Flying to the Light

by Elyse Salpeter

  As Agent Porter left the plane, Michael made himself comfortable on the plush seats. After a minute, he turned to Danny. His brother was scowling.

  “Danny, you okay?”

  He shook his head no and continued furrowing his brow as he stared out of the window.

  He bent down to him. “What’s the matter, Birdman? You can tell me,” he signed, looking out the window as well. Both of the agents were still on the airstrip talking to someone whom Michael assumed to be the pilot. They were in a deep conversation and gesturing now and then at the plane.

  Danny pointed towards a thick patch of grass off to the side of the plane. Michael saw a small gray mass within it, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

  “What is that?” Michael asked.

  “Birds,” Danny replied. “Dead birds.”*

  Danny turned to his brother, fear in his eyes. “I think these agents are the bad men. I think they killed those birds.”

  Michael stared at Danny, dumbstruck. No, this couldn’t be happening again. Not when they were so close to safety. “Danny, why in the world would you think that?” He watched the men finish their discussion and move towards the control room.

  “Because those birds haven’t been dead long. I can tell. They never went to the light. I can see their old bodies just sitting there. Can’t you see them? They’re sitting on the grass, looking sad and all see-through. They’re not going to be able to get to the light for a long time now and they know it.” He turned to Michael, his eyes pleading with him. “It’s really, really bad here. We have to leave.”

  “How many are there, Danny? How many birds do you see?”

  Danny counted on his fingers. “Three. Two men and a lady.”

  Oh, my God. Could it be the two agents they were supposed to meet and the pilot? Was it possible? Could it be why Agent Porter signed words they didn’t understand? Michael tried to make sense of it all. “Danny, can you tell who those birds were? Can you ask them any questions? Did Daley turn us in?” No! No! That couldn’t be it.

  Danny started crying. “I can’t talk to them because they were killed in their bird bodies before I could speak to them. But, I know they were good people.” He cried harder. “They killed them and now they’re just sitting there. I can’t help them. Michael, please, we have to get out of here before the bad men come back.”

  Michael knew he was out of his league on this one. After everything he’d been through and seen already, he trusted his brother’s judgment entirely on this matter. It was the only explanation which made sense. Suddenly, another thought came to him. The clicking on the phone lines at the bowling alley. He was sure he remembered the first click came on exactly at the time Mr. Daley was explaining the plan to him. Herrington’s people must have been listening. It wasn’t Daley at all. Herrington’s agents must have known about the airstrip and gotten agents to intercept them at the bowling alley.

  “Danny, we’re getting off the plane,” he said, unbuckling their seat belts. Within seconds they were down the portable staircase. Luckily, the three people were still walking towards the control room and didn’t see them drop to the ground and run around to the back of the plane.

  “We’ve got to get to the car,” he signed. They raced across the small tarmac and over to the Buick, hiding behind it. Michael peered into the front seat. No keys. Just his luck.

  Danny tugged on his sleeve. Michael turned to him and followed Danny’s pointed finger. He was directing his attention towards a place in the high grass. Michael’s heart sank. If he had any more doubts at all, they were obliterated. There, in the brush, was a man’s hand sticking out from between the rocks. It was covered with blood.

  Danny signed frantically, “It’s the good people. The bad people killed them and then killed them as birds so they wouldn’t be able to help us or go to the light. Now they’re going to kill us too, Michael.” His whole body shook.

  Michael grabbed his brother and hugged him hard, trying desperately to calm him down. “No one is going to kill us, Danny, I promise you, but we don’t have much time. We’ve got to find a place to hide and the only one I can think of is over there by those people. There are a lot of rocks, and we can hide between them and try to escape up the mountain. Let’s go.” He pulled his brother towards the rocks, ducking the whole way. The ground sloped once they reached the rocks and Michael tried his best to drag Danny away from the dead bodies of the FBI agents. They slid down a small embankment and then hustled up and around some trees nestled against the side of the mountain. No sooner had they gotten behind the trees when the fake agents came out of the control room and started towards the plane.

