Resurrection

by Jeffrey Burger

  After a quick examination, Jaxon tucked the rifle under his left arm, his right hand free for the slug-thrower on his hip. With the truck parked in front of the open barn doors, Rikit led them out through a smaller side door, turning left and heading out into the field, the grass well over waist high. Jaxon thumbed back over his shoulder, “Why don’t we take the truck?”

  “We’re in the rainy season, the ground gets pretty soggy out here, we’d probably get it stuck, but good.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  Rikit pointed at the roof of a low building in the distance with the hammer, “That building out there.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Nearly a half of a mile from the main barn, scattered weeds stuck up through the gravel apron around the equipment building which was not much smaller than the barn itself. “So what is this thing?” Jaxon motioned to the massive piece of rusted equipment parked alongside the aging building.

  With a gloved hand, Rikit patted the hull as he walked by, towards the rear, “It was a harvester… now it’s just a hiding spot.”

  Like a curious child, Jaxon climbed up on it, making his way to the glass cab sitting up on top of the hull, “Where are the wheels and tires? Someone steal them?”

  Rikit smirked, “It’s warm and rains year-round, so we had crop harvests year-round. You don’t want to smash the plants by rolling over them - this thing used to hover, skim over the top,” he motioned with his hand. “In about two or three months, we’d come back and harvest again.” He busied himself at the back of the machine, a horizontal tank that looked like a squashed fifty-five-gallon drum, the target of his attention. Using the edge of the pry bar on the lip of the tank, he hammered the pry bar.

  “Please tell me that’s not the fuel tank you’re doing that to…” commented Jaxon.

  “Fluid tank for the spreader,” Rikit replied, hammering again. “Fertilizer, pesticides, stuff like that.”

  The door of the cab missing, Jaxon sat in the seat behind the controls, “Wow, quite a view from up here…” A glint of reflection caught his eye and he urgently slapped the side of the cab with his hand, “Stop! Stop!” he hissed. “You expecting anyone?”

  Hammer in mid-air, Rikit froze, “No…”

  “Well, we have company.” He pointed at the rifle he left leaning against the hull, “Hand me that, will you?”

  Rikit climbed up with it, handing it to him, standing on the boarding ladder to the cab. “Animal?”

  “You could say that. The two-legged kind.”

  “You going to shoot them?”

  “Don’t know if this thing has the range…” Jaxon shouldered the rifle out of the missing cab door and sighted through the scope. The magnification was just enough to give him a clearer look, “Two vehicles. A truck similar to ours, near the barn, and a sedan near the house. Looks like… three, four, five… hmm, seven people. One is a… woman? A well-dressed woman at that.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “Searching the house and barn, it looks like.”

  “Think they heard me?”

  “Maybe. But it doesn’t seem like it.”

  Rikit stepped up to the top rung, “Can I take a look?” He accepted the rifle and peered through the sight, left-handed to maintain his grip on the ladder, laying the stock across his right wrist. “I see one of the men by the barn… looks rough…”

  “Like it could be one of Taurus’ friends.”

  “Exactly. Where did you see the woman?”

  “Near the car by the house,” instructed Jaxon. “Outside the passenger door.”

  Squinting, pointing the rifle at the house, he spotted the burgundy gull-wing car. A car he’d seen a hundred times. “Couldn’t be…” he muttered, shaking his head. “No, no, no… You lying, evil bitch,” he hissed, handing the rifle back. “How could I have been so blind?”

  “What just happened?” asked Jaxon, sighting through the optic. “You know her?”

  “She’s the director at the clinic. My boss.”

  “No chance she’s just checking up on you for not showing up to work this morning, huh?”

  “Rikit jumped down, picking up the hammer and prybar, “What do you think…” he replied sarcastically, frowning. “And I think you’re the target…”

  Jaxon’s eyes went wide, “Me? Me? Why? What did I do?”

  “You survived. And so did I.” He began hammering again, harder than before. Whang! Whang! “I’m guessing the body count didn’t add up…” He rolled his eyes in sudden realization, “Ooooh, and she is the only other person with access to my office - she must have found my lab… dammit!” Whang! Whang! Whang!

