Arctic Fire

by Paul Byers

  Pike was slow to realize what Madison’s plan was but then it hit him as he shut down. The stinger was a heat seeking anti-aircraft missile and would zero in on the heat from his engine’s exhaust. Madison had sent the two fighters down to decoy the missile and save his life.

  He looked down over his left wing and instantly wished he hadn’t. He saw the trail of smoke rising from the iceberg and watched with morbid intensity as the deadly missile streaked toward him. He’d heard stories of people who were about to die and were overcome by an overwhelming sense of peace. His life didn’t flash before him and he didn’t feel very peaceful at the moment. It must be a lie, he thought, because watching that missile coming at him, he was anything but peaceful; instead he felt angry. He was angry at everything that had happened and angry that everyone was trying to kill him. His fate was in God’s hands now. God’s hands, with a little help from the United States Air Force.

  Fueled by his anger, he regained his wits and banked the Clipper down and away from the missile, trying to put as much distance between him and it as he could. In a blur, the outline of the two F-15s went streaking by followed by a series of bright flashes, then a split second later a brilliant explosion. Before he even had time to think, the Yankee Clipper was buffeted violently as the missile detonated, hitting the flares instead of his plane. Pike felt and heard several pieces of shrapnel pelt his plane and he prayed that nothing vital was hit.

  He glanced at the altimeter: 2700 feet. He had plenty of time to restart the engine, he hoped, again, something he had never done before. He quickly went through his start up procedure and then flipped the start switch.

  Nothing.

  He was down to 2100 feet. Taking a deep breath and trying to keep his trembling hands steady, he went through the steps again. His ears were met with deafening silence instead of the deafening roar of his engine.

  His air speed had dipped beneath 200 knots and he was below 1400 feet. If he couldn’t get the engine started this time, he knew he would have to start looking for a place to put her down. An emergency water landing in open water was a feat unto itself but it would be nearly impossible to do safely without hitting anyone in the confines of the harbor, not only crowded with the normal flow of commercial traffic but also filled with hundreds of smaller boats, all out to gawk at Cain’s monstrosity. He shook his head, just one more thing to add to his list of “firsts” today.

  Taking a deep breath, Pike nervously went through the startup procedure for what he knew would be the last time, one way or another. As he reached over to throw the switch, he noticed that the bypass valve to the auxiliary fuel tank was on. It suddenly dawned on him, that’s why the engine wouldn’t start-because there was no fuel in the auxiliary tank. He must have hit it accidentally when he shut the engine down.

  Feeling like an idiot, he quickly switched the fuel to the main tank. Belching like a giant who had eaten too many villagers, the engine roared to life. Pike pulled back on the stick and leveled the Yankee Clipper over the busy harbor at 500 feet.

  “Excellent Gabriel,” Pike heard Cain over the radio; “I bow to your resourcefulness.”

  Pike was now circling over the iceberg again and back up to 3000 feet. As he looked down, he could see that Cain was wearing his grandfather’s coat from the Titanic.

  “Give it up Cain, it’s over.”

  “But Gabriel, I thought it wasn’t over until the fat lady sings,” Cain mocked.

  “I see you’re still wearing that old rag.” Pike taunted. “They say clothes make the man, but definitely not in this case. Your grandfather would be rolling over in his grave if he knew that his grandson had grown up to be a monster.”

  After a long pause Cain simply said, “goodbye Gabriel.”

  Pike allowed himself a satisfied grin, pleased with himself for having cracked the armor of the mighty Nigel Cain.

  “Two to lead, it looks like he’s got another missile,” Lieutenant Packard, Madison’s wing man reported.

  “Blackjack Three and Four, cover the Sabre. Two follow me in. Going weapons hot, selecting air to ground missile.”

  “Negative! Abort, abort, abort!” Pike screamed into his radio.

  “Stand down Mr. Pike.” Madison replied in a calm, professional voice. “We’ll handle this.”

  “Colonel, you can’t fire a missile. The iceberg if made of methane hydrate.”

  “Made of what?”

  “Methane gas! The explosion of the missile could ignite the whole thing.”

