Phantom Drone VII

Purple dawn brightened the sky as I soared into the heavens, alpine forest falling away, the Phantom Drone snug about my waist. The world tilted in the visor of my full-face motorcycle helmet while the ground scrolled like a treadmill. Frigid winds roared past my ears and plucked noisily at my heavy winter clothing. I’d been deprived of the drone for only a day, yet it seemed an age since I’d exulted in the joyous exhilaration of flight.

I checked my instruments screen and discovered that Jess had loaded a digital atlas into it. As my company’s Project Manager for the Phantom Drone, I can tell you that a GPS system had been excluded by design, as that would have made the device trackable, and thus compromise its invisibility function. Without GPS, a map and a compass were a necessity for navigation. Before, I had used a physical atlas, which meant I had to come to a dead stop to check my maps lest 60-mile an hour winds tear the book from my grasp. (And even at a stop, natural winds at altitude can be quite trying.) Jess’ solution to the problem had been simple; if the Operator’s Manual could be accessed from the instruments screen, why not load other documents in there? I found it frankly embarrassing that such a seemingly self-evident thing as making digital maps available from the instruments screen had not occurred to me first.

After three and a half hours I began to look for someplace to recharge my ride when the reconnaissance duties of my lovely partner bore fruit. Leticia was happy to inform me through our heavily encrypted SF radios that she had found a fast charge station for electric vehicles. Indeed, she’d already occupied one of the spaces with Jess’ beat-up, very old, and totally not electric pickup truck.

Perhaps one day, technological advances in power generation and EV design will be such that my hate for electric cars will sound like only so much crotchety old man foolishness, but for now, they’re stupid. The upfront cost is too high for the average person, most of their energy ultimately comes from fossil fuels (usually coal), the rare earth minerals necessary for their heavy toxic batteries are slave-mined via ecological and humanitarian disasters, replacing a spent battery can cost more than the car itself, and you don’t even have the option for long road trips, which have saved my butt more than once.

If you want to go on a road trip with a 100% EV, you’d best map out the few charging stations beforehand. Assuming there are even enough charging stations between you and your destination, you’re going to be an hour at each one if you’re lucky, and 4 to 8 hours if you’re not. Compare that to crossing the country in a normal car, where there are gas stations at almost every freeway exit, and you need less than five minutes to gas your car, 10 to 15 minutes if you want to go inside to use the bathroom and buy a snack.

EVs are only viable if you have a special, expensive hookup for them in your house (good luck if you live in an apartment), and you’re within a half hour or less of everywhere you want to drive like work, shopping, and entertainment. Plus, our aging, overworked electric grid can hardly handle us now; our cities suffer brownouts and blackouts. You think your electric bill is high? Wait until everyone starts using electricity to drive. Then again, without electric cars, there would be no fast-charging stations which, as it turns out, are way better for the Phantom Drone than household current.

I engaged the Cloaking Device and landed invisibly in a narrow, trash-strewn alley. Some dude in ragged clothing staggered in from around a corner, unzipped his pants, and peed noisily against a wall. I was contemplating the morality of putting the guy in a sleeper hold when he helpfully wondered off back around the corner.

I also saw an intact cardboard box sticking out of a nearby opened dumpster. Perfect. I powered off the Cloak and went visible. Then I unsnapped the drone from around my waist and put the components in said box. I also put my snowpants and arctic parka in the box, as it was still summer, and my winter gear was rapidly becoming unbearable; the thermal underwear was bad enough. Especially since I was still wearing my large mountaineering backpack full of camping supplies.

I grabbed the box and carried it the block or so to the fast charging station, where Leticia waited beside Jess’ truck. Her face brightened and she rushed me, so I set the box down to let her throw loving arms around me.

“So glad you’re safe!” she sighed in my arms.

“Where’s the kid?” I asked.

“Melody’s still in her car seat in the truck. Sleeping.”

“Still? It’s after ten o’clock. Is she dead?”

“Don’t make jokes like that, Dante.”

At the truck, I experienced blessed relief when I finally took off my backpack and set it inside the truck bed.

“You can keep it there, you know?” Leticia suggested. “Brother, you can trust me with your stuff.”

I immediately imagined her in an accident or getting arrested, thereby losing my stuff forever, but I obviously didn’t tell her any of that and just as obviously agreed.

