Excerpt: Strike Three

Strike Three
By Joy V. Smith

Prologue

“I can’t even tell her that she’ll probably never see me again,” she said softly.

Her husband looked at her with regret. “She wouldn’t go. I am sorry. If we weren’t so limited in the number of people we can take, I’d insist. I did insist on you going because I sure as hell wouldn’t go without you. She, at least, has her father, and he has the facilities and intelligence to take care of her.. Send all that you can with her. You’ll probably want to write them both a letter. I’ve written him a letter with all the hints I can. We can’t take a chance on e-mails or anything that can be tapped. You’d better pack now. I have at least one more meeting before we go. We’re running out of time.”

Chapter 1: Arrival

“That’s a lot of luggage, Melody,” her father remarked with interest as they loaded the suitcases and boxes into his truck.

“Mom wanted me to feel at home while she and Duncan are traveling,” she said, but there was a hint of puzzlement in her voice. “And there’s more coming. She wasn’t finished packing before the plane took off.”

Sheridan Zane nodded. He was puzzled too. Francine had never been one to travel with a lot of clothes. She tended to travel light and practically. “Was that a government jet? It wasn’t on the airlines listings.”

“It belonged to a friend of Duncan’s, he said. He wanted to be sure I had a fast and comfortable flight. And then there weren‘t any restrictions for Pattipaws.” Her black and white Manx was already in the truck’s cab; he peered out of his carrier window with an intent gaze.

It was an hour’s drive to her father’s complex. The old airbase had been home to her father since her parents’ divorce. She was sorry sometimes because she thought it would have been a lot of fun to explore. Now she looked forward to that and the vacation with her father. He visited her at least once a year, taking her out on her birthday and checking with her mother to see what she’d like for her birthday and Christmas.

“Here are the letters from Mom and Duncan,” she said as she handed them to him. They said you should read them right away. I suppose it’s their itinerary and rules about bedtime,” she added, laughing.

Her father smiled and sat down at his desk. He’d taken her to his office when she gave him the two letters so that he could enter the information in his computer. He opened Duncan’s letter first, and his smile vanished. “Do you know where they were going?” he questioned sharply.

“No. She said that they were exploring destinations, and when they decided, they’d write it all down for us.” She looked uneasily at her father. She remembered that blank look. Her mother talked about it to him sometimes. You’ve gone away, she said, and you’re not letting me in. No need to worry you, he’d said, and that really annoyed Franci.

Now she saw what her mother had meant. He had gone far away. His body was there, but his mind wasn’t even in the room. Eventually it came back, and he looked at her. “Don’t bother unpacking,” he said.

She jerked upright. “When do you want me to go back?” she asked with a voice full of ice and hurt.

He was up and at her side with a quickness she remembered. “I have all the room we’ll need, Melody Lea. I just need to decide where to put you--and your stuff--and some other stuff. He almost went away again, but caught himself. “Hey, you’re safe and loved here, and your mother is missing you--a lot. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Why don’t you and Pattipaws explore and get ready for supper. You’ve got plenty of food for him, right?” He paused for a moment, thinking about that? she wondered. “I have to make some calls.”

He was dialing as she left the room. “Mel, he said. “What can you tell me about the world situation?”

His friend in Washington took a few startled seconds to think. “Same as always, far as I know. What have you heard?”

“That Arab-African coalition--you know, it started in Somalia with all that ransom money and weapons. Now they’re sabre-rattling and threatening the US. Apparently the threats include neutron bombs, dirty bombs, chemical warfare, and that new ‘hot virus.’ The one some fools said would be a deterrent ‘cause it could focus and dissipate.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Mel said cautiously, “but I think that’s classified.”

Sheridan grunted. “I thought you might know, but if you know, what the hell are you still doing in Washington?”

“Talking to you before taking off for the weekend to the cabin. So, you think I shouldn’t dawdle?”

“I’m not, and I’ve got a hell of a lot to do. Anything more you know.”

“Not enough, but that explains the number of empty offices and unavailable people. The president’s gone on vacation. That I know. I guess I’m not important enough to be in the loop, and that pisses me off. But I know where I can take my family. You got yours secured?”

“Yes. Thanks for the intel. Now split.”

After hanging up, he looked up some phone numbers and e-mail addresses and programmed them for a mass sending. He just had to figure out what to put in the message. The government wasn’t putting out any blanket warnings, probably ‘cause it wouldn’t do much good. We’re not prepared, he thought, and did a search for civil defense addresses nationwide. Then he went to see to supper. He’d keep prepping, and tomorrow he’d set practical plans into motion.

Supper was relaxed and fun. Her father had cooked up some of her favorite dishes and smiled to see her enjoy them. Afterwards he excused himself and said that with her appetite, he’d better order more food. Despite what he’d said earlier about not unpacking, she was relieved to see that her suitcases were in her regular room. “Make yourself at home,” he said, before disappearing, “but don‘t go to bed too late. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

Her father was up before Lea. She heard people talking and vehicles coming and going, but enjoyed the beginning of her vacation. She didn’t have any classes this summer. “You’ve earned time off,” her mother had said and hugged her. “Oh, print up your credits and give them to me. I want to admire them.”

Her father was shepherding boxes and crates into trucks. She was surprised to see some of the boxes she’d brought among them. “Where are you taking them?” she demanded.

“Where they’ll be safe and out of the way. I’ve left your clothes and things for you to take care of. And your mother’s shipment has arrived. It landed at the airport in the middle of the night, and they called me. I’ve sent a truck for it as well.”

A jeep sped up the long drive, and a young man--red-headed, freckled, and serious--jumped out over the door. “We’re mothballing the planes in the east hangar, and the jet fuel has started arriving. And the fuel tanks. The bulldozers are digging holes for them in the northeast field. What about the little planes?”

Lea almost expected him to salute. Her father nodded. “Good start. I want the two smallest planes dismantled, wrapped, and put in one of the holes. Line that one with wood and brace the top; it’ll be covered with lead. Thanks, Victor.”