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The Blue Plane
by T. Austin Campbell

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Copyright© 2012 T. Austin Campbell.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1462049363

Chapter 47

They walked down the streets of Clovis, the rhythms of Buddy Holly and J I Allison still pounding in their ears but slowly fading away into the sounds of pickup trucks and cars bouncing their way up the main street. From here it was a series of just a few magical steps to The Day the Music Died in a snowstorm near Clear Lake, Iowa.

“You know he was born in Lubbock, Texas, right over the border,” Jason said. “It wouldn't hurt to … Besides ….”

Besides, they had decided they would hang around the area for a while in the fading hope that they could get back to their families. They cursed the God Emperor and tried to shake off the depression.

“After a couple of Lone Stars and a hamburger!” Luke said, cruising down the street toward a café.

It was dusk when the bus pulled into Lubbock. It was certainly bigger than Clovis and even had a television tower. The men stared gloomily out of the dusty window watching the parade of pickup trucks and '50s cars and the uninspired utilitarian Texas architecture that loomed up now and then. Before, they each would have retreated into silence, seeking seclusion and slowly working their way through some tricky coding sequence for a new statistical analysis in their heads. This had changed and now they had families, women and children to love and protect. The other life had been more elemental than they had ever experienced and yet incredibly warming and fulfilling. So now the problem that haunted them and kept making incursions into their thoughts was the quixotic one of how they could possibly get back, even stay there, and probably die there with their families. They took casual notice of a new sign that had been erected beside the small Lubbock airport, “Future home of the Silent Wings Glider Museum.”

In a swirl of dizziness, they found themselves strapped into seats, their backs pressed along a wall, with an Army jeep and large bundles of what looked like knapsacks and duffel bags from World War II piled in front of them.

“Thirty seconds to release,” came a raspy, staticky voice from out of nowhere.

“Somehow I don't think this is going to be like the glider training in Lubbock!” a muffled voice said from the front. It ended with a whoop as they went into freefall for a couple of seconds.

“Hang on!” the voice yelled unnecessarily as, with a snap, the glider began to descend rapidly, rocking and bucking in the rough air.

The men didn't say anything, transfixed by the sudden transition into a nearly freefall hell. The final crescendo was added by starbursts of explosions around the aircraft. What had the guy said, “glider training in Lubbock!” Did they use gliders in Vietnam, Korea, World War II? Everything looked old-fashioned, probably WWII then. They couldn't be sure where they were, but they could be sure what they were doing because gliders only went in one direction! They were sneaking behind enemy lines and they probably weren't the only ones. They noticed their uniforms, belts slung with canteens and ammunition, and rifles across their laps. The only thing that was obvious was that, if they did get down, they should get the hell out of the plane!

“You guys ready?” came the hoarse voice across the aisle. Though he feigned gruffness, he sounded about as scared as they were. “Hey Jason, Luke, Brett, Todd, are you guys ready?”

Assuming he was an officer, they acknowledged with a “Yes, Sir!”

“Okay,” the voice continued. The four companions could see some other soldiers sitting on either side of him, barely visible in the flashes. All the faces had been blackened. “Remember, number one priority is the Jeep. Drive it out, get it clear, and get it the hell away from there. Don't put your backpacks on until the Jeep is ready to go. Then we head out, get back in the trees, and follow orders. We can do a lot of damage in there if we do it right.”

“Sixty seconds to landing, guys,” came from the cockpit.

“Shit!” another voice came from the cockpit,“Asparagus! Is there a way around them or through them?”

“Between them maybe. God dammit, it's tight! Jesus Christ!”

“They caught the Goddamn wing!” a voice yelled just as, accompanied by a huge thud, the glider came to rest. They were all jerked violently forward as the aft end of the glider rose high in the air and stayed there. As the sound of the crash landing died away, the sound of gunfire and explosions could be heard around them.

“Sir?” came a yell from somewhere near them. “What …,” the man stopped in midsentence. “Take your guns and ammo; leave the rest. Get out any way you can and head for the trees. I hate to leave everything, but they'll kill us all in a few seconds. Go! Go!”

