Authors: Kevin Carrigan
“Talk to me, Costner,” replied Kabaka as he slapped the back of the seat in which his copilot, Captain Kevin “Costner” Carson, was sitting while watching the news on his
iPad
. Carson had been
Kabaka’s
copilot and friend for the last two years. Carson received the call sign “Costner” from his buddies during his first assignment. He was stationed in Germany at
Ramstein
Air Base, and every time he introduced himself to cute young
fräuleins
and said his name was Kevin Carson, they would always reply, “Oh, Kevin Costner.”
Costner plopped his
iPad
down onto his flight bag and proceeded to prepare the plane for takeoff. “Sir, the chatter coming from the tower is kind of alarming. They keep losing
comms
. And by the way, who was so damned important that we had to stop a takeoff so they could hitch a ride?” asked Costner.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Costner,” replied Kabaka as he taxied the plane to the end of the airstrip.
“Fine, then don’t tell me,” Costner replied. “Oh, and while you were gone, I was watching the news. There is some freaky shit going down out there. Reports are coming in from all over the country saying that the crashing computer systems are causing widespread panic.”
Kabaka gunned the throttle and the C-17 hurtled down the airstrip. “I hope we can make it to Guatemala!” Kabaka yelled as the plane lifted off and banked to the right. As they climbed higher, the minds of both men envisaged the problems occurring below. They flew in silence for several minutes. Once they reached cruising altitude, Kabaka reached over and slapped Costner on the shoulder. “So what
kinda
freaky shit did you see on the news?” he asked.
“Oh man, people are acting like a Category 5 hurricane is coming,” Costner replied. “They’re mobbing the stores for bottled water, canned goods, generators, you name it. People are filling up their gas tanks and then bolting out of the service stations without paying. There have been break-ins at several national banks because their ATMs had shut down.”
“This is going to get worse before it gets better,” Kabaka said as he shook his head despairingly.
“No doubt,” Costner replied. “And that’s just the minor stuff. Computer malfunctions opened about twenty dams in Central Texas and now Austin is underwater.
Power grids throughout Southern California are dying and there was a report out of LA that said that a computer glitch at Cedars-Sinai killed 17 people who were hooked up to life support.” Costner reached over and slapped Kabaka back. “And get this, out in New Mexico someone hijacked a Virgin Galactic space-plane.”
“Get the fuck outta here!” Kabaka said in disbelief.
“I shit you not,” Costner replied.
Kabaka couldn’t believe it. “Damn, I want to party with that dude.”
Costner continued. “A drawbridge in Connecticut opened on its own with no warning. Four cars and some poor dude on a motorcycle plunged into the river. And sir, brace yourself. There was a horrible story out of St. Louis. Anheuser-Busch is reporting that computer viruses have shut down their breweries in Missouri and Virginia.”
“
Noooooooo
!” screamed Kabaka as he shook his head back and forth.
Costner laughed at
Kabaka’s
pain, but he knew it was time to be serious. “Sir, no more jokes. There has also been major rioting across the country, and widespread looting in many major cities.” Costner hesitated before he went on.
He had hoped to avoid this conversation, but now he felt it was necessary. “Sir, I hate to tell you this, but Atlanta has been hit the hardest. Gangs have taken over the streets and half of downtown is on fire. Hundreds of people are trapped in the underground rail system. And if that wasn’t enough, computer malfunctions at the Atlanta Federal Pen opened the cell doors and prison gates and over 2,200 prisoners stormed out.”
Kabaka stared straight ahead without saying a word, and there were several seconds of uncomfortable silence. “Kabaka, I’m sure your wife and daughter are okay,” Costner said reassuringly. “They are all the way out in East Point. I’m sure they’re safe.”
“Thanks, Costner,” Kabaka finally replied.
“Okay, we are the Air Force’s finest and we are on a mission, let’s focus on that.
By the way, the passenger we picked up was President-elect Clark.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Costner laughed.
Chapter 81
Kabaka stuck his head out of the cockpit. “Sir, we are beginning our descent. We should be on the ground in ten minutes. We’ll be landing at the airport in Belmopan, the capital of Belize. Actually, airport is kind of a strong word. Airstrip is more like it. But it is the closest landing site to your destination.”
“Okay,” Clark said to the others. “That should put us less than 70 miles from Tikal. We’ll need to find some transportation once we land. It may not be easy, seeing that the entire trip will be along dirt roads through mountain passes.”
“I can help us,” said Ixchel. “I have been to Belize many times. The people are friendly and helpful. We should be able to find someone to transport us to Tikal without any problem. It is becoming a popular tourist destination. It will not cost very much, the dollar goes a long way in this part of the world.”
Clark removed his wallet and looked inside. “That’s good,” he said, “because I only have 22 bucks on me.”
Suddenly the engines whined and the plane picked up speed. They could feel the plane begin to climb. Martineau looked at Clark and said, “What’s happening?”
“I wish I knew,” he replied.
A few minutes later the plane leveled out. “I wonder what is going on,” said Clay. “They obviously had to abort the landing. Oh, look.” Clay pointed to the cockpit stairs.
