Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

  A dreaded thought came to him. Give up where his brother lived in exchange for his freedom. Could I really do that to my brother? It was an awful dilemma, one he didn't care to dwell upon. But if they resort to torture, I might as well bargain for my freedom...

  The lock of the cell door snicked open, and Sam looked up to see the face of a different guard peering at him. “Mister, if you'll come with me.”

  Fighting down the bile rising in his throat, Sam allowed the guard to escort him to a different area of the maze-like complex, finding himself shoved into a long, narrow room with a small table in the middle of it. Two men sat at each end of the table, which had a computer monitor in the middle of it, with an empty chair in front of it.

  The guard pointed to the chair. “Sit here.”

  Sam did as he was told, and heard the door being closed behind them. He looked at the two men on either side of them, both in officer uniforms, and waited for them to make the next move.

  The man on the right said, “In about two minutes, we will be establishing a video connection with President Barnes in Atlanta. It goes without saying you're expected to answer his questions in a truthful manner.”

  Sam couldn't believe it. A video conference with George Barnes himself. It was clear that Barnes was desperate to locate Ryan at all costs.

  The screen in front of him flickered to life, and a face appeared in front of him, some sort of official. The man said, “Confirm that you are Samuel Durant.”

  Sam nodded his head. “Yes, that's me.”

  “Stand by for President Barnes.”

  The screen went dark for a few seconds and when it flickered into life again, he was met with the steely gaze of George Barnes. Aside from looking a bit older, with graying hair instead of brown, he looked the same as he did fifteen years ago, the last time they'd met in person. He hadn't liked him then, and he liked him even less now.

  And the man had the audacity to actually smile at him. “Hello, Sam. How wonderful it is to be able to chat with you after all this time.”

  Sam did his best to swallow his anger, knowing full well that an outburst would do little to serve his purposes. “Yes, this is quite a surprise.”

  Barnes' smile grew even wider. “Yes, a very pleasant surprise, indeed. However, it's imperative we get down to business, since time is of the essence. I have a small favor to ask of you, for the sake of this country.”

  “You want to know where my brother is.”

  “Good, you're already one step ahead of me. Yes, your brother is needed for the sake of thousands of lives in this terrible conflict with the renegade state of Texas. Texas has been conducting bombing raids deep into Coalition territory for weeks now, and we have no choice but to mount a physical invasion into Texan territory. However, with your brother's intimate knowledge of military computer systems, we would have the ability to severely crimp their use of military hardware, which, needless to say, would have the potential of saving innumerable lives.”

  “Can't you use other people for this task?”

  Barnes shook his head. “We've tried. You see, Ryan is the one who's designed the computer security systems they're using. He's the only one with the key to unlocking those defenses.”

  Gosh, Barnes is really grasping at straws here. “Um, sir, I think you're severely misguided to think Ryan could be of assistance. I'm just being honest here.”

  Barnes chuckled as he continued to gaze into the camera. “That's your opinion, but it's certainly not one shared by experts familiar with military systems. In any case, I'm going to ask you to lead us to him. Since we know you've come from Upper Michigan, it doesn't take much to put two and two together and determine that your family was staying at your brother's location. Now, I could be a fool and ask you to give us an address, and send us on a wild goose chase, but we're doing to do this the smart way.”

  Sam fought the growing wave of panic surging through his body. “What might that be?”

  “We're going to fly you in a two-seater F-22 up to Marquette, where a helicopter is being readied. You will sit up front with the pilot and direct him directly to your brother's compound. Should you develop any funny ideas about leading us on a false errand, I've soldiers standing by to track down your family in that motorhome, which is something you do not want to have happen.”

  Sam allowed his shoulders to slump. There was no way out of this. He'd been defeated even before he had a chance to fight. “Well, I suppose I have no choice but to cooperate. When will we do this?”

  Barnes smiled again, revealing his too-white teeth. “Immediately. There's no time to waste.”

