by Lin Larson
“I’m Stone. Why do you ask?” Sam said warily.
“We’d like you to accompany us. We’re looking for the site of the pharmaceutical factory that manufactures the medications for out ex-President and his associates. The new President felt you might wish to assist in our search.”
“Yes, I would,” Sam said to the men and then pivoted towards Eon. “Looks like I’ll have help here. Thanks, Eon. I owe you my life. I’ll never forget you.” Sam and Eon had built a friendship between them that could not be treated lightly. They nodded with understanding. Sam threw on the jacket that Eon had brought and grabbed his new wallet. The President’s men surrounded him. Sam limped slightly, but he was ready emotionally for action. They walked solemnly down the corridor.
Eon remained in the middle of the hospital hallway and watched them go. Something about the men irked him. He couldn’t quite explain an uneasiness which settled over him. Maybe it was just the guys’ grey suits, or was it the way they wore them- tightly over firm muscles. Eon didn’t like it, but perhaps he was just being paranoid. The last couple of days had certainly given him a right to be. He shook off the apprehension and headed for home and his life.
Chapter 41
Sam rode in silence between the stone faces. He tested the waters of conversation after he could stand it no longer. “So, how’s the nation responding to having a woman President at the helm?”
One guy grunted and actually answered back, much to Sam’s surprise. “Shit. We should never have had a female V.P. We deserve this for voting her in.”
Sam shrugged. “Isn’t she strong enough?”
“That’s her problem. She thinks she can change things.” The big man laughed with pornographic expletives. “Won’t be long. She’ll be gone.”
Sam caught Gutierrez shooting a look of contempt at Baker.
“What do you mean?” Sam pursued. “How will she go away?”
Gutierrez interrupted as Baker started to speak. “He means we’ll vote her out. Right, Baker?”
“Yeah, of course,” Baker snorted.
Something was wrong, Sam knew it now. He stole a look out the window as the car picked up speed across the airstrip. It kicked up dust as the sleek vehicle than skidded to a halt at a plane, waiting in its path. Sam could almost read the words on the side of the aircraft. Yes, he could almost make it out now. It was “ACC…” That could mean…
Sam exploded from his seat but was pushed back and held by steel muscles that flexed in the suits of Baker and Gutierrez.
“That’s pretty bold of you to have that logo on your plane,” Sam calmed himself and said as he sat clamped between the two sausage-like thugs. He felt like the Earth had just yawned open and jerked him down into a mad dark spiral.
“Yeah, we are bold,” Baker sneered in satisfaction.
“So why do you need me?” Sam continued.
“We don’t need you, believe me. The boss wants to give you a special present,” Gutierrez announce, with a sneer.
Did Jensen’s men have any redeeming qualities? Sam hated them, not because they probably were going to kill him, but because they obscenely enjoyed the idea.
The men strutted with their catch towards the ominous plane. Sam felt like he was being carried despite his height. The guys were not about to let him stumble and jerk away. The huge black plane with its bright orange letters seemed an absurdity amongst the standard shiny aircraft in the field. It was an ugly celebrity. Armed guards secured the area through which Sam was marched. Money can buy an army, Sam thought, and mind-altering drugs can secure devotion.
He was entering once more into the den of dangerous, nasty creeps, and he didn’t like it at all. The self-feeding power of this group to keep reshaping was discouraging. Sam felt sickeningly helpless, but then he remembered his old motto- he wasn’t dead yet. They’d tried before and failed, perhaps he had one more of his nine lives left. Doesn’t the hero always win or is that only in new versions of fairy tales? Sam wanted to laugh; he was definitely not in a fairy tale. Where were the princesses? Dead.
Suddenly Sam’s debate within himself was abruptly ended, as he was rudely propelled through the metal doorway and into a second set of vice-like grips. Sam squinted into the semi-light of the plane’s interior. “Waiting for me? You shouldn’t have,” he quipped sarcastically to the shadowy figures before him.
A voice seeped from the form and simpered. “I couldn’t leave without you. We owe you.”
Sam jerked back. It wasn’t just the shock of starring into the face of the enemy which clearly formed in front of him. It was Jensen, the man, but he was different. His face had thinned grotesquely.
