by Bobby Akart
Bear was quick to weigh in. “Besides, what are you gonna do with it? Leave it here? Call the Colombian cops?”
Gunner raised his hands to calm his friends down. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. This money can do a lot of good for a lot of people, including us. I don’t judge and I don’t give a damn if others judge me. I mean, do you think NASA or the DOD or even Ghost promised me a bonus for flying into space to kill an asteroid. Hell no.”
“So what’s the plan?” asked Cam.
“Well, we need to keep this quiet so we don’t create a riot,” began Gunner in response. He nodded toward Caroline and the other hostages. “In case you haven’t counted, they now have more guns than we do.”
Cam looked over at the women, who were milling about, carrying AK-47s like they were walking sticks. “Do you think they’d take us on? Seriously?”
“No,” replied Gunner, and then he hesitated. “No, I hope not anyway. I just don’t want to have to kill any of them if they try.”
Bear made a suggestion. “I counted a dozen baggies of gold. Let’s give it to them. They can’t readily spend the Benjamins anyway. Plus, who knows, the damn dollar has probably collapsed after the meteor storm.”
“I agree with Bear,” said Cam. “As they travel, it’ll be easier for them to conceal gold while on the road.”
Gunner nodded his agreement. He instructed Bear to retrieve the gold, and he’d explain to Caroline what they had in mind. Once they had the women and children settled in their vehicles, they’d send the caravan on their way.
Gunner approached the boy and scruffed the top of his head. A broad smile came over his face, although he hadn’t really stopped smiling since he reunited with his mother.
He pulled her to the side and got right to the point. “Caroline, we found some gold coins that we’d like to give everyone. I don’t know how much it’s worth, but based on the weight, I’m gonna guess around a hundred thousand for each of you.”
She didn’t respond but, rather, immediately wrapped her arms around Gunner. She whispered the words thank you in his ear.
He continued. “I wish we could help all of you get home, but we can’t. Are you sure you can handle this?”
“Yes. I know my way around, and there are people I can call upon for help. Once we make it to the river, our options are greater.”
Gunner knelt down next to the young boy. “You know, I never got your name.”
“Angel,” said Caroline, pronouncing it in her native tongue as an-hale. “He’s my Angel.”
“Well, Angel, one day I hope your mother will tell you how much you have meant to me. I will never forget you, kid.”
Gunner hugged the boy again and had difficulty letting him go, even as Cam told him everything was ready. Gunner finally released his embrace of Angel and then hugged Caroline a final time.
“Godspeed, Caroline.”
“Same to you, Gunner Fox. I’ve never met a man like you. Thank you for saving us all.”
Gunner looked to the ground, then to the sky, and nodded.
Bear opened the gates and waved to the women as they drove away from the compound in a variety of vehicles. Cam and Gunner joined his side, and within a minute, they were alone.
Chapter 43
Drug Cartel Compound
The Darién Gap
Colombia, South America
Bear closed the gates and joined Gunner in the center of the compound. Cam wanted to make one more sweep around the buildings to make sure there were no stowaways or stragglers.
“Bear, how did you get here?” Gunner asked.
“Over the river and through the woods, dude. You have no idea.”
Gunner chuckled. “Yeah, actually I do. I mean what type of aircraft? I assume you flew in, right?”
“You bet. They assigned us another Valor AV-280, except this variant’s better. It has more cargo space and double the fuel capacity.”
“Where’d you come from?”
“We staged on the USS Harry S. Truman and CSG 8 in the Caribbean Sea. But they were buggin’ out to the Atlantic. It seems the Russians decided to flex their muscles in the middle of the chaos.”
Gunner shook his head and furrowed his brow. Same shit, different day.
Bear continued as Cam rejoined the group. “Anyway, we dropped it down about four clicks from here on the far side of the wreckage. The plan was to fly to an agency dark site in Costa Rica to refuel, and then haul our cookies back to the ranch.”
Gunner strolled away and turned in a complete circle. “Can you drop the Valor here, in the middle of the compound?”
Bear began to point to the burned-out trucks and dead bodies. “Oh, I’ve got room, but the LZ is not so great,” he replied, referring to the landing zone.
“We can clear it, but it’ll take some time,” suggested Cam.
Gunner had a thought. “Bear, can you make it to the Valor on your own?”
Bear took a moment to explain the difficult, roundabout way they’d used to find the compound. Gunner relayed his more direct approach, using the rope bridge that led directly to the crash site. The three of them studied their GPS devices and concluded that Bear would have to trek about three miles through the jungle, which was much closer than they realized.
“Sounds like a plan,” said Bear. “I’ve got clear skies, six full magazines, and a healthy dose of paranoia to keep me alive as I cut through the jungle. No prob.”
Gunner laughed and fist-bumped his friend. “I never thought otherwise. Be careful, and we’ll have this place cleared and ready when you get back.”
Bear and Cam exchanged high fives and he was off. For the next hour, Cam and Gunner moved the dead bodies into the warehouse. The two of them lined up the dead, face up, and then took photos of them on Blanco’s cell phone. They planned on taking the phone and a box loaded with all of the books and records in it to the DEA, assuming they’d be able to use them in some manner.
