Asteroid Destruction

by Bobby Akart

  “We gotta dump this load somewhere and come back to get it,” said Gunner.

  Bear slowed his airspeed and looked toward the Gulf Coast. The distinctive geographic feature of Apalachicola jutting out into the Gulf where the river emptied came into view to his right. He gripped the controls and began to veer the Valor toward the east.

  “What are we doing?” asked Gunner.

  Bear set his jaw, a look of determination coming over his face. “We have to make another stop.”

  Gunner looked through his side window, and the barrier islands came into view. “No, Bear, we can’t land on Dog Island.”

  “Yes, I can. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s not about whether you can. You shouldn’t.”

  Cam offered her opinion. “Hang on, Gunner, think about it for a second. The island was probably evacuated, so it’s not likely we’ll be scrutinized. Secondly, this bird has Navy markings. People might think it’s part of a Coast Guard relief effort or something. They don’t know any better.”

  Gunner thought for a moment and then began to nod his head. “At least we have an explanation. But, Bear, in and out, okay?”

  Bear didn’t respond, simply smiling as he guided the tilt-rotor aircraft into position to ease onto the beach to the west of Gunner’s home.

  “Hey, is the pass between the islands bigger, or is that my imagination?” asked Cam.

  Gunner looked to the left while Bear continued his descent. “It sure does. Hurricanes have done this in the past. There must have been some tsunami-like waves.”

  Cam turned toward Bear. “Do you have eyes on the house?”

  “Um, yeah. But, um, you’re not gonna believe this.”

  Cam and Gunner both pressed their faces against the small windows of the Valor. His house was in plain view and appeared to be unharmed. On the bayside, Pop’s seaplane was safely tied off at the dock. It was what lay on the other side of Gunner’s home that left them astonished.

  “Is that an oil barge?”

  “A big one,” replied Cam.

  “It’s gotta measure two hundred feet.”

  Running perpendicular to the beach was a thirty-five-foot-wide articulated oil barge that had run ashore and beached a hundred yards from Gunner’s property. The four-story-tall tug sat on the Gulf of Mexico side of the beach, and the vast length of the barge itself stretched past Gunner’s house toward the bay. It blocked the only road leading to Gunner’s property and the west end of Dog Island.

  Bear let out a laugh as he gently dropped the Valor on the narrow stretch of beach on the west side of the house. “There is a bright side. Nobody will be able to bother the Valor. We’re completely cut off from the rest of the island.”

  “Guys, if that ship had been a few hundred feet in this direction, it would’ve wiped out the house.”

  Gunner shook his head in disbelief. Then a smile came over his face as Pop and Howard came running down the beach toward them.

  Chapter 49

  Gunner’s Residence

  Dog Island

  The Florida Panhandle

  They say families give you two things—roots to ground you and provide stability, and wings to allow you to come back together quickly after being apart. Gunner threw open the door of the Valor just as the rotors stopped turning. His feet barely touched the sand as he raced down the beach to greet Pop and Howard, who despite his stubby legs and hefty torso, managed to beat Pop to the tearful reunion.

  Tears of joy flowed as the Fox men hugged, examined one another, and then laughed about the ordeal they’d all been through. Howard barked, howled, and ran in circles, enjoying the moment until he couldn’t dance anymore. After accepting some hugs from Cam and Bear, he flopped in the sand, panting.

  “I knew you’d find your way home,” said Pop.

  “I owe it all to these two,” said Gunner, hugging Cam and Bear around the neck, who graciously accepted their friend’s thanks.

  Pop looked toward Saint George Sound and then turned back to the group. “Everyone, there’s so much to discuss, but I want to tell you that a Coast Guard vessel came by a little while ago and tied off at the dock. I assumed they were here to look at that thing.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the beached tanker.

  “Yeah, how are they gonna move it?” asked Gunner.

  “No, I mean, I don’t know. They were here to deliver several two-way radios and a secure satellite phone. I told them thanks, but they were probably worthless, but supposedly the military has managed to launch new satellites into space already.”

