Chapter Forty Eight

By Chris Fulmer

The storm was getting much worse. Neal had a feeling he was now walking through the very heart of the system now. He'd been out in the storm by himself for only about twenty minutes, but already he was close to serious frostbite. Zero visibility faced him ahead, and he wondered if he hadn't just made fatal error in his fit of rage. And Clark's words were now haunting him: "YOU STAY UP IN YOUR IVORY TOWERS IN NEW YORK....WHO'S THE BETTER FATHER NOW!?" "Maybe he is right," he thought glumly to himself, "Maybe he is better. Maybe I am nothing but a failure as a father."

He became acutely aware of a motor behind him. A car motor. Puzzled as to who might be driving an ordinary car in a storm this bad, he squinted through the snowflakes. The headlights in the distance soon gave way to a Chevy with large snow tires. The passenger window rolled down. "Care for a ride, Mr. Page?" said.....

"Nancy?" Neal was surprised to see her again.

"So, are you just going to stand out there looking blue?" she asked him.

"Not at all," Neal jumped in. "So, where have you been and where are we going?" he asked her, "Because looking at the roads, I'd say staying out here too long is asking to get killed."

"I heard there was a motel about two miles up the road from here, so I guess we could weather the storm there for the night, and hope your friends make it through OK," Nancy said.

"Did you happen to come across them?" Neal asked.

"Briefly. They said you'd gone this way, and I knew you couldn't have gone far."

"So what made you decide to come this way?" Neal had to know.

"I did some thinking after I left you earlier,' Nancy admitted, "And I thought maybe Mr. Griffith--Del--was right about me thinking too lowly of my family. When I think back, Jack did love me, even when I couldn't return it. I now don't know why I had the gall to leave them."

"So even though Del's a sleezeball to you, you still found his words moving," Neal said, knowing that Del had worked his magic yet again.

"As hard as it would be to say, yes," Nancy said, "He's really a lot wiser than you'd think at first glance. Right now, I'm kind of amazed how he could forgive me so openly for chewing him apart."

"I know," Neal said, "But Del's really a forgiving type of guy. It's hard for him to stay mad at anyone. You know, it's kind of funny when you think about it, that a shower curtain ring salesman, a guy doing a job most people have never even heard of, could know more about human nature than the best psychologists in the country, and especially two upper class types like ourselves. We can try and mentally put ourselves above him, but really, he and we aren't that different at all. That's what I found out last Thanksgiving with him, and I'm kind of glad you got a chance to discover it for yourself."

He put his hands as close to the heater as he could. "So, if we do manage to get back to Chicago in time for the holidays, do you think you'll stop in and give Jack a visit?" he asked.

"I've been thinking about it," Nancy said, "and I think I might, just for a little bit. I know he'd be happy to see me, but I don't know if Andie will. As I probably said earlier, she never really warmed to me."

She reached deep into her pocket and pulled out a heart-shaped golden locket. "I've been carrying this around for the last three years," she told him, handing it to him. Neal opened it up to see a picture of the Walsh family in happier times: Nancy and Jack with a baby Andie, all smiling in front of a burning fireplace during the holidays. "At first I didn't know why I brought it along," she continued, "But now I know it's because I couldn't let go of them no matter how hard I tried. I must admit there were times I opened it up and wondered how they were doing without me on a lonely night. I guess I never did stop caring, even if I thought I had."

"Almost every parent, yours truly included, never stop caring for their kids, even when it seems otherwise. In fact, my....." Neal started to say, but just then a bullet smashed through the windshield inches from his face.

"I think we just hit another road bump!" he cried out, ducking under the dash. Several more bullets hit the car, forcing Nancy to stop. The doors were pulled open. "Out of the car, now!" barked harsh voices. Neal blankly complied. He stumbled out into the snow to find himself face to face with a tall, menacing figure with a hawk perched on his shoulder.....

"So you're the general?" he asked him.

"That's me," General Blum said coldly, "And you have something I want. Hand it over now."

"And what happens if I don't?" Neal asked defiantly, "Because with the body count you've racked up on this trip so far, I'd say...."

General Blum grabbed him by the throat. "You don't want to get me there," he hissed, "So just do what I say, now."

"You win," Neal handed him the briefcase. The general released him and examined the briefcase with delight. "Minor damage, but they should still be intact," he mused.

"Uh, quick question, what are these for anyway so that you had to kill half the people in America?" Neal had to know here and now.

"It's for the future of America, the way it should be," the general told him, "Once I launch all those missiles, I'll get them all back for kicking me out when they did. Them and the Commies."