Next, they searched all the buildings in the compound, looking for drugs or anything that might assist future drug cartels in the production of cocaine. They wanted to destroy it all on their way out. The drugs, equipment, and dead bodies were gathered in the warehouse building. Cans of gasoline and kerosene were at the ready to torch the entire place on exit.
Using a large farm truck, Gunner and Cam worked together to push the charred remains of the vehicles that were damaged during the battle with the cartel. When they were done, Bear’s landing zone was more than wide enough to accommodate the tilt-rotor aircraft.
Finally, they gathered up everything from duffle bags to grain sacks to be used to load the bundles of money into the Valor.
Time passed quickly, and before long, the thumping sound of the tilt-rotors could be heard over the jungle canopy. Cam and Gunner stood in the middle of the compound, shielding their eyes from the bright afternoon sun.
They stared at the bags full of money in silence as Bear began his descent.
Then Cam turned to Gunner. “Heather would be proud of you, you know?”
He laughed. “Why, because now we’re rich?”
“No, dumbass,” said Cam jokingly. “You do realize that you saved the freakin’ planet, right?”
Gunner shrugged. “Hell, I haven’t even thought about that. Cam, when I was coming back from the asteroid, I was the only one alive. There was so much debris. I mean huge chunks of space rocks flying alongside the Starhopper. It looked pretty bad from my perspective.”
“Well, we’ll have to see what the final damage assessments are, but you saved a lot of lives up there.”
Gunner frowned. “I took some, too. There’s so much I have to tell you about the Russians.”
“Same here,” she replied. “Listen, we’ve got plenty of time for that. I’m talking about what you did for Earth. You did it, Gunner. I guess now we can call you a space cowboy.”
“Shut up, Cam. I’ll never go back into space.”
“Never say n
ever.”
“Never. There, I said it again and I mean it. This pilot plans on keeping his feet right here on the ground, or at least in close proximity of it anyway.”
The two separated to guide Bear to the cleared space in the compound. Gunner and Cam quickly loaded their gear and the bags of money on board the Valor. Together, they worked to start the fire inside the warehouse building.
Just as they lifted off, a series of small explosions occurred in which pockets of air were ignited by the flames. By the time the Valor reached the top of the jungle canopy, the entire compound appeared to be in the midst of an inferno.
“Okay, guys, let’s head home,” said Bear as he reached for the controls to convert the tilt-rotors to fly as an airplane.
“Not just yet, Bear,” interrupted Gunner. “We’ve got one more stop to make.”
Chapter 44
Fort Mills
Near Delta, Alabama
Pop considered himself to be a social creature. Unlike Gunner, who preferred to be locked away at his Dog Island beach house, Pop had to be on the go. When there were no visitors to ferry back and forth between Carrabelle and the island, he’d make the rounds on his golf cart, visiting with neighbors. Sometimes, he’d fuel up the Cessna 185 Skywagon and explore the Gulf Coast, meeting new people and entering into long conversations about nothing in particular.
At first, he was comfortable being left alone at Fort Mills with Howard. Cam and Bear were going to find his son. He found ways to stay busy, falling back on his old skills learned in the Air Force to catalog and organize all of their supplies.
He’d monitored all forms of radio communications at his disposal. The Bearcat radio scanner constantly monitored local first responders. The American Red Cross crank radio was set to a local AM station that provided updates from available news sources. But it was the ham radios that provided him a glimpse into the impact the remnants of the asteroid had on the nation and the world.
He’d fallen asleep on several occasions, slumped over on the desk where the ham radio base receiver was located. Once in a while, because he simply wanted to engage in human contact, Pop had initiated conversations with ham operators around the country.
Sometimes he was brutally chastised, unfairly so, for not having a license and the customary call sign. He’d determined that many operators were a little over the top in their efforts to protect their territory.
Others were more understanding, especially under the circumstances, where television outlets were unable to broadcast and news was only delivered through word of mouth.
Despite the challenges, he had a pretty good handle on the carnage being wrought around the world. He was relieved that the damage to the U.S. had been confined to three regions—North-Central California and Western Nevada, the Northeast, and the upper Midwest along the Canadian border. Cities around the Great Lakes were especially hard hit as large chunks of space rock caused tsunami conditions along the low-lying areas near the water.
It was his vigilance in monitoring radio chatter that allowed him to keep up with the wildfires burning in central Alabama. The earliest meteorites that struck east of Birmingham had taken their toll on the forests surrounding the remote community of Delta where the cabin was located.
At one point, as the Clay County Emergency Management Services asked for local residents to assist in monitoring the progress of the fire as it spread into Cheaha State Park, Pop took the Cessna for a ride.
For an hour, he flew from Interstate 20 to his north, and then south into the Talladega National Forest, observing the fire line and making notes of visible landmarks. He wasn’t familiar with this area like he was the Florida Panhandle, but he’d grown adept at picking out distinctive features of terrain or man-made structures while he was soaring overhead.
He relayed the information to the local sheriff’s office, and he was later credited with saving the lives of several families in the small community of Highland located to the southwest of Fort Mills.