  “We’ve only got a few more minutes, Danny, please try to go faster.” He pulled his brother into the trees. Soon, they were completely out of view of the airfield and surrounded by forest. Michael didn’t know where they were running, but he knew they had to get as far away as possible. In the distance, he heard surprised shouts.

  The sun was high in the sky and Michael couldn’t make out which direction they were headed. They alternately walked and jogged, always making sure to keep on a straight path. Once again, running into nowhere.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Day 7 Sunday 1:00 p.m.

  Michael checked his watch. They had been hiking through dense woods for almost two hours and were completely lost, covered with scratches from the brambles they’d constantly stumbled into, and filthy from head to toe. He smacked a mosquito off the back of his neck and tried not to listen to Danny whining he was hungry and thirsty. So was he.

  Suddenly, he heard a noise ahead that tugged at his heart. Like the patter of rain on a roof, he recognized the tinkle of water rushing over rocks. Another minute of trekking brought them to a stream and they bent down greedily to drink from it.

  “Don’t fall in, Birdman,” Michael said. “I don’t have any clothes for you, and it’s not warm out.”

  The stream led south, continuing down the mountain and they stuck with it, hoping it would eventually lead them to a small town. At least that’s what he remembered from books about streams, always follow it to the end and you should find people.

  Plopping himself on a log, Danny turned to his brother. “I want to go home.”

  Michael sat next to him. “Me, too. I promise it won’t always be like this. We’ll find the good people soon. They’ll be able to take us to safety. We just need to keep on the run until we find them. It’s like an adventure, isn’t it?” He ruffled Danny’s hair and brushed a mosquito off of his cheek.

  Danny shook his head and frowned. “I don’t like adventures anymore.”

  Michael sighed, agreeing with his brother whole-heartedly. “I don’t like adventures anymore, either. I was just making a joke.” He bent to get another handful of water from the stream, savoring its cool sweetness. Sitting here, surrounded by nothing but the forest, it was hard for him to believe so many bad things were happening in the world. One look at his brother’s face, though, brought reality back into focus.

  The kid was innocent, power or no power. He had never asked for this ability, and it was no one’s right to try to take it away from him. He stood. “Come on, Danny. Let’s go.”

  The stream eventually fed into a large lake nestled in a valley in the middle of the mountain. Surrounding the lake was an exclusive area of huge estates banked against it. As they ambled towards the first group of homes, Michael thought he heard a strange sound in the forest behind them. He froze, grabbing Danny. “Don’t move,” he signed.

  After waiting for a few seconds, Michael didn’t hear anything more and thought his nerves were just getting the best of him. Suddenly, it was there again. A light rustling, as if someone was moving stealthily through the forest.

  “What’s the matter?” Danny signed, looking around worriedly.

  The rustling stopped again. Michael cocked his ear, straining to hear anything. All he heard was silence.

  “I thought I heard something. I guess it was nothing.” They
started to walk again, with Michael occasionally glancing behind him to check the trees. Suddenly, he saw two men come into view, about three hundred yards behind them. It was Agent Porter and Agent Cray, and they were running full speed towards them, brandishing guns.

  Michael was in a panic. “It’s the bad agents. Danny, run.” They raced as fast as they could around the lake.

  The men were gaining and yelling for Michael to stop. They said some more things, but Michael’s adrenaline was racing so fast and his heart was pounding so loudly he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Nor did he want to. All he wanted to do was get as far away from them as possible. It was going to be close. Danny stumbled, and Michael swooped him into his arms and pounded around the first house they came to. It was a modern, art deco style home of light-colored wood and glass, with large windows which faced the lake. They had to run past the private pier and up onto the tiled driveway. When they neared the front of the house, Michael sought a hiding place and saw an open garage door in the house next door. Jumping over some low hedges, he rushed over to it and pulled Danny inside, finally ducking behind the black BMW parked there.

  As Michael peeked around the car he saw the two phony agents come tearing into view. They no longer looked like the kind men who had picked them up back at the bowling alley.

