by JT Kalnay
“Because then Stan can play it up how we were victims of this virus but discovered how to kill it so aren’t we the smart ones. He’ll be able to get some good press out of it,” Craig said.
“Hmm,” Stacey said. She wrinkled her mouth from side to side, contemplating Craig’s own private reality.
#
There was one piece of thick crust, double cheese, half sausage and half broccoli pizza left in the grease stained box. Craig and Stacey were sprawled on the floor with a half dozen different colored highlighter pens scattered between them.
“Find anything yet?” Craig asked.
“No. But Craig, you know what?”
“What?”
“You are one hell of a programmer. Some of this stuff is really great.”
“Thanks,” Craig said. A tired little smile spread over his grease splattered face. He rolled his head around in circles. He heard the bones snapping, crackling and popping. “You always said it was my mind that attracted you the most back in college,” Craig said.
“Yeah I did. But that was before I saw you naked,” Stacey said. Craig blushed three shades of red.
“Anything in the Marauder code?” Stacey asked.
“Nothing special yet. There’s nothing too outrageous here. So far it’s just that problem with the sockets and the live lock problem between the separate network connectivity module and the main program. But neither of those should lock up a system,” Craig said.
“What about being able to move between machines?” Stacey asked.
“It knows how to hide itself on your system, but they tell you that when you buy the game. And it’s got an auto configuration option, but they tell you that too. I profiled that section of code that kept making the phone calls and logging me back on. But I just can’t figure out how our auto pilot stuff is all mixed up in this. I just don’t see anything in the Marauder code that would cause it to insert itself into another program.”
“So I guess we keep looking,” Stacey said.
“And find a way to get that other two percent,” Craig said.
“What about the Internet? Why not post a message on the user group mailing list about what we’ve found. Maybe somebody’s had similar problems and figured it out or knows the guy who wrote this or has the missing code or something?” Stacey said.
“I’m on it,” Craig answered. Within minutes, he had posted the request on rec.maurader.
Chapter
June 30th, 1994
San Francisco, California
Brilliant morning sun streamed into their airy kitchen. Stacey stood, finishing her coffee. Craig sat, unshaven and looking grumpy.
“Any response to your post?” she asked.
“Over two hundred,” Craig said.
“Well. Have fun and good luck. I’ve got to get to work.”
“Can you tell them I’m sick when you get there?” Craig asked.
“No I can’t. I love you. But you can lie for yourself,” Stacey said firmly. She looked down at him and furrowed a brow as he slumped deeper into the chair. He screwed up his face like an eight year old pitching horseshoes for the backyard championship in a Rockwell painting.
“Alright. Sorry I asked. I love you too. See you later. I’ll call you if I find anything,” Craig said.
Stacey leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.
“Bye. Love you.”
#
“What’s wrong with Craig?” Stan asked. His bulk half blocked the hallway.
“Not sure. Why?” Stacey asked.
“He called in sick. I was just wondering if it was the flu, hangover, broken ankle, or wounded pride?”
“I guess you’ll have to ask him,” Stacey said. Stan caught the frost in her voice.
“I hope he’s not too sick to miss your friend’s wedding? Aren’t you leaving soon for Virginia or somewhere?” Stan countered, the irony obvious.
“Yeah. We’re flying to Charlotte for Scott and Susan’s wedding. Scott’s a friend of ours from college and Susan is his dentist.”
“He’s marrying his dentist?”
“Yeah. In addition to unlimited earning potential, she’s also a babe.”
“I know the type,” Stan said. He let his eyes travel up, down, then back up her long frame. Stacey felt her face flush in anger. Stan thought that she was blushing. She walked briskly past the president.
#
“APSoft. Stacey Horner,” she said into the phone.
“Hi. It’s me,” Craig said.
“Find anything?” she asked.
“Not yet. But one of the responses to the post on rec.marauder said a guy at Stanford might have the rest of the code.”
“What are you going to do?” Stacey asked.
“Track him down like a game warden looking for a rabid fox,” Craig said.
“Good luck,” Stacey said.
“What’s it like over there today?” Craig asked.
“Pretty tense. Three guys from QA weren’t allowed in the building this morning. Stan had their stuff boxed up and waiting for them.”
“Shit,” Craig said. “What about my stuff?”
“No boxes. He asked what was wrong with you?”
“What did you say?”
“I said I wasn’t sure. I told him he’d have to ask you himself.”
“I bet that went over well,” Craig said.
“Not too bad. But remember it’s not me he’s mad at. I didn’t do anything wrong that could cost him fifty million dollars. I’m only guilty by association.”
There was silence on Craig’s end.
“Sorry. You know what I mean,” Stacey said.
“Yeah I know. Okay. Gotta go. Love you,” Craig said.
“Love you too,” Stacey said to the dead receiver.
“Shit,” she spat out as she tossed the phone back into its cradle.
#
Stan Maxwell walked into Stacey’s office. He stood behind her admiring her for a minute before he spoke.
“Stacey I’ve got a job for you,” he said.
“How can I help?” Stacey asked.
