Escape to Canamith

by Richard Friedman

  “Careful there, buddy. Stay cool, now, stay cool,” Drake said to himself.

  He turned sideways and slid his right leg over the control panel that was mounted to the front seats. As he turned, he heard a “ping”.

  “Dammit!” The key had fallen out of his hand and on the floor… the black floor that was the same color as the key.

  Drake searched the panel in front of him and flicked on the interior lights. He craned his neck to search the area under the seats, hunting for the small key using the tips of his fingers.

  “Gotcha!” Drake found his treasured key.

  He flipped on the ignition switch on the instrument cluster and the engine started to churn. He locked the door with his left elbow. He had more trouble with the passenger lock. It was stuck in the “unlocked” position. He’d fastened himself in the cockpit seat and secured the safety harness. In order to get enough force placed on the passenger lock, he had to unfasten all he had done and scoot over and use his right hand to thrust down on the lock. It clicked into place and Drake secured himself back in place.

  “Dammit. Wasted twenty seconds.” His blood pressure rose with each delay. He grabbed the small caliber weapon hidden inside his right pant leg, but sensed gunfire wasn’t required at this point and left the weapon holstered.

  The extra seconds of engine noise gave the rooftop security guards time to notice something was awry.

  “Stop! Stop!” yelled the guard that was rushing towards the helicopter.

  Drake pretended not to see or hear them and focused on his next job. He connected a small electronic device to the radio controls, blocking the GPS signals of the copter. He took another small object of out his back pocket and attached it to the top of the cabin.

  “Good luck tracking me now, boys,” he said. The guards couldn’t hear him, and now with the anti-radar detection unit in place, no one would see him. He could fly without being monitored by any electronic device. No one would know his location, or destination. Once airborne, the guards would not shoot him down. General Taft issued orders directly to them in a pre-conference briefing two days ago. “We don’t want to start a panic by firing bullets into the air. I want you to use extreme caution and you are not to discharge your weapons unless you are fired upon.”

  The guard repeated his request for Drake to stop and the young looking man removed his weapon from his holster, but a slightly older looking man with a three-day-old growth of beard grabbed the gun and forced it to the ground.

  General Taft’s phone rang once and he picked it up. He hated listening to the phone ringing. He didn’t have many pet peeves, but a telephone not answered on the first ring was his biggest.

  “Taft here.”

  “Thank you, General. I’m on my way to our new home. I’ll see you shortly?”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Drake chuckled, “You don’t have much time. You know where I’ll be.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Drake had smooth flying as he headed back to his fortified bunker. Two of his staffers saw the chopper coming and prepped the landing pad.

  They guided Drake to the landing position with large yellow and red flashlights. The powerful LEDs were modifications of his own design. He spared no expense in designing any piece of electronics that he wanted. The world of electronics was his domain and Roger Drake loved his toys.

  Drake waited for the blades to slow down before leaving the seat. He checked a few settings on the panel and put the key back in his pocket. He exited the pilot side door.

  The assistant grabbed the fuel line. “Gas her up, boss?

  “Don’t bother, Frank. We’re not going anywhere for a while.” Drake jogged up the walkway to the thick double doors that separated the world from the safety of Drake’s fortress. A long staircase led to the back door.

  Drake’s new home appeared impervious to the dangers facing the world. Each package that entered the storage facility had been hand searched for purity. Each package had been chemically washed to remove any foreign substance. Each piece of wood had been chemically treated to remove the slightest possibility of contamination. There wasn’t any system that could prevent human error, and this was Drake’s biggest fear in allowing others the responsibility to build his safe house. Drake had to relinquish control during the building of the safe houses. He would wake from a sound sleep and call one of the contractors to ask a trivial construction question. He berated one foreman because the nails used in the upstairs closet doors were too small. One time he threatened to decapitate the man who incorrectly measured the kitchen cabinets. He fired him instead.

  “It’s great to be home!” he bellowed to no one in particular as he skipped down a flight of stairs two at a time, pleased with himself that at his age he was able to traverse the distance without falling or twisting an ankle.

  “I’d better be careful. It may be difficult getting a doctor to make house calls for a while,” he joked to one of the guards.

  He plopped down in the leather recliner for a moment as his gaze met the seventy-one inch monitor located on the south wall of the room. He searched for the remote control and then remembered that this set had been converted to “voice command” mode.

  “Sonya, darling, are you here? Can you hear me? Sonya?”

  His wife hadn’t seen the news. Not today, not yesterday. She’d been organizing the supply of beauty products. Her storage area was fifteen feet wide, ten feet high and ten feet deep. She had been ordering cases of products that Drake told her she would want to hoard while things on the outside were unstable. The room was filled with soaps, ointments, body washes, perfumes, hair sprays, skin treatments, anti-aging gels, dental floss, dental picks, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and at least nine different products for her long hair. Drake had no idea his new woman was this high maintenance before they wed. He did fancy his women that way. If this was the price to pay, Drake was happy to comply. In a small stack in the same storage room, Drake had found a place for his items. It included hair gel, deodorant, and three cases of razors complete with a substantial pile of new blades.