  The men approached the first house and rang the doorbell. No one answered. They tried the door, but it was locked. Michael watched as Agent Cray aimed his gun and shot at the door jamb. It splintered apart and the agents kicked in the door. They stormed into the house.

  Suddenly, Michael heard a commotion near them.

  “Hey, what the hell?” an elderly voice shouted from inside the house where they hid.

  “Marv, what’s going on? Did the Hellerman’s Mercedes backfire again?”

  The front door opened.

  Michael peeked around the car and saw the man’s face. He seemed alarmed. “No, I don’t think it was their car, hon. Do me a favor and stay inside, will ya?” He closed the front door and went back into the house.

  He emerged less than a minute later with a rifle in his hands and a frantic woman attached to his arm.

  “Esther, listen to me, woman,” he barked. “Get inside and call 911. Do it now.” His wife whimpered and ran back into the house.

  Just as she ran inside, Cray and Porter stormed out of the Hellerman’s house. They stopped when they saw Marv with his gun pointed at them. He had moved down the steps and now stood in front of his open garage.

  Porter flashed an I.D. badge. “Hello, sir. No need to point that thing at us. We’re the good guys. Agents from the FBI. Why don’t you put the gun away before someone gets hurt?” He was playing his southern accent to the max.

  Marv chuckled sarcastically. “Oh, really now? Didn’t know FBI agents made a habit of shooting their way into innocent people’s homes while they’re away on vacation—except in the movies, that is.” He kept the gun trained on them.

  Porter started to walk towards the house. “Sir, this is a top secret government investigation involving traitors to the United States. We think their children have escaped to this area. We’ve been told they’re armed and dangerous.”

  “I think that’ll be your last step, Agent,” Marv said coolly. “I may be an old man, but I’m an excellent shot and have no problem shooting at anyone who comes onto my property uninvited. You might be interested to know I’m also a former Navy SEAL and know all about protocol. As for the kidnapped American scientists I believe you’re referring to, I recall the government just announced they were neither spies nor terrorists. As for their children, I personally don’t see how a seventeen-year-old and a six-year-old could be much of a threat to you.”

  Porter raised his voice menacingly. “You’re obstructing justice, sir. Now, if you don’t put that gun down right now, we will charge you with a federal offense.”

  “I’d like to see you try.” The men stared at each other, waiting for the moment either one or the other would give in.

  Unaware of what was going on, Esther came bolting out the front door. “Marv, I called 911, they’re com…,” It was all she got out before Cray drew his gun, lightning fast, and shot Esther. She screamed once and fell to the floor. As her husband stared at his wife’s body, Porter immediately took advantage of the situation and took aim. This time the shot was directed at Marv.

  Marv reacted in the nick of time and moved so he only took the brunt of the bullet in his left shoulder. The force of the bullet drove him backwards into the garage.

  Marv still had his rifle clutched in his right hand and held on to it tightly as he dragged himself behind his car.

  Safely hidden for the moment he glanced to his right and gasped, half in surprise and half in pain, when he saw Michael and Danny crouching next to him.

  Michael crawled over to him, speaking urgently. “It’s us they’re after. Please, what can I do to help?”

  Marv slumped back against the wall, grimacing in pain. “Where are they now?”

  Michael glanced under the car and saw the agents inching tentatively towards the open garage. “They’re coming towards us,” he whispered.

  Marv nodded, his face decisive. “Do you know how to fire one of these?” he asked, breathing heavily. Blood ran down his shirt, and he was starting to sweat.

  “No,” Michael said, his heart pumping so hard he thought it would explode. He knew what the man wanted him to do.

  “Well, then you better learn fast,” Marv said. “Take the gun and balance it on your shoulder. Look through that little piece there. That’ll help you line up your target. And then pull the trigger and kill those bastards. The safety’s off. All you have to do is get the image as close as possible to your target. The bullet will do the rest. Do it now before they come any closer or there won’t be another chance. Do it now.”