  Chapter 30

  “Put this on. It's cold out there.”

  Sam took the proffered flight jacket from the solider, looking at the phalanx of gun-toting guards surrounding him in the hanger. He honestly could not believe what was happening to him. He was about to be put on a fighter jet to be taken back to Michigan and be forced at gunpoint, in addition to the threat of bodily harm to his family, to betray his brother. Despite his desperation to find a way out of this predicament, there wasn't even a hint of anything he could do about it.

  One of the soldiers barked, “Follow me.”

  With the point of a gun pressed into the back of his jacket, Sam followed the leading soldier towards an exit door, and was subjected to a biting wind as they stepped outside. Swirls of powdery snow raced across the tarmac as Sam tried to shield his face against the bitter wind chill. He didn't see the parked jet until he was almost upon it. The guard in front pointed to a set of metal steps leading to the passenger compartment on top.

  “Climb up there, get into your seat, and strap yourself in. We'll secure the hatch. Just keep your hands to yourself. And enjoy the ride.”

  Sam reluctantly climbed the stairs and seated himself in the cramped confines of the seat behind the pilot. While he struggled with the five-point safety harness, one of the soldiers handed him a flight helmet and told him to put it on. Resigned to the inevitable, Sam slipped it over his head, watching helplessly at the hatched being locked down on top of him.

  Sam heard the voice of the pilot coming through the helmet comm set. “We'll be traveling at Mach 1.5, so the flight to Marquette should only take an hour. I'll try and take it easy with the g-forces, however. Just sit back and enjoy the ride – it'll be over before you know it.”

  Sam wanted to tell the pilot he wasn't going along willingly, but held his tongue. They had him by the short hairs, and he just had to play along – not only for the sake of his own life, but that of his family, who probably had no inkling of his whereabouts.

  The narrow cockpit vibrated as the engines spooled to life and, in seconds, he felt the aircraft move, the pilot taxiing toward the runway. Streamers of wind-whipped snow snaked across the tarmac under a battleship-gray sky, the extreme cold seeping through the glass canopy despite the warm air blowing from a vent at his feet. The jet rolled across a sea of white, with no sign of other air traffic. A lone snowplow roared past the aircraft, apparently giving the runway a fresh sweep ahead of their takeoff.

  The pilot's voice crackled again in Sam's helmet. “Okay guy, I've been given clearance for take-off. You're going to feel quite a bit of force, so be ready for it.”

  Sam steeled himself for the inevitable departure. The whine of the jet's engines rose to an ever-higher pitch while the aircraft made the final turn onto the runway. A couple seconds later, the engines ramped up to full power, the acceleration pressing Sam back in his seat with stunning force.

  Sam was totally unprepared for what happened next. A pair of fighter jets passed from behind, just a few feet above the ground, followed by two more. Just after the second pair of jets passed, the runway in front erupted into multiple balls of fire, accompanied by the screams of the pilot. In the space of a less than a second, the jet went from high acceleration to sliding sideways between two fireballs, the landing gear stripped away underneath.

  “Eject!” The pilot screamed, “Pull the
eject lever!”

  Recalling the red bar he had spotted next to his seat when getting in, Sam gave it a good yank. Before he had a chance to realize what was happening, he rose into the sky on a pillar of fire just as the jet exploded beneath him. Fading in and out of consciousness from the tremendous gee forces exerted on his body, he spotted a jet roaring through the air directly in front of him, the letters TAF emblazoned on its wings. Then the chute opened up, arresting his high-speed trajectory through the air. Holding on for dear life, he looked downward, seeing mushrooms of fire appearing amid the complex of buildings of the compound as more jets roared by, unseen.

  Seconds later, the ejected seat collided with the ground, not too far from the side of one of the larger buildings. Stunned, but unhurt, Sam instinctively undid his safety harness and staggered to his feet, awed by the explosions going off all around him. Looking back at the building, he saw men streaming through a pair of doors like bees exiting a disturbed hive. Judging by the civilian clothes they were wearing, he realized they were escaping prisoners. He quickly fell in behind the first cluster of fleeing men, the roar of machine guns filling the air behind him.