  “What are you talking about?” Madison replied with slight irritation in his voice.

  “The entire iceberg is one gigantic floating bomb.”

  “The subject has dropped the missile launcher and has entered the building.” Packard reported.

  “He’s probably going down below to detonate it himself. If that thing blows, it’ll take out half the harbor.”

  “Do you have any proof, any evidence of what you’re telling me Mr. Pike?”

  “We’ve got to break up the iceberg Colonel.” Pike continued. “There’s a large cavity in the center of the iceberg where thousands of cubic feet of the gas are trapped. If we can release the gas safely, then the greatest danger of explosion would be over.” Pike’s voice was full of anxiety and frustration, anxiety because he knew how real the danger was; frustration because he didn’t have the time to explain it to the Colonel.

  “Let’s just say for the sake of argument that I believe you Mr. Pike,” Madison said, “if we can’t fire our missiles, then how do you propose we attack it?”

  Pike shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot and this is one of those situations where the solution sounds crazier than the problem.”

  “You’re not instilling a great deal of faith in me here Mr. Pike,” Madison replied.

  “Funny you should mention faith, Colonel because I’m about to ask you to take the biggest leap of faith in your life.” When Madison didn’t reply, Pike continued. “Do you know how I became known as the Blast from the Past?”

  Madison nodded in his cockpit. “Yeah, you stopped a car full of bank robbers and protected a bunch of kids by taking your….” His voice slowed, then trailed off as he figured out what Pike was getting at. “You don’t mean to tell me you want to try and break that thing up by hitting it with sonic booms do you?”

  “Think about it Colonel; it’s the only way to stop Cain without blowing up half of New York. The sound waves from the sonic booms will resonate throughout the ice, cracking and shattering it.”

  “Do you realize how many office windows we’ll shatter and how many people might get hurt if we create a sonic boom in such a populated area?” Madison argued.

  “Do you know how many office buildings will be destroyed and how many people will die if we don’t and Cain succeeds in detonating it?” Pike countered. “Think of the largest conventional bomb you’ve seen, then multiply it a thousand fold. Do you see where Cain has strategically placed the iceberg? Putting it in the narrows between Battery Park and Governor’s Island is the perfect location to wreak the most havoc and destruction.

  “Within one mile of ground zero there are eight major ferry landings, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Manhattan Bridge, City Hall, Federal Hall, and across the bay the Statue of Liberty. Nearly every structure within that one mile radius will be destroyed or severely damaged and any people not sheltered directly from the shock wave will be torn apart. Do you know how many people alone are in Battery Park for 9-11 observances today?

  Madison was quiet and Pike took that for a good sign. The longer he thought about it, the more Pike hoped Madison would believe him. Finally Madison spoke. “I’m sorry Gabe, I need some sort of proof before I can act.”

  Pike felt a tiny pin-prick in his heart. He knew that his story was as farfetched as they come and that Madison wouldn’t understand, that with his training he couldn’t understand, and that was all right. “That’s okay Colonel.” Pike interrupted, not allowing him to finish. While they were tal
king, Pike had been circling over the harbor, slowly gaining altitude, climbing to ten thousand feet. “I understand Colonel, I really do…and I hope you understand too.”

  Pike smiled to himself as he looked out at the harbor below, he guessed it really was true after all, because right now he had a calm and peace about him that he couldn’t explain.

  Chapter Forty Nine

  “I can’t let you do what I think you’re going to do Mr. Pike.” Madison replied quietly.

  “Well sir, unless you plan on giving Lieutenant Packard a second shot at me, I’m going to put my money where my mouth is.”

  “You’ll never make it. You still have the rocket assembly hanging off your fuselage. You go anything much past 300 knots it’ll rip your entire tail section off.”

  “You’re probably right but I can’t sit by and do nothing. There’s simply not enough time.” Pike looked out his canopy at Colonel Madison and gave him a salute. “Keep’em flying, Colonel.” He said, then tipped his wing over.

  “Wait!” Madison ordered.

  “Colonel, I told you…” Pike started to reply.

