Red Lightning (14 page)

"I hope you know what a great dad you've got, Ray," Travis said, softly.

"I guess so," I said. "I don't really know him that well. I don't know why."

"You should try harder. No reflection on you, I know how it is. But he's one of the best men I ever met. You read his book?"

"Yeah. Quite a story."

"He didn't tell the half of it. When we found the American ship, blown to bits by that half-assed engine Jubal warned them about...

There he was, Manny, your father, puking his guts out, I wouldn't let him go over with the girls because he wouldn't be any use. Then somebody
had
to go over, and it couldn't be me, and I sent Manny. Hardest thing I ever did, landing that VStar in Africa was
nothing
compared to that... but it was nothing,
nothing
, Ray, compared to what your father did. I saw him, suiting up, and I don't think I've ever seen anybody so scared. He didn't put that part in his book. How his hands were shaking and he kept throwing up until somehow, he just
stopped
. Stopped puking, stopped shaking, walked into that air lock and out into space." Once again he looked away into a distance much farther than the walls around us. "I'd do anything for him, Ray. Anything at all."

I haven't had a lot of "man-to-man" conversations with my father. For one thing, I don't think either of us are very good at it. But we did have a pretty good talk once. It was only about a year ago, on the twentieth anniversary of the
Red Thunder
flight, and he'd just finished the last of a dozen interviews and said his face was hurting from the artificial smile he'd had pasted on all day long. He fixed himself a big drink and let me have a little wine. We were in his office at the hotel, and Mom and Elizabeth were already gone. He said he was glad that was over, at least for the next five years. I asked him why he hated it so much.

He waved his hand with the drink in it at the office.

"It's all this," he said. He paused for so long I thought that was going to be all, but then he sighed and looked at me.

"They compare us to Charles Lindbergh. Neil Armstrong. Christopher Columbus, for crying out loud."

"But... what you did was as important as what they did, wasn't it?"

"What we did was important, there's no point in denying that. But those men, they... they were
great
men, Ray. They worked hard to get the chance to do what they did. What I did, what we did... it just sort of fell into our laps. It was nothing but luck, being in the right place at the right time. Travis could have gone himself, without any of us, if he'd found that first bubble himself. I mean, I literally stumbled on it. I've felt like... like an imposter ever since." He gave me a wry grin and sipped at his drink. His eyes were far away.

I thought about it a while. I could just say "You're not an imposter" and leave it at that. But what he had said didn't make sense to me, and I wondered how I could convince him of that. Probably no way, but it was worth a try.

"Columbus was pretty much a loser, wasn't he?" I said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he was a big deal for a while, but in history class these days he doesn't come off so good. Sure, he was an adventurer and an explorer. But he and the ones who came after him enslaved and massacred the natives of the New World." I looked around the office. "Don't see any slaves in here."

Dad laughed.

"Just wage slaves," he said. "I wonder what would have happened if there had been natives?"

"We'd have bored them to death with appearances on every television show on Earth, or put them in zoos. Or married them, like Pocahontas. Anyway, there weren't. And from what they told us, Columbus was one lucky fool. Luckier than you. His whole trip was based on the idea that the Earth was a lot smaller than it actually is. He thought he could get to the Orient – which is what he was planning to do, and come to think of it, he died still believing he'd landed in China – by sailing west. If the Americas hadn't been there, he and his whole crew would have starved to death."

He smiled, but didn't say anything.

Okay, reality check number two.

"Lindbergh? Gimme a break. Well-known Nazi. His flight was nothing but a stunt, the Atlantic had already been crossed by air; who cares if he did it solo? He was a media creation, just like you think you are."

His smile got bigger, and he shook his head a little.

"Neil Armstrong... well, there you got me. He's a hero in my book. His trip was important, he worked for it, he deserved everything he got. Which, apparently, he didn't want! After he got back he buried himself in Ohio and avoided publicity like the black death. Never tried to cash in on his fame."

"I did. Big-time."