  “Really?” asked Cam.

  “Yes. According to the Coasties, the Space Force had planned for this contingency. As soon as NASA gave them the all clear on the meteor storm, rockets lifted off from Texas and Florida to deploy new surveillance and communications satellites.”

  “Good for them, right?” said Bear.

  Gunner put his arm around Pop’s shoulder and led him toward the plane. “Did they say anything else?”

  “No, but there was an envelope that read eyes only.”

  “What did it say?” Gunner asked casually.

  “I didn’t open it!” protested Pop.

  Gunner laughed and rolled his eyes. “Pop, what did it say?”

  He was busted. “Um, well, if I had opened it, it might’ve said that you were to remain at home and have no contact with the outside world. That you’d be visited in due time. Something like that.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, it was signed off with phone home, Ghost.”

  Gunner stopped just short of the plane and looked to his friends. “He’s trying to shield us from something.”

  “I bet we’re in trouble,” said Bear.

  Cam slugged him. “I knew we should’ve taken this thing to Maxwell.”

  Bear shot back. “We couldn’t, Cam! Remember the money?”

  “What money?” asked Pop.

  Gunner led Pop to the open door of the Valor. He pointed to the bags, grain sacks, and duffels full of cash. “That money.”

  Pop began pointing at the bags, his lips whispering as he counted them. “How much is it? A hundred thousand?”

  Gunner chuckled and squeezed Pop’s shoulder. “A lot more, Pop. Listen, we have something we have to do, and obviously, we need to be quick about it.” He turned to Bear and Cam, who joined his side.

  “We’ve got a dozen bags, all equally full,” said Cam. “How do you wanna do this? A quarter each?”

  “Sure, except I wanna give two of my bags to Chief’s family. I’ll use the third to pay off Pop’s mortgage and mine.”

  Bear agreed. “Same here. The way I see it, Chief Rawlings is the guy who taught you how to survive space. I’d trade two of my bags for what that man did for you.”

  “What are you gonna do with the third?” asked Gunner.

  “You know, it’s time for me to settle down. I’ve got to quit shacking up with women, you know, sponging off them.” Bear turned in a circle and admired the beautiful gulf beaches. “Maybe I’ll find a spot down the street. You got any black folks in your neighborhood?” He began laughing. The three friends had always been color blind in their relationship.

  “Okay, for the first time, I agree with Bear.”

  “What?” asked Bear as a grin consumed his face. “Pop, you’re a witness. She agreed with me!”

  “Shut up!” Cam tried to punch him again, but Bear dodged it. “I wanna do the same and, if you and Pop don’t mind, maybe I’ll find a spot on Dog Island, too.”

  “Just like family,” said Pop.

  They retrieved their gear and a bag of money. Bear calculated that they could fly to Chief Rawlings’s home town of Victoria, Texas, deliver the body, and make a quick stop at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio for fuel.

  Gunner said he’d make the call to Ghost to clear it first, but he planned on omitting any mention of drug money. Cam agreed to stay at the house with Pop to fend off any unwanted v
isitors, like the media or the CID, the Criminal Investigation Division of the Army.

  As they were getting ready to take off, Gunner said to Pop, “If you happen to get into town, a cold beer would be nice when we get back.”

  “And oysters, too!” shouted Bear.

  “Say no more, boys. I’m on it!”

  Cam and Pop stood well back from the Valor on takeoff as the tilt-rotors whipped the fine sand into a stinging frenzy.

  Chapter 50

  May 2, 2019

  Gunner’s Residence

  Dog Island

  The Florida Panhandle

  There’s nothing like an oyster roast on the beach. Gunner and Bear had returned from Texas, where they spent an emotional couple of hours with Chief Rawlings’s family. Upon their return to Dog Island, the group enjoyed a couple of beers and then slept ’til way past noon the next day.

  Pop and Cam had taken Gunner’s boat into Apalachicola in search of Oyster City beer and a bushel of oysters. There were roughly a hundred oysters per bushel. A bushel would typically feed six people, but when they considered that Bear was one of the four, they knew they needed enough for six.