  “Shut up Mr. Pike. Lieutenant Packard, take Blackjack flight and return to Langley. Mr. Pike, any man willing to put his life on the line for others and for what he believes in, no matter how crazy it sounds…well.”

  “Form on me.” Packard ordered quietly. The other two fighters formed on their new lead and when they were ready, Packard gave each of them a hand signal.

  “Follow my pass down and let me know what the damage result is,” Madison ordered.

  “Roger that,” Pike replied, “and thank you sir.”

  Madison lined up his F-15 on the iceberg and slowly pushed the nose over and watched as the iceberg began to grow closer. Madison loved being a fighter pilot flying at Mach plus and there was nothing better than defeating an adversary in the air, but he also enjoyed the dying art of dive bombing.

  The age of smart bombs and laser guided munitions had all but made extinct the need to actually place the bomb where you wanted. At 7,000 feet, he hit the after burners and almost instantly the iceberg zoomed up to greet him. He misjudged his speed and the sonic boom hit when he was at 4,000 feet, much higher that he intended. Still, the results were sensational.

  Every window on the iceberg shattered as if a giant foot had stomped on the roof, and like a stunt from a movie, the glass in Cain’s tower blew out in a spectacular fashion.

  Pike followed Madison down in a low-speed, low-level pass to evaluate if there was any structural damage. Zooming down the side, he could see several spider veins running down the length of the hull but nothing that looked very significant.

  “Clear the area Mr. Pike.”

  “Blackjack Two, I gave you an order to return to base.” Madison said.

  “Yes sir, but you didn’t say when.”

  “Don’t split hairs with me, Lieutenant.”

  “You’re going to need all four ships.”

  “Lieutenant!”

  “Sorry sir, starting our run now. Can’t talk.” The three fighters were flying line abreast and at Packard’s order, all three pushed over at the same time, diving straight down on top of the iceberg. By diving straight down they would be concentrating the force of the sonic booms directly onto the iceberg for maximum effect and at the same time, minimizing the effects of the blast on the surrounding area.

  Despite the danger and what was at stake, Pike felt like he was a spectator at an air show who he had the best seat in the house. Learning from the Colonel’s experience, he watched as Lieutenant Packard’s flight waited until the last moment to use their afterburners. Suddenly, intense blue flames erupted from the back of all three jets in unison. With a visible burst of speed, he saw them accelerate downward even faster.

  By now, all the pleasure boats that had been circling the iceberg realized that something was wrong and they were scattering like cockroaches on a kitchen floor when the lights turned on.

  At an altitude of what Pike guessed to be no more than seven or eight hundred feet, the sky exploded in a thunderous boom that he felt even in his cockpit five thousand feet above. In air show fashion, Packard, who was in the middle, pulled straight up while the other planes split out to the left and right. Pike knew they were pushing their planes and themselves to the limit with that sharp of a pullout.

  When the sonic boom hit, it looked like the Breath of God had smashed into the iceberg. Large chunks of the roof flew off and Pike could see Cain’s tower swaying back and forth like a giant tuning fork but other than that, nothing appeared to be happening and he was beginning to have his doubts about the success of his plan.

  Deeply discouraged, he surveyed the city. Madison’s prediction was all too accurate. There was so much shattered glass in the streets, the buildings looked like they were floating in a calm blue lake of shards.

  On one of the closer skyscrapers, there were windows scattered over the face of the building that didn’t break, starkly contrasting against the hundreds of others that did, making the face of the building look like a giant version of the Wall Street Journal’s crossword puzzle.

  The city was taking a pounding, but Cain’s self-proclaimed legacy was still intact. At least with everything happening, people would be evacuating and would, he hoped, make it to safety before the iceberg blew up. Pike tried to console himself with this thought but it offered little comfort.

  Pike circled back by the stern, starring down at the seemingly undamaged chuck of ice when he let out a long, loud cry of frustration and slammed his fist against the canopy.

  “Are you all right Mr. Pike?” Madison asked.

  “Sorry, I forgot the radio was on.”

  “Yes sir. A little warning next time might save a few ear drums.”

