Mark Young - Off the grid

“How did that happen?”

“I was mentoring kids through our church, tutoring them on subjects they were struggling with in school. Caught Willy trying to steal one of our computers.”

“You had him arrested?”

Her eyes twinkled. “It took me about two seconds to realize this guy has a razor-sharp mind. I made a deal with him. I’d let him use our computers if he’d help the other kids with their homework and continue with his education. He picked up math and science like a sponge. It was amazing to watch. Got him enrolled in a community college class to learn about information technology-programming languages, computer software and hardware, cyber security. I already knew Joe, and the two of them were a natural fit. He taught Willy IT programs and security systems the college never dreamed of. Willy soaked it up and now runs their company.”

“Runs whose company?” Gerrit glanced over at Willy and saw he was listening to their conversation.

“Ain’t it a trip, Mr. G? I get paid to go into rich folk’s homes, rummage through their hardware, and install security systems so guys like me don’t break in. And they pay me good money to boot.”

“Where do you ‘rummage through their hardware,’ Willy?”

“Oh, Mr. J moved me back to Virginia, just outside D.C., where we operate the company. Gives us a cover to do what we really are about-going after guys like Kane.” He started to put the headphones back on. “Can you imagine a guy like me living in the same hood as all those white crackers?”

“Hey, Willy. Mr. J taught you better than that. And so did I.” Alena’s face took on a stern look.

“Sorry. I know-turn the other cheek. WWJD. I’ve got a ways to go.” He shot her a smile before inserting the earplugs and wrapping himself up in his music.

“WWJD?”

She turned to Gerrit again. “You know…What Would Jesus Do?”

He looked away. “So, you’re a-”

“Follower of Jesus. I confess I am. Does that bother you?”

He shrugged. “I think whatever gets you through the night is okay with me, Alena. Just not my cup of tea.”

“You don’t believe in God?”

“I didn’t say that. I come from a scientific background-my folks raised me that way, and my experience and education is based upon hard, irrefutable facts. God is not a quantified entity I can prove. And if He exists, I don’t think He and I would ever see eye to eye.”

“Why don’t you think you could relate to God?” She seemed genuinely interested in his answer.

“Because the world’s not geared up for turning the other cheek or loving your neighbor. It’s about getting ahead, protecting your own interests, and getting what you can now-because there is no tomorrow.”

“What if God showed you otherwise?”

“If He comes down off His mountain and shows me a better way-I might listen. So far that hasn’t happened, and all I’ve seen in this world is pain and death.”

“You mean like your parents?”

“Yeah, like my folks, your folks, and hundreds of others I’ve seen killed, tortured, or victimized. So short answer: God goes His way; I go mine.” Gerrit paused for a moment. “Now, tell me about Redneck. How does he connect to this…family?”

It seemed to take Alena a moment to focus on his question, seemingly troubled by what he just said. She glanced toward the cockpit where Joe and Redneck sat. “Our gentle giant is not what he appears to be.”

“You mean a white racist with a low IQ? I saw the prison tats.”

Alena frowned. “Looks can be deceiving. Yes, he used to be caught up in all that. But he has changed, and let me tell you-this guy is a walking calculator. He can figure out complicated flight plans in his head or take a look at a set of books and quickly pinpoint any errors. And you never want to have to go up against him-his street-fighting skills would make Muhammed Ali quiver.”

“How did he connect with you and Joe?”

“It was Joe. Back when Joe still lived in Chicago, he came across Redneck in an alley, facing off against three other attackers. Joe grabbed a two-by-four and waded in to protect him. After it was all over, they became friends. First a beer here and a lunch there. Then the more they hung around each other, the more he grew on Joe.

“Redneck was trying to go straight at the time. I will let him tell you about that part of his life if he chooses. Anyway, Joe saw potential in this guy, made a few phone calls, and got him hooked up with an accounting firm.”

“An accounting firm? You gotta be kidding.”

“I told you he has a mind for numbers. After a few years, Redneck started his own accounting service with Joe’s help, and they stayed in touch ever since. After Joe…had to leave Chicago, he reached out to let Redneck know he was okay. Redneck wanted to help pay back what Joe did for him. So here we are-a muscle-bound accountant who can fly planes and toss people around with hardly any effort at all.”

Gerrit looked over at Willy, then at Joe and Redneck in the cockpit. “This is certainly a strange group. Which just leaves you. So, what’s your story, Alena? You a race-car driver? A belly dancer?”

Alena laid her head back and closed her eyes. “Maybe I will tell you sometime. Right now, I need to rest. We are going to be quite busy very soon.”

He looked at the ceiling for a moment and then out the double-paned window. The Pacific Ocean glistened off to his right. The sky was an ocean of blue, allowing him to see far into the distance. Glancing across the aisle, he saw Mt. Hood, capped with snow, off to his left.

He started to ask Alena one more question, but she was already asleep. He watched her breathing for a moment, slow and rhythmic. Her brow furrowed.

What are you hiding, mystery lady? And why were you watching over me all these years?

Gerrit settled back to rest until the end of the flight, determined to find out all he could about this mystery woman. In a few minutes, he felt himself slip into another world, darker and more sinister.

A wicked, twisty path led him down the face of a cliff, rocky shale making each step treacherous. Above, bare trees stood dark against a star-pocked sky, like angels of death pronouncing sentence upon his soul. Their gnarled limbs twisted out in agony as they struggled to pull him back into their grasp for final judgment.

Down below, only darkness and a bottomless pit. A familiar voice seemed to be drawing him down into the bowels of the earth, where more voices called out. He had no choice. Angels of death loomed above. A dark abyss lay below.

As he slipped and slid down the rocky slope, something inside compelled him to continue, as if promising answers to all his questions if he would just submit. Give in. Suddenly, his feet gave way, and he began to fall into the deep cavern, screaming.

“Gerrit, wake up.”

He shot his eyes open to see Alena leaning over, shaking his arm.

“You seemed to be having a bad dream.”

Sheepishly, he sat up and stretched his arms. It was the same recurring dream. And it always ended with him falling, pulling him toward what he feared most-that unknown beyond death. This dream began after he visited his parents’ gravesites and continued ever since.

Sleep always came at a cost.

Harrogate, England

Richard clutched the phone. “Give me some good news, boy. I’ve got Senator Summers waiting in the lobby.” One of Richard’s contacts just called in about the Seattle murder investigations.

“We got the piece of evidence you wanted hidden at the bomb site before the first units arrived. Just a matter of time before they link the trigger to the Russians. We did everything but stamp Russia on it. I don’t know if the feds will release that information or withhold it to verify a suspect’s confession.”