  That afternoon, the group enjoyed the warm sun, cold beer, and comradery as they prepared the beach for the oyster roast. Bear set six masonry blocks in place and found a large piece of half-inch-thick metal from the wreckage of the oil tanker. This would create their flat-top grill.

  As the sun began to set over what was left of St. George Island to their west, Gunner built a roaring fire using driftwood and pieces of wooden docks that had found their way on shore.

  “I think it’s hot enough,” said Pop, who was supervising the entire operation, along with Howard, of course. Howard wasn’t allowed any oysters, but he did enjoy the cans of albacore tuna that Pop had stockpiled for the disaster. “Sprinkle a few drops of water on the metal to make sure it’s hot. If it sizzles, we’re golden.”

  The sizzling of the salt water gave him his answer and, with Cam’s help, he dumped half the oysters on top of the metal. Finally, he took one of the wet burlap grain sacks that used to contain the money, soaked it thoroughly in water, and draped it over the oysters.

  “Eight minutes for a light roast, right, Pop?” asked Gunner.

  “Yessir. When they’re done, we’ll let that first batch cool and then start another when we’re ready.”

  Gunner raised his beer. “Here’s a toast to Chief Rawlings and the fallen,” he began as everyone raised their glasses. “They were heroes who died saving the world. We ask God to hold them gently in His hands, and to let them soar above the clouds to the Heavens they loved so much. Godspeed, Patriots!”

  Everyone clinked their glasses and drank the warm beer.

  Off in the distance, the rhythmic thumping of a helicopter’s rotors could be heard approaching from the mainland. As it drew closer, the sun provided Gunner a better look at it.

  “Black, no markings.”

  “That’s odd,” commented Cam.

  “Depends on who it is and what they want,” he surmised.

  The chopper approached but remained a respectful distance away from them. It gently set down near the Valor, where it planned to stay, as evidenced by the engine being shut down.

  Gunner breathed a sigh of relief and finished his beer. “If it was trouble, they would’ve done their signature circle the prey swoop around us. I’ll be right back.”

  He walked away from the curious group, who watched intently as Gunner approached the helicopter. Just as he arrived, the door swung open and the copilot hopped onto the sand to assist two passengers as they exited.

  Ghost and the Jackal had arrived at Dog Island.

  Gunner broke into a jog and extended his hand to shake his former mentor’s. Then the men exchanged a bro-hug. He tried to shake hands with the Jackal, but she immediately hugged him instead. It was a touching, genuine gesture that surprised Gunner at first, but then warmed his heart.

  “You two are late for the party,” said Gunner with a chuckle.

  “In more ways than one, Major,” said Ghost. “You’re looking good.”

  “Yeah, better than a couple of days ago, anyway,” quipped Gunner. “I hope you like oysters and beer. Besides a bunch of canned goods, that’s all we have to offer.”

  “Sounds perfect!” the Jackal responded for them.

  Gunner appreciated her enthusiasm, but his focus remained on Ghost. He sensed the two of them hadn’t traveled all the way from Fort Belvoir on a social call.

  After Pop was introduced to the newcomers, and the remainder of the oysters were shared with them, the group made their way inside the house. After they discussed the challenges America faced from the catastrophe, Ghost got to the point.

  He explained the decision he’d made regarding the events that had taken place in the Starhopper. Gunner and the group completely understood the need for keeping what happened under wraps.

  Next, the conversation turned to Heather’s death. In a strange twist of irony, Gunner, the one person who was most affected by the secrets held by Director Foster and Colonel Robinson, was the voice of reason in determining what would happen next.

  “Here’s the thing, I never truly had closure on what happened that day at the ISS. In my gut, I felt that something was misleading about the story NASA fed the media and Congress. I admit that I was bitter for a long time over it.”

  “Rightfully so, son,” said Pop, who was hearing some of these revelations for the first time. He’d grown agitated as the details came out during the conversation, but Gunner held his hand several times to reassure him.