“I’ve got something I want you to handle quietly,” Stan said. “I want to visit all our clients and explain what’s happened. You’ll take half and I’ll take half. We’ll take old software to replace the new and we’ll also take refund checks.”
“Refunds?” Stacey asked.
“Refunds. We’re going to give back anything they’ve paid us for the past twelve months. If they haven’t been with us that long, then for as long as they’ve been clients.”
“Holy shit,” Stacey said.
“Holy shit indeed. It’s going to cost me seven million dollars. But it’s the best thing I can think of doing. And the lawyers tell me that if they take the refund checks we can dramatically limit our liability.”
Stacey nodded her head in understanding. Stan missed the roll of her eyes.
“But that’s not what’s most important. What’s most important is getting out there and stopping any accidents. So will you do it?”
“That’s a lot of clients,” Stacey said.
“Nine in the states, two in Mexico, five in Europe, one in Canada and two in Asia. You take the U.S., and Mexico. I’ll take Europe, Canada, and Asia. I’ll make all the calls and set it up. We start in five days, right after you get back from Charlotte. Will you do it?
“Yes,” she answered.
“Thanks Stacey. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Stan said. He took a step towards her as though to embrace her, but the sudden ice in her eyes froze him in midstep. He turned and left.
#
“Hi honey, I’m home,” Stacey said.
There was no answer in the silent house. Stacey looked around and saw a note taped to the fridge.
GONE RUNNING. BACK BY SIX. MIGHT HAVE FOUND SOMETHING.
LOVE CRAIG.
Ps. Can you help me pack for the wedding?
“He does his best thinking while he’s running,” Stacey said to
herself. “I hope he comes up with something good.” She headed into their closet and pulled out their matching suitcases.
Chapter
July 2, 1994
US Air Flight 1016 to Charlotte
Craig and Stacey sat side by side in the first class cabin of the brand new DC-9.
“Why did we have to stop in Colombia, South Carolina?” Stacey asked.
“Because the first flight went from San Fran to Colombia, and this one goes from Colombia to Charlotte,” Craig answered impatiently, like the tired cross country traveler he was.
“So why didn’t we fly direct?” Stacey asked, equally impatiently.
“Can’t get there from here,” Craig sighed. Stacey shook her head in understanding, and they shared a tired laugh.
“When’s the last time we saw everybody?” Craig asked.
“Three years ago at Scott’s Jimmy Buffet Bash in Cleveland. Remember?” Stacey asked.
“Oh yeah. What a blow out that was.”
“Yeah. Now don’t go getting drunk and dancing on the tables this time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know.”
“Yeah, yeah."
“Would you care for a drink ma’am? Sir?” the flight attendant asked.
“No thanks,” Craig said.
“I’ll have a champagne,” Stacey said.
“Boy they sure know how to treat you right up here in first class,” Craig said. “That was an excellent idea to cash in your frequent flyer miles for upgrades,” Craig said.
“After all the flying I did last year, I couldn’t take one more ‘beff surprise’ back in steerage,” Stacey said.
“Stacey. I know this is kind of the wrong time, but…”
“If you’re going to ask me to marry you…”
“No. No way. No that’s not what I was…,” Craig stopped short. He saw the look on Stacey’s face that has confused men for all of recorded time.
“Uh oh. I don’t know why. But I’m checking into the canine chateau aren’t I?” Craig asked.
Stacey said nothing. Craig leaned his head back against the wide leather seat. His left hand rubbed his temples in tiny little circles that pinched the top of his nose.
“What?” Stacey asked.
t="3" wi What what?” Craig responded.
“What were you going to ask me that was no, no, no way going to be if I would marry you?” Stacey asked.
“It’s not that I haven’t thought about it Stacey, but on a plane would not be the way I’d do it.”
“How would you do it?”
Craig thought a moment. “It would be romantic. The two of us, a chilled bottle of champagne, a full moon over the ocean.”
“That sounds nice,” Stacey said.
“Yeah it does,” Craig said. The two slipped into a moment of reverie.
“So what were you going to ask me?” Stacey said.
“Oh. Oh yeah. Talk about your mood wreckers. I was going to ask if you were worried about the software on this plane? We’re pretty sure about what happened to our stuff, and that we cleaned it up. But are we sure? And we’re just one system on this plane. There’s got to be two or three hundred separate software programs running this thing. Don’t you ever worry about it?”
“Never,” Stacey said instantly.
“Never?”
“Never. Craig, if you’re meant to drown it won’t help to move to the Sahara Dessert. You’ll drown.”
“Fate?”
“Fate.”
“Like Mickey and Mallory fate?”
“Exactly. But without all the Natural Born Killing.”
Stacey’s hand crossed the simulated walnut divider between the first class seats. She took Craig’s hand in hers. Stacey shifted slightly so she could look straight at him without turning her head. “Don’t let too many more full moons go by,” she said.
Craig looked back into her eyes. “I won’t.” He stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom.”
“Okay.” Craig stepped into the aisle. Stacey gently prodded him in the back of the leg and he turned to look back at her. She gave him the “come closer” sign. He leaned in.