  “It’s just that I’m so damned frustrated right now. I would have…” Pike stopped in mid-sentence as something caught his eye. As he was flying down the side of the berg, he saw a flash of light like a lightning bolt running its entire length. It took him a moment to realize what it was; a fracture had formed and was slicing its way through the ice and the sunlight was reflecting off the edges: his plan was working.

  Pike smiled inwardly; had his scream been at just the right pitch to be the wings of the butterfly that caused the fissure in the ice? Cain would have loved the irony.

  He flew over the bow, just in time to see a large chunk fall off its port side, leaving a gaping hole. As it fell away, the towing bridle tumbled with it, yanking out the left tower support, bending it halfway down. It looked like a hook dangling out of the mouth of a giant fish.

  When the support tower collapsed, it basically ripped the entire bow section off the iceberg. Flying by, Pike could look into the huge cavern and see the buried support ships nestled together, but more importantly, the gaping hope meant that the gas was escaping, effectively disarming the bomb.

  Pike was about to pop the champagne and pat himself on the back, congratulating himself for having defeated Cain, when he suddenly stopped.

  “What the hell is that?” Madison asked.

  Music was coming over their radios, filling their cockpits with grand operatic music, backing a soprano’s singing. Pike was busy trying to identify the song when it suddenly hit him, the fat lady was singing!

  “Pull up, pull up, pull up!” he shouted. He watched as the blue flames erupted from the four fighters as they shot upward faster than he could ever hope to go. He shoved the throttle to the stops but his normally responsive bird was sluggish, still carrying the bulky rocket assembly. The Yankee Clipper banked hard to the right and started to climb.

  Pike was at about 2000 feet and pulling away from the port side of the iceberg when it exploded. The flash of the explosion was like looking into the sun and he could feel the searing heat from half a mile away. Blinking away the sunspots, he looked back and saw flames shooting out of the bow like exhaust from a jet engine, and it had the same affect.

  In disbelief, Pike watched as the giant ic
eberg slowly moved into the middle of the harbor, propelled by the flames. With great satisfaction, he saw Cain’s tower sway, then topple backwards, crushing what was left of the casino. As odd as it sounded, he viewed the fall of Cain’s tower as a symbolic fall of Cain himself.

  By now, the entire iceberg was engulfed in flames. Not only were the buildings burning on top but large sections of the ice itself. As the blazing iceberg slowly drifted through the harbor, it reminded him of a funeral pyre. An appropriate end to Cain’s dream, he thought.

  Several cabin-cruiser size chunks of ice had fallen away and were bobbing in the water, flames burning low, but steady. Pike looked up and saw a fleet of fireboats come streaming down the Hudson River to the rescue. Pike smiled, he bet this was the first time they had ever been dispatched to put out burning ice.

  As he watched, he didn’t feel any sense of triumph or victory, what he did feel was a sense of relief that it was finally over. He also unexpectedly felt drained, both mentally and physically. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and the simplest of tasks like movement of the stick suddenly took a great deal of concentration and effort. He wondered if this if how soldiers felt after a battle? Coming down from the adrenaline high and crashing back into reality. He felt like he could sleep for a hundred years. He had always respected the military and the tough job they had to do, but his respect for them just jumped off the scale; he knew that some did this on a day to day basis.

  “Mr. Pike?” His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Colonel Madison.

  “Yes Colonel?”

  “A job well done, sir.”

  “Thank you, and to your men.”

  “Form up on us and we’ll all land at Langley together.”

  Pike drew in a deep breath through his nostrils then let it out slowly and nodded his head. “There’s nothing I’d like better sir. Lead the way.”

  He had just swung the nose of the Yankee Clipper around and started to climb to join up with the Air Force fighters when his engine suddenly sputtered. First thing he did was to check the fuel transfer toggle to see if he’d accidentally hit it again but he found it in its proper setting. Instantly he surveyed his instruments and to his horror, his fuel gage was nearly at zero. How could that be? He hadn’t been flying long enough to use that much fuel. Did he take shrapnel from the missile? He shook his head; he didn’t think so, he would have noticed a leak sooner. Then it hit him. He must have used more fuel than he’d expected when he was melting a hole through the ice above the anchor room.