Test Pilot's Daughter II: Dead Reckoning (24 page)

“We get this room!” Heather squealed. She slipped out of her shoes and jumped up on the enormous round bed, bouncing up and down like a child on her first visit to a motel.

“I was hoping you’d bunk with me.” Christina batted her thick eyelashes. She still rued the things she had said at the cabin. She hoped to be able to make it up to him.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Sleeping alone is
not
on my agenda. With Armageddon on the horizon, we better enjoy every minute.”

“But you said. . .” A huge grin painted Michael’s face as he threw his bags in the suite.

“Shut up, Michael.”

She pulled him into the room and shut the door behind. She launched a full frontal attack. He looked a little shocked, but in a matter of seconds he was all over her.

De ja voo,
Christina thought.
No bear rug this time, but there is a fireplace.
She jumped up in his strong arms and wrapped herself around his torso. He waddled over to the bed and tumbled forward in an awkward pile. She pulled him on top, clasped her hands on either side of his face and kissed him. She kissed him again, breathed hot breath in his ear and whispered.

“Remember, Michael, what the flight attendant said? Anything you want,”
she purred. “Anything.”

Chapter Fifteen

While the
Ocean Breeze
plowed its way through crystal clear waters at 22 knots, the four vacationers got ready for dinner. It had been a long day. Christina felt the effects of morning Mimosas but figured a glass of wine might get her going again. She didn’t know exactly how to feel about attacking Michael in the stateroom, but she had decided not to waste any time thinking about it. As she often did, she argued with herself.
Self, you’re a slut. No I’m not, just a little lonely, that’s all. No, you’re a slut.

“Whoa, I gotta slow down,” Christina said putting her hand to the back of her head. “I’m not used to drinking this much. Make it a white wine for me.”

Billy, Heather and Christina chattered away about old times and their survival experiences. Michael was the odd man out. He just sat back and listened. There were stories of pirates, trials and tribulation, tales of ingenuity, determination and sheer luck. They rehashed the boat ride to nowhere where Christina and Heather ended up in a knock-down, drag-out cat fight. There was the scene of Jessica’s death and her tearful funeral at sunset. And most the most dramatic of all was launching that Piper Saratoga off the beach in a hurricane. Their escape was the bounty of Billy’s courage and Christina’s brains. Michael looked astonished at what they had done. Halfway through their second round of drinks, the conversation suddenly turned to him.

“For God sakes! How rude?” Heather turned to Michael like she had just realized he was there. “Michael, you’re such a good sport. You must be sick of us gabbing about old times. Tell us about yourself. Where are you from, and what are your parents like?”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Michael turned beet-red and seemed to be stalling. “Oh, you don’t want to hear that. My life’s pretty boring. You guys have all the great stories.”

“Yeah, he was a researcher, a nuclear scientist. Worked at Los Alamos Labs for years. He got several patents on flash-cameras and fiber-optics, a number of inventions used to study the plasma that occurs at the instant of detonation.”

“So, where are they now? Your parents?” Heather asked.

Michael looked down at the floor and scratched something off the front of his shoe. He almost whispered, “My dad killed himself back in ‘98.”

“Oh no, Michael, I’m so sorry,” said Christina. “What about your mom?”

“Mental. . .institution. . .north of Atlanta. Never recovered. He blew his brains out right in front of her. Lucky for me, I wasn’t home at the time. . .military school.”

“Oh God, you poor thing!” Heather gasped almost in tears.

Christina was shocked. They had never once talked about his parents, and now the reason was clear. She suddenly realized she knew very little about this man, a man she had bedded on two occasions. She reached over and embraced him in a sympathetic gesture. “I am so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, it’s not a pretty picture. . .I don’t talk about it much, or even think about it for that matter. NASA almost cut me for it, figured I must have some residual problems of my own. You can imagine my interview, ‘Hello, nice to meetcha, how are your parents?’ ‘Well one blew his brains out, and the other slit her wrists. How are yours?’”

Heather visibly shivered as though she felt his pain. Of all the things one could say about Heather, she had a big heart. A tear ran down her cheek.

“Damn, that sucks. So how did all that affect you?” Billy was so bold to ask.

“I was a teenager at the time, and, of course, I was devastated. On the other hand, I was never that close to my parents. They always relied on others to bring me up. First there were nannies, then military school, and finally I lived with my grandparents for two years before I went off to college. My grandparents were great. Papa was a Minister in the Methodist church. Taught me a lot about the outdoors, took me camping and hunting and taught me how to fish. He was a big influence on my life. Papa built up my confidence and made me believe in myself. He told me I could do anything or be anything as long as I worked hard. Thank God for Papa. And Nana, she was just the sweetest thing. What can I say, unconditional love. She told me every day that I was the brightest and the best looking kid in America. After a while some of that must a sunk in, because I was never lacking for confidence. Nana made me feel proud.”