  “So they were following us this morning…” called Jaxon, still peering through the rifle’s sight. “Oh, shit, they heard that one… Hold off for a minute,” he waved behind him, “they haven’t figured out where it’s coming from…”

  “To hellion with that, it’s almost open!” Whang! Whang! Whang! Whang! “Come down and help me!”

  “Oh shit. Yeah, they heard that! They’re coming!”

  “We have time,” called Rikit, “get down here!”

  “But they’re running for their vehicles!”

  “Good! They’ll never make it through the fields. Now get down here and help me!”

  Jaxon climbed down, leaning the rifle against the harvester’s rusty hull. “And how the hell are we supposed to get out of here, when they have our truck?”

  “I have a backup plan,” replied Rikit, prying open the end of the fluid tank, the metal protesting with a squeal, curling like the lid of a partially opened tin can. “I have gloves, I’ll pull, you pry…”

  Jaxon jammed the pry bar into the seam, forcing the metal apart as Rikit continued to pull and hammer the metal, forming a larger opening. “You want to clue me in on this backup plan of yours?”

  “Don’t worry, it should work…”

  “Should?!” exclaimed Jaxon, easing up on his task.

  “Don’t stop! Pry! Pry!” The metal squealed as the seam tore, nearly the entire end of the tank peeling away; shiny, sparkling, glittering icy nuggets, pouring out like a miniature diamond waterfall into the open duffel bag on the ground. Rikit reached in up to his shoulder and swept mounds of them out with his hand.

  Jaxon stepped up on the hull to get a better look and could see the roof of the car as it lurched and bounced through the vegetation, “You’d better hurry your ass up, I think the car’s going to make it!”

  “It might, it’s lighter…” his voice sounded strange, his head and shoulders buried in the opening of the tank.

  Jaxon’s head whipped back, “Wait, what? A second ago you said they’d never make it…”

  “The car might. Maybe… Dammit, I don’t think I can reach them all…”

  Jaxon looked back, the car nearing the apron, the heavier truck slowing down in the soft soil. “Fuck,” he snorted, “that’s it, we’re out of here…” He jumped down, snagging Rikit’s shoulder, ripping him out of the tank, a pile of diamonds pouring out, dancing across the top of the duffel bag, scattering everywhere like spilled water.

  “I can’t reach them all…” he frowned, looking down, “and look at all the ones I spilled…”

  Jaxon pointed at the bag, “Buddy, you’ve got enough there to buy your own freaking planet! Now seal that thing up and let’s get the hell out of here, or neither one of us is going to live long enough to enjoy it!”

  Grabbing the rifle as he passed it, Jaxon tucked the bag of diamonds under his arm, nudging Rikit ahead of him, “Good Lord, it’s like carrying fifty-pounds of gravel… Really expensive gravel,” he mumbled to himself. Following Rikit toward the back of the equipment barn, he caught a glimpse of movement at the front of the building as he rounded the corner. “This better be good, because they’re here and we’re out of time. And if it involves running, this bag is going to get us killed…”

  “Running only if this doesn’t work,” replied Rikit, working the digital lock on the
door, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

  “Yeah, running stops being an option when we lock ourselves in this barn,” countered Jaxon, his head on a swivel, looking back and forth at both corners of the building. The instant the door moved, Jaxon was in, carrying Rikit through with his momentum, closing the door softly behind them. Dropping the bag, he grabbed the custodian’s shoulder, speaking in a whisper, “No lights, no loud talking. Bar this door with something heavy, and be quiet about it, understand?”

  Rikit nodded and Jaxon moved off into the muted darkness, skylights and high, small slit windows the only light sources in what could only be classified as an antique farm equipment warehouse. Rows of racks and shelves stretched along the back and both sides; parts, seed, tools, paint, workbench, more tools, more parts… A smaller harvester sat along one wall, two tractors and several types of carts and wagons along another…

  ■ ■ ■

  “Alright, that’s done…” said the whisper.