The flight also helped him make a decision. As the meteor storm began to dissipate on Monday morning, word began to spread across the country that the lower forty-eight could breathe a sigh of relief.
To be sure, there were challenges and threats to everyone’s safety, just not from above. The process of helping the injured, identifying the dead, and rebuilding the nation would begin on May 1.
Pop wanted to go home and so did Howard. The basset hound never got comfortable in his new surroundings. He had difficulty sleeping, which was a real sign that he was distressed. That pup slept more than he was awake. He also missed Gunner, as did Pop.
His flight to inspect the status of the fire revealed that local firefighters had made a last stand, so to speak, at County Road 49 that ran north-south through the county. They’d used the best available fire-suppression tactics, including creating a fire line along the road.
A fire line was a substantial undertaking designed to create a break in a wildfire’s fuel. Using heavy machinery like bulldozers and Bobcats, firefighters cut, scraped and dug at the earth in an attempt to widen an already existing barrier.
County Road 49 had become their last line of defense. Locals volunteered to assist in the effort, using hand tools and chain saws to clear the west side of the road.
On Pop’s last pass, he saw that the fire had jumped the road and was now burning out of control to the immediate west of Fort Mills. The small lake and stream that separated the woods from his position wouldn’t be sufficient to stop the flames, as they were continuously whipped up by wind.
So he began his calculations. He’d made the decision to return to Dog Island, and if it was gone due to a tsunami, then he’d try to make his way back to Maxwell as instructed. However, his hour-long flight had used up more of the aviation fuel than he’d planned. As a result, Dog Island was truly his only option.
The plane’s empty weight was approximately two thousand pounds, and its maximum takeoff weight allowed for another thousand pounds of supplies, including the pilot and his sixty-pound passenger. Pop packed the most important supplies, including all of the radio communications equipment, weapons, ammo, and some food. He knew takeoff would be difficult, but he had confidence in his abilities to bring the Cessna off the water.
That morning, Pop told Howard the good news that they were going home. Howard sensed the excitement and spent much of the morning running through the cabin and barking. That, coupled with the two Benadryl tablets Pop had given him for his allergies, caused Howard to become sleepy. That was for the best, as he’d waited until the last minute to break the bad news—Howard was going to fly.
The basset hated flying. The moment Pop began to walk him down the dock, he dropped his hind end and hunkered down. He became dead weight, and ultimately, Pop had to use all his strength to pick him up, carry him to the plane, and hoist him aboard.
It was the moment of truth. The smell of smoke was strong now, and the decision to leave appeared to be a good one. The Cessna float plane seemed to struggle, but it rose into the sky just above the tops of the pine trees that would be in flames by the end of the day.
As Pop flew southward, he realized the wildfire was only one ridge away from roaring toward the cabin. If he hadn’t taken the flight to assist the local authorities, it was possible he and Howard would’ve died.
Feeling better now that he was airborne, he checked his gauges and chatted up his passenger. A gust of wind slapped the Cessna in the side, causing its fixed wing to waver. Pop held on and maintained control.
“Old boy, I don’t see any fires up ahead. What we just left looked more like Hell than Tate’s Hell Forest.”
Pop began to lower his altitude to get a better look at Franklin County, which spread out ahead of him along the coast. There was one area that appeared to be smoldering well to his east toward Alligator Point, but other than that, the ground didn’t appear to be disturbed. The Gulf of Mexico came into view, as did Saint George Sound.
He began his desc
ent, flying across Highway 98, over Hidden Beaches, and toward The Cut. Before he landed, he wanted to encircle the island to observe the damage.
Pop was puzzled. He could see the outline of Dog Island, but to the west, St. George Island seemed considerably shorter and The Cut was much wider. He immediately feared that a tsunami had in fact hit the islands, or that the undercurrent pulled away the beaches.
He slowed his airspeed and made a wide left turn as he moved over the enlarged gap between the two islands. He banked left and pressed his nose to the glass while firmly holding Howard in the copilot’s seat.
Pop gasped and shook his head in amazement at what he saw.
Chapter 45
The Darién Gap
Colombia, South America
Bear struggled to drop the AV-280 Valor between the trees overhanging the crash site of the Starhopper. Despite the wide swath of jungle that had been crushed below, the tree canopy remained for the largest part of the area that contained the wreckage.
To Bear’s credit, he didn’t complain or spew out any sarcastic one-liners, which were his trademark. He knew how important this was to Gunner.
“Hang on, guys. I think I’ve got the angle right this time,” said Bear, who’d manipulated the tilt-rotor’s descent to an angle that was considered dangerous by the designers at Bell and Lockheed Martin. Of course, they’d never consulted an expert pilot like Lieutenant Barrett King. Hands-on experience was far more valuable than computer-simulated flights.
“Um, we hope so,” said Gunner as a palm frond was shredded by the rotors. He glanced at Cam, who put her index finger to her ear and twirled it in a circular motion, indicating they were crazy to attempt this.
Bear corrected the aircraft back to a stable position and gently dropped it to the jungle floor, using two fallen black palms as landing skids. As he powered down, he looked through the external cameras to ensure the trees would hold them in place.