Flight into Darkness (Flight Trilogy, Book 2) (3 page)

His early years of heartache had long been buried in the distant past, replaced by fifteen, wonderful years married to his best friend and soul mate. Their two, beautiful children filled their lives with purpose.

After slipping into a pair of shorts and throwing on a T-shirt, he flipped off the closet light and opened the door. The house was quiet. The children were asleep. He paused beside the bed and gazed down at Keri, still fast asleep. Soon enough she would be called upon to resume her busy duties as a mother and a wife, but for now, she was free to dream.

In many ways, he and Keri were complete opposites, and, though she was as beautiful as the day he met her, it was her charm, her intelligence, her spontaneity, her sense of humor, her laid back, relaxed way of looking at the world that continued to captivate him. His calculated, orderly existence was balanced by her spirited, loving nature and positive outlook on life, something he needed now, more than ever.

He gently eased the covers up over her. She turned, smiling, as she extended a hand for him to join her in bed. He leaned down and kissed her. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “I’m going downstairs.”

“Just for a minute,” she pleaded, then threw the covers back and scooted over to make room. She smiled.

As the skilled archer, Cupid, might propel one of his gold-headed arrows, her invitation zeroed in on the soft spot in his heart: the spot she owned and controlled. Contemplating her request, his body tingled with desire to embrace her. He eased in beside her, pulling the covers over his legs. She snuggled up close, her warm hand slipping under his shirt and gently roaming across his chest and stomach. A surge of blood rushed through his body.

“Did you sleep?” she said in a soft voice.

“I don’t know if you call it sleep. I had the dream again.”

She put her head on his shoulder and pulled him tight. “What can we do?”

“But this time it was different.”

“How?”

“The pilots were more than foggy aberrations…I mean I could see their faces…and guess who the captain was?”

“Who?”

“Rex.”

“Weird. Why was Rex in your dream?”

“I guess he was on my mind. It could be because he flew my trip last night. It was as if I was in the cockpit with him while he was flying to New York…until things got ugly. This time the details were more vivid and in color. Instead of some no-name, dream pilots, I had to watch the attackers butcher Rex—”

“Sick!”

“Yeah, it was bad. I had to keep telling myself it was only a dream, but, boy, did it feel real.”

As she listened, her hand continued its soothing exploration of his body. Her touch eased his weary mind and comforted his soul like nothing else could.

“After waking up in a cold sweat, I tried to go back to sleep, but, as always, it was a futile effort. I just wish I could get
one
good night of sleep—just one.”

“Poor Baby.” She kissed him on the chest. Her hand slipped below his waist. Her rubbing had aroused him.

“I’m just sick of it all—the company, the job—always waiting for some wacko terrorist to slip through security and pick my plane to transport him into the afterlife.”

“I wish you didn’t have to fly anymore.”

“I really don’t have a choice.”

“When I think back on what happened, it all seems like a dream,” Keri said. “None of this would be happening to us if my dad had been smarter.”

“Don’t blame your dad. Remember, if it hadn’t been for him, we might not be together today. He couldn’t help it that Gold Street Capital was run by a bunch of crooks. The SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission) should have caught them long before their little Ponzi scheme blew up.”

“But really…a hundred million dollars? How could he lose all of it?”

“In hindsight, your dad’s big heart was his downfall. He wanted to make everything easy for you—us. Once he learned that he only had a few months to live, he had to act fast. That’s when he consolidated his entire estate with Gold Street. At the time, they were one of the few firms able to handle such a large portfolio of real estate, securities, and cash. He just happened to get trapped on the tail end before everything imploded. As far as Ponzi schemes go, that’s the worst possible time to get on board. The guys on the front end can make out okay. The poor suckers pulling up the rear get crushed. I’m sure he did his homework and, like I said, he only wanted to make it easy on us.”

Keri sniffled.

“Are you okay?” He brushed his hand over her head, pulling her hair back.

“Yeah.”

“We need to forget it and move on. Every time we bring it up, it only makes us hurt.

“You’re right. It’s only money.”

He turned and looked into her eyes. “As long as I have you, I don’t care if I live in a refrigerator box under the pier.” He kissed her.

She smiled and hugged him tight, then kissed him with passion. Engulfed in the warmth of her body, a fresh charge of currents rippled from head to toe. As if she knew, she rolled over on top of him, sat up straddling his hips, and slipped her nightgown off. She encouraged him to lift up while she pulled off his shirt.

As she kissed his neck and ear, she whispered, “Thank you for last night. The meal was wonderful. And afterwards…well…let’s just say…the dessert was absolutely scrumdiddlyumptious.”

“But you didn’t have dessert.”

“I’m talking about after we got home…the bath…the massage…and…well, you know. All I can say is that you were amazing!”

He smiled. “No, you are the amazing one. If you’d let me, I would spend the rest of my life bathing you and rubbing lotion all over your body every night.”

“I think I like your plan,” she said. “You’re hired.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am,” he said playfully in a poor Southern dialect. “Jest you rang yo’ silver bell when you is ready for me to come put a good scrubbin’ and a rubbin’ on you followed by some of my good ol’ lovin’.”

She smiled then continued to kiss him on the neck, cheek, and lips. In her seductive voice, she said, “You need to relax. It’s my turn.”

CHAPTER 3

Ryan descended the stairs and proceeded to the kitchen following the sweet and clean aroma of freshly brewed, Costa Rican coffee; a blend he had picked up on a recent trip to San José. After retrieving his favorite mug, he quietly closed the cabinet door then filled his cup. Steam rose from the dark, caffeine-rich liquid as it swirled around years of brown stains.