"I'd say small-time, from what I know. And so what? Don't you think I know I wouldn't be where I am today if you and Mom hadn't..."

"Sold out?"

"Sold out what? Cashed in, sure. And what's wrong with that? Your book was a historical document. Somebody should complain that you made money off it? Quit kicking yourself over it, Dad. You made one giant leap for mankind."

He actually laughed then, and shook his head.

"Okay, son, you've convinced me."

I could tell that I hadn't, not really, but the look that passed between us was far more important to me. I'd somehow managed to convey to him that, no matter what he thought of himself, I thought of him as a hero. And that that was all that really mattered to either of us.

God, why can't we have more moments like that?

Travis and I left the bedroom and I thought we were done, but he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled my head down nearer to his level.

"I have two words of advice for you, Ray," he said. "You want to hear them?"

"I guess so."

"Don't go."

I didn't say anything.

"Where we're going, it's no place for a kid, Ray. Now don't take offense, I didn't like being called a kid when I was seventeen any more than you do. But it's a fact. You're a kid. Your sister is almost a kid, too, and she's sure too young and innocent for the Red Zone. Don't even get me started on Evangeline, she's got absolutely no business here. But there's no shame in staying here at the ranch, my friend."

"I've got to go, Travis."

"I know you feel that way, but you don't. Not really. We're going to be seeing some things that will stick with you for the rest of your life, and nothing good will be accomplished by that. We may end up having to do things... well, whatever we have to do. You don't need that, either."

"Are you saying you won't take me?"

"I never said that. I think you're old enough to make your own decision. I just think you're making the wrong one."

"What about Elizabeth?" I asked, and I'm afraid I sounded a little petulant, even to myself. "I'll bet you won't ask her not to go."

"You're wrong. I'm going to advise her to stay here with Evangeline. What do you think my chances are?"

"Zero."

"Yeah, that's what I figured. I'll ask anyway. So. What do you say?"

"I have to go," I said.

"So be it." He patted my shoulder and walked away.

It was probably the best advice I ever got. But I didn't take it.

It didn't take long for us all to get a taste of what Travis was talking about, and we got it from the man himself.

"Listen up!" he shouted from the front of the newly painted Duck. We were all seated under the big canvas tarp with the sun just struggling to make itself seen through the thick haze to the east.

"There is only one way this thing will work, and that is absolute obedience. Right now this silly little vehicle is a truck, but before we get where we're going it will be a boat, and we will all behave as if it is a boat at all times. A boat has only one captain, and that captain is me.

Boat captains do not hold elections nor do they conduct polls, except at their own discretion. I may ask you for advice, but once I have received it, my decision in all matters is final, and my orders will be given accordingly, and they will be obeyed. We don't have a brig on this vessel, so flogging will be the punishment of choice. Does anyone have any questions?"

"No, sir, Captain Bligh!" Mom replied. Travis looked at her and smiled with one corner of his mouth.

"You will all be allowed one smart-ass remark per day. That was yours, Kelly."

I could see Mom struggling not to laugh, but she kept her mouth shut.

"This is your last chance to bail out," Travis went on, unsmiling. "I won't ask for a show of hands, but I'm about to start this thing up, and anybody still aboard when I get moving has agreed to abide by my orders until we get back, or until you decide to jump ship. Believe me, I won't think any the less of anyone who gets off now." He was staring daggers at Evangeline, who squirmed uncomfortably. I had an idea she'd been subjected to a much stronger argument than Travis had given me. But she didn't move. He shifted his gaze to Elizabeth, who sat calmly. Then he glanced at me, shrugged, and turned away. He pressed the starter button and the engine instantly roared to life.

We were on our way.

The road dipped down to the lake. Travis did something with the gears, and the Duck eased in and I felt the wheels coming free of the ground. Soon we were afloat, moving at a steady five knots, according to Travis.

"They lost a lot of these things on D day," Travis told us. "Can everybody aboard swim?"

Elizabeth swims like a porpoise; she won medals on the school swim team. As for myself, I'm not elegant or quick, but I get there eventually.

