Prepper Fiction Collection: Four Books in One Page 15

  Back Across The Pond

  By Susan Gregersen

  Copyright December 2011

  The gray of dawn was overtaking the Montana sky, and one twinkling star remained, resisting the coming day. The only sound was snow crunching under the feet of the small group of people gathered by a car next to a small cabin. Frosty clouds puffed from their mouths with every breath as they went about loading suitcases and duffel bags into the trunk.

  “This is the last one,” Darlene said, handing the green daypack to her husband, Carl. He dropped it into the trunk, slammed it, and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

  “We’d better get going then,” said June. She felt a wave of affection for her sister- and brother-in-law. She knew they were nervous about the trip to Europe with all that was going on in the world. Greece stood on the brink of collapse and rest of the world was on the edge of their seats, seeing how it would play out. Most of the world was already in deep recession.

  Darlene walked over to her friend and neighbor, Sue, and gave her a hug. “Remember what I told you!” said Sue. “First thing you do when you get off that plane is buy a lighter or something to start fires with, and a knife, since you can’t take those things on the plane!”

  Darlene nodded and swallowed a lump in her throat. Sue had helped her pack emergency items into her daypack, carefully choosing things that would be allowed by the airline, as well as into a foreign country. The rules were pretty strict but they had managed to include a few things along with the snacks; things that wouldn’t draw curiosity, such as a bracelet made out of woven paracord.

  Carl shook hands with Sue’s husband, Walter, then turned to open the car door for Darlene. Sue and Walter would be taking care of their house and animals while Carl and Darlene were gone. Their neighborhood was a close-knit group of friends who gave each other a hand any time it was needed.

  As the car drove out onto the gravel road Darlene looked back. Smoke was curling out of the stove pipe and drifting high into the sky. The two dogs danced halfway down the driveway and stood in the snow watching the car leave. The forest closed in on both sides of the road. Darlene turned back around and settled in for the two-hour drive to the airport.

  Before they knew it they were standing in the line at the security checkpoint so they could board their plane. ‘Last chance,’ thought Darlene as her heart fluttered nervously. She knew it was way beyond the point where she could back out of the trip.

  She’d just have to give herself over to it and realize it was all in God’s hands now. Whatever happened, there wasn’t much she had control over now. She gave a nervous smile to Carl, who put his arm around her shoulders and gently squeezed her up against his side. He hadn’t said so, but she wondered if he was apprehensive too.

  It was a long day of flights and transfers and layovers, and amazingly, nearly every flight was on time! First they transferred in Salt Lake City, then a stopover in Indianapolis, on to New York City, and finally onto the plane that would take them across ‘the pond‘, as the Atlantic Ocean was often called..

  Darlene awoke with a start when the pilot began his pre-landing spiel. She’d slept the last few hours of the flight and they were now coming into Heathrow airport in London. There, they would transfer to the plane that would take them to their destination in Germany.

  She was surprised she’d been able to fall asleep, anxious as she was. Darlene wasn’t normally a worrying kind of person, but it just seemed so far away, to be across the ocean, separated by all that water, not to mention countries, from her family. Good grief, she was the kind that tried to get out of going to town, let alone halfway across the world! Thoughts of her two young grandchildren and fears she wouldn’t see them again flicked through her mind.

  She shook the grogginess from her head, along with her fears, and leaned over to peer out the window. Rooftops, trees, and streets spread as far as she could see, though they were still tiny specks. It was late afternoon and the shadows were long. She could see some streetlights were on already, and headlights as cars made their way along the streets. She watched in fascination at the traffic flowing along in the opposite lanes as they would be in America. Her eyes stopped on a glowing building, then another.

  ‘Odd!’ she thought. Turning to her husband, Carl, she shook his arm.

  “Honey, what are those odd glows scattered here and there?” she asked him. He frowned as he leaned across her to look out the window.

  “Probably roofs glinting, since the sun is at the right angle, low in the sky and about to set,” he said, then looked more carefully. Their heads were together near the window when murmuring spread around the cabin. “Oh jeez! I think they’re fires! Look, now that we’re lower, you can see mobs of people and--HOLY COW, did you see THAT!” he exclaimed as a fuel tanker truck exploded in the middle of a crowded street.

  They stared in shock then ducked their heads away from the window. Both breathed heavily and their minds raced amid the panic on the plane. Almost immediately the noise stopped and it was almost deathly quiet. Another explosion, this time on the other side of the plane, followed by a few murmurs.

  Darlene clutched Carl’s hand and turned to look back out the window. Now they were low enough to see people running all different directions, crowds of them, some falling and being trampled. Then the plane shot over a fence and the runway marker lights flashed below them, and the plane touched the concrete of the runway with a solid bump, followed by a couple of smaller bumps.

  In moments the plane was at the terminal and they exited the plane. Armed guards and soldiers seemed to be everywhere. The passengers were escorted to a large room where those who’s destination was London were sorted out and allowed to leave. The rest were lined up according to the flight schedule of who’s plane left next. Several people tried to ask the soldiers what had set off the events they’d seen from the plane window, but they were met with stony silence.

