ARCANA Chapter 20 by William James Johnson

The next morning, with Sam acting as his co-pilot and spotter, John filed his flight plan for area Bravo Charlie Two Zero. Back at rig number eight, General Bird and Barry Muntz watched his progress on the radar. John was doing everything according to the book.

"He's a good man. You've done a great job with him, Barry."

"Thanks, sir. Doesn't take very long when you've got a professional like John Robins."

"You sure he can cut it?"

"See for yourself. He's using the square search technique exactly as it says in the Ops manual."

The General asked the radar operator to call up an overlay on the screen to verify Barry's opinion. Every leg of the oil recce was perfectly flown, giving a precise grid pattern on the screen.

"That's what I call damn good flying," said Bird, with a self-satisfied chuckle."

Barry was delighted that the General was giving John such a favourable endorsement. Their plan was working beautifully.

"Is our flight for Resolute still on for tomorrow, sir?"

"It is now. I feel a helluva lot better after seeing what he can do."

"I'm sure John's going to be pleased you're happy with his work."

"Wish I was as happy about his background."

"What's bothering you, sir?"

"I don't know. Call it a gut feeling. I think our boy might skip out on us."

Barry was stunned. It was as if the General was reading his mind and knew all about John's plan to escape.

"He's had lots of chances to take off before this. What makes you think he's going to run now?"

"Don't snow me, Barry. You don't make General just because you can hold your booze and wear a brush cut. I've been reading men all my life and I think our boy's going to take off."

"Then why don't you assign him another job. Keep him away from the planes."

"I've thought of that, but then I'd never know if I was right about him. You know what I mean?"

"I think I do. I just feel that John is a damn good man and I can't see him just taking off like that."

"That's a pile of bullshit and you know it."

Barry could feel his face reddening. He didn't know if he should reply or keep quiet. His boss was inside his head.

"Well...I'm waiting," said Bird.

"What can I say?"

"Tell the truth for Chrissake. Last night when you went for your walk on the ice, I planted Centcomp monitors on each of you. I heard the whole thing."

"So what's going to happen now?"

"Nothing. I want the guy outa here, as much as he wants to go. I couldn't very well give him my blessing. He wants to go to Thorpe, we'll let him go to Thorpe."

"I don't know what to say. Does this mean I'm in the deep stuff too?"

"Hell no. You've helped me out of a mess I couldn't get out of by myself. You're still my number one man."

"How do you know I won't tell John?"

"Because if you do, I'll have your balls bronzed. The way I see it, John thinks you have to see the shrink in Resolute, and he thinks I'm going to get you to take me there without telling you the real reason. When we're gone, he takes off without involving you or me. Neat little package don't you think?"

"You amaze me General. Last night I was sure you were bombed, but I guess I was wrong."

"You're damn right you were wrong. You'd be surprised how many times my drunk act has worked. Well I guess I've made your day."

"You can say that again."

"I'm surprised. Aren't you going to ask me why I'm letting him go, instead of sending him coal picking?"

"I'd like to know, but I felt I'd better keep my mouth shut while I'm still winning."

General Bird roared heartily. "You really think I'm a tough son-of-a bitch don't you?"

"You better believe it."

"Well I'm letting him go because I've got a gut feeling about him too."

"What's that sir?"

"I think he's been telling the truth about the Nobile and the Domain and all that other stuff. He lied to the shrink. I know. I checked it out. He's never been in York Factory. And that Eskimo guy..."

"Tuma."

"Yeah, Tuma. Do you know there was an Eskimo called Tuma Tittigapu, married to a woman called Meelanie, in Baker Lake. Seems he was drowned in a hunting accident. He's got to be one of those Monads they were both talking about."

Barry was astounded at the connection Bird was making.

"How could you prove that?"

"Damned if I know. I just want to get that guy off my unit before anything happens."

"If you believe all this sir, why didn't you let John go to Washington when he asked?"

