Flight into Darkness (Flight Trilogy, Book 2) (14 page)

The silhouette of a car parked in the median of the highway beneath the shadowy darkness of an overpass burst into a disco of red and blue lights.

CHAPTER 17

8:15 p.m.

The two men huddled in the corner of the room, speaking in low voices. Keri held tight to David and Martha, trying to calm their fears. With her children safely tucked under each arm, Martha said, “Mommy, I’m not afraid.”

Keri turned and forced a smile. “That’s right,” she said, “everything’s going to be okay.”

Anything
to
comfort
the
children
.

Parents are quick to lie to their children to avoid subjects that are incomprehensible for their innocent minds.

“Mommy, do you know why I’m not afraid?”

“Why, Honey?”

“It’s like the movie.”

“What movie, Darling?”

“The movie about the monsters.”

There was only one movie her five-year-old daughter could possibly be thinking of. “Do you mean MONSTER’S, INC.?” It was Martha’s favorite movie. A computer animated feature film aimed at helping children overcome their fear of nighttime monsters in the closet. Two, not-so-scary monsters, Sulley (James P. Sullivan)—a lovable, furry, blue behemoth-like giant, and his best friend and sidekick, Mike (Wazowski)—a short, one-eyed, green alien meet their match in the form of a fearless, little girl called Boo (Mary).

“Remember,” Martha said, “monsters are not really bad people…like in the movie.” She pointed her tiny finger toward Samael. “The big man is white, not blue, and the little man has two eyes, not just one—just like in the movie.”

Martha truly believed what she was saying; possibly a subliminal coping mechanism attempting to dissociate her from an inescapable traumatic situation. Keri had read studies concluding that amnesia, multiple personalities, and even mental illness were chronic forms of dissociation. What Martha was experiencing was a normal defense mechanism, more common to daydreaming. Children often dissociate when they become frightened or overwhelmed.

Keri decided to play along. “So, you must be Boo.”

Martha giggled. “Mommy, you’re funny.”

Samael glanced toward the couch. He smiled. “So, I see we’re having a good time? That’s nice.” He turned and spoke a word to the little man, who then quickly left the room. Keri heard the front door open and the sound of steps fading. “We don’t have much time,” Samael said. “We should probably think about getting the kids to bed.”

Keri said, “I’ll take them up to their rooms.”

“That won’t be necessary, dear.”

Keri heard the front door open, followed by a noisy clatter; the rattle and banging of something. Something on wheels. Around the corner appeared the little man, rolling an ambulance gurney. He positioned it carefully, next to the computer table, pressed the locks on the four castors, and quickly returned outside.

A chill shot through Keri when she noticed the black nylon straps dangling from the sides of the aluminum frame.

Two more trips outside produced two more identical gurneys. He positioned them side by side, their back supports angled up 45 degrees. The little man made one last trip outside, returning with three identical suitcase-size aluminum cases and, what appeared to be, collapsible IV poles. He placed one case and IV pole at the foot of each gurney. He then flipped the latches open on the three cases, lifted the tops, and removed a handful of colored computer cables and electrical connectors from each case. He then closed the cases and secured the latches, but before he did, Keri caught a glimpse of what appeared to be an infusion pump and three pre-filled bags of fluid in each case. She was too far away to determine what was in the bags.

Working with speed and in a precise manner, the little man unrolled nine colored cables. He then clipped one end of each cable into a hub that was connected to one of the computers. The loose ends were then separated into three groups, each containing a red, blue, and yellow cable. He twisted each group together making a rope and ran one rope of cables alongside each gurney.

Keri watched with growing concern. Without a doubt, she and her two children would soon be strapped to the gurneys. Her biggest fear was the contents of the plastic bags.

She glanced at David. The confused look on his face made her heart race. She signed to him: “Not worry. Be calm.” She wanted to scream at the lunatics, cursing them for any thought they might have of harming her children.

The horrid thought of what this monster had done to Emily Dean terrified her. She needed Ryan. He always had answers. She might never see him again. She fought to hold back the tears.

I
need
to
be
strong
for
the
children
.

The lunatic must want Ryan to crash his airplane, like he did Rex. She knew the freak would kill her and the children, just like he did Emily. He would never let them live. How hard would it be for her, even the children, to identify a giant albino with a birthmark on his face?