“When you’re done. Don’t come out. Just unlock the door,” Stacey said.
“Why?” Craig asked.
Stacey raised an eyebrow and kissed the bottom his ear.
“Oh. Okay. I get it. I’ll hurry,” Craig said.
Stacey leaned back in her first class recliner and slowly, quietly, slipped her hand under the blanket on her lap . She closed her eyes and thought about Craig. In what seemed like only a moment later, she saw the sign for the first class bathroom go from occupied to empty, and knew that Craig was waiting for her. She slinked out of her seat, no-one noticed her.
“We’re going to land in a few minutes,” Craig said.
“Then get busy,” Stacey said.
She hiked up her short skirt. Craig pulled her lacy panties down. He was ready. She was ready. He lifted her up onto the tiny airline sink and sank into her. He clung to her thighs and braced against the opposite wall.
“Oh God,” Stacey said.
“Oh yeah.” Craig answered.
The “return to your seat” light came on in the restroom.
“Oh my God. We have to stop.”
“No way. Don’t even think about it. Come on Craig, just a little more.”
Craig tried to keep moving. But the plane suddenly started jerking left and right.
He jammed his feet hard against the back wall and threw his hands behind her. He braced himself and tried to hold her.
Stacey tensed and locked her legs around his back. Craig loosed himself with every cell in his body. The two lovers clung together, drenched in sweat. The “return to your seat” sign was flashing red. The plane bounced harder left and right. Craig slumped his weight onto her.
“I am going to have this sink imprint on my ass for weeks,” Stacey said.
Craig said nothing. His head hung limp against her shoulder. Sweat ran down his face. A knock at the door jerked his head around.
“Come on you two. Back in your seats,” the stewardess barked.
“Come on. We’re busted,” Stacey said.
Craig relaxed his head back onto her shoulder. A smile and a laugh crossing his face.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too. Now come on,” Stacey said.
The stewardess knocked again.
The plane rolled sharply to the left.
“Holy shit,” Craig said.
“Come on. Hurry,” Stacey said. “It feels like we’re in a thunderstorm or something.”
The plane leveled. Craig arranged himself and helped Stacey straighten her clothing. He leaned over to kiss while reaching for the door but was suddenly thrown against her as the plane rolled more sharply to the left.
“Holy SHIT. This is not good,” Craig said.
The plane continued to roll. Craig and Stacey were thrown against the bulkhead then dropped on the ceiling as the plane rolled over. After the roll it pitched steeply down.
“I love you,” Craig said.
“I love….” Stacey managed before her head whipsawed against the wall.
July 2, 1994
Charlotte, Virginia
Assembled From Wire News Reports
US Air Flight 1016 crashed while approaching Charlotte International Airport at 5:37 p.m. today. The pilot, co-pilot, three crew members and fifty-two passengers were killed instantly. Miraculously, fifteen passengers walked away from the crash completely unhurt. Five other passengers were transported to local hospitals where three are listed in critical condition. The NTSB has recovered the black box flight recorder from the DC-9. Airport officials have released tapes of the conversations with the cockpit, which included wind shear and micro downburst warnings. Survivors said the plane was in a shallow left turn when all of a sudden it rolled completely to the left before it broke apart and
then came straight down. Part of the plane, where most of the survivors were located, came to rest in a shallow swamp.
Chapter
July 3, 1994
Charlotte and Seattle
The speakerphone on Jean Bennett’s desk in AirCom’s security center rang for what seemed like the two hundredth time that day.
“Jean Bennett.”
“Jean? It’s Craig.”
“Craig? Hi. I’m kind of busy right now, can I call you back?”
“I’d really like to talk,” Craig said woodenly.
Jean was alerted to the hollowness of his voice. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the hospital, in Charlotte.”
"What are you doing in Charlotte?"
"We were flying to our friend's wedding."
"And you got delayed or something?"
"No. Stacey's hurt."
“Craig. What's going on?”
“We were on the plane.”
“The plane?”
“The plane that crashed yesterday.”
“Oh my God!”
“I’m okay. But….”
“But what?”
“Stacey. She’s hurt. She hit her head in the wreck. They don’t think she’s going to make it.”
“Oh my God. I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes. Ground every AirCom airplane.”
“Craig! What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. It’s the Marauder. It has a virus or something. It’s in the autopilot software. It’s not just the game. It think it’s in the flight software. We tried to get rid of it. I didn’t lie to you. You know how we re-installed everything. But I don't think it worked. You’ve got to ground all the planes. It hurt Stacey. I hurt her…”
“Craig? Craig? Hello? Are you still there?”
The phone line stayed silent.
“Craig? CRAIG?”
“Yes?” Craig answered.
“Craig. I want you to stay right there at the hospital. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Let me talk to Stacey’s doctor.”
“I don’t know where she is.”
“Then just give me any doctor or nurse who’s right there. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” came the hollow reply. The line went silent. Jean envisioned a pay phone swinging at the end of a dull metal coil above a shining waxed lime green hospital floor.