circle K incident and the neighbor's dog coming to the rescue. They were all chuckling about the dog, but then got serious.

  “Obviously, they’re on to you now, kid. So we are All In. It's only a matter of time before they figure out we were working out of George's place. We are now all officially off the grid. Totally.” Adam said.

  George told them about heading up to Payson, and they got everything ready. The kid made a sandwich in the kitchen, and after they had donned the camo gear again, they roused the mule.

  “We’re taking a little ride. I'm not going to cuff you. But if you make a peep or start acting hinky, they're going back on. Got it?” Brunell said. “No funny stuff, or the kids and Julia will have a new life - and it won't include you.”

  He nodded and they all walked out into the garage. George popped the front trunk of the Bug open, and they put their gear in.

  When the mule saw the VW, he started shaking his head.

  “What's wrong, asshole? Ride not good enough for you either?” George asked.

  “I'm not getting into the back seat of that thing. I don't like confined spaces.” Juan said.

  “Aww, ain't that special, boys? Little traitor boy here says he doesn't like confined spaces. He's all good with driving little kids to their death and bringing murdering haji’s up here, but he doesn't feel comfortable in the back seat of a little VW bug. You ain't ridin' up front, dickweed. I can promise you that.” George snarled, turning around and slapping him hard with the back of his hand. “Get in there, you little bastard! I'll make the ride real uncomfortable for you.”

  The mule shook his head and stared at him with pure hatred, but stayed quiet and climbed in back. The kid got in on the other side. They were crammed in next to each other, shoulder to shoulder. The kid's ‘fro practically took over the back seat by itself.

  “Don't even think about farting or I'll smack you too,” the kid said, acting like he was all tough-guy cop.

  “Settle down, boys. We all need to get along for the next ninety minutes. Let's see if we can get up there without a cage match between you three. This thing isn’t big enough to hold all the violence,” Adam drawled.

  They got down to the 87 and headed north. The old girl was struggling to get up the first few hills, and barely hit fifty going up some of the grades. George put on the flashers like the trucks did and crawled along the shoulder to let the faster traffic go by. They felt like they were practically sitting still.

  “This thing totally sucks. I could walk faster,” The kid grumbled

  “I thought I told you to stick a sock in it, Gumby,” George snapped back.

  “Jeez, this thing blows. Got some air conditioning? It's stuffy back here.”

  George reached over and pulled the knobs that cracked the back windows open like vents.

  “That's the best you got? This blows.” The kid was chomping on his sandwich and moving his head around, getting it in the mule's face. Juan was nudging him over, and the kid turned around and told him to stop.

  “Hey! I told you not to mess with me,” Ryan snapped at him.

  The mule just grunted and shoved him again. The kid
shoved him back, making the little car rock.

  Brunell turned around. “If you two retards can't get along back there, we’re going to stop and strap you both to the roof. Knock it off!”

  “Damn, boys. We need to watch it. She's getting hot.” George pointed to the gauge on the dash.

  “Probably not used to going up this high with this much weight. Keep your eye on it,” Brunell said.

  They kept creeping along, with their eyes glued on the gauge.

  They went another 12 miles, and George said, “I'm going to have to pull over soon. Not only is she overheating, but she is drinking gas like a Saturday night barfly. Keep your eyes open for a station.”

  Five more miles, and the gauge was pegged all the way in the red, but they saw a Circle K sign in the distance.

  “Hang on boys, and say a little prayer. We’re almost there.” George said.

  They made it up to the exit on nothing more than Divine Intervention and pulled in.

  “I'm going to go inside and see if they got any Prestone. Adam, fill it up.”

  George got out and walked in to the store. Adam climbed out and walked over to the pump, leaving the door cracked open.

  The mule started eyeballing it, and the kid looked over and said, “Don't even think about it.”

  In the blink of an eye, the mule bolted, pushing the seat forward and climbing over and out the door. He took off running like a gazelle.

  “Hey! He's getting away!” The kid shouted.

  Adam looked up only to see the mule’s back dart around the corner of the building, and he took off after him.

  There was a hill directly behind the station and it was loaded with pinon pines. He vanished into the scrub trees like a ghost. He had obviously learned some tricks from the coyotes over the years. He was gone without a trace.

  38

  Jackson, Sam and the kids were enjoying their freedom and the beautiful drive. The cabin they were headed to was out of town to the east about 20 miles. In recent years there had been many new golf communities and neighborhoods in the area.

  They were driving through some of the most scenic vistas in all of Arizona. Looking out the south, you could nearly see all the way to Four Peaks, the famous mountain range on the outskirts of the Valley. It was a beautiful, warm day without a cloud in the sky. The road carved back and forth as it made its way up to higher elevation, a thin ribbon cut right into the edge of the rim. It was a glorious drive and everyone was breathing a huge sigh of relief after the events of the day.

  Jackson looked in the mirror and noticed a semi behind them. There were always trucks on this road so that was nothing unusual.

  They were heading up an incline with a steep drop off down to the right when Jackson felt the Suburban shudder. It started to miss on one of the cylinders, coughing and clicking as it went up the hills.

  “The altitude and elevation must be getting to this old beast. It's got a lot of rounds on the odometer,” he said, staring at the gauges. Their speed had dropped, and he lifted his foot off the gas to give it a break.

  Just then they felt a huge jolt from behind, which snapped everyone's heads straight back. Sam turned around and saw the giant semi in the back window. It was literally right on top of them.

  “Oh my God, Jim! That semi is trying to push us off the road!”

  The kids started screaming and looking back in terror.