She had to do something, and fast. Once the freak strapped them to the gurneys, she’d be helpless.

The little man had moved to the kitchen and was probing through the pantry, obviously looking for something to eat. The albino was hunched over the computer screens with his back to her. His handgun was on the table beside the computers.

The albino’s face was inches from the computer screen. The little man was rummaging through the pantry like a rat. If she moved fast enough, she might be able to leap for the gun before the albino could react. Then, after putting distance between her and the albino, she might be able to get off a shot.

Her knowledge of guns was limited to one trip to the firing range with Ryan. She remembered Ryan’s gun did not have an external safety switch. Instead, it had a double-action trigger. If the albino’s gun had a mechanical safety, she would have to locate it before the gun would fire. If she fumbled while trying to flip it off, she might lose her only chance for freedom. What did she have to lose?

“Usman! Quick! He’s slowing! It looks like he might stop!” The albino announced. “This is not good.”

Keri knew something was wrong. She knew Ryan wouldn’t risk doing anything that would endanger his family.

The little man came running, munching on something crunchy he’d found in the pantry. With the two men distracted, this might be her chance. Her eyes locked on the gun. The muscles in her body tightened. Her heart raced. Seconds before she uncoiled, the big man rose from the chair, turned and faced her. He flipped open her cell phone and pressed a button, then listened. After four unanswered rings, the phone transferred to voicemail. Samael turned the speaker towards Keri letting her hear her own voice: “Hi, this is Keri. Please leave me a message.”

He flipped the cell closed. “Keri, your husband has stopped and doesn’t seem to want to answer. You know what that means.” His eyes glanced at Martha then back to Keri.

“Try again!” she pleaded. “Sometimes the reception in that area is bad. It’s the hills.”

The albino tried again. After four more rings: “Hi, this is Keri. Please leave me a message.”

“I’m sorry, dear, but he’s not answering.” He flipped the cell closed and started toward Martha. “You see, Mrs. Mitchell, it’s all about trust. We can’t trust if we don’t first believe, now can we? Apparently, your husband is not a believer yet.”

CHAPTER 18

8:18 p.m.

The interior of Ryan’s car splashed with alternating red and blue lights as the patrol car closed in from behind. Should he speed up? Make a run for it? If he did, the freak would surely call and ask about his speed, not to mention what the cop would do when he finally caught him.

With the cop now on his bumper, flashing the headlights of his Ford Crown Vic, Ryan had no choice but to ease to the side of the freeway.

He put the car in PARK and switched off the engine. The knots in his stomach twisted tighter. His cell phone rang. It was his wife’s familiar ringtone.

Not
now
!

He glanced in the rearview mirror. The patrolman was out of his car, his flashlight beaming a path toward the driver’s side of Ryan’s car.

Ryan reached to his belt, the phone was missing. On the second ring, he remembered he had tossed it in the passenger’s seat.

A third ring.

He fumbled in the dark, finally locating the phone. On the fourth ring, he flipped open the cell and pressed TALK. “I can’t talk,” Ryan said. “A cop just pulled me over for speeding. I swear I won’t tell him anything. I’ll call you back.” Without waiting to hear the lunatic’s response, Ryan closed the cell just as the cop’s light saber swirled through the interior of his car, half blinding him.

“Well, Skipper,” the patrolman said, obviously noticing Ryan’s four-strip epaulets on his uniform shirt, “looks like all you need is a pair of wings and you’d be airborne.”

The tall figure towered above Ryan’s window, in the unmistakable khaki-colored uniform, seven-pronged gold badge, and shiny black belt. “Officer, I must’ve been distracted. I normally don’t—”

“Driver’s license and registration,” the patrolman snapped. “Do you have any weapons, firearms, or drugs in the car?”

As Ryan passed his driver’s license and registration to the cop, the familiar melody of his wife’s cell phone filled the car. Ryan reached and silenced it. “Ahh… No drugs, but I do have a handgun. It’s in the trunk. It’s my authorized duty weapon.”

“Got a permit or some ID authorizing you to carry the weapon?” the cop said.

