The underbrush grabbed at Richard’s clothes and ripped at his hands and face. He gasped for breath, lungs burning. Sweat glued his shirt to his skin and ran down his cheek. Next to him, Alex paused and held his hand up, crouching low. Richard dropped as well, bent over, hands on knees. They remained still; Buddy obediently paused beside Alex’s left leg, panting softly. Richard slowed his breathing so he could listen. He could make out indistinct voices behind them, some distance off, accompanied by the sounds of men thrashing through the bushes. There was an occasional loud snap of a twig, but nothing nearby. Richard was grateful for the chance to catch his breath.
“They’re moving away,” said Alex in a raspy, puffing whisper. “We’ll wait here for a few minutes to let them get a little farther.” For the past half hour, Alex led them on a convoluted, back and forth trek through the trees and dense foliage. He seemed to know what he was doing and was able to guide them through the line of searching policemen, weapons held at the ready, and into the area the police already scoured.
Other than being behind the advancing policemen, Richard had no idea where they were. “What now?” he asked. “We got a chance of getting away?”
“A chance, yeah,” said Alex. “I have a friend that lives just on the other side of that fence. We sometimes walk our dogs together.” He nodded to their left.
“At least there’s no more shooting,” said Richard. The shooting stopped as soon as they disappeared into the woods.
“I just hope I’m not getting my friend into trouble.” Alex stood, bent over at the waist, and moved toward a gate in the fence. “Come on, quickly, quietly. Buddy, heel.” In a few seconds, they were through the gate, across the open yard and inside a garage. “I think we made it. I don’t think they saw us,” Alex said. He knocked at the door leading into the house from the garage. There was no answer. Alex went to a shelf next to the door, produced a key and opened the door himself. He indicated with a hand gesture that Richard should stay in the garage, and Alex and Buddy went inside. Richard sat on the cement floor and tried to catch his breath.
Fear raged in him. It had a texture, he could touch it. It had a sound, roaring with a fury in his ears. It had a color, he could see it; everything he saw was tinted with it. It smelled of sour sweat, tasted of dry sand. It was all around him. In every breath, every heartbeat, every thought. It began when he first saw Martin with a gun; it crescendoed when the bullets started flying. It crashed like a tsunami washing across his mind, driving all thought, feeling, emotions, all else, from his awareness like so much flotsam.
He reached out with his consciousness and embraced the fear. My old friend, he thought. I know you. We’ve met before. He let the terror roil and surge, not trying to impede or control it. He just watched. Slowly, the size of the waves decreased, the spume and spray returned to the turbid waters.
Richard paid close attention to the air going in and out of his lungs. He felt it pass through his nose and into his throat. He felt his diaphragm rise and fall; his lungs fill with oxygen-rich gas, then exhale with heavy doses of carbon dioxide. His breathing slowed, but still came in deep draughts. Slowly, slowly, the fear ran out like an ebbing tide. It returned, in brief waves of memories - loud explosions and whizzing bullets followed by sprays of dirt pushed into the air by rushing lead; memories of “Shoot to kill! Don’t let them leave the house alive!” He noted these and watched as they washed back to the place they came from.
He turned his attention to the garage around him. It smelled vaguely of oil and dust. The light was dim, coming from a sole window in the back. It was a large open space; no car was present. The air was cool, chilled by the slab of concrete at his feet. For a second, Richard was there, in the garage, at that precise moment and nowhere else, no when else. Then thoughts came rushing in, filling the psychic space left behind.
Do I wear a crazy magnet? Richard asked himself. No, Gary was deranged. But the police? Still, why couldn’t he be in New England for ten minutes without being swallowed in violence? He must have accumulated some really interesting karma in a previous life.
Alex reappeared through the same door, without Buddy. “My friend and her dog aren’t here. I left a note and I’m leaving Buddy here. I also called for a cab to come pick us up. They should be here in ten minutes.”
“You don’t think the police will stop us if they see us in a cab?”
“I’m gambling they haven’t had time to organize a thorough search of the area yet. Though they probably have set up road blocks at the edge of town, to make sure we don’t leave.”
“We do have to get out of town, though, right? I mean, we’ll get caught for sure if we stay here. How’s the cab going to get us past the road blocks?”
“I have a plan. You got any thoughts?”
Richard paused for a moment. Nope. He was so far out of his element, his mind was blank when he searched for ideas. Besides, Alex seemed to be doing really well so far. He was content to follow Alex’s lead. “I haven’t got a clue.” He happened to glance at Alex’s waist. “Uh, Alex… You’re armed.”