Next, I set down the box and took out the drone’s battery pack. We put it in the truck bed under a tarp, then hooked it up to the fast charger. After that, my curvy assistant had a surprise for me; sunglasses, a hat with a wide brim, and a long, blonde wig.

“I look ridiculous!” I reported, beholding my reflection in the truck’s windshield.

“Yes,” my partner agreed, giggling. “But you don’t look like yourself, and that’s the important thing. Obviously that won’t stay on while you’re whipping through the sky at 60 miles per hour, but while you’re on the ground, you won’t be so easily recognizable for the million dollar bounty.”

“I sure hope so.”

“While we’re on topic, do you think I need a disguise?”

“You’ve committed no crime,” I explained. “So, no one’s looking for you.”

“Yes, but we’re associates…”

“Not yet. The only one who saw us together is Jess, and it’s not in his interest to rat us out. You’ll be fine, babe.”

“Thank you, Dante. But please, don’t call me ‘babe’. Save that word for your wife.”

“But she’s…”

“Don’t!”

The finality in the tone of that last word forced me to drop the matter.

A handsome young man walked from his sleek model of the country’s most famous electric carmaker and toward us. My heart cooled with his inextricable approach, and I began to contemplate another sleeper hold.

“I’ve never seen an electric pickup like that!” the man exclaimed to Leticia. “Where’d you get it?”

“Would you believe it’s a conversion?” the woman responded, flashing a bright smile. “Internal combustion engine over to an electric motor.”

“I didn’t know they could do that!” the young man gasped. “Is… is that even cost effective?”

“Well… you see the result.”

“Yes, and I like it, but guess what? I see something else I like even more.”

“Oh?” Letica coyly replied, twisting a little.

“I’ve never heard about internal combustion to electric conversion. Look, there’s an awesome Mexican place about a block from here. How about you and me chill there while our cars recharge, and you can tell me all about it? Meals on me, pretty girl. Drinks included.”

Now my thoughts shifted from sleeper hold to murder.

“Thank you so much!” Leticia preened, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

“You sure? They got awesome margaritas!”

“I’m afraid so. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“A guy’s got to try, right?” the young man said with a shrug. “Cause seriously, you fine as hell!”

“Thank you!”

He gave Leticia a small bow and then walked back to his vehicle.

None of us had eaten any of the Tisha’s Stew she’d stored in two thermoses in the dark hours of the morning, so when Melody woke up a little later, the three of us had a brunch right there at the fast charge station. The thick, spicy soup of beans, rice, chopped vegetables, and turkey meat was still hot enough to enjoy.

The child was full of questions. Leticia managed to convince her that we were on vacation. The girl laughed at my disguise – which she saw through immediately – and asked me to play “the Paperclip Game” with her.

The Phantom Drone only needed an hour at the fast-charging station to recover full power, which was far better than the three hours of recharge time in the backyards of for sale homes to which I’d grown accustomed. I walked the box back to the alley where I’d previously landed, leaving my backpack in the truck bed. I stuffed my wig, hat, and glasses in the pockets of my arctic parka before putting everything back on. I had just locked the last component of the drone into place around my waist and entered my password when the man I’d previously saw peeing against the wall approached me in an eye-watering cloud of unwashed funk.

“Hey buddy,” he pleaded, holding out his hand. “Spare change?”

I fished out a hundred-dollar bill and gave it to him. He exploded in praise; raucous, groveling adoration that abruptly halted mid-sentence when I engaged the Cloaking Device and was rewarded by the look on his face. Then it was up, up, and away!

Later, Leticia found me another EV recharge station, though that one was regular, and not fast charging. The regular place took a little over two hours – still better than the three-hour house stay. Letica walked off during the recharge and returned with a bucket of spicy fried chicken from a famed fast food place. Good woman.

*

The sun was setting in a blaze of red-orange glory when I alighted invisible behind a rustic one-bedroom wooden cabin in a national park. I could hear a child crying, wailing like some jerks on a bus had just sung her a song about Santa Claus being dead. The back door was unlocked, so I walked in, not turning off the Cloaking Device until I was fully inside. I disassembled the Phantom Drone and stripped off my winter wear in a simple, outdated kitchen. Then I stepped to the bedroom where Leticia was trying to calm her inconsolable daughter.