  He went to the over-sized refrigerator and popped open a cold beer. He chugged down half of the frosty ale without stopping.

  He let out a contented sigh, then called, “Sonya, do you want a beer?”

  She didn’t reply. Drake opened another in case she did, and walked past the stainless steel table in the dining area that seated ten guests. Four more could be seated if the extra leaves were slid into place. Sonya had saved the table from falling into the hands of another when her mother’s best friend was about to give the table away. At the last minute, Sonya had called a company to pick up the table and Drake had it delivered to his shelter. Drake and Sonya argued over the cost of the chairs for the table. Drake had enough money to make the chairs of out gold, but thought the chairs found at the local furniture store were adequate. Sonya wanted imported chairs. The shipping costs alone were more than Drake’s middle-class parents had ever spent on any single piece of furniture in their entire lives.

  Drake accidentally clanked the bottles of beer together as he passed in front of the outrageously expensive chairs. A few drops fell on Sonya’s seat cushion. Drake couldn’t help but mutter, “Serves the bitch right. It’s just a fucking chair.”

  Drake’s bunker was built to withstand anything that nature could do to man. Perhaps the animal world could chew through a cable, or disrupt communications from a television tower, even ruin underground wiring, but the real fear that Drake prepared for was other men. If the fear spread as Drake anticipated, law and order would become a footnote for history books to recall.

  When the crisis subsided, there would be a country to reunite and Roger Drake planned on becoming a power broker in that new government.

  CANAMITH COMMUNICATION DEPARTMENT

  Update #790

  Parental discretion is advised.

  Some of the material included may not be suitable for children.

  Kill
ing Caught on Video

  The video showed a large group of people fighting in the street. There was no audio to go along with the video. The factions were split evenly between the races. Dark-skinned people fighting white-skinned people. The camera zoomed in and caught a hand-to-hand fight between two men. The white man pulled out a small knife from his front pocket. He lunged at the black man, who deftly moved out of the line of attack, and responded by landing a forceful blow to the white man’s head, knocking him to the ground, where he doubled over in pain and dropped the knife.

  The dark-skinned man retrieved the knife from the ground, and then in a stunningly quick move, inserted the knife into his attacker’s mid-section. The white man fell forward, blood exiting the wound and the man with the knife turned to see if anyone was watching. His eyes fixed on the cameraman. The black man yelled something, and the video ended.

  CHAPTER 35

  When word filtered through the hotel that Roger Drake had commandeered a helicopter and fled, nobody on the scientific team was surprised.

  “Cowardly, that’s what I think,” said Dr. Goldman. “It shouldn’t have caught us off guard. The bigger question is why he was here in the first place?”

  Morales nodded in agreement. “You’re correct, and I’m pointing my finger at General Taft.”

  Goldman disagreed. “Drake couldn’t handle not being the smartest one in the room.”

  Massey chipped in with his own opinion. “Our so-called friend Mr. Drake is trouble. I wish I could prove it. All his departure really means is we’re down another opinion. There will be time to judge Mr. Drake at a later date. I suggest we go back to our own problems.”

  Goldman, Morales, and Massey returned to their books, videos, slides, and notes.

  They were interrupted by the sound of the public address announcer.

  “Attention. Attention, please. There has been a water main break down the street from the hotel and we’ve lost water pressure. We have plenty of bottled water available at guest services in all food stations. Do not drink the water out of the fountains or the sinks throughout the hotel. This concludes this announcement.”

  “How come I just got real thirsty?” asked Morales, to nobody in particular.

  In another part of the hotel, General Taft had secretly made arrangements to leave the hotel. He was too important a figure to make a mad dash for the bathroom and slip into a helicopter like Drake. He was in charge of the greatest collection of scientists the country had ever gathered in one building. He would have to leave under the cover of darkness. A few hours of sunlight remained before Taft would abandon his responsibilities.

  As the clock struck eight in the evening, Taft picked up his phone and dialed the number that he had committed to memory seven days earlier. He entered a message with the keypad and hung up the phone. He walked to the bathroom of the presidential suite and gathered his belongings. Outside the hotel basement door, free of reporters and camera crews, Taft’s driver waited with the truck running. In the back of the vehicle, Taft’s wife Elizabeth and their daughter Allesandra sat quietly. They were instructed to keep a low profile in the rear of the vehicle and avoid being spotted.

  Taft dismissed his aide from his room, and made two more calls. The first call was to the President.

  “Mr. President, I’m sorry to bother you this late in the day. No, no progress. We’re working on it. I have an idea but it’s going to require me to leave the building for a several minutes. We’re going to have limited communication coverage and you may not be able to reach me right away. I’ll check back with you when I return. Yes, sir, I’ll be careful. Thank you. Goodbye, sir.”

  Taft collected his bags and hid them behind the drapes.

  He pushed the buzzer and his personal aide, Avrum Kinowitz, charged into the room.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Please go down to the hotel kitchen and get me a sandwich and a bowl of fresh fruit.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir. I don’t believe there is any fruit in the building, but I’ll give it shot. Will you be safe here without me?”

