They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.
-(The Story begins HERE)-
Brock hefted his service revolver from one hand to the other. Craning his head in my direction and then to the exit door, it was obvious that he was weighing his options.
His eyes narrowing into slits he grunted, "How's the headache? You able to function?"
"I'll live," I replied warily before realizing what he was implying. "Why are you stalling? You can't be thinking of blasting your way out of this mess."
Wingate's voice rang out again, "You are trying my patience, O'Day."
"Nothing as hair-brained as that," he gloated ignoring the threat from outside. "But I do have an idea ... and it just might work too."
I shook my head in disbelief that he thought there was a way out of our situation using force. To my way of thinking, at that moment surrender was the best option. We would have a far better chance of coming up with a means of escape as live prisoners than as corpses.
It was Baxter who was next heard, "Michael, Brock ... the colonel is serious."
A tense pounding grew behind my eyes when Michelle shouted, "Please, Michael. As long as you're on that plane, I cannot protect you."
"Brock," I pleaded, "this is an Air Force base. It must be Nellis. There must be dozens of armed airmen out there."
"Nellis? Nellis is over 800 miles as the crow flies from here. We're in Amarillo, my friend."
Stunned I muttered, "Amarillo? Texas? Are you sure?"
He gave a slight nod of the head, "I know there are no wind farms in operation in the Vegas area. I caught sight of them when we turned into the landing pattern. The only wind turbines near a desert and an airbase that I know of are part of the Wildorado Wind Ranch outside of Amarillo."
I took a deep breath and tried to digest Brock's words. "We were supposed to hook up in Las Vegas. What is Michelle doing here? Why is she helping Wingate?"
O'Day's eyes widened and he barked, "Michelle? What makes you think she's here?"
I glanced at the bloodied welt on the side of his neck, "Did that shot affect your hearing? You didn't hear her voice out there?"
A quizzical look on his face, he remained silent for a few moments before responding. "No, I didn't hear her. Michael, that headache ... someone is trying to get in your head. You're being out-minded!"
There was a sudden thump as something struck the side of the entrance. The object careened toward the front of the cabin, rolled on the floor and came to rest next to the door to the cockpit area. There was a hiss of escaping pressure from the cylinder followed by a billowing cloud of grayish smoke.
"Tear gas!" Brock yelped. "Haul ass to the back of the plane!"
It was at that moment that another one of the objects clattered against the interior of the plane. Hurled from a different angle than the first, it bounced along the decking toward the back of the cabin.
Choking on the first wisps of the spreading cloud O'Day blubbered, "Close your eyes and try not to breathe, Michael. Work your way to the back cabin. Hurry!"
Too late his warnings, the large gulp of air I swallowed was already burning a path from my throat to my lungs. The involuntary defensive action of my tear ducts did little to ease the searing irritation in my eyes.
I felt a sudden vice-like grip on my arm. My body, weak and limp like that of a rag doll, was being dragged to the aft section of the plane. Even as the door to the back cabin slammed shut, a convulsive eruption wracked my body and the ejected sputum splattered on the floor next to my face.
Although his voice sounded muted O'Day shouted, "Lie still. You need fresh air. I'll open the cargo ramp and get you out of here."
His eyes narrowing into slits he grunted, "How's the headache? You able to function?"
"I'll live," I replied warily before realizing what he was implying. "Why are you stalling? You can't be thinking of blasting your way out of this mess."
Wingate's voice rang out again, "You are trying my patience, O'Day."
"Nothing as hair-brained as that," he gloated ignoring the threat from outside. "But I do have an idea ... and it just might work too."
I shook my head in disbelief that he thought there was a way out of our situation using force. To my way of thinking, at that moment surrender was the best option. We would have a far better chance of coming up with a means of escape as live prisoners than as corpses.
It was Baxter who was next heard, "Michael, Brock ... the colonel is serious."
A tense pounding grew behind my eyes when Michelle shouted, "Please, Michael. As long as you're on that plane, I cannot protect you."
"Brock," I pleaded, "this is an Air Force base. It must be Nellis. There must be dozens of armed airmen out there."
"Nellis? Nellis is over 800 miles as the crow flies from here. We're in Amarillo, my friend."
Stunned I muttered, "Amarillo? Texas? Are you sure?"
He gave a slight nod of the head, "I know there are no wind farms in operation in the Vegas area. I caught sight of them when we turned into the landing pattern. The only wind turbines near a desert and an airbase that I know of are part of the Wildorado Wind Ranch outside of Amarillo."
I took a deep breath and tried to digest Brock's words. "We were supposed to hook up in Las Vegas. What is Michelle doing here? Why is she helping Wingate?"
O'Day's eyes widened and he barked, "Michelle? What makes you think she's here?"
I glanced at the bloodied welt on the side of his neck, "Did that shot affect your hearing? You didn't hear her voice out there?"
A quizzical look on his face, he remained silent for a few moments before responding. "No, I didn't hear her. Michael, that headache ... someone is trying to get in your head. You're being out-minded!"
There was a sudden thump as something struck the side of the entrance. The object careened toward the front of the cabin, rolled on the floor and came to rest next to the door to the cockpit area. There was a hiss of escaping pressure from the cylinder followed by a billowing cloud of grayish smoke.
"Tear gas!" Brock yelped. "Haul ass to the back of the plane!"
It was at that moment that another one of the objects clattered against the interior of the plane. Hurled from a different angle than the first, it bounced along the decking toward the back of the cabin.
Choking on the first wisps of the spreading cloud O'Day blubbered, "Close your eyes and try not to breathe, Michael. Work your way to the back cabin. Hurry!"
Too late his warnings, the large gulp of air I swallowed was already burning a path from my throat to my lungs. The involuntary defensive action of my tear ducts did little to ease the searing irritation in my eyes.
I felt a sudden vice-like grip on my arm. My body, weak and limp like that of a rag doll, was being dragged to the aft section of the plane. Even as the door to the back cabin slammed shut, a convulsive eruption wracked my body and the ejected sputum splattered on the floor next to my face.
Although his voice sounded muted O'Day shouted, "Lie still. You need fresh air. I'll open the cargo ramp and get you out of here."
A Helluva Plan )
№ 2089
5 comments:
They are not in Vegas, but in Texas?
Michelle is talking but only Michael can hear her?
Who lobbing tear gas into the plane?
Okay now I have more questions than answers.
Excellent story. I can't wait for the next installment.
Okay Jack. What say you?
Have a terrific day. :)
Sandee,
You're fast. That was an accidental publish - meant for it to be a draft. There was a few more paragraphs ...
Oh well, since you commented I'll leave it as is - the cliff-hanger will happen near the beginning of the next installment.
Maybe they're in Texas and maybe not.
Remember Michelle and Michael can communicate mentally.
As for the tear gas, where are the others who demand that O'Day surrender his weapon? Oh yeah, they are on board and near the cockpit.
Perhaps Wingate has given the order for those on the ground to use the tear gas.
Or, the thought just occurred to me, that there are others who want to put a stop to Wingate and his plan.
An interesting situation.
Hale, I thought I was the only one who had dyslexic fingers. I thought the story was a little sparse. I do look forward to the next installment.
Jack,
Jack your assumptions are actually quite insightful.
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