"Because, dummy, I've got to cover my ass. If the guy gets to Thorpe by stealing one of our planes while we're in Resolute, they can't blame me for that. I've been that route before. No more Mr. Nice Guy. No, Barry, the way things are working right now, is fine by me."

"You know, General, I've helped John because I also believe his story."

"I know. I've known from the start, but I couldn't say anything."

"Gawd, I wish you would tell him."

"To hell with that noise. We're leaving for Resolute before he returns. I'm not going to risk you shooting off your mouth and ruining everything. Not after the way I've set it up."

"Seriously...we're going to Resolute today?"

"Goddamn right. Weather looks great. Suit up cowboy."

Within an hour John heard Barry give his departure message on the communications net. In a casual voice he cut in on Barry's frequency.

"Noramoil two, this is Noramoil one, do you read over?"

"Five square, John. How do you read me? Over."

"Loud and clear, Barry. You and the General heading for Resolute now? Over."

"That's affirmative, Robins," replied General Bird.

"Sorry, sir. Hope you don't think I'm being nosey."

"I do, and you are. But since you're on the blower, I want to say I was watching your work today and it was first rate. Congratulations. I think you're going to be a real asset at our unit."

"Thank you, General."
"In case you're wondering why we left today, you can see for yourself the weather couldn't be better. When you've been up here as long as I have you get all you can out of every good day this time of year."

"I'd do the same thing, sir," said John.

I know you would. Let's hope tomorrow is a good day too."

"This is Noramoil one. Over and out."

In the General's helicopter there was much laughter as the co-conspirators hoped the weather tomorrow would be clear for their friend's southern journey. Returning from his flight, John entered the servicing hangar and asked for the maintenance record on his aircraft.

"Problems, Skipper?" asked Red Murphy.

"Altimeter is erratic. Above 5000 feet the digital read out hesitates, then cuts in and races ahead."

"Can't have that happening. I'll check it right away."

"No hurry, Red. Just as long as I can have it for a test flight tomorrow."

"Want me to get Sam to do the test?"

"I'd rather do it myself. If I've got to fly it, I might as well feel good about it."

"Any other problems with the bird?"

"There is, but I think I'll look after it myself."

"No way. You've earned your keep today. If you got any problems with the machine, that's my job. We just want to keep you fly boys happy."

"You sound like you've been around flight hangars a long time."

"Twenty seven years this spring. Wanted to be a pilot, but I could never quite tell where the ground was when I was landing. So six runway lights, and a scared flight instructor later, there I was on my way to tech school...so if you'll tell me what it was you were going to check, I'll look after it for you."

"Okay Red. You're right. Today, while boring holes in the sky over all that ice, I got to thinking, we don't carry enough survival equipment if a guy should run into problems and have to spend sometime on the ice. I was going to check all the survival gear and make sure there's plenty of warm clothing and rations to keep a couple of guys going for an extended period, if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean. I've heard about your time on the tundra, and the condition you were in when you were found. I don't blame you a bit. I'll have Shelley do a repack of all the equipment and make sure there's plenty of food on board."

"Who's Shelley?"

"That slick little wench in Safety Equipment. Too bad you couldn't get her to go along with you. Bet she'd be great on one of those long winter nights."

"Your sure this isn't going to cause you too much trouble?"

"Not at all. I'll give her a call right away. Leave it to us John. We take care of our guys."

"You sure do, Red. See you later in the mess and bring Shelley along. I'd like to meet her."

"You've got it."

Back in his room, he sat at his desk and wrote a brief note for Barry. He was grateful he had found such an ally in this remote station. He was even optimistic they would meet again. He also hoped the session with the psychiatrist in Resolute had not created a problem for his friend. He closed by asking Barry to explain to the General why he had to check out like this, and hoped he would understand it was something that had to be done.