  “Avrum, I think I can stay out of trouble for a few moments, don’t you?”

  “Sir. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t, sir. I was given specific orders. Your safety is paramount, sir, and I—”

  “Nonsense, Avrum, go get us some food. Find yourself something, too.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you, sir, right away.”

  The sound of Avrum walking down the hall coincided with the sound of Taft pushing away the drapes and grabbing the suitcases from their hiding place. The general scribbled a note and tossed it on the bed and left the room.

  When Avrum returned to the room and read the note, his heart sank to his shoes. He had been given one task to perform and he had failed. The President himself had said to the young soldier, “Son, your job is to keep an eye on General Taft. If he goes to the toilet, I want you to listen. If he showers, make sure you hand him his towel.”

  Avrum read the note out loud, this time to make sure his ears matched what he saw.

  “’Dear Avrum, gone fishing. You can eat my sandwich too! Good luck. G.T.’ Gone fishing? Now?”

  Taft headed down the three flights of stairs to the lobby. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and headed to the basement exit of the building.

  Taft slipped into the passenger seat and kissed his wife and daughter hello. The car zipped away from the hotel grounds and jigged and jagged through the city streets on the way to their destination.

  After a while, Taft told his driver to pull over to the side of road.

  “Sir, I don’t understand.”

  “Pull over at the next light,” barked the general.

  The driver complied and Taft unlocked the doors and intoned, “Get out. I’ll be driving from here.”

  “But, general, do you think that’s a wise idea?”

  “Get out, soldier. I’ve got plenty of protection.” Taft flicked open his coat pocket and exposed his semi-automatic handgun.

  The driver exited the truck and Taft and his family sped away.

  There was no turning back now for the highly-esteemed general. He had left his post at the hotel, a sin that would leave him disgraced and dishonored if proven. He had risked it for the chance of keeping his family alive, and ten million dollars. There was no guarantee that Drake’s palatial compound would deliver what he’d promised, but Taft was convinced that Drake was speaking the truth. He believed that Drake was the single living soul on the planet that could help keep his little girl alive and that was worth risking everything. Years of putting the country ahead of his desires vanished in a blink.

  Taft used his driving skills to avoid shards of metal scattered on the road. One false move could cause a flat tire and that could lead to an unhealthy risk of spending additional time on the roadway. He felt confident once they turned on the side street that led to Drake’s hideaway.

  Taft picked up his mobile phone and a moment later Roger Drake’s voice was on the other end of the call.

  “Hello, General. Perfect, it’s you. Have you arrived?”

  “In a minute or two. I believe my career with the Army is in jeopardy.”

  “You get yourself here as soon as you can. Sonya and I are looking forward to your arrival. Everything will be fine.”

  “I’m in possession of my satellite phone, but I’m afraid the satellites are offline. I’ve removed the positioning device. I didn’t want to be tracked to your location in case they re-establish communication. I’m able to get reports from around the world. I’m getting them on channel B-four-X. That sat-feed has remained clear. It’s frightening, even for a man like me. I think Rex underscored the danger to man. He was talking about the dangers man faced from nature, but man should have been worried about the dangers he faced from other men.”

  “How do you know he didn’t know that all along? What did you expect him to say to you? You were a rising star in the world’s largest army. He didn’t have to tell you
his secrets.”

  “My training has covered every conceivable kind of disaster, even terrorist attacks that have poisoned the water supply, or gas attacks, but this is everything at once. Our military people are scattered over the world. Our troops are busy helping people where they’re at. We’re stuck with the troops and the reserves we have on hand. The problem is that a lot of them are not reporting to duty.”

  “You mean like you, general?”

  “That’s enough, Roger.” Taft’s mood soured as Drake’s words struck too close to home.

  The steel doors of Drake’s mansion didn’t open when General Taft honked the horn. Two minutes went by and the door remained closed.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Elizabeth. “Why doesn’t he open the door?”

  The general’s better half didn’t wait much longer for her answer.

  The armed guards motioned the general to pull his truck forward another six feet until it was positioned above a small red “X” spray painted on the dusty reddish ground beneath them.

  “Close the windows tight!” the first man said.

  Taft checked the windows and held down the button that prevented the windows from accidentally opening by mistake.

  A blast of pinkish-red soapy material blasted the vehicle. Instinctively, the women ducked. When they recognized they weren’t in any danger, they lifted their heads and watched as the specially designed chemicals disinfected the vehicle before it entered the compound. The treatment lasted a full six minutes and when it ended, another ferocious blast came at the truck, this time a clear rinse covered the metallic silver paint. Taft thought it was water, but it left a thin coating.

  “Don’t worry, honey. It’s probably a sealant to protect the truck.”

  Elizabeth and Allesandra seemed pleased with the answer, even though the general had no idea what the substance was.

  The doors of the gate opened. The armed guard motioned for the Tafts to enter the covered garage. They pulled ahead, parked the car, and exited the vehicle.

  Drake stood waiting for them as they arrived. The outer doors closed behind them.