“What the hell is this?” I demanded. “Is she dead?”

“Does she sound dead?” Leticia shot back.

“She could be.”

“I thought I told you to stop joking about that.”

“Seriously woman, what is this kid’s major malfunction?”

“I told her she can’t call her grandpa,” answered Leticia, clearly exasperated.

“But I have to call Grandpa!” Melody wailed. “If I don’t tell him, Grandpa will forget to take his medicine and he’ll die!”

“Melody!” her mother fussed, “You stop this foolishness this instant, or I’ll give you something to cry about!”

“But I do have something to cry about! I do, I do! Grandpa’s gonna die Mommy, he’s gonna die! Waaah!”

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Elijah Wainwright told my daughter that she was the only thing keeping him alive, and apparently, Little Miss Dramatic here took him literally.”

"Like a kleptomaniac?

"Kleptomaniac?"

"Yeah. They also take things literally."

"Dante, is this really a time for jokes?"

“Right. So, where’s the nearest chain hotel?”

“There were a couple in the town we drove through about a half hour back.”

“Excellent. Let’s go.”

“What?”

“We’re going to let the kid call her grandfather.”

“Oh, thank you, Dante!” howled Melody, and she immediately stopped bawling. Instead, she sniffed and wiped her eyes with her jacket sleeve.

“And while we’re at it, you can tell your mom that you and her grandbaby are okay.”

“But Dante, you’re on the run!” Leticia protested. “You think it’s wise to go back and stay at a regular hotel?”

“We’re not going to stay there; we’re going to use the phone there. Everything will be okay, I got it all figured out. Trust me.”

“If you say so. Which one should we go to?”

“You decide. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“What, you’re not flying?”

“Nah, I hate flying at night. Way too cold. No, we’ll put the drone components under the tarp in the truck bed. Come to think of it, I need to ride back there, too.”

“You know it’s not legal to ride back there, right?” Leticia reminded me.

“Yeah, riding unsecured in the back of a pickup is the least of my sins. Just try to avoid any accidents. Now tell me your name is not in any way attached to this cabin.”

“Nope. Paid the folks who were already here $500 cash to go stay someplace else for the night.”

“And?”

“And I’ll send another five hundred bucks to their home address if they don’t post anything about our transaction to social media for three days. I’ll turn the key in for them in the morning.”

“Great!” declared I, picking the child up to ride on my hip. “Come on Melody. Let’s talk to Grandpa!”

“Yay!” the girl shouted, happily lifting both hands in exaltation.

The trip back to the town Leticia mentioned took 38 minutes in the old rattling truck with her driving 5 miles over the speed limit nearly the whole time. Melody took the opportunity to go back to sleep.

We finally drove into the parking lot of a large, nationally known hotel chain and parked.

“Now what?” Leticia asked.

“Now you go to the front desk and get a room. With your credit card. Like a normal person.”

“But… what if the cops…

“The cops? You’ve committed no crime. And we are not yet known associates; the only person who saw us together was Jess, and he’s not talking.”

“There was that rather handsome, fit young fellow at the fast-charging station,” Leticia purred, smiling at me.

“I was wearing a disguise,” I retorted, refusing to take the bait. “Look, the FBI will put two and two together eventually, but it’s only been a day. Book the room.”

“Can’t they track the credit card transaction?”

“Did you buy gas for this truck today?”

“Of course I did, but I paid cash just like you told me.”

“Did you take Melody to go potty at that gas station?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then you and the kid are on several security cameras, so the whole tracking ship has sailed. If you book a room here, they’ll think you’re spending the night here, instead of where we’re actually staying. And as a bonus, Melody gets to call her precious Grandpa. Hit me up on the radio with the room number once you get it. Let’s go, Sergeant. Execute!”

Once she had the room, my partner brought me a keycard. Then she and Melody entered through the lobby, while I slipped through a backdoor in my disguise, singing, “I wear my sun-glasses at night…”

In the room, we had to figure out how to use the provided phone to make long distance calls. It’s simple enough, but after a lifetime of cell phones, it was somewhat of a lost art.

