CW2, D.R. SMITH [little readers .TXT] 📗

was holed up in.

And then, a smile uncontrollably broke out across Shane’s face.

 

 

The jeep containing Buck, Trent, and Trent’s ‘escorts’, skidded to a dusty stop just off the left wingtip of the Cessna 150. The suns hot rays seemed amplified on the mesa top and the sandy wind wash of the propeller only added to the misery. Buck shielded his face with the back of his hand as he plopped one foot at a time onto the rocky surface. Trent, on the other hand, was yanked from his seat by the armed duo and then pulled around to face Buck.

“Whether you’re ready or not, you’re going to fly this damn plane” Buck shouted above the din of the aircraft. He reached up and slipped one curved forefinger under the chin of the pilot, lifted Trent’s head up till it was staring into his own. “Do you understand that Pal?”

A barely perceivable nod confirmed his understanding. Buck withdrew his chin support in an angry swipe and gave a head tip in the direction of the plane to the pair of militiamen, signaling them to insert Trent into the idling craft. Shoving the beaten man from behind, they steered him towards the open cockpit and heaved him up into position in the left seat. The taller of the two was halted by Buck as the man was about to seal up the fuselage.

“No. You need to go with him” Buck shouted at the man while waving his arm toward the opening. “Someone will need to be scanning the terrain searching for that Cameron guy”

“Are you crazy? I’m not taking off from up here on this cliff with that drugged up, beat up… PILOT?!? the man rebutted. “No damn way” Buck’s hand rose from his side, now wielding a .45 caliber Springfield semi-auto pistol. The other ‘Trent hauler’ had apparently been made aware of this plan ahead of time as he had likewise brought his rifle up to aim at the uncooperative passenger-to-be.

“Seriously??” the guy yelled. Seeing that the two armed ‘flight attendants’ were not going to yield to his refusal, he reluctantly climbed up into the tiny compartment, shaking his head the whole time. Buck leaned in before the door closed.

“Did you guys give him some No-Doz?” Buck questioned loudly pointing at Trent. The victim passenger, now buckled into his seat, nodded and held up four fingers. “There ya go!” Buck said assuredly “You’ll be just fine now, won’t cha?!? I’m sure Trent will be wide awake in about ten minutes”

“TEN MINUTES?!?” the dissatisfied co-pilot shouted. “What happens between…” Buck slammed the door on the frightened guard’s comment. Trent’s head slowly turned to look over at Buck through the window on the hatch and began to move back and forth like something on a perpetual motion desktop toy. His eyelids were struggling to stay up and everything about him was screaming out… Don’t make me do this. Instead, Buck smiled back and hoisted an enthusiastic thumb up.

A shaky hand reached up reluctantly and fondled the knobs on the throttle levers. An air of concentration swept over Trent’s entire person. He, like Shane, knew what would happen if he took this plane up above 500 feet. There would be no amount of focus on planet Earth that could prevent the vertigo he’d encounter and the total loss of his sense of up and down that was going to occur. Trent turned to the man in the seat next to him, who was now as white as a ghost and trembling. Trent had recognized who he was.

“Martin? Right?” He asked.

“Yeah. Can you fly this thing Trent?” Martin inquired with an obvious tremor in his voice.

“No. Not up to any kind of altitude in the condition I’m in” he replied bluntly. “But I think I can fly it off this mesa and go immediately down to a landing area somewhere outside of town” Martin’s head was nervously nodding in approval of the idea as Trent continued to explain. “Once I put it on the ground, you can jump out, head back into town and tell Buck I started to pass out or something like that”

“I like it” Martin said with a touch of relief sweeping over his aura.

Trent’s right hand moved from the throttle to the side of his head where Shane had belted him with his own pistol. Even a light touch produced searing pain, causing Trent to grimace. For some reason though, Trent wasn’t feeling any anger over the whole incident. He knew Shane was not deserving of execution and that the man wanted to simply go on his way and be left alone. Without looking in Martin’s direction, he spoke.

“Listen to me Martin. That guy everybody’s down there chasing… Cameron or whatever his name is… he’s actually a good guy. He could’ve killed me back there. He just didn’t want to die” Trent said. “My feeling is, I don’t think Buck has the right to just throw people down a mine shaft for no reason” He now turned to see what kind of response his comment was drawing. Martin’s lips were pinched tight and his head hung in an almost guilty manner. He slowly turned to looked up at Trent.

“I agree” he said quietly. Trent smiled and held his fist out. Martin returned the fist pump enthusiastically.  

“Now…let’s make this look good for Buck” Trent said. Martin, now feeling considerably less concerned about his circumstance, smiled and nodded with his whole upper body.

“Let’s” he replied.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 8 (Incomplete)

 Chapter Eight 

 

 

 

 

The cursor arrow on McKenna Roger’s computer screen swept up to the tiny ‘x’ in the corner of the window, revealing the background photo of her son, Brandon. As though she had fallen into a trance, Mick stared for nearly one full minute into the eyes of her child, whom she had not seen in person for almost a month and a half. When she did finally tear herself away from his image, her gaze dropped to the time on the taskbar. 4:10. She was truly ready for her workday to end. But she also was keenly aware of the pre-trip planning she would have to engage in this evening. Before her mind returned to the current moment, a voice startled her from her deep thought.

“Have you heard from him yet Micky?” Terra’s voice queried, piercing the silence of the office. Mick just shook her head slowly while still gazing at her boy.

“I sent him a message last night hoping he’d see it before Daryl. But who knows” she replied with a distant hopelessness in her tone. A sad silence once again engulfed the room and Terra’s shoes scooted over the carpet, her hands coming to rest on Micky’s shoulders.

“Listen to me girl… there has to be something you can do from a legal standpoint”

Suddenly, Micky pushed backwards from her desk, the top edge of her office chair ramming into Terra’s stomach, her hands releasing from Micky’s shoulders and flailing for something to catch her balance. Standing up and turning to face Terra, Micky’s face reflected anger and frustration.

“Legal? Really Terra? Where have you seen ‘legal’ anywhere in the midst of this disastrous mess we’re still trying to call ‘civilization’” she said in a screaming whisper. She folded her arms tightly across her chest and looked down at the floor. She continued, now speaking in a slightly calmer tone. “If I call the police and they just happen to find my kidnapping husband, and he just happens to explain why he left… which he will more than likely do… they’ll side with him and more than likely, I’ll be arrested!” In an instance, Mick realized she had just indirectly revealed her stance in the nationwide right – left conflict. Now with her back turned to Terra, McKenna looked suspiciously back towards her friend, anticipating the obvious question. It came within seconds.

“Wait?” Terra questioned with a suspicious look on her face “Wait a second? What are you saying Micky? Why would…” The door to McKenna’s office opened accompanied by a disingenuous knock. It was Ted. He paused with body about halfway in.

“Am I interrupting anything important?” With her back still facing Ted, Terra rolled her eyes in Micky’s direction. She then smiled in a smart-ass sort of manner, and turned to face the man at the door.

“No you are not Mr Jergeson. In fact I was just leaving” Terra informed the determined

CHAPTER 9 (Incomplete)

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

 

 

 

Although they were weather worn and unreliable, the cardboard boxes Shane had mustered up from among the weeds would have to do. The aerosol cans became heavy enough to bust through the bottom of even the stoutest of the crunchy rain and sun-drenched corrugated cartons. Shane made sure to pick them up carefully by the bottom in order to avert a noisy calamity. One can at a time, he collected all of the discarded objects, weighing each one by jostling them in his hand.

 

 

 

Imprint

Publication Date: 08-09-2021

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To My Mom.... Mother's didn't come any better.