“What?” Alex looked down to where Richard was looking. The pistol Martin had dropped was still in his belt. “Dammit, I forgot about that. Shit.” He took it and held it out to Richard. “I don’t want it. Here, you take it.”
“No way.” Richard backed up and held his hands up as if to ward the thing off.
“Shit.” Alex looked around the garage. “Can’t just leave it in here. Kids come in here. It’s dangerous.”
“Can you put it in your pocket where it’s out of sight?”
The cab pulled up and honked. Alex put the gun in the front pocket of his pants. It bulged, but did not openly declare itself to be a gun. He took it back out and stuck in his belt again, this time pulling his shirt tail out so it hung loosely, covering the pistol without obvious remainder. Satisfied, Alex led the way out to the cab, walking as nonchalantly as he could manage.
The cabbie opened the back door for them and asked, “Where to?”
“The airport,” said Alex as he got into the cab.
“Logan?”
“No. Georgetown Airport.”
The cabbie raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
In the back of the cab, Richard turned to Alex, speaking softly so the cabbie couldn’t hear. “There’s something I need to tell you. I don’t know what it means, but you need to know.” Alex gave him a questioning look. “I didn’t put the pieces together until now, but that accident I was in yesterday? I don’t think it was a simple accident.”
“What?”
“A large black sedan followed the cab I was in from the airport. He was after something, I don’t know what. Probably never will know either. He followed too close and ran into us. The sedan spun off into the median strip, rolled and burned up. I really have no idea what he wanted. But I’m pretty sure, now, he was after something he thought I had in my bag. Why he thought I had anything interesting in there, I have no clue. Anyway, I think the driver of that sedan must have somehow passed his suspicions off to Martin and Martin came looking for - whatever.”
Alex looked at him for a moment, saying nothing.
“The scariest thing about what’s going on is the not knowing,” said Richard. “If I just had an inkling of an idea, a hint, I’d have something to work with. Something to help me decide on a course of action, a guide, no matter how vague, that could lead me in some purposeful direction. But,” he raised his hands in resignation, “I have nothing.”
“That’s just great,” said Alex. “I’ve got a couple of days off, but what am I going to do if we can’t get this straightened out by then? I have to show up for work or I’ll lose my job. If I call someone and let them know I won’t be there, they’ll find us for sure. Then, more shooting. Damn! I can’t afford this. I have mortgage payments, airplane payments. This could screw up my whole career!”
“I’m sorry, Alex. Had I known what was going to happen, I never would have gotten you involved. But, believe me, I had no idea.”
Alex sighed deeply. “Well, it’s too late now. I’m in it, whatever ‘it’ is, up to my eyeballs. We’re just going to have to deal with what we’ve got. Take it as it comes. I don’t see any other way to play it.”
The rural lanes leading to the airport were narrow, tree-lined, and bumpy. On one side were large homes surrounded by larger lawns. On the other, a veil of forest hid what lay beyond. A gap in the trees appeared and the cabbie turned the car into a small gravel parking lot.
Richard looked around as they stopped. In front of them were narrow roadways and to the side of these were large grassy fields surrounded by trees. Along one side of the fields and directly to their left was a long row of dilapidated and rusting metal-sided buildings. Numerous small, very small, airplanes were parked on the grass in front of these – Richard wondered why. The place looked like a grassy parking lot for little planes. “So, where’s the airport?” he asked.
“Right here.” Alex sounded puzzled. “I figure the roads in and out of town will be watched closely. So we’re not going to take a road. We’re going to fly.”
Richard knew Alex was a pilot, and he knew Alex had a plane. But he had no idea how big the plane was, what kind it was, or where it was kept.
Alex paid the cabbie with a credit card and they got out. “I suppose they can trace us through the credit card,” said Alex. “At least they do in the movies. So that’s the last time I can do that. From now on, everything is cash. You got any?”
“Very little, just what I’m carrying in my pockets. A few bucks at most.”
“Do you have a cell phone?”
“No.”
“I do.” He reached in his pocket, pulled it out and shut it off. “They can track those too.” They walked down the edge of the grass field in front of the metal buildings. At the fourth building, Alex stopped, unlocked a padlock, and opened its door – a large door that folded on itself, leaving a wide entrance in the front.
Richard followed Alex inside. “So where’s the plane we’re going to fly?” he asked.
“Right here,” replied Alex. He nodded toward a very small, but colorful, blue and yellow airplane.