"Good. Now, this is all the shakedown cruise we're going to get, so everybody look around for leaks."

I did, like an idiot. Then I asked, "What are we going to do if it leaks, Travis?"

He tossed me something. I grabbed for it, and naturally I reached too high. It would take a while to get my reflexes adjusted to Earth gravity, where things fall too damn fast. It hit my wrist and fell into my lap. It was a piece of bubble gum.

"You walked right into that one, Ray," he said. I tossed it back at him.

"Got something else for you guys," he said, and dug around in a backpack he had carried aboard. He came out with a handful of thin black leather wallets. I opened mine and saw a shiny gold badge that said
Volusia County Deputy Sheriff
.

"Badges?" Dak said. "Badges? We don' –"

"
– need no steenkin' badges
!" Travis, Mom, and Dad finished with him, and laughed. I looked over at Elizabeth and Evangeline, but they just shrugged. Normally I could have googled the source in about three seconds, but none of our stereos were working, nor would they until we got back to Orlando.

"Are these any good, Travis?" Mom asked.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't they be? I'm a deputy sheriff, and I'm authorized to deputize other people in an emergency."

"I thought that was honorary."

"Let's not harp on technicalities. Oh, speaking of technicalities, all a y'all raise your right hands."

We did.

"Do y'all solemnly swear to do any dad-gum thing I order y'all to do, and to uphold and respect the laws of Volusia County, the great state of Florida, and the United States of America, such as they are in the present state of emergency, and as long as they don't get in the way of doing what we set out to do?"

We all agreed, more or less. Dak was looking down at this badge in his hand and shaking his head.

"Damn. I'm a cop!"

We held a democratic vote to name the Duck. Final results:

Donald 3 (Dad, Mr. Redmond, and Dak)

Daffy 3 (me, Elizabeth, and Evangeline)

Daisy 1 (Mom)

Uncle Scrooge 1 (Travis).

And the winnah is... Scrooge! Well, he warned us, didn't he?

We came up out of the lake on a narrow country lane.
Scrooge
handled this as adroitly as it had handled getting into the water. Travis said the thing could go fifty miles per hour on a good road, but we probably would never get a chance to open her up. It was quite a nice vehicle, actually, over thirty feet long and eight feet wide. The seats were comfortable, the ride was okay. It had only one drawback, and that was the lack of air-conditioning. As the sun rose the stifling, moist Florida heat closed in on us.

We were all dressed in Banana Republic safari stuff, supplied by Travis, of good quality but far too heavy for the humidity. I understood the logic. This wasn't a pleasure trip, we needed the soldierlike garments. But I wished for a light cotton aloha shirt, maybe one with blue parrots or something, like Travis usually wore. Within half an hour we were all drenched.

Come to think of it,
Scrooge
had a second drawback: no windows. Before long we were swarmed by the kind of mosquitoes you think might actually pick you up and carry you away to devour at their leisure. The only thing I know of worse than being covered in sweat is being covered in sweat and bug dope at the same time. It smelled bad, it was oily and sticky, and many of the mosquitoes seemed to regard it as little more than an interesting sauce for the steaming human hot dogs they were feasting on.

No question, the worst thing about Earth was Earthies. The second worst was gravity. And coming on hard on the rail was bugs. I
hate
bugs.

There was an actual boundary to the Red Zone. Starting about seven miles from where the coast used to be, there was an actual wall, from just a few feet high to as much as ten feet, depending on the vagaries of the mostly flat landscape. It was composed of cars and wrecked houses and smashed mobile homes, so common in Florida. It was composed, in fact, of just about anything human beings used in their homes and on their jobs, as if it had all been tossed into a blender, churned on the high setting for a while, and then poured out in a line that cut right across the road we were on.

On either side of the road we saw groups of people, some in uniform, some civilians, some with heavy equipment, some with cadaver dogs, some simply moving wreckage by hand. The operation was at the point all catastrophes like this eventually reach, where some hardy souls are still holding out hope to find living people buried in the debris.