  Gunner continued. “Now I see it from a different perspective. As much as I hate to say it, there are bigger things at play here. What happened to Heather years ago has been avenged. I did it myself. The cover-up must continue, just like the melee and resulting deaths in the Starhopper must remain buried in my mind. Let all of the astronauts, American and the others, be remembered as heroes for the part they played. For me, it’s enough to finally know the truth and that those responsible were dealt with.”

  He sighed and furrowed his brow. He had one more thought. “However, there’s the matter of Colonel Robinson. If the Jackal’s theory is correct, he may have murdered or at least arranged for the killing of Foster. He took it too far just to protect his reputation or save his ass from the cover-up. What can be done about that?”

  The Jackal responded, “I can plant the seeds of suspicion with some of my friends at the bureau. Let them quietly look into Foster’s death. Once they know the who and the why, putting the pieces of the puzzle together are much easier.”

  “That’ll work out for the better,” said Gunner. “I’m in a pretty mellow mood right now. It may not be that way if I ever cross paths with the colonel.”

  Pop grabbed the one-gallon brown jug of Hooter Brown ale and topped everyone’s glasses. They clinked them together and took a sip.

  Ghost exhaled and leaned forward in his chair. “Let’s move on to the next order of business. Two things. Bear, you can’t keep the Valor. I borrowed that from the Navy and they want it back.”

  “Oh, come on. That’s twice I got to fly one of those birds, and let me tell ya, they’re the bomb.”

  “You’re such an idiot,” chastised Cam. “In what world do you think the military’s gonna let you have your own personal aircraft, especially one like the AV-280.”

  “The other thing is the drug money.” Ghost dropped a bombshell that caught them all off guard. The looks on their faces probably confirmed the seasoned operative’s suspicions.

  Gunner began before being cut off by Ghost. “Wait, Ghost, it’s not—” Visions of the bundles of cash right over their heads in the loft filled his head.

  “Not another word, Major. I’ve been around this business a long time. While it was admirable that you burned down the compound in the Darién Gap, and all of the drugs with it, as you so meticulously described, it was reasonable for me to assume that there was money
hidden there as well.

  “The bottom line is this. I don’t care what you did with it—good, bad, or indifferent. For my part, and the Jackal’s, we don’t want to know anything about it. And, now, or in the future, when the opportunity arises, do what you must, but know that I can’t protect you from that.”

  The trio exchanged glances.

  Ghost continued. “A marginal kill? I can keep you from being run through the court system like others. But profiteering is another story. Are we clear?”

  Everyone nodded their acknowledgment.

  “Good. Now, I have an offer to make you.”

  Chapter 51

  Gunner’s Residence

  Dog Island

  The Florida Panhandle

  When Ghost commanded Air Force special operators from nearby Hurlburt Field, the missions they undertook were sanctioned by, and largely directed by, the Pentagon. He would never forget the day when he was called to Washington and then, within seconds of his arrival, he was whisked away by helicopter to Fort Belvoir. Hours later, and without the benefit of consulting with family or friends, his life changed forever.

  He was no longer active-duty Air Force. He was technically unemployed. Certainly, he was very well compensated by his handlers. He was assured that he’d never be subjected to an audit nor would his bank accounts be monitored by the IRS. For so long as he performed his duties as requested, he would have an interesting career and a lucrative one as well.

  Ghost was admired within the dark ops community. He was not only revered for his successes, but also for his ability to spot new talent. Approaching a member of the military about quitting their career and joining the most secret of secret units was not as easy as it might sound. The timing had to be perfect, and the level of allure had to be enticing enough to convince a person to cut off ties with society, as well as family, if necessary.

  He turned to Gunner and asked, “What do you know about the Activity?”

  Gunner’s eyes grew wide and he glanced at Cam and Bear. They’d discussed this topic before, albeit briefly. He casually responded, despite his inner excitement, “The Army’s Intelligence Support Activity unit, often referred to as the Activity. Highly secretive. Top-notch operators. I ran across some of them while I was in Afghanistan.”