  Before long a woman called for those going to Germany. Darlene and Carl quickly rose and hurried over, along with about two dozen others. They filed down the hall and onto another plane. This one was smaller and looked like it held around 150 people.

  The plane was already half-filled, starting from the rear and every seat was filled as they came forward. The new arrivals were seated from the front, separated from the others by half a dozen rows of seats. They were told to fill the seats as they came to them, and to ignore their previous seat assignment for this flight.

  “Wonder what that’s about? With all the security screenings they can’t be worried about terrorists. And they never asked to see our ID or tickets here between planes,” Carl said quietly to Darlene.

  “Maybe because we just got off the other plane and never left the secured area? Though I guess they did just take our words for it that we were supposed to get on this plane.” She shrugged out of her jacket and rolled it up in her lap.

  “IF YOU ARE SITTING IN A WINDOW SEAT YOU WILL CLOSE THE SHADE AT THIS TIME” barked the intercom. Darlene jumped, looked around in confusion, and pulled the shade across the window next to her. Others did the same, some protesting. Airline attendants closed the shades over the windows of the empty rows between the two groups of people.

  The message was repeated in German, “Wenn Sie in einem Fensterplatz sitzen…” and then in French.

  “Hey!” A man shouted. “Has this plane been taken over by terrorists?”

  “Yeah, we have a right to know!” Other voices shouted out questions and the flight attendants looked at each other in panic. The engines of the plane roared and the plane moved backward, away from the building. A man appeared from the forward area of the plane and grabbed the microphone and started frantically speaking into it, sometimes in English, sometimes in other languages.

  “You must please assume safety position with your face on your lap. Keep your head down. Cover with your arms your head.” The plane suddenly veered to the right and accelerated quickly, causing the man to drop the microphone and grab th
e seat near him. He pulled himself into the seat and buckled the seat belt. The flight attendants did the same.

  With engines screaming, the plane roared down the runway and into the sky. Darlene felt like she couldn’t breathe but was afraid to raise her head. Carl’s hand crept over and took hers, and they clung to each other. After a few minutes the plane leveled off.

  “You may sit up now. This is your pilot speaking, and I regret to inform you that we are now fugitives. The airport was ordered closed and the plane was to be evacuated. I selfishly wanted to go home and not be trapped in England for whatever duration this rioting lasts. I’m sorry to have put all of you in danger. We should be landing in Hamburg in about 90 minutes,” and quietly he added “God willing!”

  Darlene sat up slowly. Everyone was looking around at each other. Someone slid the shade open on their window and others followed. The darkness of the English channel was below them and the only lights from below seemed far off toward the horizon. Soon they were over land and someone said the Netherlands were beneath them. They were too high to see more than lights and clusters of lights far below them.

  The flight attendants came down the aisle with their carts piled high, urging everyone to take whatever they wanted. Carl and Darlene took several bottles of water, a couple of juice, and several bags of peanuts and chips. They put their jackets back on and filled the pockets with the goodies. Carl retrieved their daypacks from the overhead bin and they put them on the floor between their feet.

  “We’ll begin our descent now for landing at Hamburg,” said the pilot over the intercom. As soon as he said it they felt the drop of the plane’s nose as it began a steeper-than-normal descent. Roads and buildings began to come into focus.

  “Oh man! It doesn’t look any better down there than it did in London!” someone exclaimed. Everyone turned their attention to the windows and the ground below. Fires dotted the city and panicked people mingled with rioters, and the streets were littered with clothes and boxes and debris of all sorts. Frank and Darlene looked at each other in horror, unable to speak. They had feared an economic collapse of some sort in Europe but nothing this sudden!

  The wheels were lowered with a grinding noise and, like in London, one minute there were buildings beneath them, then there was grass and runway lights. As they taxied to the terminal they saw smoke coming from the building. The plane slowed to a crawl. Just when it started to turn into it’s gate slot there was an explosion, and glass blew out in an arc and fell to the ground. A fireball engulfed two planes parked at the terminal.

  The pilot swung the plane sharply and moved away from the building, it’s wingtip almost touching one of the burning planes. As soon as it was clear he threw the thrust lever and the plane’s speed increased. There was a sound like raindrops on metal and they realized the plane was being fired upon.

  Darlene held her breath as the plane picked up speed. Suddenly she spotted a fuel truck pulling away from the end of the building and racing toward them. It caught up and passed the jet. She was thrown hard into the wall when the plane veered and drove off the runway just as the wheels were lifting from the concrete. The engines screamed as the pilot thrust them in reverse and tried to stop the plane.

  The passengers screamed along with the engines as everything not belted down was thrown around. The plane rocked one way and then the other, the wings slamming the ground and yanking the plane back and forth. One wing was wrenched off, then the plane ripped through the fence and into the woods. The fuselage was torn into pieces and people tumbled from the plane, some still buckled into their seats. The last things Darlene noted was horrified, mindless screaming and the acrid smell of burning wire and plastic.