"Uh, Russia dumped communism some years ago, you should read USA Today more often," Neal told him.

"I don't care, they still deserve to get roasted!" General Blum snarled.

"Look at the bright side, though; since I'm going to kill you now, you won't get to see it."

"Thanks," Neal sighed.

"Uh, general, sir, I'd like to request that their lives be spared on account of...." Sherman began.

"Denied!" his father snapped. He cocked his Colt .45 and aimed it right at Neal's head.

"Take me instead," Nancy abruptly spoke up.

"What?" the general looked over at her.

"Neal has more of a life to go back to than me, and don't you think he deserves your respect as a worthy adversary," Nancy reasoned, "What do you say, sir?"

General Blum thought this over for a minute, then shook his head and said, "No way! But don't you worry, honey, you'll go right after him." He took aim again.

"Run for it Neal!" Nancy abruptly lunged at the general and pinned his gun against his chest. Instinctively Neal took off blindly into the woods, even though he had no idea where he was going. He stumbled down a bank headfirst. The sound of a fatal shot behind him made him cringe in horror at his friend's fate. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel proud of her, "She really redeemed herself," he thought to himself, "At least she died a better person than ever."

A hand roughly came down on Neal's shoulder. 'You're not going anywhere, bud!" Colonel Champlin hauled him back up to the road. The general was standing right over Nancy's prostrate body, laughing softly at it.

"Filthy swine!" Neal spat at him, "She was going to make up with her family! They haven't had a happy holiday since she left, really!"

"Remind me to send them a sympathy card," the general said, pointing his gun barrel right between Neal's eyes, "Any final requests before I blow you into the next life?"

"Uh, yeah, two actually; first," Neal grabbed Blum's leg, "PLEASE don't do it!!"

"Forget it!" General Blum pushed him off, "What's the second?"

"Second, um, if you're bent on killing me, as I'm sure you are now, um, could I at least have a ten second running head start, just to make it more interesting?"

"No."

"Just curious," Neal shrugged. General Blum put his hand on the trigger and started to pull it.....

The roar of a motorcycle engine cut through the darkness. Seconds later, a Harley zoomed into Blum's command, sending them scattering. "Need a lift, Mr. Page?" Clark called from behind Del at the throttle.

"For once, Sparky, I'm glad to see you," Neal said. Clark extended his hand to him. Neal took hold....but instead of Clark pulling him up, he pulled Clark off. "Very nice, Sparky," he muttered.

"Shoot them, morons, shoot them!!" General Blum shouted, firing off his own guns. His command followed suit. Del came back around and helped them onto the bike. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of shower curtain rings, which he tossed at the soldier's faces. "Small but effective," he confided in his friends.

"Just put the pedal to the metal," Neal told him. Del roared off down the snow-covered road.....only to doubled back around behind the soldiers and snatch the briefcase right back out of General Blum's hands. "Hey, give that back!" the military man shouted.

"Come and get it!" Del retorted, gunning it into the storm. General Blum fumed with rage. "After them, after them!" he shouted at his men, who ran to their vehicles and start giving pursuit.

"So how'd you get this new set of wheels?" Neal had to ask.

"About five minutes ago a group of drunken bikers came by where the truck stalled, "Del explained, "One of them keeled over unconscious right near us, and figuring that he wasn't going to be using his bike for a while, we sort of borrowed it off him."

"Well what do you plan on doing when he wakes up?"

"By then we'll be far away," Del said, "because we're just a mile or so from Gary International Airport, so we'll just leave it for him at the front gate.

"But Del, the airport's probably shut down by now with this going on," Neal pointed upward at the storm.

"The airport, yes, but not necessarily the planes," Clark said with a wry smile.

Neal picked up on what he was saying. "Oh, so now we're going from stealing motorcycles to stealing airplanes?" he asked sarcastically.

"You said you wanted to get home, didn't you?" Clark inquired.

"Sparky, remember the day the music died? They went into a storm like this and crashed in five minutes!" Neal protested.

"How hard can it be to fly a plane?" Clark countered, "We take it up and put it on autopilot, and then when we reach Chicago, we take it off and land, and by then they should have the runways good and clear for us."

"Heads down!" Del warned as they smashed through the airport's back gate....and over the spike strip. "Perfect!" Neal groaned as the tires started going flat, "We had to choose the one way in with those!"

"That's the Chicago loading area," Del pointed to the far terminal.

"How do you know?" Clark asked.

