Rage

TWO

The small jet seemed to leap into the night sky, then took a sharp angle that had it first racing out to the nearby Atlantic before banking and heading west.

Not going to Lejeune, then, Raine realized, thinking of the base in North Carolina he had been stationed out of before being sent home. Interesting.

He looked down and saw the lights of Coney Island. Another abandoned project. Somehow, the planned renovation of what they used to call “America’s Playground” never happened.

When there’s no money, things don’t happen.

Still, in the reflected glow of the lights left on at night, he saw the tall, always imposing spire of the parachute jump. Inactive for, what… sixty, seventy years? The once breathtaking ride had long been an inoperative landmark, a skeleton, a monument to times when such thrills could be created.

A time of great amusement parks and world’s fairs. His father used to talk about a place in Coney called Steeplechase.

“Nicky, I tell ya-you kids would’ve loved it. Crazy rides. Horses that raced around the perimeter. Made your heart race. And safe? Fugeddabout it. But now? All gone. Everything’s gotta be so damn safe these days.”

All gone.

One of his father’s favorite sayings.

This restaurant, that movie palace, his favorite fishing boat in Sheepshead Bay.

All gone.

Then his wife-Raine’s mom-died, and he hit his ultimate “all gone.”

Became a changed man. Quiet. Stayed to himself. As if he had given up. And when Chris came home in a box? The military escort. The salutes. The flags waving, and Raine fighting to keep from breaking down. His father had sobbed uncontrollably, showing Raine another part of what it meant to be a man.

All gone.

Raine had made a pledge to his brother then. A promise to keep fighting-to make sure that he never had to say “all gone.”

I’ll keep on for both of us, Chris. I’ll go back. I’ll do what they sent us over to do. Don’t you fucking worry about that.

And he would keep that promise until someone decided that whatever we were doing to keep the world free and safe was over.

He had to.

What was the expression? Ours not to question why. Ours but to do Coney and the coast faded into the background, the jet still climbing sharply.

“Lieutenant Raine?”

“Just Raine, Mister…”

“Raine it is. I’m Jackson. The plane has sandwiches and beverages. Maybe a beer?”

“Got any of those little packs of peanuts, Jackson?”

The joke finally made the man in a suit smile.

Barely.

“Don’t suppose you can tell me where we’re headed?”

“Actually, my orders allow me to now that we’re airborne.”

Raine raised his eyebrows.

“There really is a need for all this security, Lieutenant. I imagine it will be made clearer to you soon.”

“I hope so. The destination?”

“Buckley Air Force Base.”

“Colorado? Really? Pretty damn far away.” He shook his head. “And what awaits me in Buckley?”

Jackson stood up.

“Let me check on those peanuts.”

The night deepened. A moonless night, the stars bright and nearly unwavering in the cloudless sky. And every now and then Raine saw one.

A yellow-red streak in the sky.

For a week or so they’d been visible each night, this sporadic meteor shower connected to the asteroid-Apophis 96… 95… something-still way out there in space. Apparently a bunch of debris ran well ahead of it, hitting the atmosphere.

It was a big asteroid, too-nearly the size of the city. Good thing it was going to give them a miss.

There-another streak. This one turning fiery before it disappeared.

Giving us a miss.

Lucky thing. Because, after all… despite Hollywood’s mad plots of diverting a major asteroid, just what the hell would we really do?

Still-he had to wonder why we were getting so many of these meteorites. Seemed strange. Then again, what he didn’t know about astrophysics could fill a lot of books. And had, he thought.

He put his head against the porthole window, wedging a pillow into the crack between the window and the seat.

The window-cold, but soothing.

He shut his eyes.

He felt a change in angle.

He opened his eyes, and for a moment didn’t have a clue where he was. Totally disorienting, waking up on a plane. He wasn’t complaining, though-traveling this way was a damn sight better than bouncing around on a military transport.

He looked over at Jackson, who was looking out a window on the other side. Raine looked out his own window and down. There wasn’t much out there. The dots of houses and lights on the roads took on an eerie yellowish cast when seen from a few miles up. After a few minutes he could see an airstrip ahead.

Had to be Buckley.

Jackson looked over.

“Seat belt on?”

“Learn that in flight attendant school?”

Another small smile. Maybe this guy enjoyed knowing things that he didn’t. Something that security and spy types liked. Secrets. They were all about their damn secrets.

Raine wasn’t too big on secrets.

“We’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“And my magical mystery tour continues.”

“Right.”

The smile on the man’s face had faded, replaced by something else, something in his eyes. Concern? Sadness?

Raine had led men into situations that could only be described as hell. Into actual hell-no exaggeration-and he had brought a lot of them out again. In that time he had learned to check their eyes. To catch the fear sitting there. The concern. The telltale anxious signs that someone might crack. That someone might just freeze up.

And a few words-of support, of connection-could make the difference.

Humans are funny. They have a lot of needs. But maybe the one need they have above all is communication.

Does someone understand me?

Is someone listening?

The plane leveled off some. Slowed.

Raine stretched, arching his back to shake off the effects of hours sleeping crumpled up in a chair-albeit a fairly luxurious one. At least the beers and shots had lost most of their edge.

Good. Especially if he was going to get his orders.

He looked back out the window and noticed the planes on the tarmac getting bigger. The small jet circled hangars, some of them spilling out F-16 fighters into the early morning Still, it looked pretty quiet here, even if it was an hour or so before dawn.

He guessed the time.

About 4:30 A.M.

He looked at his watch: 5:07.

Not bad. Still, the sky should be turning light, no?

Then he remembered the time difference. Mountain time here.

He pressed a button of his watch and moved it back two hours: 3:07… 3:08 A.M.

He relaxed-he never could explain it, but it was strangely relieving to have the right time on his wrist.

The screech of the jet’s tires hitting the runway.

A tilt as the nose touched down.

The scream of the engines in reverse, brakes.

That crazy feeling of having your body pasted against the seat.

The jet slowed. As it taxied to wherever it was going to discharge Raine, he thought of something that hours ago hadn’t seemed too odd:

He brought nothing.

No uniform. No change of underwear, no running shoes. No toothbrush, no personal effects. Nothing but what he wore to the bar, and a wallet filled with too little cash. The idea hit him full force.

It’s crazy. To fly out here with nothing. Sure, orders are orders…

But he didn’t have a clue what it meant.

The plane slowed some more. Raine unbuckled his belt while it still taxied. When the jet stopped, he listened to the small sounds of the engines slowing, quieting. Bright lights came on in the cabin.

Jackson stood up before him.

“Welcome to Buckley, Lieutenant.”

He went over to the small jet’s door and pulled a wide metal latch to the left, unlocking it. And like some magical portal, the door popped open, sending stairs down to whatever waited outside.