“Your Papa sounds like my granddad,” Billy added, “at least before he died.”

“Well how are
they
then?” Heather was dabbing tears. “Your grandparents?”

“I’m afraid they’re gone too. Died a couple of years ago. First my grandmother and then Papa, three months later. I think he died of a broken heart. After Nana was gone, he just shut down. The nurses called it an ‘unwillingness to thrive.’ Never heard of such a thing, but I think it just means you refuse to go on.”

Heather’s tears started to pour.

Christina glanced her way and thought,
Uh oh, too much wine
.

“My grandparents on my mother’s side are still alive, in their eighties at an assisted living facility in Birmingham. They’re doing fine. I go see them a few times a year.”

“What about brothers and sisters?” Christina asked.

“Only child. C’mon that’s enough about my crappy life.” Michael lifted his glass and slammed down the last of his scotch. It was clear he was relieved to change the subject. “Tell me, where
is
that island you guys talk about?”

“You’re about to find out,” Christina beamed. “I don’t want to say too much, it’s a surprise. Now let’s go upstairs and eat.”

The crew had dropped anchor in a pristine cove off of one of the undeveloped islands. It was a gorgeous setting, not another boat in sight. The white beach tucked into limestone caves which had been eroded by the sea. Spotlights from the yacht illuminated beautiful choral beneath their vessel and fish were everywhere. The sky was brilliant with stars; the Milky Way painted a sparkling arch over their heads. It was 75 degrees with a light breeze, and a dining table had been set up outside on the topmost deck. Party lights illuminated the railings with a dim glow. A half-moon marked a white streak across a calm ocean.

Perfect,
Christina thought,
just perfect!

A seven-course meal laced with filet mignon and all the trimmings was laid out by their chef, one delicious setting at a time. The wine was clearly beyond what they had ever consumed.

Heather kept saying over and over again, “Thish wine ish sooo goood,” as she gazed starry eyed. It was her fourth glass, and speech began to slur.

“
Look!”
Christina squealed, pointing. A bright shooting star lit up the southern sky. “Oh my God! That was huge. Reminds me of my mom,” she said softly. “I saw one like that the night I gave my speech at graduation. I’m sure she was there. I was scared to death, but somehow she got me through it.”

Michael looked her in the eyes, leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She put a hand around his neck and kissed him back. It was a deep fervent kiss filled with passion.

Heather barked, “Yoush two. . .get a room. . .
hiccup!”

“Already got one,” Christina smiled. “Heather would you mind doing the dishes?” she laughed grabbing Michael by the hand. “Getting late. I think we’re going to bed.”

Christina was up early in a buzz of activity. She had big plans and needed to get their gear organized. She wanted just enough supplies to sustain twenty-four hours of fun on Jessica’s Island, but a little extra wouldn’t hurt. In the back of her mind, she wondered what it would look like after all these years. She rounded up enough crew to help her get the job done as the yacht plowed on toward their objective.

Thunderstorms from the night before had cleared, and it was a perfect day for beach bums, 79 degrees, calm and partly cloudy.
Doesn’t get any better than this
, she thought breathing in fresh, salty air. About 9:00 a.m. she woke the others against grunts and whines of protest. Michael arose in a groggy stupor, but Heather was the worst. She didn’t want to move, much less get out of bed and go to some godforsaken island.

“
Go away!”
she screamed and hurled a pillow in the direction of the door.

“C’mon, little girl, get up. Time to go to school.”

“
No!”

“Dammit, bitch, get your ass outta bed. The least you could do is pay your respects to Jessica.” After watching her down a dozen glasses of wine the day before, Christina knew Heather would be a problem. If they were going to visit the gravesite, it had to be now.

Heather moaned, “Uuunnng. . .my head hurts.”

“So what else is new. You drank too much. C’mon get up.” Christina was losing patience. She grabbed her arms and pulled her erect. “Now hit the shower, and I’ll finish getting all the gear packed in the chopper.”

“Okay, okay already. Jesus, what’s the rush? That piece of shit island’s not goin’ anywhere.”

Christina ignored her complaints and walked away. It was a warm winter day in the Bahamas and a great day for exploring. When Michael made it to the upper deck, he appeared shocked to see the helicopter ready to go. It had been carefully packed with diving equipment, ice chests and enough survival gear for a week.

Heather finally stumbled up to the landing pad in large, dark sunglasses with her hair pulled back. She looked like a movie star in disguise. She shielded her face from the sun as though it offended her senses. Tight jeans, a T-shirt and high-heeled flip-flops rounded out the look.

Christina teased, “Where did you get those. . .at the Dollar Store?”

“You’re about as funny as a hysterectomy,” Heather moaned in a bad mood.

Finally, they all climbed in the aircraft and lifted off in a roar. One CIA agent flew the chopper and another rode shotgun armed with what looked to be an Uzi. All the passengers wore headsets so they could hear each other. With open doors, the sound level in the cabin was earsplitting.