Larry Enright - 12|21|12

Another passenger, bundled up in a black overcoat, adjusted himself in his seat. Cameron turned his attention that way: “Are you all right?”

The man opened his eyes. “I’ll be fine, just a little queasy. It’s the chemo. I just got out of a treatment.”

“Are you going all the way to Philadelphia, too?”

“Yes.” He shifted again, and the flap of his coat fell back, exposing his collar.

“Priest?”

“Minister… in my better days. I’m Michael. I’d shake your hand, but I was told I should avoid close personal contact until the effects of the drugs wear off, susceptibility to germs and all that.”

There was one other passenger in the four-seater, a black-haired woman with dark olive complexion and thin angular features. She was curled up in her seat watching the others with curiosity. Cameron waved to her and she smiled.

“How about you?” he asked. “What’s your story?”

She nodded.

“You’re wasting your time. She doesn’t speak a word of English,” Bowen shouted over the engines. “She’s getting off with you, Mr. Cameron. They told me she’s one of the new cooks at Camp David.”

“Oh, okay. That’s cool,” Cameron smiled at her again: “I’m Cameron,” he gestured. “And you’re?”

“Maya,” she grinned, pointing to herself. “Camp David,” she nodded.

“You have six fingers on one hand. That’s different,” Cameron said.

Loeb looked up: “The condition is called polydactyly. It’s not all that uncommon.”

“So, where are you from, Maya?”

She nodded again, “Maya… Camp David…”

The news came on the nine inch TV mounted on the bulkhead above them. “Did any of you happen to catch the president’s speech last night?” Cameron asked.

The sky lost definition as the clouds wrapped tighter around them and up and down became the same. The wind stalked them on all sides as the helicopter bucked against a wall of snow.

Loeb grabbed his stomach. “Jesus, Bowen, can’t you keep this thing steady?” At exactly 12:21:12 p.m. the slide with his equations on it rippled like a pebble in a pond.

Something exploded against the helicopter. Sparks showered the window, and the craft shook and slammed Cameron against the wall. The lights flickered, then came back on.

Michael sat up straight. “Did you see that?”

Bowen called over his shoulder. “Is everyone okay back there?”

The helicopter lurched and bucked again, tossing into the air anything not tied down. A single shot rang out. The smell of gunpowder filled the cabin.

Loeb picked up a smoking pistol lying on the floor among his notes and papers. “You carry a loaded weapon on a helicopter?”

“Oh, my God!” Michael pointed to Maya. She was holding what looked like a TV remote in her hand pointed directly at them. A dark red stain spread across her coat.

The craft shuddered and spun, and losing forward momentum, it plunged out of the clouds.

Bowen closed his eyes and listened to the helicopter blades chopping the air above. He saw everything: the gleam of the sun on the craft as it dropped below the clouds, its shadow moving across the bright snow-covered hills, the faces of the passengers in the windows looking down at the pristine forest. He saw it all.

On December 12, 2012, a special evening edition of the Daily News hit the streets with the simple headline “12|21|12.” It was devoted to a series of odd stories and events from a day that some believed would be the end of the world. The top stories were: “Doomsday Today — details on page 6, Mayan Calendar Predicts End of the World — exclusive photos on page 4, Mayor to Attend Post-apocalyptic Open House — find this and other fun things to do in the Weekend Section.”

Tucked away between a full-page department store ad and the sports section was this story:

Helicopter Crash in State Forest

December 21, 2012

By Adrienne John-Samuel and Jeni Beske Roberts/ Associated Press

Hagerstown, Maryland. A commercial helicopter crashed in a remote section of the Maryland State Forest earlier today. Residents of a nearby town told police they heard a loud noise shortly after noon and reported seeing a plume of black smoke rising from the forest in the area of a nearby abandoned cabin. When the fire department and local police responded, they found the helicopter engulfed in flames and the cabin fully involved. High winds and freezing temperatures hampered efforts to extinguish the blaze, but the fire was declared under control at 1:30 p.m. One firefighter was taken to Hagerstown Hospital for treatment for smoke inhalation and is in satisfactory condition.

The National Transportation Safety Board is investigating the cause of the accident. Their official spokesperson stated, “According to the pilot’s flight plan, the helicopter took off from Washington, D.C., at approximately 11:50 a.m. Its destination was the Philadelphia Market Street Heliport with one scheduled stop in Hagerstown, Maryland. Preliminary information obtained from the craft’s black box indicates that the helicopter’s external sensors registered a sudden drop in temperature around 12:19 p.m. EST. It is not known at this point if the extreme temperatures contributed to the crash, but it should be noted that the helicopter was equipped with an autopilot system. Data shows that it was engaged at the time of the incident. Based on the wreckage pattern and the fact that the bodies of the pilot and the four passengers were not recovered at the scene, state police and federal marshals, in conjunction with the Maryland National Guard, have instituted a rescue and recovery search in a 5-mile radius around the crash site. Identities of the passengers are being withheld pending the results. There have been reports from local authorities of a squatter or squatters living in the cabin, but these reports are unconfirmed. The cabin was directly impacted by the craft’s fuselage and burned to the ground. Investigators are on the scene sifting through the rubble and a full report will follow. The NTSB has no comment on reports that no one was aboard the craft at the time of the crash. Further information will be disclosed as this investigation proceeds. Finally, data from the helicopter’s black box fixed the time of the crash as 12:21:12 p.m. on 12|21|12.”

If you enjoyed this story, please consider Larry Enright’s other works of fiction. All are available in both eBook and paperback. Samples can be found online at amazon.com and at his website:

http://www.larryenright.net/

Four Years from Home is the story of Tom Ryan, the firstborn of five in an Irish Catholic family. Smart and acerbic, he called himself the future king of the Ryans. Harry, the youngest, was the family’s shining star. Sensitive, and caring, he was destined for the priesthood until something changed, and he abandoned his vocation. When he left for college, he left for good. He never called. He rarely wrote. It was as if he had ceased to exist and the shining star had been but a passing comet in the night sky.

The story begins on Christmas during Harry’s senior year at college. The Ryans have gathered for another bittersweet holiday without Harry. When an unexpected gift arrives, Tom must make a reluctant journey of discovery and self-discovery into a mystery that can only end in tragedy. Four Years from Home defines brotherly love in a darkly humorous and poignant tale told by an unlikable skeptic, Tom Ryan.

A King in a Court of Fools begins with a book — The Book of Tom — a journal writing assignment from Tom Ryan’s sixth-grade teacher, Sister Jeanne Lorette. That’s what she called it. Tom called it punishment. In it, he chronicles the adventures of the Caswell Gang, a group of siblings and friends with two things in common — their love of adventure and their allegiance to Tom, their king.