Hidden Courage (Atlantis) (18 page)

“Hmm, penance for rude behavior,” Jack said out loud as he turned back to his still empty machine.

As he sat down, the elderly woman retorted, “First come, first serve, poor sport.”

Her remark demonstrated her total lack of manners and etiquette. Irritated by the selfish old woman’s response, he thought about leaving the area, but sat down at his previous seat. The more he thought about it, the more her presence irritated him. He dropped his coin into the machine and pulled the handle. Seconds later he heard the silence of the tin container. Getting up from his chair, he saw the old woman smugly eyeing him. She had an arrogant smile that cut through Jack, but then her smile changed. Her whole expression changed instantly to a blank stare.

Then Jack heard it. ‘Clink’ was the tinny sound the coin made as it dropped into the pan under the slot machine.

Clink: Jack heard it again.

Turning from the distasteful old woman, he spotted the yellow light at the top of his machine flashing. Clink, clink, clink came the sound of dropping coins into his container. He looked up and tried to figure out how and what he was winning. The display had three rows of characters. There were fruit and numbers locked in across them. He saw the middle row had three 7s displayed. Distracted by the miserable old woman, he had overlooked this winning combination.

The coins kept falling. He watched in disbelief as the bottom of the metal pan began to fill up. Ten seconds ticked by and still the money kept dropping.

Jack’s eyes were glued to that metal plan. Twenty seconds later and still more coins dropped. Nearly thirty seconds later, the machine went quiet. He stared in at his newfound fortune. He knew it wasn’t a lot of money, but it was a lot more than he had ever won in his life. He collected his earnings, a total of $234 dollars, and stood up to leave, not wanting to push his luck and lose any of it.

As he was leaving, the old woman jealously glared at him. Jack thought for a moment, then said, “What comes around goes around. Have a nice day.”

He turned as a scowl crossed the old woman’s face. Walking quickly out of earshot, he left her in her petty world, muttering something in retaliation.

With his newfound fortune, he decided that he wanted to have a decent meal, something he hadn’t had for over a month. The only way Jack could afford this trip was on half a shoestring, eating peanut butter sandwiches morning,
noon
and night, occasionally spending a couple dollars here and there to experience the local cuisine – but always the cheapest thing he could find. Now, after winning, he had enough to actually afford anything he desired.

He wandered into one of the fancy seafood restaurants and ordered the biggest thing on the menu: surf and turf. He gorged himself on baked stuffed shrimp and prime rib for the next hour. It was of the finest quality and Jack thought his taste buds were in overload, barely able to comprehend the exquisite flavors. After paying the $55 check, he was so full he felt like he was waddling like a duck as he window-shopped through the city.

This marked his final night outside the
US
. He made his way to the beach and sat and watched the sun set. He felt sad that his adventure was nearly over. After the sun had set, he took a cab back to the pilots’ lounge at the FBO where his plane was parked. He settled in for the night, completely sated from the fantastic food and the recollection of the wonderful memories he had built.

The day broke and Jack woke from a comfortable night’s sleep. He took some of his winnings and ate a big breakfast at the airport restaurant. He then made his way out to his trusted friend, his floatplane. He looked at it with pride, but also a sense of thankfulness. It had carried him so far and through so much without a single problem. Together, they had flown through oppressive heat, freezing cold, and balmy tropical temperatures. It had cradled him while he slept at dangerous airports in unfriendly countries and landed without protest in locations that most wouldn’t dream of attempting.

Jack ran his hand down the back of the plane affectionately, like he was patting the beloved family dog. He jumped in, called “Clear,” and started the engine. An hour and a half later, after skirting Cuban airspace to the north, he caught sight of land out on the horizon. Excitement and disappointment filled Jack’s emotions. Thirty miles ahead was
Miami
. He would finally be in his own country and the adventure would be over. Ten miles out, he could see the skyline and the skyscrapers that marked the big city’s location. Ten miles out, he was now in contact with the tower at
Miami
International
Airport
.

Crossing from the ocean to the beach, flying the vectors requested by the tower controller, he looked down at the fancy tourist hotels and the brightly colored buildings marking the Latin culture, dominant in the area. It looked like the many tropical locations he had landed at in the past month. It was nice to know that if ever he longed for that experience again in the future, it was just a short flight away.

Jack was home, back in the
United States
. It would take him another three days to fly up the coast to
New England
. Along the way, he took in the sights from above, the terrain and geography completely different than what he’d been living and seeing for the past two months.

He crossed Long Island Sound and into
Connecticut
. Thirty minutes later, he saw the enormous 1500-foot radio towers that marked the location of home, true home –
Robertson
Airport
. As he made his approached to landing, he looked down and saw two small figures standing beside the runway. He recognized them right away: his mom and dad. His mom was jumping up and down, excited at the first sight of the floats, the most distinguishing feature about his plane. His heart started to race. He had missed his parents terribly.