“Remember Melody,” Leticia urged as she handed her daughter the handset, “Don’t tell anyone that… Uncle Dante is here. Okay? Uncle Dante is our little secret.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

The little girl seized the handset.

“Hi Grandpa!” she sang. “Did you take your medicine? Take your medicine Grandpa!”

There was a pause, and then she scowled saying, “That’s not nice, Grandpa! Jesus heard you say that about my mom. If you don’t start behaving, I’m gonna call your parents to come take you home!... Oh? Well… don’t make me end this call! How’s Rex today, Grandpa?”

As I would later learn, Rex was the main villain in a soap opera Elijah Wainwright watched religiously every day. The old man loved that show, but he loved Rex most of all. Whatever happened on that show that day, Elijah spent over three uninterrupted minutes explaining it to his granddaughter, with her nodding along.

“Me?” she asked finally. “Oh, I’ve been on vacation with Mommy…. Well, I want to do some fun stuff, but all I get to do is sit in the car and listen to the radio…. Who? Sure, he’s right here.”

Then she looked up at me and offered the handset, “Grandpa wants to talk to you, Dante.”

“Melody!” shouted Leticia and I in unison, as if we’d planned it.

“Silly girl!” the child’s mother chided. “Dante is supposed to be our secret!”

“But it’s Grandpa!” the girl explained. “He won’t tell anybody.”

And then, with the phone back to her ear, she added, “Will you Grandpa?”

Pause. Then she offered me the phone again.

“Here, Dante. Grandpa says your secret is safe with him.”

“It’s okay, kid,” I told her, and accepted the phone. “Yes?”

“Well, if it ain’t Dante the Chinese Traitor Johson!” crowed an old man. "Just like all three of my brats... traitors all!"

“Sorry, but I can’t take charges of treason seriously from a shriveled up old Nazi.” I hissed. “Say your piece.”

“Oh, I ain’t gonna call the cops on you, boy. No, I’m going to let you destroy that nigger bitch’s life all on your own, just like she destroyed mine.”

“And why would I be destroying anyone’s life?”

“Because you already have. See, I know you killed those three Soldiers who slept with your wife, Major Johnson. Yeah, I heard about that!”

“That was self-defense!”

“Sure, it was. First Bradley, then Jess, now you. Every man in that woman’s life has been a lying, manipulating, serial killer, including and especially her father, so it plums tickles me to see you carry on the tradition!”

“See here you old…”

“By the way, how’s your little granddaughter? You know, the super wealthy one? Oh wait, that's your wife, ain’t she? Pardon the confusion.”

“You now, I think I’m done with this conversation.”

“Fine by me. Just be sure to take that bubble-butted cow to prison with ya, and then I’ll get the kid. Far as I know, she’s the only one of your kind worth a damn.”

I snatched the handset from my ear and handed it back to the kid.

“Dante, Brother are you okay?” Leticia asked. “What’s this about self-defense?”

“Melody, you need to hang up the phone,” I directed.

“Okay Dante! Sorry Grandpa, I hafta go… I love you too! Bye-bye for now.”

Click. The kid hung up the phone, adding, “Thanks Dante!”

“Dante?” her mother asked, looking concerned.

“Call you mom, Leticia,” I snapped.

“Yay!” Melody shouted, jumping up and down. “I get to talk to Grandmamma too!”

Leticia took a deep breath, and then turned from me to lift the receiver and tap away on the hotel room phone.

“Hi Mom,” she said, quickly adding, “Yes, I’m fine. I just… Mom, I left Jess…. Yeah, just like you wanted. Melody and I will be coming home, soon. But first I, I’ve got to take care of something, okay… Love you too, Mom. You doing, okay?... That’s great… Yeah Mom, she’s right here. Melody! Talk to your Grandmamma.”

And with that, kid got the handset.

“Hi Grandma!” the kid brayed, “Guess what Grandmamma, I got a new Daddy!”

Leticia and I gasped in horror, but Melody went right on.

“Yeah, my real Daddy went to Heaven a real long time ago, so God sent me a new Daddy! His name is Dante, and he…!”

“Melody!” her mother screamed. “Dammit girl, Dante is supposed to be a secret!”

“Dammit Mom, Grandmamma won’t tell. Will you Grandmamma?... Hey Dante! My Grandmamma says if you like it so much, you better put a ring on it.”