The four companions fumbled with their harnesses, looking around for any kind of exit. The only way out was aft. They followed the other men, fighting their way over scattered equipment and cringing at the bullets as they came through the canvas skin of the fuselage. There were two men in German uniforms nearby. Somebody shot them. Without being told, the four men jumped into some debris from their glider and looked around for the trees. They saw hundreds of large poles six inches or more in diameter and eight to ten feet tall set into the ground in a grid, maybe thirty feet apart–they must be the "asparagus" the pilot had cursed. They would wreak havoc on the frail gliders and there was no way a glider could land without hitting at least a couple of them! Luke pointed to their left and they all began to run, keeping down, stumbling over the debris, and cringing at the clatter and the bullets that rent the remains of the gliders.

“Get under that,” Luke yelled, pointing to a glider hulk. They dove underneath and looked out toward the trees. There were zigzag movements in every direction they looked. American soldiers could be recognized now and then in small groups trying to make it to the trees, seeking temporary haven from the bullets. They couldn't make out any more German soldiers, but they were no doubt lying around the perimeter to pick off the US troops.

Luke looked around for the area that had the fewest rifle flashes and couldn't really see any; they seemed to be surrounded. Suddenly there was an explosion in the trees right in front of them, and two American soldiers charged one of the emplacements. They probably had tossed in a couple of grenades. “That way!” Luke yelled, pointing into the woods behind the two charging soldiers. They had watched some soldiers in the glider fixing bayonets and had done the same. The bayonets triggered the same snatch of thought in all four men; it ran through their minds that they could be back in prehistoric Texas fighting it out with sticks tipped with Clovis points. They ran hard into the trees.

The two soldiers that had preceded them had met with three Germans and were getting the worst of the battle. The four men charged in and quickly dispatched two of the German soldiers while the other Americans took out the remaining German. One of the American soldiers looked dead and the other had a dark patch on his shoulder and was kneeling on the ground coughing. Before their train ride with the old hobo professor they would have debated whether to try to help him. But, damn him, they were starting to buy into the theory that it was all one reality as long as you had memory.

They laid the injured man back as they looked around for more Germans. They saw movement nearby, but no one seemed to be advancing toward them. They ripped the young soldier's shirt open and looked at the puncture wound which was bleeding freely but not spurting. Luke examined his belt and found an emergency medical kit. Brett took out a piece of cloth which could be used as a compress and put it against the wound. The soldier didn't say anything and seemed to stare past them, most likely in shock. They looked through the medical kits and found morphine syringes and Brett injected the young kid's left arm. Then a movement behind them made him swing his head around.

A young man was walking toward them wearing a Red Cross armband. “I just got out of my glider,” he said, sounding slightly in shock himself. “A lot of our guys are dead.” He knelt down and looked at the wound, pulling the compress back gently. “The flow is starting to ebb some. Have you given him morphine?”

“Yes,” said Todd, “He looks like he is in shock–Christ! Who wouldn't be!–but he was in a lot of pain.”

“You guys did good. The soldier a member of your unit?”

“No,” Luke said, thinking quickly. “We just followed these two guys back into the trees. I'm pretty sure the other one is dead.” Luke gritted his teeth and scootched farther back, watching the corpsman medicate the puncture wound and bandage it.

“You guys better go find your unit. I've got this guy; he should make it if he or any of us can get out of here. I'll check the other guy too. Good luck, guys.”

Luke looked around the woods and didn't see any movement, at least not close by. He thought it would be a very good idea to wait this one out. After all they weren't really part of this. He began to move stealthily back into the trees with the other three following. The woods looked fairly deep although he could see a light peeking through here and there, probably farmhouses. He remembered that Normandy had been largely agricultural, but for the war effort, Normandy's main claim to fame was its strategic position. There were occasional flashes, reports from small arms, and shouts and cries that sounded like they were mainly from American soldiers. They realized they were extremely lucky to have gotten this far considering that they had apparated with no warning whatsoever into the fuselage of the glider and had little idea what they were doing. They weren't even sure they could shoot the guns, never mind reload them, neither the rifles, whatever they were–probably M1s–nor their side arms.

