Retribution Road

by Jon Coon

  But that wasn’t Sebastian’s concern. Unless they could find major shipping headed south to shadow, those platforms would be their last shelter until crossing the Gulf.

  Dawn was breaking over calm seas and gin-clear water when Sebastian caught the flash of sunlight off the plane’s wings several miles behind them. He dropped down the hatchway, slammed the hatch, and dogged it tight as he yelled, “Dive! Dive!” to Cristóbal.

  Sebastian moved to the helm and helped open the ballast valves as Cristóbal shoved the joystick forward into a power dive.

  Inside the P-8A Boeing Poseidon rapidly approaching, the co-pilot saw the dark hull slide beneath the surface. “There,” he said and pointed. “We’ve got them. Radar, talk to me.”

  “Contact, bearing one-eight-five degrees. But we’re losing it.”

  “Sonar, what have you got?”

  “Contact and bearing affirmed, depth sixty feet and dropping.”

  “We’re not letting those tangos get away again. Let’s see if we can scare him back to the surface. Ready the torpedo, set the depth at a hundred feet. Let’s rattle his can.”

  “Torpedo, aye. Ready for launch,” came the response.

  “Fire.”

  The MK 54 lightweight torpedo dropped from the sky, and they could track it through the clear water as it dove beneath the sub and exploded. The concussion hammered the hundred-foot hull and opened a seam. The gash was fifteen-feet long. Water poured into the sub, and as the air pressure increased, it pushed the temporary plugs they’d made in the overhead through the hull and the trapped air rushed out. They were sinking fast.

  “Grab the SCUBA and let’s get out of here!” Sebastian yelled. He grabbed a rig, but before he could get to the hatchway, his crew were fighting to get to the hatch and the crewman at the top was unable to open it. “Easy money,” Sebastian said, as the water level rose, quickly moving up his body. He looked at the scuba rig in his hand and at the tangle of struggling bodies blocking the hatch. He realized the situation was hopeless, dropped the scuba rig, and took a last look around his coffin. There would be no easy money today. The water was already up to his chest. There was no hope of escape.

  “They’re sinking fast,” the sonarman reported. “They just passed two hundred feet.”

  “Get a fix on their position. The Navy’s going to want a permanent address.”

  “Aye, we could drop a sonobuoy.”

  “Get it ready, and we’ll make another pass and look for survivors.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll be ready.”

  The pilot made a turn and came straight back in on course. There was a boil of bubbles at the surface but no survivors. The captain radioed in the kill, the location, and the lack of survivors. His call was immediately passed to command, Senator Benson, then Tom and Gabe.

  “How deep?” Gabe asked.

  “They think about two-sixty. Too deep?” Tom said.

  “For air yes, but I can do it on gas. It will take some planning, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “We could just wait for the Navy to salvage her.”

  “Then we lose the chance to interview them. If there’s any possibility of finding that nav chip or getting anything out of the crew, I need to make that dive.”

  “All right, just tell me what you need.”

  To be half his age again would be a good start, Gabe thought. He hadn’t been that deep in years.

  Senator Benson offered to fly Gabe and Tom back to the ranch. After wrapping up the search of the captured sub, they climbed aboard the Learjet and headed north.

  “It’s going to take the Navy about two weeks to get everything organized to salvage the second sub,” the senator told Tom. “They’ve got some fancy new dive gear for deep diving they want to use, but they’re going to test everything a dozen times before they actually use it. That’s the Navy.”

  Gabe was half asleep in the cabin, but the cockpit door was open, and he caught that part of the conversation. He got up, shook off the fog, and walked to the door. “Do you know what gear that is?”

  “Don’t know much about it, but it’s some kind of rebreather to save helium. They wear a new titanium helmet that weighs thirty pounds and then a backpack that scrubs the diver’s exhaled breath and save the gas for reuse. Apparently they’re concerned about the high cost of helium and the fact that it’s a non-renewable resource. It’s all new technology, and they’re pretty proud of it.”

  “Not that new,” Gabe said.

  “Really? Tell me,” Benson replied.

  “There was a company out of New Orleans called InnerSpace that used BioMarine CCR-1000s to do exactly the same thing. That was in the early seventies. Glad to see the Navy is catching up.”

  “Did you ever dive those rigs?” Tom asked.

  “Yeah, we contracted them for a deep platform salvage. We had to close in some wells at 240 feet before we could cut up the platform for salvage. It was a good system. Saved us about eighty percent on our helium cost. Big bucks.”

  “Would that work for your dive in the sub?” Tom asked.

  “It would. The disadvantage is that they dive it surface supplied, which means hoses. The advantage would be that surface supplied means communication and a tangible connection to the surface. Harder work getting around, but safer. No worries about running out of gas. However, I doubt that the Navy is going to let me or any other civilian play with their new toys. They’re pretty funny about that. They don’t like to share.”

  “Let me handle that,” Benson said. “I’ve done them plenty of favors, and I’m not at all bashful about asking for one in return. I imagine they’ll want you in Panama City for training, but I don’t see any problems putting you in that gear.”