He sauntered over to the sliding glass door, stood, and gazed out. The black of night, yielding to twilight, releasing the once colorless world from its prison of darkness. He sipped his coffee, taking a moment to admire the garden. Calmer shades of green from elephant ears, pygmy date palms, and creeping ivy showcased the eye-popping effect of delicate roses of various hues, lavender, lilac, climbing bougainvillea, hibiscus, geraniums, hummingbird trumpets, baby blue eyes, bird of paradise, and more. All the credit went to Keri. Amidst her busy schedule, she’d still found time to design a garden that was aesthetically pleasing and inviting; a sanctuary of peace in the middle of a chaotic world.

Keri was
his
sanctuary; his anchor in life. The sight of her smile or the sound of her laughter never failed to cast a light on the dark path he journeyed. Without her, his robotic life would surely remain imprisoned in a colorless existence, adrift in a tumultuous sea.

He studied a cluster of five potted pineapple plants on the near side of the patio. He and Keri had started the small, backyard pineapple “plantation” after learning of the idea on one of his trips to Kauai. New leaf growth had appeared within a couple of months, but after almost two years the plants remained fruitless. It was a depressing example of the relationship between time and reward—if the reward ever comes at all.

The continued ingestion of caffeine ignited his sleep-deprived mind into frenzy, snatching his thoughts from the tranquility of the garden, spiraling them into darkness.

I’m
trapped
.
I
need
a
break
from
my
crazy
flying
schedule
.
How
can
I
keep
going
if
I
can’t
sleep
?
The
fatigue
is
killing
me
.
I’m
always
irritable
and
disinterested
.
I
wish
I
could
quit
my
job
.
I
have
to
provide
for
the
family
.
I
can’t
stand
to
see
Keri
worry
.
The
kids
deserve
more
.
What
is
happening
to
my
life
?
Sometimes
I
think
it
would
be
better
if
I
were
dead
,
then
they
could
move
on
with
life
.

His dear mother had suffered a slow death after being struck with mind-debilitating Alzheimer’s—a disease that slowly robbed her of her memory, thinking, and behavior. St. Peter had denied her the blessing of a swift passage through the pearly gates, but instead cursed her to wander for many years in the chasm that exists between life and death.

This
must
be
what
it’s
like
:
living
in
the
middle
between
life
and
death
.
Why
has
God
cursed
me
?
He
has
put
me
in
this
darkness
.
Even
when
I
cry
for
help
,
he
shuts
out
my
prayers
.

The word
God
ricocheted through his subconscious, searching countless subliminal files of positively charged images and phrases, perhaps seeking balance to the onslaught of negative thoughts.

“In this world you will have tribulation. Fear not. I leave you peace.” The words of the Almighty Son of God offered no magical powers regarding his struggle. To the contrary, they burdened him even more.

Fear
,
I
command
you
—
be
gone
!
Nope
,
didn't
work
.

When all hope seemed to have taken wings and flown away, he recalled the old adage his mother would often repeat: “It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

His mind snapped back.

Please
!
How
could
it
get
much
darker
?
Where
is
the
proverbial
“
dawn
”
you
always
clung
to
,
mom
?
I
don’t
see
it
!

He chuckled at the thought of his mother’s smile. She would surely be smiling at his thoughts. It was not just any smile; it was a particular smile. During his many attempts to rebut his mother’s wise advice, telling her she was old fashioned or didn’t understand, she often remained silent and simply smiled. It was
that
smile. It was a smile of quiet confidence in her belief that one day her son would understand the source of her faith and trust. He smiled, wishing for one last conversation with her; to hear her encouraging words reflecting her unwavering peace and strength.

Martha Mitchell was a woman of great faith. After her death, the remembrance of the many pragmatic applications of her convictions had inspired Keri and Ryan to consider a broader view of God’s divine guidance in everyday situations. It was as if, somehow, every effort to exercise their young faith connected them to Martha.

One such opportunity came with the birth of their daughter. After three years and three miscarriages, Keri had been diagnosed with endometriosis and told that her chances of a full-term pregnancy were infinitesimal. Praying for a miracle while trusting in God’s ultimate decision, one year after her diagnosis, Keri delivered a healthy baby girl. They named her Martha.

Even as Ryan reflected—on the miracle of little Martha’s birth, the great faith of his mother, and the outstretched hand of support from his beloved Keri—his misery and self pity continued unabated. There was no match for the darkness that engulfed him.

Another sip of coffee fired up the cranial machine. Random images and words from his nightmare popped into his thoughts:

Freedom
.
Freedom
is
found
in
hope
.
Everyone
is
depending
on
you
.
If
you
don’t
find
the
answers
,
we
will
all
die
.
It’s
up
to
you
.
You
must
find
freedom
.
Time
is
running
out
!

Was it that his family would not be free as long as he remained in the chasm between life and death? Life—a normal life—seemed so far away while death seemed so near. He quickly tired of the strain of recounting the details of his dream. It was a puzzle with no answers. He needed more caffeine.

Before turning away he tugged on the sliding glass door, not surprised to find it unlocked.

Why
can’t
she
learn
to
lock
the
door
?
I
should
have
checked
it
last
night
.

These were the little things that kept him awake at night, especially when he traveled. He attributed many lost hours of sleep to his never ending worries. The simple worry of the door being unlocked—during one of his late-night arousals—would lead to a multitude of ‘what ifs’. As a multichannel worrier, cursed with an overactive mind, he always considered the worst case scenario for practically every possibility. After all, it only took one doped-up crackhead roaming the neighborhood in search of something to pawn to enter their house and murder his family in exchange for a trinket of jewelry.