A single light, likely from a farmhouse, loomed up at them and they adjusted their course to move toward it. It would be a good place to hide if the occupants were friendly to Americans, which they probably were. Unless, of course, the Germans were using it as some kind of staging area. They got to the edge of the woods and surveyed the small farmhouse. A light was in the window and seemed to flicker like a candle. There was a barn nearby and abundant evidence of animals being in residence. The house itself was whitewashed and had perhaps four rooms and a thatched roof. Although it was cold and windy, there was no evidence of smoke from the chimney.

“The front door is open if you'd like to join me inside, gentlemen,” said a voice that was hauntingly familiar.

They swung around to see a woman dressed in trousers and jacket and a matching hat pulled down across her eyes. She looked like she might be a resident of the house but why was she speaking perfect English? “Jane!” Luke exclaimed in awe.

“We're rather conspicuous out here, gentlemen. Could we go inside?” The men got to the front door, pushed it open, and peering into the dim candlelight, entered. Jane pushed past them, took off her hat, and shook out her long blond hair.

Brett and Todd had heard about the almost mystical Jane from time to time, but hadn't expected a pretty young woman, at least not this pretty. “It's been quite a while, Jane,” Luke said with reservation. She was the only person in his recurring nightmare who claimed to be just one more victim but who could move from venue to venue, or at least so it seemed, and on occasion could even open a soft spot to temporarily pull their fat out of the fire. He looked at her quizzically.

“If that's a criticism, Luke …,” she sighed wearily. “As you well know, and if you believe me, it doesn't pay to interfere. It almost always makes things worse, sometimes much worse. And on that subject, my ability to interfere is fading. Seems I'm becoming just another denizen or perhaps a menace. You decide. You see, I opened up the soft spot that apparently got you here.”

“And why in the hell …,” Todd began.

“I have my faults, Todd,” she snapped &ldquot;but I don't do things maliciously. And I didn't really sign on to bust my ass! … Sorry, I'm tired. I was trying to send you back to your families, dangerous but it was where you wanted to be. But the instrumentation seems to be developing a mind of its own.” She sat down at a kitchen table and pulled a Thermos and five thick mugs out of her bag. She started pouring coffee, not looking at them anymore. “Well?” she invited.

The men took the other chairs and began sipping coffee, the warmth welcome. Jane continued, “Let's start again, A to Z. And by the way, it's nice to finally meet you, Brett and Todd.” Todd matched her reluctant smile as he said, “I guess recent events have made us all–well, maybe a little bitchy.” The rather strained but authentic laughter broke the tension.

“And thanks for trying to send us back to our Texas families. You're right, we were happy there. We wanted to stay in that venue,” Brett contributed.

Jane unzipped the duffel bag the rest of the way and took out a second Thermos and a pile of sandwiches. She joined the men in wolfing them down. “The reason I interfered,” she said, swallowing a chunk of sandwich and biting off another, “was first, I was the one who got you the glider ride into Normandy, however accidentally. That probably had something to do with where you were when I opened a soft spot, proximity can be important. Secondly, it would be virtually impossible to get out of here without help. You have already experienced death, at least the version they have in The System. But there is a possibility of torture and prison camp and a lot of other unpleasant stuff. I may be screwing things up, but who knows how long I'll be able to move around? I hope Stan, Audrey, and Mary want ….”

“Where are they?” Brett asked.

“If it'll make you feel better,” Jane said wryly, “in comparison anyway, they were captured by Indonesian pirates.”

“I get the feeling it wasn't very romantic,” Luke said.

“No,” Jane said, looking grim. “I intervened to keep Audrey from being raped. They got off the ship and now are being pursued through the Irian Jaya jungle with unfriendly natives and pirates on their tails. So as soon as I get you guys 'situated,' I'll go back and monitor them as long as I can.”

“How about Ann Crenshaw?” Brett asked softly, his voice reflecting his mixed feelings about her.

“She went back into her past, her real past. That happens here sometimes. It happened to Mary Wells and to Doug and Chris. She'll be back, but I guarantee the experience won't have been any fun.”

“I wish you could get us back to our Indian families,” Todd said wistfully, “they were …” He shook his head and continued, “So, I assume you have a possible way out for us?”