  Sam knew his life was in grave danger, and he did his best to keep ahead of the surging crowd, making a run for a section of fencing as a few others were doing. Behind him, more shots rang out, coupled with the sound of bullets whizzing into the snow around him. A high-powered rifle went off nearby, inducing him to run even faster, despite the increasing depth of the snow. A man running along beside him fell face-forward, but Sam didn't pause to see if he'd been shot or just tripped.

  Ahead, a group of men were attempting to lift up a section of chain link fence. The fence was quite tall, about twelve feet or so, with razor wire on top, but it appeared that the weak point was underneath. There were a couple of men crawling underneath it and sprinting away on the other side.

  Daring to take a glance behind him, he could see a wave of men surging toward him, even while they were mowed down by machine gun fire. The building behind them erupted in great, orange balls of fire. Knowing he'd probably be trampled to death if he didn't get moving, Sam got down on his hands and knees and scrambled over to the section of pulled-up fencing, gratefully allowing someone on the other side to help pull him through. He returned the favor to the guy crawling behind him, and then he stood up and ran as hard as he could, just to get out of range of the gunfire. He had no idea where to run, but he knew he'd be shot if he didn't find shelter soon.

  Ahead, there was a parking lot for truck trailers, the boxy containers lined up like sentinels in a lake of drifting snow. Figuring this would provide some cover while he figured where to run next, he made a beeline toward them, and noticed that he was alone. Other runners had scattered in different directions or had been shot. Doing his best not to trip in the deep snow, he ran between two rows of trailers, desperately hoping none of the soldiers saw him.

  Reaching a state of near-collapse from being so out of breath, Sam stopped between two trailers. The crack of gunshots continued to pierce the air in the distance while more jets screamed overhead. He knew if he didn't find a way to escape the compound, he'd be among the dead in short order; the soldiers were obviously under orders to shoot anyone trying to escape. Although he could have used more rest, Sam took off in a run, aiming for another section of fencing a few dozen yards ahead. He tripped over a drift, falling onto his face. As he struggled to get back on his feet again, he heard the sound of a vehicle moving toward him.

  He stood up, his chest heaving. He could scarcely believe what he was seeing. The motorhome!

  He watched it slowly move along a service road just outside the fencing, using the plow to clear a path in the snow. There was no sign of it being chased, and Sam knew they were looking for him, as crazy as it seemed. He also knew if he didn't get close enough in time, Jimmy would drive right on by, probably leaving the area altogether. Breaking out into a full run, he windmilled his arms in a desperate bid to draw the notice of his family.

  Just as he got to the fence, the motorhome ground to a halt, and the side door popped open. Since the fence in front of him was only about eight feet tall, with no barrier on top, he climbed up the fence, using a strength he didn't know he had. He jumped down on the other side and he saw Irene waving at him frantically. A Humvee approached from the right. Calling on his last reserves of energy, Sam made a final, mad sprint directly to the motorhome, and flung himself inside just as it began to reverse.

  Irene clung to him, crying. Then he heard Jimmy shout, “You'd better hold on, since I gotta get our asses out of here.”

  The engine roared at max throttle, while bullets dinged off the metal frame around them. Within seconds, Jimmy reversed directions, which was followed by a terrific crash. But Jimmy kept the engine revving at max rpms, causing the motorhome to shoot past whatever it was they crashed into. Finally breaking free of Irene's grasp, Sam slung himself into the passenger seat while shouting at Irene and Eliza to lie flat on the floor.

  Sam looked at Jimmy and shouted, “How in the hell did you get in here? And how in the hell did you think you were going to get me out?”

  Jimmy looked at him for the briefest of moments and said, “Well, I got you out, didn't I? But hold on, as I've gotta finish getting us out of here.”

