Her gaze swept out over the crystal blue sea and the shimmering noon-time sky.
“Mom, thanks, that means a lot, but… I really can’t process this yet. You’re better, after all you’ve been through! It’s beyond comprehension, but I’m not complaining.”
“Don’t. I’ve never felt so good. Other than a rumbling in my stomach—and oh Lord, why wouldn’t they give me a decent meal? Just once, they could have offered me a juicy steak or even just a cheeseburger. I was so hungry…”
She licked her lips and Alex slowly turned and gave her a long, careful look before hitting some turbulence and wrenching his attention back to the flight path and the control panels.
“Ummm…” He saw something glinting up ahead, in the water. Something large. “Mom, what—”
The radio crackled and a voice shot out. “ Cessna 1104 , this is the aircraft carrier USS Alabama . Identify yourself and your passengers.”
“Here we go,” Alex muttered to his mom. “Wish me luck.”
“ USS Alabama , this is Cessna 1104 . Alex Ramirez, piloting, I am returning to the U.S. from Grenada with one passenger and I request landing permission at the nearest air base, or—”
“Negative, Mr. Ramirez. You are ordered to turn back, return to your point of departure and await further orders or clearance arrangements.”
“Uh,” Alex said, “no can do. I have an elderly passenger with a medical condition and I’m low on fuel. Can we at least get an escort and a landing permit?”
An idea came to him, even though he had no time to consider the logistics. “How about we land on the Alabama’s flight deck?”
“Can you do that?” his mother asked, eyes wide, leaning forward in an attempt to see the distant carrier.
Alex shrugged, then released the transmit button. “No idea, never attempted that but it can’t be too hard, right? If those super-fast fighter jets can do it…”
“Negative,” the Alabama barked in return. “Once again, you are ordered to turn back. Turn —”
The transmission broke off.
“What are those?” his mother asked, pointing down, out of the window. Alex squinted, wondering at how his mother could see better than he could, then his vision finally adjusted and he saw it: two smallish specks like birds circling around the carrier and above it. Then he noticed something else: a cargo ship approaching the carrier fast, like it was preparing to ram it.
As he was about to try raising the Alabama again, he saw things that awakened PTSD-like symptoms inside him: explosions on the deck, balls of fire and smoke erupting outward and upward, and as he closed in, bird-like shapes that grew and grew more detailed as they approached.
“Not birds,” his mother said, her voice cracking in horror.
“They’re dropping something on the carrier’s deck!” Alex said in shock, watching payloads fall, then erupt into living, scrambling things—humans, he realized, dropped onto the deck. But not humans, he realized, seeing their speed, the way they hit the deck and then got up racing in all directions, hungrily hunting the crew.
“Not birds,” his mother repeated in a hollow voice as they completed the first fly-over, zipping through clouds of burning smoke. The Cessna banked hard, and Alex tried not to get distracted by the chaos on the deck as he prepared for another pass.
His mother craned her neck and narrowed her eyes.
“Pterodactyls.”
8.
USS Alabama—moments earlier
Major Casey Remington, thirty-one years old and just two weeks away from being a proud father for the first time, found himself thinking about, of all things, names for his future daughter. Olivia was due to deliver any day now, and under normal conditions, Remington should have been on the first day of his two week leave right now; they would be sipping wine on their balcony at their Kansas City condo, continuing their playful bickering about what name to pick, making sure it was insult and mockery-proof for school and
“Mom, thanks, that means a lot, but… I really can’t process this yet. You’re better, after all you’ve been through! It’s beyond comprehension, but I’m not complaining.”
“Don’t. I’ve never felt so good. Other than a rumbling in my stomach—and oh Lord, why wouldn’t they give me a decent meal? Just once, they could have offered me a juicy steak or even just a cheeseburger. I was so hungry…”
She licked her lips and Alex slowly turned and gave her a long, careful look before hitting some turbulence and wrenching his attention back to the flight path and the control panels.
“Ummm…” He saw something glinting up ahead, in the water. Something large. “Mom, what—”
The radio crackled and a voice shot out. “ Cessna 1104 , this is the aircraft carrier USS Alabama . Identify yourself and your passengers.”
“Here we go,” Alex muttered to his mom. “Wish me luck.”
“ USS Alabama , this is Cessna 1104 . Alex Ramirez, piloting, I am returning to the U.S. from Grenada with one passenger and I request landing permission at the nearest air base, or—”
“Negative, Mr. Ramirez. You are ordered to turn back, return to your point of departure and await further orders or clearance arrangements.”
“Uh,” Alex said, “no can do. I have an elderly passenger with a medical condition and I’m low on fuel. Can we at least get an escort and a landing permit?”
An idea came to him, even though he had no time to consider the logistics. “How about we land on the Alabama’s flight deck?”
“Can you do that?” his mother asked, eyes wide, leaning forward in an attempt to see the distant carrier.
Alex shrugged, then released the transmit button. “No idea, never attempted that but it can’t be too hard, right? If those super-fast fighter jets can do it…”
“Negative,” the Alabama barked in return. “Once again, you are ordered to turn back. Turn —”
The transmission broke off.
“What are those?” his mother asked, pointing down, out of the window. Alex squinted, wondering at how his mother could see better than he could, then his vision finally adjusted and he saw it: two smallish specks like birds circling around the carrier and above it. Then he noticed something else: a cargo ship approaching the carrier fast, like it was preparing to ram it.
As he was about to try raising the Alabama again, he saw things that awakened PTSD-like symptoms inside him: explosions on the deck, balls of fire and smoke erupting outward and upward, and as he closed in, bird-like shapes that grew and grew more detailed as they approached.
“Not birds,” his mother said, her voice cracking in horror.
“They’re dropping something on the carrier’s deck!” Alex said in shock, watching payloads fall, then erupt into living, scrambling things—humans, he realized, dropped onto the deck. But not humans, he realized, seeing their speed, the way they hit the deck and then got up racing in all directions, hungrily hunting the crew.
“Not birds,” his mother repeated in a hollow voice as they completed the first fly-over, zipping through clouds of burning smoke. The Cessna banked hard, and Alex tried not to get distracted by the chaos on the deck as he prepared for another pass.
His mother craned her neck and narrowed her eyes.
“Pterodactyls.”
8.
USS Alabama—moments earlier
Major Casey Remington, thirty-one years old and just two weeks away from being a proud father for the first time, found himself thinking about, of all things, names for his future daughter. Olivia was due to deliver any day now, and under normal conditions, Remington should have been on the first day of his two week leave right now; they would be sipping wine on their balcony at their Kansas City condo, continuing their playful bickering about what name to pick, making sure it was insult and mockery-proof for school and
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