“Melody, that’s enough,” Leticia urged. “Hang up the phone, sweetie.”

“Yeah, his last name is Johnson, how did you know?... Hey Momma, Grandmamma say dat nigga crazy and you better not let him in your pants. How can Dante fit in my Mommy’s pants, Grandma? He’s too big!”

“Melody! Tell Grandmamma goodbye and hang up the phone!”

“Okay Mommy. Sorry Grandmamma, but I hafta let you go. Love you!... Okay, bye!”

And with that, she hung up the hotel room phone.

“Now what?” Leticia asked.

“Now we get off the X,” I explained. “We’ve been here long enough.”

Melody wanted to know why we couldn’t spend the night in the hotel room, which she found nicer than the rustic cabin to which we were returning. Without answering the question, her mother went on a lengthy tirade about how I had to be kept a secret. The girl was sobbing by the time we got her back in her car seat. Oh, we went out the back of the hotel with me in disguise, rather than out through the lobby.

“You stay here and watch her,” Leticia commanded once we got the kid strapped in. “I’m going to go back to their so called 'Business Lounge' so I can use their computer. There’s no Internet at the cabin.”

“Leticia, we need to unass the objective!”

“Don’t worry Dante, I won’t be long. Like you said, I’m not wanted or anything.”

Without waiting for a response, she jogged across the parking lot with that huge trailer popping behind her and back into the lobby. Outside of combat, the 23 minutes I spent waiting for her return were the most stressful I’ve ever experienced.

She returned with sheets of white paper in her grasp.

“I made some notes,” she told me. “Points of interest along our route, like more EV recharge stations along with sites we can use as rallying points if we get separated.”

“Good thinking. Drive.”

“I also found some auto paint shops we can use to change the color of this vehicle once the cops finally start looking for a green pickup. That might help, yes?”

“Look, we can talk about all this back at the cabin. Seriously, we don’t have to go home Leticia, but we gots to get the hell out of here!”

“Right. Sorry.”

I climbed back into the truck bed and hid under the tarp just as the truck pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot.

During the drive back to the cabin, I heard the dreaded wail of police sirens. Though still under the tarp, I hastily reassembled the drone about my waist, just in case.

The wailing got louder, volume increasing with my heartbeat.

“What do I do?” I heard Leticia shout out the cab window.

“Pull over!” I shouted back. “Running will only make it worse! You can’t get away from a Police cruiser in this hunk of junk anyway!”

“Dante Johnson isn’t with us, Mr. Police!” I heard Melody shout. “He’s not in the truck bed under the tarp! Leave us alone, please!”

I felt the truck decelerate rapidly and then pull over. I lay in the truck bed under that tarp, hand on the Cloaking Device dial while my heart was caught firmly in my throat. The wailing siren reached us – and blew right by. He wasn’t even after us!

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding and cried, “Thank God!”

*

Back at the cabin, Leticia and I went over her notes and did some mission planning while Melody played with some toys. No electronics; couldn’t risk little Miss Loudmouth getting on the Internet.

We went to bed relatively early – there was no TV, internet, or video games to stay up for. Leticia read a chapter aloud to Melody from her Bible, and then it was time for bed. Turns out there was plenty of room for all three of us in the large bed in the cabin’s single bedroom. That’s when I discovered Leticia had brought matching pajamas so each of us could sleep fully clothed. It was the best sleep I’d had in a while.

I awoke to the smell of a delicious breakfast. The woman had it all laid out; bacon, eggs, pancakes, orange juice and fragrant, delicious coffee. We had a nice breakfast with the kid, except she’d stopped using my name and was calling me “Daddy” or “Dad” exclusively. Leticia wouldn’t make her stop.

We got showers; Leticia and the kid first, then me. Then we cleaned the place while a survival radio from my backpack filled us in on the news. There was still a million dollar bounty out for me, and another million for the return of the Phantom Drone. Listening to the AM radio station closest to Fred’s Place – the broadcast studio was from the town at the bottom of that mountain – stated that a certain Darlene Wainwright had died in a car accident the night before. Police suspected that alcohol was involved.

Early to bed, early to rise. The sun was still below the horizon with dawn streaking the sky as the truck rattled off. The cabin’s electricity had recharged the drone overnight, so I took to the sky.