  This is no time to be mad at Jimmy, Sam reminded himself, whipping the seatbelt around him to secure himself. Looking ahead, he saw what appeared to be an unmanned checkpoint, which Jimmy blasted through at top speed. They came to a “T” intersection, and Jimmy didn't even slow while he wheeled the motorhome off to the left, cutting across a section of snow-covered ground before finding pavement again. Since the road had a thin layer snow on it, Jimmy was able to gun the vehicle up to sixty in almost no time at all, the sprawling compound receding quickly behind them.

  Jimmy looked over at him. “That's how I got in, there was nobody manning that guard station. That's when I saw the jets dropping bombs everywhere, and people running all over the place. I figured you had to be among them somewhere.”

  Sam shook his head. His son had just pulled off an incredible act of stupidity, backed by improbable luck. “Well, you were extremely lucky that you didn't get stopped, or bombed by the attackers.”

  “How in the world did you get out of there?” Jimmy asked as he pushed the motorhome to an even higher speed.

  Sam really didn't want to go into what had really happened to him, so he said, “Oh, when the place started getting blown up, a bunch of us made a run for it. They were about to take us to invade Texas, if you can believe that.”

  “Yeah, that's what some guy told us before we came out here. So I had to try and rescue you before you got sent away. I was going to hand out all the gold we had to get you out of there.”

  Sam shook his head. “Gold is useless to them, they're fighting a dammed war. It's a good thing that you guys saw me when you did.”

  Irene came up and stood next to him, throwing her arms around her husband. “I've been praying all night that we'd find a way to get you out,” she cried. “Let's just be thankful that you're safe.” Looking over at Jimmy, she said, “Please, do not get us killed. I don't know how much more of this I can take.”

  Just then, a vehicle appeared in front of them, the Plexiglas-covered windshield pocked with new bullet strikes. Jimmy refused to slow, however, and swerved to miss the stationary truck at the last second, zipping past as more bullets thumped into the side of the motorhome.

  “These assholes just won't give up,” Jimmy shouted, gunning the motor at max power while following the road curving to the left. Jimmy shouted, “Dad, pull out the Kentucky atlas. I need to get us over to Highway 45 South. That will take us to a parkway; we can use that to get into Tennessee.”

  “But we have to get gas.”

  Jimmy smiled in return. “Already taken care of. It cost half our cash, but we've got a full tank. But we haven't had anything to eat in two days, which was another reason we had to get you out of
there.”

  Despite the terrible risks they had taken, Sam couldn't help but to be touched by his family's sentiment. The important thing now was to get to safety, and God willing, to Mobile. Following his son's request, he located the Kentucky Gazetteer and located the section of the state they were in. After a series of random right and left turns, Jimmy managed to get onto a numbered highway, which Sam quickly determined would run directly into Highway 45. With the minutes wearing on, Jimmy blasting the thing along at sixty even with the snowplow down, Sam finally breathed a small sigh of relief.

  It appeared they were no longer being chased, and there was no traffic to speak of, anywhere. Just a sea of snow and blowing snow, punctuated by bare-limbed sections of forest. Once they hit Highway 45, Jimmy wheeled the motorhome to the right, keeping the plow down, since this road wasn't plowed either. In a way, that was good, since it meant that nobody had come out this way recently.

  Sam had no idea of the dangers they had yet to face, but for now, they were safe, together as a family, moving southbound.

  * * *

  “While we've been able to locate the pilot, the seat Durant was in was abandoned, and we've yet to locate his body on the base. We have reason to believe he's still at large.”

  Barnes looked at Zimmerman, and then at General Ackerman, who was wearing a blank expression on his broad face. He took a moment to stare out the window, watching the wind-whipped snow beat against the glass, the whine of the relentless gale clearly evident even within the cozy confines of the office. He shook his head slowly. “It's a moot point now. The time to pick him up was back in October, before all of this started. It's far too late to rely on his expertise now.”