“Jensen,” Sam found his voice. “You’ve deteriorated. You now look as ugly outside as you really are on the inside.”
Jensen’s eyes were grey and chilling. “It’s a temporary side effect, nothing more.” He smiled obscenely through thin peeling skin.
As much as Sam detested the man and believed he deserved death, Sam felt pity and averted his eyes. The feeling quickly abated as Sam’s hands were wrenched behind his back and tied, and his feet were bound at the ankles. He was shoved roughly into a seat. The engines engaged, and the aircraft took to the sky.
“We are about to embark on your last few minutes of life, Stone. I plan to give you a proper burial. You will excuse me, however. I have even more important business to attend to.”
Jensen sat himself down near one wall of the plane on which computer hardware was mounted. The metal of the machine glittered in the sub light of the cabin. Jensen whispered with a little man who hunched over the center of the dials and gauges.
The craft appeared to be a converted cargo plane. The seating for passengers was sparse. Sam was fastened into one of six places in the rear. The rest of the floor space was occupied by mountains of crates bearing colorful labels. Sam knew what they held. It had to be a new batch of the mind-acceleration drugs. The plane fairly bulged with the cargo; it was enough for hundreds of victims. Sam was struck by the walls of the plane. They were a garish lavender. Jensen must be in the last stages of his addiction, Sam thought. The plane was a tribute to his evil madness.
Jensen caught Sam’s observations. “You like my pretty airplane?” he said gleefully. “I also have my new serum. My plans have had only a setback. I am renewed.” Jensen rubbed his hands along his body. “I am feeling better than ever. I am smarter than you can ever be.” He suddenly closed his eyes, moaned, and then popped his eyes open once again. “I’ll show you my little missile control board. I designed it with my brilliant friend here.” The huge heavy man at the control’s chuckled in a low voice under his breath. He was just as crazy as Jensen, Sam thought.
An insane smile played upon Jensen’s thin lips as he continued boasting “I have done the impossible. I will launch those missiles of yesterday from here. Then people will thank me. I will show them that I alone will take care of them all.”
Sam felt like his body had stopped functioning, that he had ceased to exist, that he would die right then. He looked at these malignant sick men. Suddenly he felt the hardness of his army knife in his back jean pocket. The guards had foolishly assumed that he had no weapons, since he was picked up in a hospital. He touched the knife and scooted it up in his pocket as he talked. He had hope again.
“Jensen, this is rather uncomfortable, sitting on my hands,” Sam said as he squirmed and secured the knife in the palm of his hand.
“Do you really think I care?” Jensen giggled like an ornery child. “I don’t. You’ll be dead in a minute; it won’t then matter. I plan to drop you over the canyons and watch you splat upon the ground.” Clapping his hands in delight, he turned back to his computers. “Now shut up, don’t bother me!”
Sam felt the ropes on his hands fall into pieces as he split them with the knife. He laid them back over his wrists for effect. The feet would, however, be a problem.
“Now,” Jensen spoke into a microphone in the cockpit. “Mr. Krieder and Kaupman, now
is the right moment,” Jensen turned, “for Mr. Stone’s solo plunge into oblivion.” He waved his hands, “Goodbye, goodbye.”
Kreider and Kaupman emerged from the cockpit and stood with hate seeping from their beings.
“Men,” Jensen said, “please carry that creature, Samuel, to the door and toss him out. He is leaving.” Jensen then erupted into insane laughter.
Sam was hauled to his feet, as the exit hatch was wrenched open and wind tore at the men and howled in the cabin.
Sam sprang into action as they aimed him for the doorway and the planned abyss. He grabbed the overhead rod at the doorway just as Kaupman pushed Sam. The force caused the Kaupman to lose his balance and plunge forward and out of the plane. His screams ended abruptly in the howling wind. Kreider was stunned, but only for the minute that Sam was able to envelope his tied legs over the man’s head and engage him in a headlock. Kreider sputtered and pounded on Sam to no avail. Sam Stone was not about to let go. He held onto the overhead rail tightly and twisted his legs around the neck. Kreider slumped as Sam’s previously injured leg throbbed wildly with pain. It all happened within seconds, but Jensen had recovered from his dashed plan.