“Yes,” Jane said, pouring more coffee for all of them. “Back in the good old days, I could've taken you further; but I'm having more and more trouble getting back to the Control Room. I guess that things are slipping fast and, who knows, pretty soon I could be just another slob flitting around The System like you guys.”

“Ha, ha,” Jason said and swallowed the last of his coffee. “I was going to thank you but after that remark ….”

“Okay,” Jane said, “there appears to be a Resistance movement here. What if I hook you up with them? Now, don't feel an illogical guilt that you're not out there. I was actually in the Army and we were told about things like 'survivor's guilt.' The point is, this one's already been fought. Won or lost, it's over. There's no reason you guys have to fight it again. Now, the nearest link in the Resistance movement is another farmhouse a couple of miles away and, as I understand it, they've gotten a lot of Allied soldiers out. I don't always succeed but, as ephemeral as a particular venue is …” She rummaged in her duffel, saying, “I've got you some of these French farmer official German identification cards indicating that you live here and that you are indeed farmers. Anybody speak French?”

Brett raised his hand and replied, “Pretty well and I went to school here for a couple years, I learned a fair bit of gutter slang!”

“I guess you do all the talking and the rest of the guys can just nod their heads. The clothes are in the back room there; I hope they fit better than mine. I hate to say 'Hurry up' but you've got to get out of here and I've got to get back. As I indicated, I'll take you to the first link.”

They walked on a narrow farm road in the surprising quiet. Normandy was still firmly in German hands and any incursions by Allied forces were often over quickly. There was a major need for a good Allied spy system and a reliable Underground system to safely get Allied soldiers out.

Strangely depressed by the quiet, Jane retreated into her thoughts. Her whole life had been a series of missions: Special Forces, her detective agency, and finally watching out for people from the outside who were trapped in The System or whatever it was. She had a feeling that her current mission was coming to an end and she thought back. She had been hired to rescue Doug and Chris Scott from what had been thought to be an incredibly advanced virtual reality program designed and implemented by Warren Spencer. But while doing her best to protect Doug and Chris Scott in China as Joyce, a member of their tour group there, she had fallen in love with Doug. Later on, she engineered a tryst in New Orleans before he became sentient and that's where he fell in love with her. But, of course, when Doug and Chris finally came to believe that they were trapped, everything changed. She was still in love with Doug but as long as Chris was there … She had thought she had gotten them out, only to find that she was trapped along with them. Maybe she had always been there. By now she believed everything and, of course, nothing. Then Doug and Chris had been killed in a plane crash and disappeared from The System. Doug had always seemed to think that Hong Kong was the focal point and he may have been right because people had begun to show up–people from The System, including some who supposedly had died–they had begun to show up in Hong Kong. They had become a part of the psyches, souls, whatever, of other people. Doug was sharing Edward's life as he, having gone back to his Chinese name of Gao Jilan, replaced The Grasshopper Man that Doug had become so obsessed with. Chris was a co-inhabitant with Gao's wife Leung Yuyan. And Jane now shared the thoughts of their best friend Li Meigui, appropriately a karate instructor. And so the triangle continued, probably her penance or punishment for creating it. There were other people there too: Rob and Anna who had died in Doug and Chris's childhood trying to save them from mercenaries; and the children from Hiroshima, the venue she had created to help shock Doug and Chris loose from The System. Now she was losing any control she had had and was becoming just another mouse in the maze. If that's what ultimately happened, her "reincarnation" might be all she had to live for.

“That's the house,” she said, pointing to a farmstead that was very much like the one they had left. The Germans don't like too many people walking around together, so one of you can knock on the door and the rest will keep out of sight. Your names and photos will be on the list they have hidden. But there are some passphrases which will be in French so Brett had better approach the door. When the door opens say exactly, "My car broke down down the road." Their answer will be, "What kind of car and is it old or new?" Your answer will be "It's a very old Renault painted white."”

She had given instructions in French and had asked Brett to repeat the entire dialog twice. “Perfect,” she said when he finished. “Now, what do I always say, no matter how perfunctory it sounds: 'Good luck guys, I'll watch out for you as best I can.'” Looking very sad, she faded into The System.