"I've been here several times before," Del informed him.

"Well how're we going to get over there with this worthless bike out of air?" Neal muttered as it came to a stop far short of the terminal.

"Baggage loader," Del pointed to the nearby train of cars. The three of them quickly jumped on and drove as fast as the snow would allow them toward the Chicago loading area.....and not a moment too soon, as a grenade hit the motorcycle just moments after they'd abandoned it, blowing it up. The troops poured out onto the runway, firing nonstop at them. They were quickly gaining ground.

"This one should have been going to Chicago," Del said, looking up at an American flight, "So assuming they cancelled it with the weather and all, we'll just be doing it a favor and all. And apparently it was for someone special, since they've got the VIP ladder in place."

"We really lucked out, then," Neal said, not sure why someone would just leave a ladder out like that for them. But he wasn't about to argue with a rare bit of luck. They piled off the baggage loader and rushed up the stairs into the plane, kicking open the door. Dumping Del's trunk and Blum's briefcase in first class, they ran into the cockpit. "I'm flying," Clark said, jumping into the pilot's seat.

"Uh, no disrespect, Sparky, but you behind the stick is a recipe for disaster," Neal pushed him out, "You'd be better at....better at...uh Del, what do you think he'd be better at, co-pilot or navigator?"

"His choice," Del shrugged, hopping in the pilot seat himself. Clark thought it over and leapt into the navigator's seat. "Okay, but don't lead us too far off course," Neal said, sliding into the co-pilot seat.

"Now let's see," Del mused, looking over the controls, "I've flown enough time before in my life, I should know how to start this thing."

"If you're in doubt, just push them all," Clark suggested.

"Works for me," Del started doing just that. He managed to get the windshield wipers working, the emergency brakes engaged, and the thrusters moving, but he couldn't quite find the starting switch. "You could give me a little help here, Neal," he asked his friend.

"This is silly, pushing every button at once," Neal muttered under his breath, pressing every one within his reach. From outside the window, he could see the soldiers pulling up outside. They had to find the switch fast. "Well, that's all of them," he shrugged, pressing the last one near him.

"Same here," Del frowned, "What's the story with this? Why would they build a plane without a starter button?"

"How about that little one over there?" Clark pointed to one they'd overlooked.

"Oh yeah," Del pressed it. The plane's engine's roared to life. "Hmm, why is it always the last one?" he said out loud.

"Never mind that, just get us out of here," Neal said. He pushed forward on his stick. Del did the same, and they started away from the terminal just as the first group of troops reached the top of the entrance stairs. They fired a few stray bullets into the open door to the cabin, which fortunately had no effect. Del turned the plane wide around as some more soldiers fired a bazooka round at them straight on. Small gunfire strafed the cockpit, causing the men to duck down.

"I've just been thinking, Del," Neal realized something, "We'll never be able to take off. The runway's too snowed in."

"We're not going to take off, Neal," Del said, "I know it would be too dangerous trying to get up there, so we'll just go at ground level to Chicago."

"Ground level? You mean we just skim along the surface of the roads? Isn't that going to be a little dangerous with zero visibility?"

"Hey, it'll be quicker than actually going up in the air, and it'll be below their radar," Del argued, "and with the afterburners on this baby, there's no way they'll be able to catch up with us without planes of their own."

"Okay then, over the ground it is," Neal conceded, "Sparky, just keep your eye on the screen and tell us if we're headed in the right direction."

"Gotcha," Clark hunched further over his console. Del revved the plane's engines up full blast, and it accelerated out toward the far gate. The soldiers jumped back in their vehicles and gave pursuit, the tanks firing off some shots, but not hitting their target due to the low visibility. Del pulled up on the stick just enough so that the plane hopped over the fence and out onto the deserted interstate. "Home free and homeward bound--at last!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist in victory.

"Here's to hoping," Neal said, crossing his fingers. After everything they'd gone through already, he wasn't about to declare victory just yet.

Back in the airport, the jeeps and trucks slowed to a stop at the fence.

"Well, that's end of that," Lieutenant Maltin shrugged, throwing his hands up in defeat, "There's no way we can catch them now."

"If you're giving up, Lieutenant, you'll be the next one shot!" General Blum warned him. He pulled out his megaphone. "Okay men," he announced out the window to all his troops, "There is no need to get discouraged here. We are meant to traverse any conditions, including snow, and we know they're headed to Chicago, so let's get back out on the road and keep them on their toes. We'll get them and our codes yet if it's the last thing we'll ever do! Now back this thing up out of here!"