“No!” Jensen shouted, waving a pistol. “You must die. Die, die die!” he shouted shrilly as he shot his gun wildly. Sam yanked Kreider’s body as a shield to absorb the impact of the bullet blasts. Jensen continued wildly spewing his remaining bullets about the aircraft. Sam threw Kreider’s inert body out of the plane and lunged at Jensen. Sam felt a steel grip around his neck as Jensen hissed and shouted. “Launch the missiles, Snake, we are going to win! You are dying Stone. See how strong I am now!”
Sam felt oxygen deprivation from Jensen’s nearly inhuman strength, and his vision blurred. He feared taking his hands off Jensen’s almost fatal grip, but his only hope was the knife he had returned to his pocket. Would he die before he reached it again? Sam gripped its cool surface and drew it from its resting place. In a last desperate act of survival, Sam stabbed out. He wasn’t at all clear what happened then. Through the haze, he believed he had stabbed Jensen not once but over and over. The grip on his neck loosened until Sam was able to pry off the fingers and slide the body off. Gasping Sam fell back against the maze of controls. He tried to push Jensen’s limp body out of his pathway but stumbled onto Snake who had cowered wild-eyed at the foot of the missile board.
Sam regained his balance and threw Snake back into his seat. Sam pulled the knife from Jensen’s mutilated body and held it to Snake’s throat. “Divert those missiles, you devil, or I’ll slit your throat!” Sam’s eyes showed the coolness of a killer. He had no longer any reservations about taking the lives of everyone on board.”
“It’s too late!” Snake stammered through trembling lips.
“No! You can do something. Alter their course to the middle of the ocean.” Sam pulled up his knife again, grabbed Snake’s head and tipped it back. He carefully drew blood on his neck. He held up the knife and hissed, “Do you see your blood? Do you want to end like Jensen? Your blood is oozing out, you bastard.”
“Okay, don’t hurt me. I’ll do it!” Snake cried out.
Sam released him roughly and returned the knife to the huge man’s back. Snake recalibrated the vectors and altered the trajectory. “It should impact as you say. Let me go now. I have parachute. Let me out.”
“Where’s the chute?” Sam shouted as he moved the knife back to the thin neck.
“In that cabin. I show you. The heavy brut inched backwards towards the metal enclosure. As Snake turned away to open the cabinet, Sam reached for Jenson’s gun. He hoped it had one more bullet, just in case.
Snake pulled a chute from the cabinet hole and hurled it blindly at Sam. Snake, in the next split second, pulled out a large knife. With a blood-curdling screech, he charged at Sam with his glistening blade.
Sam caught the chute as he fell but managed to fire the gun repeatedly. The first shot caught Snake full in the chest. He staggered for a moment and continued forward onto Sam’s now prone body. The second shot was a click and the third. Empty! Sam registered it furtively as he reached up to block the blow of the large knife which never came. The knife fell to the floor as Snake’s fat body plunged down upon Sam. Sam fumbled to raise up the body and met the sightless man’s eyes. Sam gasped in relief.
Suddenly Sam was tossed into the metal control center. He grabbed for a handhold as he was pitched forward. My God, the plane was going down, he thought. No wonder there was no reaction from the cockpit to the violence in the cargo/missile control area. Jenson’s gunfire must have hit the controls or the pilots. Sam didn’t have time to check. He was sliding towards the open doorway. His fingers closed on the parachute. He wound the straps about his arm furiously, and he prayed.
It had been a quick prayer, but he had meant every word. He wanted desperately to live now. He was so close to staying in this world, if the chute would just stay with him and open.
The plane was going down now. He had to escape. Sam pulled himself desperately through the gaping doorway and felt the open air rush into his face. Suddenly he was caught by the wind and hurling through icy air. He stretched out his body and legs to slow the fall and floated. He wasn’t afraid. He felt the tangled straps around his arms. He could understand the thrill sky divers must feel. It was glorious to look down upon the earth and feel above it all, above the pain and frustration. He was free!
