“What the hell is that?”
“A MIG-29; one bad-ass fighter.” Will reached up and pulled the wheel in front of him back. Even in his state, he was a better match for the MIG than Frank. “I’ve got it from here.”
The Cessna leveled off, the altimeter reading eighteen hundred feet. The scenarios played through his clouded thoughts. He could slow and try to stall the fighter. He could keep trying to turn away, but he would be like a leaf in the wind. He was outclassed in every way. The MIG looped above and came down behind them, a tracer of rounds filling the air. Will banked hard right.
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s playing with us,” Will answered. “He could drop us any second he chooses.”
“Then what’s he waiting for?”
Their dance continued, the fighter rushing the Cessna on the left side time after time.
“He’s pushing us out to sea.” Frank pointed as the coast appeared ahead, the dark waters of the Baltic a stark contrast to the snow-covered ground below. “He doesn’t want to shoot us down. He wants to drive us into the water.”
“Can’t cause an international incident if you don’t shoot,” Will replied. “Either way, we’re running out of fuel, fast.” He was regaining his wits as the adrenaline pulsed through his body. He was a fighter pilot again. He reacted to another salvo of canon fire driving the Cessna out over the Baltic. There was nothing he could do. The Russian was winning.
He cringed as the starboard engine sputtered. The gauge read empty. He could feel the change in attitude. This Cessna wasn’t built to fly on a single engine. The nose lurched sideways as he tried to correct for the loss. The starboard wing dipped. He turned into the wing to try to control the spin. They began to spiral inward and Captain Will Jenner fought to keep from spiraling down face-first into the rolling ocean. With every trick he could think of he worked to keep the plane as level as possible; flaps, thrust, turns. Everything was in play. If he could control the yawl he had a fighting chance of skimming the water instead of diving head first; a sure death sentence. He could hear Ruth sobbing behind him. It was his show. He was in control. He could see the MIG circling as they spun inward. The fighter had disengaged and was watching their slow death from above.
The black waters spun below as another roar rushed atop the stricken plane. The MIG was coming in for a kill. Will tried to look sideways to catch a glimpse. It was like driving by an accident. You couldn’t not look. What he saw both shocked and amazed him as two dark shapes streaked overhead and blew past the MIG. They veered right and came back around making another pass at the Russian. The MIG kicked in his afterburners, the flames shooting from the twin Klimov engines as he headed back toward the coast. Will pulled back on the yoke as he struggled to level the plane, just as two F-16 Falcons broke off from pursuit. They circled overhead as Captain Will Jenner flattened the wings and skimmed the whitecaps of the Baltic. The starboard wingtip caught the top of the water and spun the plane sideways. Ruth was thrown against the side of the cabin, her face bloodied as she landed across the seats.
Frank looked up, nearly in shock, his eyes awash in warmth. He mindlessly wiped his palm across the wheel, pulling back a bloodied hand. He stared ahead as the plane rolled atop the dark waves of the Baltic Sea, its flat surfaces the only thing keeping them afloat. He turned toward Will who had slumped unconscious against the controls. He had given everything he had to keep them alive. Frank coughed, sending a spurt of blood against the windshield. The sea rolled before him as they rocked back and forth, the dark waters broken only by the whitecaps pushed by the arctic winds. He blinked, his vision clouded. He watched in a fog as the blackness began to lighten and a circle of dark green seemed to appear from nowhere. Green foam splashed with white. And bubbles. Millions of bubbles began to soil the blackness. They churned and rode the waves like thunder from the heavens. The plane rocked as water surged over the wings, pushed by a leviathan as the dark shape broke the surface before him.
The sleek hull crested the waves rising in a quiet rush as water poured from the openings and the planes along the sail, forming a classic silhouette against the sky as it escaped the water’s grip. The plane began to bob uncontrollably. From his coffin, he watched the hatch pop open and fall back as dark figures in orange vests clambered out onto the deck. A raft thrown into the water was quickly joined by figures jumping into the roiling sea. In his state, he could not imagine why anyone would sacrifice themselves to the god of the waters. Major Francis Brown closed his eyes as the rumble of jet engines faded in his ears.
One year later
He knew, at least he thought he knew, what to expect. The bed in the hospital room would be covered with white linens, and plastic. Blood would be everywhere when the time came. He hoped he could stomach what was about to happen. He took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts aside. The snap of a glove brought him back to the present. It was time.
The rush of fluids gushing to the floor seemed as inconsequential as anything he had ever seen. He was focused solely on this singular event. He stood out of the way as the doctor leaned in to do his work.
“That’s it. That’s it. One more. Give me a towel.”
The next few seconds changed his life forever. He heard a delicate ‘smack’ and the first cries of a wailing infant echo within the delivery room.
“Captain Anthony, you have a son.”
The doctor turned and handed the child to the nurses where he was promptly weighed and measured before being wrapped in a clean white blanket. The screams of life faded as he was placed on his mother’s breast. Kyle looked up to his wife, and smiled. He was so proud of her. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.
“Don’t,” she smiled. “I must look awful.” Jen Anthony looked down at her son as he took his first breaths. Though his eyes were closed, she caressed his face and watched his nose as it moved in and out. Kyle took a towel and wiped the glistening sweat from her face. Her brows were soaked and her hair matted from the effort, and she never looked so beautiful.
“Congratulations folks,” the doctor remarked as he stood and snapped off his latex gloves. “He’s a fine looking lad. Got all the parts and everything is in the right place.”
Kyle reached down to stroke his son and touch his skin for the first time. His hand nearly covered his son from top to bottom. He knew in his heart it would be a hand that delivered nothing but love to his child, a firm love, a giving love, a love that protected him from all the perils of the world. Because that’s what fathers do.
The room was cleared as the nurses went about their business and within ten minutes, the Anthony family was alone for the first time.
“He’s so beautiful.”
“He takes after his mother in that.”
“I hardly think so.” She reached down and stroked his cheek. “He’s so small.”
“I think that’ll change over time.”
They looked up and smiled at the unexpected voice.
“Will!”
“I was told it would be okay to step in and say hi.” Will Jenner tucked his cap under his arm and smiled as he let the door swing behind him. “I think congratulations are in order.” He extended his hand but as he stepped forward, Kyle leaned down and gave him the biggest bear hug he ever had.
“Don’t crush him, dear.” Jen lifted her free arm and waved with her hand. “Come give me a hug there, fly boy.”
“Always for you, Jen. Always.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “He’s so precious. Got a name for him?”
“That’s still under debate,” she replied.