  Michael was terrified he would screw up and get them all killed, but he had no choice. There was no one else capable of doing what had to be done. Sweating, he hoisted the gun up onto his shoulder and stood. Immediately, Porter took a shot at him. The bullet flew right by Michael’s left ear and he flinched as pieces from the garage wall behind him sprayed his back from the force of the gunshot. Before Porter could fire another shot, Michael pulled the trigger. The report was so loud his ears rang and the kick was so fierce it threw him back against the side wall of the garage. He slumped to the floor, holding his shoulder.

  Groaning, Marv leaned over and peeked under the car. He nodded. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  Michael dared to take a peek, but wished he hadn’t. Porter lay on the ground, the upper half of his body a ruined mess. Cray was nowhere to be seen.

  “Is he dead?” Michael asked, his voice shaking.

  “Oh, I’d say so,” Marv replied, resting back against the wall. “Dirty bastard deserved it.”

  Revulsion filled Michael’s chest and he was overcome. He turned to the back wall and threw up. After a few more dry heaves he was finally able to calm down and turned to Marv who stared at him.

  “Never killed a man before, have you?” he wheezed.

  “No. Guess there’s always a first time,” Michael said weakly, wiping his mouth. He glanced at his brother, nearly forgetting he was there. Danny sat on the floor terrified, curled into a ball. There was no time to comfort him.

  Marv was speaking to him. “Hey, kid? Remember, we still got another one of those killers out there. Now get that gun in your hands again. I’m too weak to help you. I take it you’re the kids of Herrington’s spies?”

  “We’re not spies,” Michael mumbled.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t care who or what the hell you are. All I care about is killing those men who shot my Esther. If you want to protect this little brother of yours, I suggest you get up now and nail the second guy. I doubt he’ll treat you or your brother very kindly if he has the opportunity to catch up with you.” Beads of sweat bloomed on his face and his breathing became shallower.

  His comment abo
ut Danny moved Michael to action. He pushed himself up and was going to walk out of the garage to confront the agent when he heard Danny cry out “Mi Mi.” That was Danny’s call for his brother, to catch his attention when Michael wasn’t looking at him.

  Michael turned to see Danny pointing to the closed door leading from inside the garage to the house. Two feet in brown hiking boots were showing underneath the crack between the door and the floor.

  “Anyone in your house other than you and your wife?” Michael asked Marv.

  Marv shook his head no. “Do it.”

  Michael took one deep breath, aimed the gun and after bracing for the recoil, he fired into the door. It blasted apart, and Cray, wide-eyed, flew backwards into the kitchen, a hole the size of a softball ripping through his stomach.

  Michael dropped the gun and sat heavily on the garage floor, numb and in shock. He remained that way, hugging his knees and shaking while Danny went to him and grabbed tightly onto his arm. It was all Michael could do to get one arm around his brother. But once he did, he grabbed Danny in a huge bear hug, not letting go until the police cars from the 911 call finally arrived.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Day 7 Sunday 8:00 p.m.

  Kentrall Memorial Hospital

  “Michael, there you are,” Daley called, flashing his badge as he stormed into the emergency room. Michael glanced up and smiled weakly at him, holding an icepack to his bruised shoulder.

  “Thank God. How you doing, kid?” With his disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes, Daley looked as if had run fifteen miles straight just to get to him.

  “I’m doing okay, I guess,” Michael said, quietly. “You know I killed them, Mr. Daley. I killed the guys who were after my brother.”

  “I heard, Michael,” he said. “I contacted the local police as soon as our agents didn’t call into our field office to report a successful contact with you. I got on a plane immediately.” He ran his hands through his thinning hair. “I’m so sorry this happened. We couldn’t believe we screwed up again, so we retraced the phone lines and learned of the tap. It’s by far the most sophisticated tapping system we’ve ever encountered. Years beyond anything we’ve developed, but it doesn’t excuse anything. I’m horrendously embarrassed. This is our fault and our fault alone. I can’t begin to apologize for what you just went through and have been going through.”