Sam watched the plane in the distance as it plummeted into the rugged mountains. He felt no pity or hate. Sam wanted to scream with joy, but he knew nothing would come from his voice. It was too exhilarating for such a simple response. He could only gaze in awe at the snow-capped mountains below and shaggy carpet of treetops. It was late afternoon. The sun was creeping into the shelter of the horizon. It would soon be dark, and Sam was falling into a dense forest. He’d better pay attention!
Sam tried tilting his spread eagle form to guide himself into the valley. It had seemed like a good idea, but he got off balance and began spinning. He steadied and straightened his straps and himself, as best he could. Then, it was time. He was closing in on the earth fast now. He grabbed the rip cord and yanked. His arm was jerked by the tangled mesh of the harness. The trees began to explode upon him. He braced for impact.
The body of Sam Stone fell thunderously into the outstretched branches. They cracked and splintered with the plunging weight until he settled amongst them. He had heard something else snap along with the branches. Sam moved his arm gingerly and felt the stab of pain. His arm didn’t feel broken, but he was sure that it had been ripped from its socket. The lovely euphoria sense that he had enjoyed in the clouds was now gone. Sam wanted to laugh at the reversal of his fate.
Twisting his neck to see the growth below was nearly impossible. He was trussed in the straps of the chute. If he could just untangle his arm, but it screamed with agony at the slightest motion. Sam thrust his feet sideways and tried to secure balance on a branch somewhere. Maybe he could take some of his weight off the straps. He could then unscramble them with less pain and hopefully fall to freedom. Just how far below that goal of the ground was, he wasn’t sure.
Suddenly Sam found it, the leverage he needed. He perched precariously and meticulously and began to remove the bindings from the shoulder. When he had almost given up, he was free, and Sam descended to the earth below and smacked upon it.
“Hey! Mister, you alive?”
Sam tried to breathe. He had fallen hard on the frozen ground. He remembered now. He gulped at the cold air. “I think so,” he said. Abruptly an arrow of pain shot through his shoulder. “My shoulder is killing me,” Sam sputtered. “You any good at popping them back in place?”
“I can try, just don’t hit me when I do it. Ready?”
Sam clenched his teeth.
“Now!”
#
Sam cried out. It took a moment, but his body finally released him from the excruciating ordeal. “Thanks,” he muttered weakly, as he took in the black be
ard and scraggly hair of his rescuer.
“I’m Cody, Harold Cody. I have a cabin not far from here. I come up every year just to get back to nature. This is the first time I’ve ever seen any action like today. Was that your plane that crashed into the mountain?”
“Yeah, sort of. Did anyone else make it down?” Sam assumed he was the only one but thought it would look better if he asked. Actually he hoped he was the only survivor. He hated to go through the confrontation all over again in another time or place.
“No, just you.” Cody answered sadly. “Sorry.”
Sam avoided the man’s soulful look. “Thanks,” and he meant it in more ways than one. Thank you, Jensen and company, for dying, he thought. Now perhaps Acceleration can end, and I can really live.
Sam smiled brightly. “I’m sort of freezing. Do you have a warm fireplace in that cabin and a pair of long johns that I can borrow?”
“Where are my manners? Sure. Follow me or do you need my help to walk?” Cody said sincerely.
“I’m fine, just fine, now.” Sam’s dislocated shoulder ached and his recent gun wounds throbbed, but he felt better. He was alive.
He’d be home soon.
#
Sam slept on the floor beside the fireplace in the rustic cabin. He refused to occupy Cody’s only bed, despite the man’s repeated offers. Cody had a good heart.
They listened to his radio as the fire flickered shadows around the cabin. The newscasters were broadcasting on every station that they could pick up. It seemed that two nuclear missiles had gone down in the center of the Atlantic. The explosions had created tidal waves that would soon shatter on the east coast. Inhabitants of the United States were banning together and preparing.
It could be worse, Sam mused as he felt himself groggily slipping into much needed sleep. It could be much much worse.
#
Sam had misgivings about returning to civilization the next day. It was beautiful in the forest, and he was warm and safe. He wished that Caroline or Alex were there. He could feel them next to him. He brushed their memories away into the back recesses of his mind. He would draw from them again someday, but not now. He slept peacefully.