  Carl had his arm through the straps of the daypacks, holding them against his legs in a death grip as he bent over his knees while the plane was ripped into pieces. The air was filled with the painful screech of metal bending and ripping. He felt himself thrown in a circle, then realized his seat was on it’s back next to a tree. He released the seatbelt and struggled to his feet. Darlene was climbing to her feet nearby, and Carl gave a quick prayer of thanks as he grabbed her and asked if she was okay.

  “Yes!” she yelled over the noise. Flames leapt toward the sky and a trail of burning debris led back toward the runway. Trucks screamed toward them, lights flashing. People started running across the grass, waving their arms at the rescue vehicles. Suddenly popping sounds filled the air and people started falling to the ground in agony. Carl grabbed Darlene’s arm and they raced into the woods. Panic ensued as people fled for their lives.

  Hearts pounding, Darlene and Carl ran for what seemed like hours. They had come out of the woods onto a street lined with houses. It was a shabby district of brick row houses and old cars. They stopped long enough to swing the day packs onto their backs, then resumed a jogging pace, moving farther and farther from the airport.

  Every time they came to a street with fires and mobs they changed course. One street had a dark area with a lot of trees and they went to investigate. It was a cemetery. They climbed over the stone wall and found a quiet place to sit and rest while they got their bearings.

  Carl pulled Darlene back under the shelter of a tree and sat with his arms around her. They panted for air as adrenaline coursed through them. Darlene felt hot and cold at once, as the heat of their exertion mixed with their cooling sweat. She gave a shriek as a man ran toward them through the shadows.

  “Komm mit mir! Komm mit mir!” (“Come with me! Come with me!”) he called urgently as he ran past them, slowing to pull at their sleeves. Carl hesitated but saw fear on the man’s face as he glanced over his shoulder. Carl looked toward the wall they had just climbed over. Several heads appeared, followed by arms pulling themselves up onto the wall. Carl whirled and grabbed Darlene’s arm and they followed the stranger.

  “Wait! We’re coming!” Carl called after the man.

  Darlene’s lungs burned as they ran through the dark cemetery, dodging gravestones, trees, and bushes. She wasn’t sure if the pounding she heard was in her head or around them. Suddenly they slipped through a wrought-iron gate and ran through an alley. Snow had been melting in the street and it splattered onto their legs as they jogged through it.

  The stranger continued straight and stayed in the alley, crossing several streets before he stopped in front of a door and rapped a series of staccato beats. Seconds later the door was opened by a lumpy shape concealed in a cloak and hood.

  “Bitte, bitte! Gott hilf uns!” (“Please, please! Lord help us!”) the stranger cried. He pushed through the doorway and the cloaked figure stepped back. Carl and Darlene followed him in.

  The stranger rattled off several excited sentences in German, and the hooded figure led them into the warm kitchen of a bakery. The hooded figure spoke and they realized it was a woman. She spoke in short, urgent sentences, the tone suggesting she was asking questions. They both turned and looked at Carl and Darlene.

  The woman nodded toward them, then looked at the stranger and pointed toward the ceiling. The stranger made an affirmative sound and jogged from the room. They could hear his footsteps climbing stairs, and shortly he was back with a sleepy teenage boy buttoning a wool shirt as he entered the room with the stranger.

  “Hello. How do you do?” asked the boy in a halting voice, heavy with his native German accent. Carl and Darlene stared at him in a daze. Then Carl shook it off and replied.

  “Hello. We do not do fine,” he answered lamely and lapsed into silence.

  The woman spoke to the boy, then the boy turned back to them.

  “Mother asks why you run in the streets? Why did you not go to the embassy when the Americans called their people to come and be taken to safety?”

  “We were on an airplane! It just crashed at the airport and we were being shot at! We ran until he came and led us here!” Darlene cried, pointing to the stranger.

  The boy translated this to the others, calling the stranger Uncle Friedric as he pointed to him. Th
e woman made an agitated sound, stepped over to a huge oven and peered at it. She took a small shovel and reached into a bin, scooped up some coal and shoveled it into an opening under the oven. Then she went over to a counter and picked up a basket with a towel over it. Returning to the others she uncovered the basket and offered rolls to the foreigners.

  Cal and Darlene each took a large soft roll. The woman indicated some wooden stools near a table built into the wall on the other side of the kitchen. They walked over and sat down. The boy followed them.

  “May I ask. Why you come to Germany?” He pulled a wooden barrel over and sat between them.

  “We are here to visit my parents. They are not military but Dad works for them as a civilian contractor. They live in an apartment near the base.” Carl said.

  “You have address?” He looked back and forth between them.

  “Yes, we have address,” Carl said, falling into the boy’s way of speaking. He recited the address to the boy, who screwed his face into a thoughtful look.

  “I know where that street is, but that is all I know.” He got up and walked over by the hooded woman. He casually reached for a roll as he spoke to her, and she started to brush his arm away, affectionately, then stopped and stared at him, not noting that he took two rolls. Her eyes grew large as she listened, and she spoke fast and furiously in response.