Moments later, he touched down and taxied to the FBO. This time there would be no need for fuel. Grinning ear to ear, he jumped out of the plane, nearly tripping over the float. He ran to his waiting parents.

“Welcome home, Jack,” his tearful mother said, racing to him and hugging him.

She didn’t let go and his father had to cut in on the mother’s moment.

“Can the ole man get a hug over here?” he said, grabbing Jack and hugging him now.

Jack’s eyes welled up with tears as he hugged his parents. It was one of the most emotional moments of his life. He didn’t want it to end.

His dad finally brought everyone back to Earth, saying, “So what’s your next big adventure? Finishing school, I hope,” he said jokingly.

“School first, the
Caribbean
second
,” Jack dryly replied.

“Liked it down there, huh?” his
mother asked, second guessing his meaning.

“You might say that,” Jack replied cryptically.

Jack’s mother stared at him momentarily and thought about his response. With her intuition gnawing at her, she said, “I know you too well, Jack. What are you up to this time?”

“It’s nothing, Mom. Just buried treasure,” he responded with a forced chuckle.

“You’re serious aren’t you?” she asked, now growing worried.

“Well, I did see something intriguing under the water while I was flying between the islands. I can’t be sure, but I think it looked like a hunk of gold.” He paused a moment, then added, “But don’t worry guys, I plan on finishing school first… then I’ll plan my next adventure.”

“Well, just make sure you do it after we’re dead. We’ve had enough worry and stress to last us a lifetime,” his dad said, rubbing his shoulders.

Getting into their warm car, he looked back at his plane. “Thank you,” he mouthed to the tiny floatplane, now sitting alone on the tarmac.

His parents were chattering back and forth, asking endless question, so excited they didn’t even wait for the answers before they asked another. Jack sat in the backseat, watching his tiny plane get smaller and smaller as they drove away. As it finally dropped out of sight, he finally turned and happily began to answer the barrage of questions before him.

~END~

Hi, I’m Christopher David Petersen,

Thank you for your purchase. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I
enjoyed writing it.
If you have the time, I’d greatly appreciate you
leaving a review.

Hidden Courage
is book one of a three book series. Please see below for the first chapter of book two: The Tomb of Atlantis.

If you’d like to contact me personally, please use the email address below:

[email protected]

For further reading by Christopher David Petersen:

The Tomb of Atlantis

Sample Chapter
:

Atlantis – Chapter 1

THE
ATLANTIC OCEAN
: 10,000 B.C.

His hand was moist with sweat as he nervously grasped the tiller. Shaking it out, he wiped the offending moisture on his sleeve, then quickly returned his hand to the rudder. Looking over his shoulder, fear and apprehension broke free of
their
restraints and began to escape from
their
exile. His eyes shifted and his posture softened as his mind toyed and deceived his logic. Like a ravaging cancer, desperation flooded his conscious and he now began to consider defeat. “Blast!” he called out in disgust, and he banished the offending emotions to their asylum.

Narrowing his eyes, he summoned his courage deep from within. Like a Greek god, he stood bold and statuesque as he returned his stare to the expansive seas in front of him.

Sophocles, captain of his vessel and admiral of his fleet, scanned the horizon. A warrior by trade and
a
sailor by passion, he spent most of his forty-seven years at sea. Tall and muscular, yet weathered and gray, he was considered an enigma to most warriors half his age. Having survived tragedies, battles and storms, he was called upon once more to push the limits of his courage and skill as he attempted to cross the
Atlantic
.

Sophocles searched the horizon and surrounding waters for signs of land. There were none: no distant gray shadows on the horizon that distinguished land, no birds flying to their nearby destinations
,
and no floating plant or human debris that signaled a civilization just beyond their line of sight.

Disappointment spread through him as he realized there was no safe haven to be found.

Sophocles turned around and stared at the Egyptian armada that trailed only a few hundred yards behind him. Spread out over a quarter mile to each side, there were more than a hundred ships in his hot pursuit. Over the course of two weeks, Sophocles’ slower, less skilled ships were picked off one by one, and now his fleet consisted of only a handful of his most skilled and fastest sailors.

Sophocles squinted hard at the lead ship, trailing directly behind him. Standing triumphantly on its bow was Lempithius, captain of all the Egyptian fleet. The two admirals locked stares upon each other and for a moment, no one else in the world existed. Even with the distance between them, Sophocles could see the deep hatred and anger that seethed from Lempithius as he stood with clenched fists. Lempithius’ time had come and he would fully enjoy his revenge.

“He’s gaining on us, sir,” called a voice from behind Sophocles.

“Indeed,” Sophocles replied without breaking his stare.

“The men are rowing at maximum capacity. I fear they cannot keep up this pace much longer,” called the familiar voice once more.

Sophocles turned to face his first mate. His eyes burned with an intensity that seemed to intimidate his first officer, Zotikos. Realizing his unintentional action, he reached out and placed his hand on Zotikos’ shoulder.