“Where?” Richard saw only the small plane.
Alex put out his hand and caressed the spinner. “Isn’t she a beaut? Three-hundred horses under the cowl, she’ll climb at 2700 feet per minute at sea level. She has a roll rate of 360 degrees per second, and vertical penetration of 3600 feet – she’s a real sweetheart!” As he talked, he moved around the plane, giving it a close look.
The plane’s tandem cockpit was little more than a hole with two seats in it, fore and aft, covered by a plastic bubble. All that separated the flyers from the great beyond was a cardboard-thin skin. It looked more like something you would put on than get in. Richard placed his hand on a wing. It didn’t feel very strong. “What’s it made of?”
“Mostly carbon fiber.” Alex looked over at his friend and added, “It’s a type of plastic, like fiber glass, but much stronger and lighter. This baby’ll suffer fifteen positive g’s and ten negative without breaking a sweat.”
Plastic? Glass? Suffer? Break? “Uh… Couldn’t we take something bigger, metal maybe?”
“Why in the world would we want to do that? There’s only the two of us and this thing’s certified fully aerobatic, including snap rolls and tail slides.”
Aerobatic? Snap what? This wasn’t looking too good.
“Look, I don’t think we have a whole lot of time here. We need to get moving. Help me push her out. Push here.” Alex indicated a spot on the back of the wing by the fuselage.
Once out on the grass, Alex walked around the plane again, draining fuel from various places, checking the control surfaces, the oil. “I think we’re set.”
He moved around to the left side of the plane and pulled out what looked like a flat backpack from the front cockpit. Holding it out to Richard, he said, “Put your arms through here,” indicating straps attached on either side. He helped Richard strap on the thing. “This is your ‘D’ ring.” He indicated a shiny metal ring tucked inside one of the straps. “Do not pull it unless you intend to use the parachute.”
Parachute? Use it? “Why should I want to use it?”
“You won’t. You get in the front seat.”
“Shouldn’t the pilot sit in front?”
“Pilot sits in the back in this plane. Step here, and nowhere else.” He pointed to the wing root next to the fuselage. “Step onto the front seat. Put your hands here and here,” he pointed, “and lower yourself into the seat. It’s a tight fit, but you’ll make it.”
Richard did as he was told, aided by Alex, and was soon sitting comfortably. There wasn’t much room to move.
“This plane is built for two pilots, so if you feel in front of your feet, you’ll find rudder pedals. Don’t put your feet on ‘em. Bend your knees so you don’t touch ‘em and interfere with my flying the plane. The stick between your legs has to be free to move too.” While telling him this, Alex was reaching over Richard’s shoulders and around his waist, attaching more straps and pulling them very tight.
“That’s kind of tight,” said Richard.
Alex ignored him and pulled on a lever attached to the waist strap. The strap got a lot tighter. “The tighter, the better.” Alex checked his handiwork, and, approving, placed a set of earphones with microphone boom on Richard’s head. “This is your headset. Just talk naturally into it – you don’t have to push any buttons. It won’t work until the plane is started, though.”
Richard heard Alex struggle with straps as he put on his own parachute.
“Gotta put this gun somewhere else,” said Alex
Richard was so tightly tied down, he couldn’t turn around and look at Alex. He could only look out to the front and to the sides as far as he could twist his head. A muffled thud suggested Alex put the gun somewhere in the plane.
Alex got settled in his own seat and soon there was the sound of a starter motor, then the throbbing pulse of a large, high horsepower engine. There was a crackling in Richard’s earphones and he heard, “How do you hear me?”
“I hear you fine.”
“You’re loud and clear as well.”
The pitch of the engine increased and the plane started bumping along the grass toward a roadway that Richard now assumed was a taxiway. “Where’s the runway?” He looked around and did not see anything promising.
“Just up ahead. We’ll be out of here soon. I just have to check out a couple of things first.” The engine got louder for a while and it felt like the little plane was straining to jump into the sky. “Okay, let’s go fly!”
They moved forward and onto what looked like another taxiway – it was quite narrow. Richard couldn't see the taxiway after they lined up on it. The plane had a tail wheel that made it sit nose high on the ground and he couldn't see the ground past it. He wondered how Alex could see where he was going. The engine suddenly got very loud and with a deep throaty roar, they started moving forward. Soon, the tail lifted up. Richard could now see in front of them. Not very far ahead were several trees. Richard didn’t think there was nearly enough room to take off, but it wasn’t long before the little plane was airborne and climbing rapidly. He looked off to his left as they passed the midpoint of the runway and saw a police car pull into the driveway of the airport.
