The Olympus Device: Book Three (12 page)

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Authors: Joe Nobody

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Action & Adventure

BOOK: The Olympus Device: Book Three
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“I know that look, Durham Weathers,” Grace stated. “Want to fill the passengers in on the plan, Captain?”

 

Dusty told her about the housing development without providing many details about what he was thinking. “I can’t say for sure until we get there. Unless somebody’s got a better idea, it’s the best I could come up with after declaring war on the United States of America.”

 

Despite the seriousness of the words, everybody had to laugh. That changed when Dusty asked his passengers to keep watch for fighter jets. “I’m sure they’re going to scramble some warplanes and hunt for us. I would.”

 

The GPS announced their arrival with a series of beeps. All eyes were scanning the terrain below, visions of a shiny lake and canopy of deep-green hardwoods seeming calm, peaceful, and inviting. “Easy to understand why someone would want to live here,” Grace commented. “Rolling hills, beautiful water and gorgeous trees… how much were these homes going for?”

 

Dusty ignored the inquiry, busily searching for a landing strip. “I don’t think they’ve built the airport yet,” he finally decided after buzzing the property three times. “Other than a few streets and a couple of model homes, I don’t think they’ve built much of anything.”

 

“I didn’t see any cars parked outside those houses. Looks abandoned,” Mitch said. “But if there’s no place to land, what are we going to do?”

 

Dusty guided the plane into a slow circle, hugging the treetops, buying time to gather his thoughts. “The government’s had time to react. They’ll be looking for us with a vengeance in their eye. Our fuel and food situation isn’t optimal, and I don’t know about y’all, but I’m getting butt-tired and cramped. I can sit her down on one of those streets, I suppose.”

 

“Risky,” Mitch mumbled. “But if we don’t have any choice….”

 

“Risk seems to define our lives lately,” Grace added. “I’m with you, Captain. I’m sick of this plane and don’t know what other options we have anyway.”

 

A curt nod was Dusty’s only response before his hands started manipulating the controls to line up the nose with one of the white concrete strips below.

 

“This is going to be close,” he warned as they glided lower. “It’s not as long as a regular landing field, and I don’t have any wind socks. Depending on the breeze’s direction, we might run out of room. Make sure your seatbelts are extra tight.”

 

And then without another word, the Texan cut the craft’s power, bringing the thin underbelly shockingly close to the treetops below. The passengers held their breath as the wheels touched the street, the paved stretch looking narrow and short as the Cessna rolled toward the looming dead end. Dusty hit the brakes hard, his hands a blur with corrections as he tried to keep the craft dead center on a roadway designed for commuter sedans, not light aircraft.

 

“We’re not going to make it,” Mitch cringed, watching the empty plots zip past the window, his eyes darting from side to front.

 

The whole episode reminded Grace of a boy she had dated in high school, the young man’s lead foot and overpowered car resulting in a short relationship. He’d scared the crap out of her, racing through similar neighborhood streets with a daredevil gleam in his eye. After demanding he stop, she’d promptly exited the rumbling Chevy, vowing never to associate with such an immature jerk again. She made a note to tell Dusty the story – if she survived.
I walked home that night, and I can walk home again
, she mused.

 

They managed to stop with less than 50 feet of concrete remaining, the occupants staring out the front windscreen at a sign advertising “Lot 47 – For Sale.”

 

“Next time you want to take me house shopping, Mr. Weathers, I’d prefer we adopt a more leisurely pace… if you please,” Grace announced between breaths.

 

Dusty turned the aircraft, rolling past lots outlined with orange surveyor’s tape connected to wooden spikes at the corners. After another turn, they cruised to a stop in front of the two model homes, relieved that Mitch’s aerial reconnaissance had indeed been accurate. Errant wild grasses punctuated the ordinarily perfectly manicured lawn. A layer of dried mud had washed over the otherwise welcoming sidewalk and visitor’s parking spaces. The sales center looked almost abandoned.

 

The Texan finally stopped the plane, pulling up to the curb in front of a majestic home as if he were parking the family Buick after a leisurely Sunday afternoon drive. “Honey, we’re home,” he teased.

 

“You forgot to take out the trash,” Grace added.    

 

They exited the plane, stretching and gawking at the same time. Dusty was the first to approach the new home’s front door, which he found locked. “How are your breaking and entering skills, Mitch? There’s no doubt an alarm system.”

 

“No problem,” the younger Weathers replied. “These domestic systems are quite simple actually.”

 

Dusty watched his brother wander toward the side of the structure, apparently looking for the alarm box. Turning to Grace, he said, “We should break in the back door after Mitch does his dirty work. Once we’re sure we’ll be staying, I’ll ditch the plane.”

 

Scanning the area, a puzzled look came over the attorney’s face. “And how are you going to make a plane disappear, Dusty?”