Ryan pulled his credentials from his back pocket and offered them to the cop.

“What kind of handgun?”

“Forty-caliber Glock.” Ryan nervously waited while the patrolman’s light zeroed in on the credentials. Hopefully the cop wouldn’t ask too many questions. However, he might call his dispatcher; time Ryan couldn’t afford. Ryan glanced at the in-dash clock. Every minute gave the lunatic an excuse to fulfill his promise—youngest to oldest.

“Captain Mitchell, you might want to ease up on your wingless jet.” The cop handed Ryan his license, registration, and credentials. “It’s not that I don’t think you can handle the speed, I’m more concerned with you surprising grandma from behind. Understand?”

“Yes sir, I understand.”

“I’m not going to write you a ticket. The way I see it, we’re on the same side.” The cop leaned down meeting eyes with Ryan. “I appreciate what you’re doing to make it safer for us all when we fly.”

“Thank you. And I’ll be sure to watch my speed.”

The cop acted like he wanted to chat. “You know, it pisses me off about what those ragheads did. My wife and I only fly once, maybe twice a year, but every time we do, I can’t help but think about 9/11.”

“I know what you mean.”

Come
on
!
I’ve
got
to
go
.

Every muscle in Ryan’s body was screaming, drawing tighter as the seconds ticked away. He had to call the lunatic.

“You just can’t afford to let your guard down. Lots of crazies out there. We see it every day in this job. Just the other day—”

“Listen, I’d love to chat, but I’ve got a flight to catch.”

The patrolman stepped back from the car, quickly losing his air of friendliness.

Ryan reached for the ignition. He hesitated.

Should
I
tell
him
?
It’s
my
last
chance
.

Any thought of asking for help vaporized when the familiar melody from Keri’s phone filled the car. His throat tightened.

“I’ll let you take that. Drive carefully and have a nice flight.” The officer turned and walked away.

Ryan pressed TALK on his cell as he raised it to his ear.

“Captain Mitchell,”—the lunatic’s voice sounded pleasant, almost cordial—“don’t you think we should be moving along?”

“Listen, I didn’t tell the cop anything!”

“Did you forget, Captain Mitchell? It’s all about trust. I’m afraid you are not a believer yet. I cannot depend on you to trust if you don’t believe.”

“Okay, I understand…I know, but I swear, I didn’t tell the cop anything!”

“That would’ve been a very stupid thing to do.” The lunatic’s voice was too calm. “Trust is very important. We need to trust each other, don’t we, Captain Mitchell?”

“Yes, of course. You can trust me. Just don’t hurt my family.”

“I want you to trust me, the same way I want to be able to trust you. It makes for a healthy relationship.” The lunatic’s voice firm, focused. “Captain Mitchell, what did I tell you I would do if you deviated from the plan? Remember the rules? Don’t deviate. Don’t try to be a hero. And don’t…what was the last one? ”

“I had to stop! I didn’t have a choice! The cop—”

The lunatic’s voice grew stronger. “What did I tell you, Captain Mitchell?”

“I had to stop! I promise, I didn’t tell the guy anything! I swear!

“Captain Mitchell, it’s all about trust, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and I’m doing exactly like you asked. You can trust me!”

“Well, I certainly hope so, because you know what I will do if I find some cop snooping around outside your house in a few minutes, don’t you?”

“Yes, but you won’t. Trust me, you won’t.”

“Good, then I won’t have to kill your son.”

“My son?”

“Yes. Your son. You’re not too sharp for a jet pilot. Have you forgotten, Captain Mitchell? Youngest to oldest.”

“No! No!” Ryan’s heart pounded from the inside of his chest like a sledgehammer. His head tightened. His eyes filled with water.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” the lunatic said calmly. “Your daughter is dead. When you didn’t answer my call, I killed her. Youngest to oldest. Remember, Captain Mitchell, it’s all about trust.”

CHAPTER 19

8:28 p.m.

The albino closed the cell, picked up the handgun, and eased over in front of Martha. He squatted, bringing them eye to eye. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.” He rose and gazed at Keri.

The lunatic could have killed her, but he didn’t… not yet. His calm, slow movements eased Keri a bit, making her believe he was only messing with Ryan’s mind.