  “Holy Mother of G…” hissed Jaxon, trying to keep from jumping out of his skin. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he scolded.

  “You said to be quiet.”

  Jaxon pursed his lips and exhaled slowly. “Yes. Yes I did, didn’t I… Got your bag?”

  “Got it.”

  “OK, so… what’s this plan?” He eyed the old, rusting equipment, “Because I really don’t think we’re getting away on one of these tractors.”

  “This way.” Rikit kept walking, leading him to an oddly shaped piece of equipment sitting closer to the big front doors, covered with a dusty, rotting yellow tarp that almost hung to the floor. A low wagon stuck out of the front and rear of the tarp, the equipment appearing to extend widely to the sides.

  Jaxon had a sinking feeling. One that told him there was a tidal wave of hurt coming… That he wasn’t going to make his pickup. That he wasn’t going to get to see his wife and son again. “Please tell me you’re joking…”

  Having set the bag of diamonds down, Rikit tugged at the corner of the tarp, “Really, it’s fine. Help me get this off…”

  “You, in the barn! Come on out! We don’t want to hurt you!”

  Rikit shook his head and shrugged, not recognizing the man’s voice.

  Making a ssshh gesture with his index finger against his lips, Jaxon backed away from the front doors, bringing the rifle to the ready.

  “Rikit Lobat, this is Director Marleet - from the clinic… Rikit, we don’t want to hurt you, you’re not in trouble. But the man with you isn’t who he says he is. He’s dangerous and we need him back. We need to make sure you’re both safe…”

  “She’s trying to pit us against each other.” Jaxon glanced at Rikit and grabbed a corner of the tarp with his free hand, “Alright let’s see what you’ve got here…” The tarp shredded itself as it slid off, catching on anything and everything, falling apart, dust billowing and hanging in the still air, illuminated by the skylights and the beams of light coming through the slit windows. He squinted, peering through the cloud of dust, “What the hell am I looking at? A flying pancake?” He walked around it, pulling streamers of tarp off the twin tails, off the wingtips, off the nose.

  “My Grandmother’s Tempest Halo…”

  Jaxon wiped the dust off the rounded wingtip, the semi-polished silver surface still shiny, despite its age and wear, eyeing the open-cockpit machine. “How old is this thing?”

  “A couple-hundred-years, I guess… My grandmother got it from her mother.”

  “Oh, geez…” Rubbing the tension in his brow, standing on his toes, Jaxon attempted to peer up into the side-by-side, dual-seat cockpit, “I hope you can drive this thing, I have no idea what I’m looking at… And it still runs?”

  “Fly. And yes, the last time I used it, it ran fine…”

  “When was that?”

  Rikit shrugged, “About twenty-years ago.”

  Jaxon rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair, “Aaahhh, crap.” He pointed at what he thought was the engine, despite the large openings in the wings where turbofans were mounted, “You know twenty-year-old fuel is going to be sludge, right?”

  “Solid radioactive isotope fuel rods,” corrected Rikit, climbing atop the wing, walking between the turbofan openings, careful not to step on their grills. He dropped the duffel bag between the seats.

  “Well, do whatever you need to do to get that damn thing started,” he hissed, “they’re going to start testing entries any second…”

  “Rikit, this is Director Marleet - you can’t trust that man. Let us help you. Open the doors and let us in… Neither one of you will be hurt, I promise…”

  “Yeah, totally believable,” remarked Jaxon sarcastically. A sound of someone trying the back door and side door simultaneously was easy to distinguish in the quiet building. “See what I mean?” he growled through gritted teeth, pointing at the side door. He purposefully toughened his voice, “First one to come through a door catches a slug in the face!” he shouted. “Don’t screw with me!”

  The sound of Rikit climbing around on the Tempest Halo, spun him around, “What are you doing?”