I ended up fighting some ferocious headwinds, so it didn’t take me long to realize that I could not travel as many miles as we had planned for the first leg of that day’s journey. Naturally, I communicated this to my partner via Bradley’s Special Forces radio. Leticia found another EV fast charging station – apparently, those things were rather more numerous than I’d thought -- but at the rate I was flying, my power would be down to 3% when I got there, which was cutting it far closer than I liked.

I reached the city where Leticia was, and checked my power. I remembered thinking I was probably going to reach the fast recharge station, but then my partner had some news for me.

“Forty-two, Forty-two, this is Big Trailer, over.”

“Roger Big Trailer, this is Forty-two, over.”

“Forty-two, be advised that I parked a block from the objective and pulled a leader’s recon like you said. Seek alternate means of resupply, over. The objective is a no-go. I say again, the objective is a no-go, over.”

Well, that wasn’t good.

“Big Trailer, state reason for no-go, over.”

“Forty-two, I was raised a good little preacher’s kid, and I remain strong in the Faith. But Freshman year in college… let’s just say I hit a rebellious streak. Long story short, I know a damned narc when I see one!”

“Dammit!” I yelled; except I used a stronger word. “Big Trailer, I’m going to set down and get recharged. You get out of there, over!”

“Roger that, Forty-two. Just in case I’m under surveillance, I’ll draw them off. Meet me Romeo Papa One Three when able, over.”

I remembered that Rally Point 13 was all the way on the other side of town, next to an automotive paint shop, but I had my own problems; the power alarm was blinking blood red while screaming at me. I searched around desperately till I found what I was looking for; a residential neighborhood, this one with arcing streets. From the air, the whole development looked like a half-moon of housing.

I engaged the Clocking Device, then dropped altitude and bled speed, racing over the conical roofs of brown, tan, grey, and black. I looked for telltale “For Sale” signs, but so far, nothing. I checked the power again; I was landing, one way or another. I glanced up, seeing a large house with a double garage. No cars or trucks were parked on the street or in the driveway. It was late morning on a weekday; hopefully, everyone should be at work.

I dived toward the target house, but only then discovered that the backyard was two-thirds blue pool. Reacting quickly, I made some adjustments to land softly next to said pool, but it was too late. The alarmed ceased, and I dropped like a stone.

I screamed like a madman. That’s what I do when I fall down a steep waterslide or a rollercoaster hill, much less a suddenly powerless flying vehicle. Splash! I was suddenly immersed in water, and my feet and butt slammed concrete hard enough to hurt, but as far as I could tell, not hard enough to injure.

At first, I thought that landing in the pool was good luck, but getting out of that pool turned out to be the fight of my life. There was a heavy machine about my waist, plus I was swathed in thick, heavy winter clothing and a full-face motorcycle helmet; hardly ideal swimwear. I thought I would drown, and folks, I very nearly did. But then – praise the Name of the Lord our God – I somehow found myself on the side of the pool, gasping for breath. I’d made it!

I lay there gasping helpless for a few minutes, then stirred to my Duty. I disassembled the Phantom Drone from my waist and found an external outlet to plug the power supply into. The back sliding glass door to the home was unlocked, so I opened it and quickly found the Laundry Room. There were dry clothes in the dryer, clothes I promptly snatched out and scattered all over the floor. Then I stripped buck naked and hurled in all my drenched clothes, including my precious synthetic thermal underwear, into the dryer, closing the door and turning it on the highest setting. I used one of the towels I’d torn out of the machine to dry myself.

I stepped out of the Laundry Room and made my way to the living room that led to the backyard with the pool. That’s when I saw the college-aged boy wearing a large set of headphones on the couch playing a first-person shooter game on a huge screen. How had I missed him the first time?

The college boy was talking trash to his team, utterly oblivious of me. Only then did I realize that I was, indeed, fully naked. I tried to sneak back to the laundry room only for the kid to turn around suddenly and leap to his feet, staring at me open-mouthed, and with his eyes about to pop out of his head. Once again, right in that carpeted suburban living room, I was trapped under the freezing pond ice.

In desperation, I used a gesture from a classic movie while telling him, "These are not the droids you're looking for."