. . .
They flew to the Northwest, climbing to six-thousand five-hundred feet. “How you doin’ up there?” Alex called to Richard.
“Okay. Man, you can really see a lot out of this canopy, can’t you? I’m used to looking out of those tiny little windows in the airliners.”
“Yeah, I love the view.” Alex looked out over the green fields of New England, the trees and many ponds, lakes and reservoirs. He never tired of the scenery.
“So,” asked Richard. “Where do we go from here?”
“How the hell should I know? I’m just taking this one step at a time. Get away from the bullets. Get away from the guys shooting the bullets. Get out of the town where the guys are that are shooting the bullets. You got any ideas?”
“We need help,” said Richard. “I can’t believe there isn’t some authority, somewhere, we could surrender to and get this settled. We’ve done nothing wrong, right? So there must have been some horrible mistake. We just need to straighten it out.”
“I can’t think of another alternative. We can’t run forever. We just need to be careful who we surrender to. The FBI, maybe?”
“The police all over the country can’t be out to kill us. Maybe we can just turn ourselves in to a police station somewhere else.”
“I don’t know. There is a dead cop, you know. And Martin is sure to say we did it.”
“They may put us in jail,” said Richard, “and put us on trial, but they won’t shoot us on sight. Will they? It might give us a chance.”
Alex was quiet for a moment. “One thing at a time. We can’t fly forever. We need to land somewhere within three hours. I think we should find somewhere where those guys back there can’t find us. We don’t know how connected they are. If they’re what they appear to be, they have a lot of resources they can use. We need to go somewhere we can hide until we’re ready to give ourselves up. This airplane stands out because it’s so unusual.” He paused in thought. “There’s one place I know of where it’d fit in like a tree in a forest. There’s an aerobatic contest down in New Jersey starting tomorrow and there’ll be a number of aerobatic planes there beginning today. Maybe we should go down to the contest. Philadelphia is close by; we might go to the FBI there.”
“Okay, but then why are we heading north? New Jersey is south.”
“Well, I had to head somewhere. I just picked northwest at random. But, you know what? The guys watching the radar screens on the ground can tell where we’re going. If we fly up to the Connecticut River valley, turn off the transponder and descend over the river below radar coverage, it’ll look like we were heading northwest and then disappeared. Then we can fly south, below the radar, for a hundred miles or so, do a touch-and-go at a small airport, turn on the transponder, and climb out toward our destination. It should look like a plane just took off and they won’t be able to know it’s us.”
“Do you really think we need to be so complicated?”
“I don’t know, it couldn’t hurt. I’ve never tried to hide from the police before. Did you see that police car drive up as we took off?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, if they can find out that quickly that I have a plane and where I keep it, they can sure go to the radar control center and review the radar tapes they keep and find a blip that took off when we did from Georgetown and follow it to where we go. Or worse yet, send up a flight of F-16’s to intercept us. I can out maneuver an F-16, but they have guns and missiles I can’t dodge. Maybe this’ll mislead them.”
“Do you really think they’d get the Air Force to shoot us down?”
“No. But when I got up this morning I didn’t think I’d be chased by police trying to kill me for no reason, either.”
After another half hour, Alex could see the Connecticut River off the nose. “Okay, get ready. I’m going to go into a spin, drop a few thousand feet and pull up about five hundred feet above the river. Ready?”
“Couldn’t we just descend gradually?”
“Yeah, but that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. Here we go…” Alex pulled the throttle back to idle and by slowly raising the nose, kept the plane from losing altitude as it slowed down. In a few moments, the plane stalled, the nose dropped sharply. Alex kicked in hard right rudder, causing the nose to veer off to the right. The little airplane rotated around and dropped its nose to a near vertical attitude. The rate of rotation accelerated as the plane dropped. Habitually, Alex counted out to himself every one-hundred and eighty degrees of turn: One half… one… a half…two, half, threehalffourha’fi--' All the while, Alex watched the altimeter. He knew from experience how much altitude he would need to recover from the spin. At five, he released pressure on the stick and pushed in left rudder. Within ninety degrees of turn, the little plane obeyed his command and stopped spinning – the nose now pointing straight down. Easing back on the stick and adding power, they leveled off and Alex noted that the altimeter said five-hundred and twenty feet. They were heading down river. Not bad, he thought.
“Whoooooa!” shouted Richard.
“You okay up there?”
“A little queasy, but that was great! Can we do it again?”