  “I have to unhook all the power leads from the monitoring system and the solar collectors on the roof. Hopefully the system has kept the batteries charged…”

  In a blink, Jaxon was at the edge of the wing near the tail, pulling the custodian down by the shirt, so they were face-to-face, “Hopefully? Did you just say, hopefully? I don’t care if you have to get on your knees and suck-start this thing, get it running! Because these fucks are either going to try to make entry or burn this bitch to the ground - with us in it!”

  With all the cables and leads detached, Rikit jumped back into the cockpit and set about his tasks to prepare the old machine for flight. “Main power on,” he said out loud, mostly to himself to remember the steps. “Batteries showing good. Starter power, on. Engine power, on. Capacitors, charging - thirty percent. Fuel element heat, on…” He looked out over the wings and moved the control stick, watching the turbofan gimbals actuate in each direction, “Turbofans, free and clear. Rudders…”

  ■ ■ ■

  Felt even through the floor, a metallic SLAM spun Jaxon around, the building’s side door buckling under an assault, the doorframe beginning to break away from the wall, daylight visible around the sides, shouts and commands overlapping into a cacophony of noises. Operating on instinct and reflex, the slug-thrower on his right hip drew cleanly out, smoothly, like he’d done it hundreds of times, the rifle still cradled in his left arm. The slug-thrower jumped in his hand, the PWOM! PWOM! PWOM! echoing off the walls, the rounds stitching the door at chest height, punching clear through, the assault stopping immediately. “Any time, Rikit!”

  “Dammit - don’t interrupt me when I’m working!” Rikit shouted back. “I’m going as fast as I can!”

  “Mr. Steele, this is Director Marleet - you are not well, let us help you - before this goes too far! Neither one of you will be hurt, I promise…”

  Jaxon wheeled to noise at the barricaded back door, firing a round over the top of the barricade, punching a hole through the door at about face height. “Bitch! Do you people think I’m kidding?!” he shouted.

  “The building is surrounded, Mr. Steele! We have twenty people out here - you can’t possibly escape… At least let Mr. Lobat go…”

  “Bring it, lady! Bring it! But you’d better bring enough body bags when you come!” He set the rifle on the hood of a nearby tractor, holstering the slug-thrower. Jaxon hazarded a glance at the man in the cockpit of the Tempest Halo, “Do you believe her?”

  Rikit looked back over his shoulder from the cockpit, “About you being sick?”

  “Any of it.”

  He shook his head, “Nah. If you would have asked me that before today, I would have had my doubts…”

  Jaxon wheeled, looking around on the shelves, frantically searching through the cans and bottles of chemicals, “I know some of this stuff has to be flammable - but I
need an ignition source…”

  Rikit rotated and pointed at the other side at a workbench, “Should be a couple torches over there we used for starting controlled burns. How big of a fire do you want to start?”

  “Huge.”

  “That could be dangerous…”

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” Jaxon grinned sardonically. “If they’re too busy running for their lives, they’re too busy to worry about us.”

  “Then you might want to use the container of fuel oil behind that blue tractor…”

  Jaxon’s eyes widened, “That big drum? Is that thing full?”

  “Mostly.”

  “How long before you’re ready?”

  “About four minutes,” Replied Rikit, studying the gauges. “Capacitor’s at seventy-five percent, but the batteries are dropping - not as young as they used to be.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “The batteries are charging the capacitors and heating the fuel rods simultaneously - that’s a heavy drain. The batteries will need to have enough left to initiate the powerplant startup, but the capacitors give the turbine the jolt needed to reach minimum operational rpm. Once the powerplant is online it takes over, running the turbofans and the antigravity halo.”

  Jaxon nodded, “So, it’ll start…”

  “It should.”

  Jaxon’s jaw tightened, and he pointed at the custodian, “Just know that if it doesn’t, we’re going up with this barn…”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Mr. Steele, this is this is Director Marleet - you are trying my patience. This is your last opportunity to do this peacefully! Come out now!”

  “Like I would have forgotten her name or something…” grumbled Jaxon, admiring his handywork. “This is some class-A MacGyver shit right here…” he snorted, neatening the fuel-soaked coil of line fastened to the wagon the Tempest sat on and the open barrel of fuel oil.