 

“The boat ramp,” he replied with a smile. “Planes sink rather quickly, or so I’ve heard.”

 

Shaking her head, Grace said, “I hope Mitch bought the insurance when he rented it.”

 

As if on cue, Mitch appeared around the corner. “Grace, do you have a bobby pin, by any chance? I need a small length of conductive metal.”

 

It took a few moments to dig the hair restraint from her purse, finally holding up the thin wire as if happy to contribute something. “I’m now officially as accessory to burglary,” she smirked, handing it over.

 

“Meet us around back when you’re done,” Dusty instructed his brother.

 

A few minutes later, the trio regrouped on the back stoop, Mitch nodding toward the door. “All set.”

 

Dusty’s elbow busted the small pane of glass above the knob with a single stroke. Reaching carefully through the shards, he manipulated the lock and then opened the door. Turning to Grace with a shy smile, he bent low at the waist and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Should I carry you across the threshold, my dear?”

 

The home was fully appointed with furniture, appliances, and even a few snacks in the kitchen. They found crackers, bottled water, candy bars, and two cans of soup. Grace wrinkled her nose, pulling out a to-go box of Chinese leftovers the sales agent had left in the fridge. “I think this fried rice is as old as the Great Wall itself,” she mused, inspecting the layer of furry growth concealing the cuisine.

 

“We’ve even got eating utensils,” Mitch announced, pulling the plastic-wrapped bundles from one of the drawers.

 

Dusty, finishing his tour of the home, added to the excitement. “There are beds, bath towels, soap in the dishes, and even hot, running water. Can I pick a vacation spot or what?”

 

“But what about the plane?” Mitch asked, bringing an end to the upbeat report. “We can’t just leave it sitting out there sticking out like a sore thumb. The government will be looking for it, probably from the air.”

 

Dusty’s answer didn’t improve his younger brother’s outlook. “Okay, so you sink the plane in the lake. What then? Are we going to walk back to Texas?”

 

Waving his companions into the den-turned-realtor’s office, Dusty gestured to a map hanging on the wall. “We’re about five miles from this little town. There’s internet here, so if Grace can hook up her laptop, we will make sure there’s a used car lot hereabouts. I’ve got cash. Since your face is less well-known, you can stroll into town and buy us some new wheels, Mitch.”

 

“How do we know someone won’t show up to sell a house?” Grace inquired.

 

Dusty stepped toward the desk, punching the button on an answering machine. “Please leave your name and number, and I’ll return your call. Thank you for calling Fane Properties. We look forward to serving you,” sounded the greeting.

 

“If anybody calls to make an appointment, we should hear it on that machine. I’m hoping the realtor calls in remotely to check for messages,” Dusty said.

 

A quick internet search confirmed that the nearby berg did indeed support two used car lots, one of the web pages showing a 6-year old SUV advertised with 75,000 highway miles and new tires. The price was right, and a phone call confirmed the unit was still on the lot.

 

“Make sure the battery is good,” Dusty instructed, handing Mitch a bundle of cash.

 

“And make sure the air conditioning works,” Grace added.

 

“And double check the power steering,” Dusty continued, enjoying the opportunity to harp on his brother.

 

“I
have
bought a car before,” he protested, dismissing both of them. “I’m a professor for heaven’s sake…. Give me a break.”

 

Ten minutes later, Mitch was hiking up the deserted street, hand-drawn map and small bag of money in his grasp.

 

Dusty turned to Grace, draping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Kids these days, they think they know it all,” he teased, pretending to be the proud parent.

 

“They do grow up fast,” she replied, playing along. “Now, you keep a keen lookout, Mr. Weathers, while I go rinse off some of this road dust in the shower. If the coast is still clear when I’m done, I may need help drying off.”

 

 

“In the headlines today, the Midwest was rocked by two separate explosions,” began the newscaster. The first blast occurred just outside St. Louis, Missouri at a regional airport, following a short time later by what some are speculating was a gas leak at the Federal Bullion Repository at Fort Knox, Kentucky. We go now to our local reporter, Michael Stansky just outside Fort Knox.”

 

The president watched as the picture switched to an image of a younger, clean-cut man standing on a roadside, the strobe of emergency vehicle lights behind him in the distance.

 

“Authorities are being extremely close-lipped about what happened here today,” began the local newshound. “Citing national security concerns, the U.S. Army shut down the entire Fort Knox compound immediately after the incident, and no one is being allowed near the base or the gold repository at this time. What we do know is that at 1:48 PM local time, residents as far away as Elizabethtown began calling their local law enforcement officials to report a possible earthquake. According to various spokespersons, entire structures were shaken for approximately five seconds early this afternoon, with only minor incidents of damage being reported at this time. So far, we have no indication of any causalities.”

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