  “They’re going to want to know why one of their guys can’t do this dive. We’re going to need a good answer.”

  “How about ‘because I said so.’ That good enough?” Benson laughed.

  “Works for me,” Gabe said. “It definitely works for me.”

  The rest of the flight was uneventful. The senator made a textbook landing and taxied to the charred remains of the main hangar. “I’m so sorry about this, Tom,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do to get you some help to rebuild.”

  “Anything you can will be greatly appreciated. I don’t think my insurance is going to be much good. They said damage like this is excluded in something called an ‘acts of war’ clause. Thanks.”

  They unloaded the gear and waited for a truck from the command center to pick them up. Senator Benson turned the plane, brought it up to power, and climbed quickly to altitude, headed back to Austin. Carol arrived a minute later driving a dented and blackened ranch truck. The roof was partially caved and the windshield broken and removed. Both front doors were off and the leather seats were burned. Still usable, just flat burnt ugly. And they smelled.

  Carol climbed out and hugged both men. “You can’t imagine how glad I am to see both of you. Between the reporters and the cops, this place has been a zoo. Everyone wants interviews. I swear, if one more of those bozos asks me how I feel, someone is going to get shot.”

  She wrapped an arm around Gabe. “You may be the hottest thing since Sam Houston. They all want exclusives. One guy even offered a bribe if I could set something up.”

  “How much did you get?” Gabe said and hugged her again. She thanked him with an elbow to his ribs. They piled into the wrecked truck and drove back to the command center.

  Emily had been in charge of decorations: balloons and banners filled the entrance area and candles blazed on an orange-frosted cake. TO GRANDPA AND GABE, OUR HEROES, stood out in brazen blue atop the orange. She stood beside it beaming until Tom swept her off her feet in a giant bear hug.

  Paul and Angelica also waited, and when Angelica smiled, she revealed perfect, white teeth. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Paul asked. “I got insurance money for the truck. Gabe is going to help me fix up Dad’s truck. I can’t expect him to pay for it, but right now this is more impo
rtant.”

  “We will both work as soon as I get my visa and a green card. I want to become a nurse here in America.” Her smile and confidence beamed.

  “Senator Benson should be able to help with that,” Tom offered. “And with your language, army skills, and medical background, I’m sure we can find a place for you to work and to live. In the meantime, we’ve got the bunker and trailers if we need them.”

  “For now, the issue is salvaging that computer chip and going on offense. It’s time to take this fight to their backyard.”

  “I want a piece of that,” Carol said. “If the only choice is to fight, so be it. I’m in. And I owe you both an apology. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Dad. And Gabe, I’m sorry I wasn’t the partner you needed me to be. That’s over. This cowgirl’s getting back in the saddle.”

  Tom and Gabe looked at each other. Her change of attitude was sudden and unexpected. Carol waited until Tom and Gabe both nodded their approval, but the truth was, both were too stunned to speak.

  Chapter 35

  “HOW LONG UNTIL YOU HAVE to go back?” Carol asked. She and Gabe were walking hand in hand by the lake.

  “Senator Benson said it will take the Navy two weeks to deploy the salvage operation, but I may need to go to Panama City for some training.”

  “Training for …?”

  “They have some new deep-dive gear I want to get checked out on.”

  “Is there something special about this dive?”

  “It’s two-seventy. I need helium, tri-mix, to do it. The Navy has a new surface-supplied rig that will work.”

  “Two hundred and seventy feet? Can’t the Navy do it?”

  “You know it has to be me. There are answers down there. Answers we need.”

  “Okay. You know what you’re doing, but I’m going along. You’ll need safety and support divers. Maybe I can be a safety diver, or for sure your medical support if something goes wrong.”

  Gabe’s first inclination was to just say no. There would be a recompression chamber and a full medical team on board the dive boat. But if she wanted to be a partner, this would be a good place to start. If he could sell her inclusion to the Navy, why not? And it would give them time together they hadn’t had in several weeks.

  “Okay, but you may have to pass the Navy’s requirements. They can’t be looking after both of us, and you’re not critical to the mission.”

  “I’m always critical to the mission. And don’t you forget it.”

  “Yes, ma’am! I will not forget that again, ever, under any circumstances, even if tortured and my life threatened.”

  “That’s better.” She laughed and hugged him. “I want to go. I want time with you. I promise to try not to be a distraction, but I want to be there if you need me.”

  “To try not to be a distraction?”

  “Well, at least a little bit.”

  Paul and Angelica helped groom the horses. It had become part of their and Emily’s daily routine. The horses were calmed by the attention and responded well to the washing and brushing. Paul had never realized the affection horses could show and how much personality some had.

  As they worked the quarter horse named Comanche, he frequently turned to look at them, and if they were close enough, he’d put his head on their shoulders. When they stopped grooming and released the tethers, Comanche followed, putting his head in the middle of Angelica’s back and gently pushing her, usually toward Paul. When they sat, Comanche encouraged her with little nudges to scratch his neck and back. They sat, Comanche nudged, Angelica scratched, and they talked.