  He slammed his foot on the gas and the old Suburban coughed and sputtered and made a slight lunge forward.

  The truck rammed them again, this time hanging on tight to the back end. The roar of the diesel behind deafened the kids’ screams.

  “He's trying to push us off the edge, Jim!” Sam kept shouting.

  There was no way to stop or turn out. With a drop off to the left in between the lanes and a sheer canyon straight down to the right, there was nowhere for them to go.

  They crested the top of a hill and started heading back down. He had his foot practically pushing through the floorboard.

  “Can't you speed up and get away from him?” Sam shouted.

  “I'm trying, but this thing just won't go any faster!” Jackson shouted back.

  As they headed down the hill, the semi was locked onto their rear bumper like glue. It pushed them over to the right and into the guard rail. The sound of metal on metal and the truck's roaring diesel took over all sound. Sparks were flying off the guardrail.

  The rail held up somehow, and he managed to pull the Suburban back to the left. But the truck would not let up.

  “Hang on, everyone! I think there's a turn out coming up here soon.” Jackson shouted .

  They started going back up the next hill, and the semi dropped back, unable to stay with them on the steep incline. “Keep your eyes peeled up ahead! Look for a turn out!”

  They were all straining, but all they could see in the distance was more drop offs on the edge and no exits.

  They tore around a curving section of the road, the Suburban practically tipping over. The kids went deathly silent, and he noticed both they and Sam had their eyes closed and were praying.

  He shouted at Sam. “Grab the phone in my pocket and called the last dialed number. That's Tom. Tell him we need help!”

  They started descending down a hill and the semi came roaring up at them again, smoke pouring out of the stacks. It slammed into them again, and they couldn't shake loose. The Suburban coughed and shuddered.

  She lunged over and wrestled the flip phone out of his pocket, yanked it open, and hit re-dial as the semi pushed them into the rail again.

  “Hello, JackAttack,” Tom said nonchalantly.

  “Tom! A semi is pushing us hard trying to send us off the road!” Sam shouted into the phone.

  The sound of the car scraping the rail was deafening.

  “We’re coming!” He shouted back. “Where are you?”

  “Where are we?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

  “East on 260. Mile marker 173!” Jackson shouted over the noise.

  “Did you get that?” Sam shouted into the phone.

  “Yes!”

  The kids were screaming again. “He's going to kill us!”

  “Hang on guys! Just a little longer!” Jackson said.

  They crested the next hill as the semi became permanently attached to the car. There was no way to shake it loose. Jackson was sweating bullets as he looked down to the right and saw the thousand foot drop just inches from them. They all hung on as tight as they could and prayed.

  39

  Tom and Brad hustled down to the chopper. Brad hit four switches and fired it up. They lifted off as Tom went in back and hit a button that opened a hidden side panel. There were two shoulder-fired missile launchers and two Mac 10s sitting in the brackets on the interior wall.

  He hit another button and the panel dropped to reveal ten heat seekers in the hold.

  He pulled out two and set them on the seats. He clicked open the rear door and removed the front cover.

  He placed one inside and set it down.

  He pulled out a Mac 10 and grabbed a fully loaded mag and slammed it into place.

  He hit another button and both exterior side doors slid open. He grabbed a bolted down harness and strapped himself into it.

  “Looks like we’re gonna get to test out our combat readiness, bro!” he shouted over the roar of the blades.

  “Strap in! I'm banking hard right!”

  He held on as Brad turned the chopper south and then banked back due east, tracking down highway 260.

  The chopper was roaring at full throttle, screaming down 260 as they elevated high enough to get some distance vision above the trees. They spotted the Suburban and the semi far off in the distance. Smoke was pouring from the diesels, and out of the front of the Suburban. There was a large smoke trail trailing back down the road, almost guiding them in.

  “Get ready! There they are!” Brad shouted.

  All crying and screaming had stopped in the Suburban with a sense of ove
rwhelming dread coming over everyone. It was all out of their hands now.

  Suddenly, the steering went completely dead. Jackson looked down and the gauges were all dead too.

  “I lost all power. Sam, help me steer!”

  Sam reached over and began pushing with all her body weight against the door, leveraging her strength on the wheel. Jackson thought his feet were going through the floor, pushing off and pulling as hard left as humanly possible.

  “Brad! Fly over the top and front so they see us!” Tom shouted.

  Brad brought the chopper over the top of the conglomeration and banked hard to turn around. Tom leaned out and held up the Mac 10 for both the goon and Jackson to see.

  “Oh thank you, Dear Lord!” Sam shouted in the car. “Come on guys!”

  The semi started easing up slightly, but the pushing still continued. He and Sam were nearly out of strength.

  The chopper disappeared out of view behind them, then Brad swung around and came in low from the back, just over the top level of the trailer. He came out directly over the cab.

  Tom leaned out with the Mac and strafed the front windshield to shreds. Glass and smoke flew everywhere. The goon kept driving, not stopping. Bullets came flying up at them from through the destrroyed windshield. They could see the goon raging and blasting away at them with a pistol.

  “Take it up! Go, go!” Tom shouted and waved his arm up wildly as rounds hit the fuselage and pinged off.

  Brad took it straight up and out of range.

  Tom leaned back in, grabbed the missile launcher and said quietly “Steer this one, Father, and don’t hit the Suburban.”

  The Suburban was starting to head precariously close to the edge of an area with no guardrail. He only had seconds.

  Tom pulled it up, aimed at the hood of the freight-liner, and let it go.

  The missile went strafing straight at the engine and exploded with a massive blast. It obliterated the entire cab in a ball of fire, that stopped just short of the Suburban.