The Tank Man
Page 5
He took another sip of coffee. It wasn’t going to set the Berkeley hipster scene on fire, but the Belgian waffle with a side of reindeer sausage might. Taken together was best. He forked in another mouthful and savored the salty sweet taste.
He stared out the large window framing Lilly Lake across the road. He was looking down the length of the narrow body of water.
A red and white Piper Super Cub equipped with floats dropped into view beyond the far end of the lake. It pitched down and dove toward the surface.
Charles froze with another tasty payload stuck on the end of his fork.
It was going to crash.
Not the bite, the plane.
The plane’s wing dipped and rose. It slid sideways off the centerline of the lake and then slid back to the middle. It swerved to the side like a car skidding forward on tractionless tires.
It continued dropping. Too fast.
Charles reached for his phone to make the 911 call to report the accident.
At the last second, just before the floats plowed into the water, the plane nosed up and leveled out. It zoomed along inches above the water, sending out a rooster tail of spray behind.
Fifty feet from the dock, the plane touched down and floated toward it.
A pilot standing next to his plane at the dock looked up and shouted something. Presumably an obscenity. He yanked off the lines securing his plane and dragged it forward as the Super Cub slid into vacated space and banged into the dock.
The planes had missed hitting each other by inches.
A man jumped out dressed in brown waders over a black long-sleeve shirt. He wore an orange hat that had flaps covering his ears. The two started arguing with hands flying everywhere.
Something in the conversation in the next booth caught Charles’ attention.
Man-eater on the loose?
He stood up and circled around.
“Sorry to intrude, but what were you just talking about?”
Two old men, both in the neighborhood of sixty years old, looked up at him. They stared up at him, rather, because they didn’t answer.
“Did you say a man-eater was on the loose?”
The one with lines carving through his face like canyons spoke. “You’re from the Outside, aren’t you?”
“Uhh. Outside of Kodiak? Yes. I’m from California.”
They turned to each other and nodded.
He’d apparently confirmed everything they already knew about him.
“I’m recently from California. From Virginia a long time before that.”
They both scowled. It made the one with the white fuzzy caterpillar eyebrows look like they were crawling across his face.
Virginia, apparently, wasn’t any better.
“I’d like to buy you both a slice of that apple pie I saw on the counter.”
The gorge-faced one cracked a grin that looked like tectonic plates shifting. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Pull up a chair.”
Charles ordered the pie and then took a seat.
“Haven’t you seen the news?” the old man said.
Charles shook his head. He’d been a little occupied for the last half day.
“A bear killed four hikers yesterday. Mauled ‘em and ate ‘em. Rumor is it left a bite mark on one of their packs bigger than anyone’s ever seen.”
“Oh my God. Where?”
“Roundabouts Terror Lake.”
He was headed to Port Bailey seaplane base. That was if his pilot ever showed up.
“Is that near Port Bailey?”
He had no desire to go looking for fossils while a killer bear was on the loose.
“Nah, it’s inland.”
Four hikers?
Eaten?
“How far inland?”
The old-timers laughed. “Kodiak Island is the second biggest island in the United States. Second only to that hot wasteland Hawaii.”
Charles knew it was big. But big enough to be a safe distance away from a killer bear? Exactly how big, he didn’t know and was very interested in learning. “How big?”
“3600 square miles. Bigger than two states if we joined the Union on our own. A hundred miles long and seventy miles wide. Why, it’d take eleven days to hike from one end to the other.”
The one with the insects wriggling above his eyes jumped in, “Plenty big is what Ed is saying.”
“Good to know,” Charles said.
The man rubbed his shoulder. “Storm’s coming. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe today.”
Charles had checked the weather forecast countless times since getting Langridge’s call, and it was all sunshine for days.
The man must’ve noticed his doubt. “What? Did Johnny Hairspray on the news say something different?” He continued rubbing his shoulder. “I trust these old bones more than some guy that looks like a fashion model.”
The front door to the diner jingled open and in strolled the pilot that nearly caused a two-plane pile up a few minutes ago. He wheeled around the room and locked on Charles like he had a neon sign buzzing above his head.
“Hide your booze,” one of the old men said.
The pilot cocked his orange hat higher on his head as he arrived next to Charles. “You’re Charles Wilder.”
It wasn’t a question.
He grabbed the cup of coffee out of Charles’ hand and took a drink and made a sour face. “That’s disgusting. Anyone have something to give it a little kick? Just a nip would do.”
The two old men pointedly stared at the table.
“Never hurts to ask,” the pilot said as he pulled a flask out of his camo jacket. He poured more than a nip of deep amber liquid into Charles’ coffee and then took another drink. “Better.”
Charles should’ve been annoyed, but the whole spectacle was rather entertaining.
Entertaining until he remembered this drunk was supposed to fly him to Port Bailey.
“You must be Kagan. Nice to meet you.”
Kagan nodded in a matter-of-fact way. “Yep, I’m sure it is for you.”
Without another word, he turned and headed for the door. “The train’s pulling out.”
Charles hurried to gather up his bags, finish the forkful of salty sweet heaven, pay for his meal, and catch up.
He glanced out the window and saw Kagan moseying back toward the dock.
“Young man,” the line-faced old man said, “I hope you make it out alive.” He broke down laughing.
His breakfast buddy did the same.
“Enjoy the pie,” Charles said as he turned to leave.
“Don’t you wanna know what folks are calling that bear?”
He paused and turned back.
“Sure. What?”
The deep lines in his face shifted as his eyes got serious.
“Hannibal.”
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— SERIES —
The Last Peak series
The Darwin Protocol, Book 1
The Darwin Collapse, Book 2
The Darwin Sacrifice, Book 3
The Darwin Rebellion, Book 4
Coming 2017
Recovering Eden series
Sole Prey, Book 1
Sole Survivor, Book 2
Coming 2017
Sole Connection, A Short Story
The Tank Man, A Short Story
&n
bsp; — SHORT STORIES —
She’s Gone
Saint John
Questions or Comments?
Have any questions or comments? I’d love to hear from you! Seriously. Voices coming from outside my head are such a relief. And know that I respond to every email.
Give me a shout at william@williamoday.com.
All the best,
Will
The Goal
I have a simple storytelling goal that can be wildly difficult to achieve. I want to entertain you with little black marks arranged on a white background. Read the marks and join me on a grand adventure. If all goes well, you’ll slip under the spell and so walk alongside heroes and villains. You’ll feel what they feel. You’ll understand the world as they do.
My writing and your reading is a kind of mechanical telepathy. I translate my thoughts and emotions through characters and conflict in a written story. If the transmission works, your heart will pound, your heart will break, and you will care. At the very least, hopefully you’ll escape your world and live in mine for a little while.
I hope to see you there!
Will
My Life Thus Far
I grew up in the red dirt of the Midwest, the center of the states. I later meandered out to the West Coast and have remained off-center ever since. Living in Los Angeles, I achieved my Career 1.0 dream by working on big-budget movies for over a decade. If you’ve seen a Will Smith or Tom Cruise blockbuster action movie, you’ve likely seen my work.
The work was challenging and fulfilling… until I got tired of telling other people’s stories. I longed to tell my own. So, now I’m pursuing my Career 2.0 dream—a dream I’ve had since youth—to write stories that pull a reader in and make the everyday world fade away.
I’ve since moved to a more rural setting north of San Francisco with my lovely wife, vibrant children, and a dog that has discovered the secret to infinite energy. His name is Trip and he fits the name in four unique ways.
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William Oday, August 2017
Copyright © 2017 William Oday
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogues, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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