  “What happens when we leave here?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are we still going to be together?”

  “I hope so. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “It is, but getting my nursing license here isn’t going to be easy. I may have to go back to school for a year or more. And you … you need to make plans for your future. You can’t just be hanging around waiting for me. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. But as long as you’re here, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’m older than you, you know. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “I don’t think so. You’re not like old and gray or anything … Why all these questions?”

  “For the first time in my life I feel free to have the future I want. Not the future the Zapatistas or the cartel force me into. In case I never get a chance like this again, I want to make sure I don’t blow this. I want my life to count for something.”

  “Okay.”

  “If we’re going to stay together, I want your life to count for something too. That means you have to have a plan. You have to be willing to commit to something and follow it through. So what’s that going to be?”

  “Can I have some time to think about it? When we were back in the jungle, all I thought about was getting out of there alive. Getting out of there alive with you.”

  “Okay, but we can’t go forward until you know where you’re going, got it?”

  There was a teasing smile in her eyes, tempting him, inviting him. And that smile, with those perfect teeth, was impossible to resist.

  While her new best friend, Diamond Jack, healed, Emily looked for a horse that would be hers. She swung up into the saddle of a registered quarter horse mare. A paint with a facial blaze and four white stockings named Zonta, a Lakota name meaning “trustworthy.” Nimble and able to stop on a dime and give change, the two-year-old was smart and had bonded with Emily in a few short days.

  Zonta called to Emily from the paddock and ran to be with her when Emily came through the gate. She wanted to please, and with Carol’s expert coaching, they were both learning to master the turns around the three barrels and dash back for the finish. Zonta loved to run and had explosive speed. At first, that left Emily hanging on for dear life. But Emily was amazed that when she lost her balance and was in danger of falling off, Zonta slowed until she was once again secure in the saddle. It was a breakthrough of trust for Emily, knowing that her partner was aware of her and wasn’t about to throw her off or let her fall.

  That afternoon, grooming was more focused and intentional than ever. Extra carrots and hugs with plenty of ear scratching and back currying. When Emily finished, Zonta followed her out to the paddock where Carol was waiting with the demolished truck and a tailgate lunch.

  “What was my best time?” Emily asked. Zonta placed her head on Emily’s shoulder and nuzzled for another carrot.

  “Seventeen-point-eight seconds. Not bad. But if you want to win, it will take less than seventeen, so you still have a ways to go. But you can do it. Zonta’s got the heart. I think she’s just waiting on you to get more comfortable before she really shows her fire. She’s good. Very, very good.”

  “Like Diamond Jack?”

  “Could be. We’ll just have to wait and see. You’re both just getting started.”

  “Do you think Grandpa’s going to rebuild? You said he sold the ranch. What’s going to happen now?”

  “I don’t think he knows yet, honey, but don’t worry. We can take Zonta home with us. Our little barn will be just fine for her.”

  “And what about Gabe? Will our house ever be ‘just fine’ for him too?”

  “I’m working on that, honey. I promise. I’m working on that.”

  That night, as Gabe tossed and turned on the cot in his small room in the bunker, his nightmares returned. He was trapped in the yellow school bus with a dozen screaming dead kids.

  They grabbed him and held him down. They pulled at his gear, and with dead eyes glowing they ripped away his AGA mask and kept him from reaching the reserve tank. He yelled in panic and desperation.

  Carol shook him awake. She was sitting on the edge of his bed. Emily, Paul, and Angelica stood in his doorway.

  “Just breathe,” she said. “You’re okay. Now just breathe.”

  “Is he all right, Mom?” Emily asked.

  “It w
as just another dream, honey. You all go back to bed.”

  Gabe was in the zone between sleep and fully awake. His heart pounded and he was struggling to pull himself back from the terror of the bus. He held on to Carol’s arms and panted for breath.

  “That must have been pretty real,” she said and stroked his forehead.

  Gabe nodded. He was wide-eyed and couldn’t find the words. Slowly his pulse returned to normal, and he looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. Her hair was a mess and there was clearly nothing between her thin white tee and her skin.

  “Hi,” he said sheepishly.

  “Hi yourself.” She smiled.

  “Did I wake the whole bunker?”

  “Just about, but it’s all right. They’ll go back to sleep.”

  “It’s been a long time since I had one that bad. I think the last time was when we were in the RV and you kissed me.”

  “As I recall it was the other way around. But no matter.” She got up, went to the door, closed and locked it. “I told you then, you don’t have to scare us half to death to get a good-night kiss.”

  She scooted him against the wall and lay beside him on the narrow bunk. She kissed him long and deep. “Behave yourself and I’ll stay with you. Now, go back to sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  She was gone when he awoke. He showered and dressed, then went to the galley for coffee. Tom was there talking with three of the staff, including Jimmy the Geek.

  “Morning, son. Heard you had a rough night.”

  “Nothing to worry about. They come and go.”

  “Been there. Let me know if you want someone to talk with. Talking helps.”

  “Yes, sir. I know.” He was thinking about the months with Alethea and how much she had helped. “Have you seen Carol this morning?”