Kabaka climbed down and joined his passengers in the cargo hold.
“What’s wrong, Kabaka?” asked Clark.
“Sir, I got some good news and I got some bad news.”
“What is it?”
“Central America just got hit by an 8.2 earthquake. It hit Belize, Guatemala, and Honduras with tremendous force. The airfield that we were heading to has been destroyed and there is no way we can land there. We are running out of fuel and there aren’t any airfields within range that aren’t damaged and have a runway long enough to accommodate an aircraft of this size. The last radio transmission we received before our radio died said that several air traffic control satellites had started to malfunction, which means there is no way an aerial refueling plane can find us. It looks like we’ll have to ditch the plane in the Caribbean Sea.”
Clark stared at Kabaka. “So what’s the good news?”
“That was the good news, sir. The bad news is, there are only two parachutes on board and me and my copilot claim those. The only way you’re going to get out of here is in one of these,” Kabaka said as he slapped his hand against a giant wooden cargo crate.
Oh shit!
Clark very slowly turned his head toward Martineau. She folded her arms across her chest and said, “Trust me. I’ve flown on these babies dozens of times. We’ll be fine.”
Kabaka led them to the crate farthest back in the cargo hold. It was nearly eight feet high, ten feet wide, and six feet long. “These crates can hold several tons of cargo. Fortunately, this one is empty. You five together weigh less than a thousand pounds. With this huge chute you’ll float down like a feather and land as softly as can be,” he said. “But we
gotta
hurry. We got enough fuel to get you to your temple but we won’t have enough to circle. We get one shot at this.”
“If we bail out in this box, do you think you can get us to land close to the temple?” asked Clark.
“Well, normally for this type of drop we have a loadmaster in charge, but we weren’t expecting to make any drops on this flight. But don’t worry, I’ll have my copilot drop us down to 1,500 feet and I’ll release the crate right over the temple. I can drop these bad boys directly on target every time,” Kabaka said as he smacked the side of the crate. “Well, most of the time. Actually, I’m batting about .500 these days.”
Clay dropped his head and looked down at the floor, and Daniel rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
Ixchel observed their reactions and asked, “What does ‘batting about .500’ mean?”
Daniel moved his hand away from his face and replied, “You don’t want to know.”
Kabaka handed a crowbar to Clark and another to Clay. “Pry it open from this side.” He then turned to Daniel and said, “I’ll help you bring back your weapons,” and together the two of them worked their way toward the front of the cargo bay.
Ixchel said, “I need to sit back down.” She was still bereaved by the death of Professor Jameson. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but it was proving to be difficult.
Patrick was murdered, Professor Jameson was murdered. What next?
As worry set in, she unexpectedly heard her great-grandmother’s voice call out, “I am here.”
As Clark and Clay finished prying off the side of the crate, Clark turned to Martineau and said, “We’re lucky this one was empty.”
Martineau put her hands on her hips. “Lucky? This is your idea of lucky?”
Clark spun around quickly and examined the inside of the crate. Clay looked over at Martineau, who shot him a wink.
“Okay, everybody in,” said Kabaka. Once everyone was inside he said, “Stand back, I’m going to nail the crate shut now.” He began lifting the heavy wooden side of the crate up into place. The passengers watched intently as the side opening was about to close off. At the last second Kabaka dropped the side back to the floor, startling everyone in the crate and causing them to gulp in a breath of air.
“Oops, almost forgot. You’ll need these,” he said, as he handed in hammers and crowbars. “You won’t be able to bang your way out without them.”
Clark and the others let out a gigantic sigh of relief, imagining what it would have been like to be locked in the crate with no way of escape.
As soon as Kabaka finished nailing the crate shut he pounded the side and said, “If I were you I’d lay down on my stomach.”
“Get down,” Clark said to the others as he dropped to the floor of the crate.
Everyone followed suit.
Moments later they heard a strong rush of wind as the aft cargo bay door opened. “Bon voyage!” yelled Kabaka.
As the crate began sliding backward, Clark yelled, “Hold on!”
The entire group buried their faces into their arms and called out, “
Ohhhhhhhhhh
!” as the crate moved down the rollers and shot out the back of the C-17. Martineau, Ixchel, and Daniel each held their breath as they anticipated plunging rapidly to the ground below, however the crate drifted downward slowly just as Kabaka had promised.
One by one they lifted their heads and looked around at one another, relieved that they were not plunging rapidly toward the ground below.
“We’ll be hitting the ground in just a few minutes,” said Clark. “Everyone stay down. Even though this is a light load, there might be a slight bump when we land.” No sooner were those words out of Clark’s mouth than the crate slammed into the top of a tree in the center of a large forest.
The crate rocked hard to the left, sending each passenger into a log roll against the weapons lockers that had been placed against the left wall. Ixchel held tightly onto Daniel and prayed that the crate would not roll to the right, because the lockers would surely crush them. Branches could be heard snapping as the crate continued its downward path. It crashed into one last big branch, which righted the crate just before it pounded into the ground with a loud whump. As the passengers in the crate untangled themselves, Martineau could be heard saying, “You call that a slight bump?”