His first refuelling stop was planned for Tuktoyaktuk. Noramoil had supplied their pilots with a fuel credit card in case the weather made it necessary to put in at an alternate site. Barry had told him the credit card could be used for everything; food, accommodation, even clothing if it were necessary.

From Tuktoyaktuk he would head south for Fort Norman in what used to be Canada's Mackenzie District. He had decided not to use the route along the Alaska Highway for two reasons; Barry might weaken and tell the General where he could be found, and he was afraid that the prisoners located in camps along the Alaskan route might try to stop him.

He went to the storage lock up and retrieved a duffle bag which contained his Monad temperature suit. As he was returning to his cabin, Red, and a very attractive woman, about thirty, met him in the corridor.

"Hi, John. This is Shelley. I was telling you about her."

She extended her hand and he felt a firmness he admired in women. Wearing a light-grey flight suit that emphasized her full breasts and narrow waist, John recognized immediately she was his kind of woman.

"Hi, John. Red's been telling me all about you. I'm really happy to meet you."

"The same goes for me. Are you two going to the bar?"

"Is there somewhere else?" asked Red, laughing.

"I've got a few more things to do, and I'll join you."

"Great. Shelley's got all that stuff you wanted."

"I'll say she has," he grinned as he said it.

"I put in extra packaged rations, the kind in the metal bags you warm up in hot water. I personally selected a variety of things so that you get a change." She was beaming as she spoke.

"See you in a little while. Thanks again, Red. And thanks for taking a personal interest like that, Shelley."

"My pleasure."

In his cabin he pulled out the temperature suit and checked it for tears. It was in shreds from his ordeal escaping from the Domain. There was a long piece of the material that had covered his back which could be salvaged. Used under his flight suit, it could be the difference between surviving or perishing if his craft came down. He sat on the edge of his bed and cut out the useable portion, thinking about all the adventures he had endured. Even now, if IAM appeared in his small cabin and offered him the chance to return to the Domain, he would still press on with his perceived duty to bring to the world the truth about the existence of Paradise and the Creator.

He wondered if the Monads knew about what had happened to Sandra, and Tuma, and his brave friend André. He hadn't thought much about any of them since he had been rescued. Turning over the cloth in his hands, he felt a hardness in his chest brought on by the bitter memories. He folded the cloth and put it in the side pocket of his flight bag.

Standing before the mirror in his small washroom, he wiped the tears which had formed in the corners of his steel blue eyes. He wondered what the others on rig eight would say if they could see how soft he really was.

Brushing his grey streaked hair, and dusting off the white specks which fell on his shoulders, he took a deep breath and forced his chest against his flight suit. He was ready to join his friends.

Shelley was dancing with Red as he entered the bar. Behind his back, she waved at John, and pointed to their table. He smiled and exchanged friendly greetings with other members of the oil rig. There was almost a full house tonight.
The music finished and the two returned to their table.

"What's your pleasure, Skipper?" asked Red.

"The first one's on me," said John, warmed by the outgoing mood of his new friends.

"We're just humble beer drinkers."

John ordered a pitcher of the amber brew and settled in for his farewell party. He speculated on what they would do if they all knew that he was planning to head south tomorrow.

"How come I've never seen you before, Shelley?"

"I've only been here a few weeks and I don't usually hang around bars."

"How come you're here? A great looking girl like you should be able to do well wherever you go. Why would you come out here, to the boonies?"

She tried to laugh off his probing remarks. "Trying to get away from a bad love affair. I'll tell you about it someday, but not here."

"Whatever you think is fair. Are you against dancing with old crocks like me?"

Red was glowing as he watched John make his move. He liked to do special things for his flyboys as he called them. It would make him very happy if Shelley and John could hit it off.

"I prefer older men, and I can assure you, you're no old crock."

They left the table and moved onto the crowded dance floor. The men outnumbered the women five to one on this isolation posting, but these were good odds compared to some of the other northern stations. General Bird was very discriminating in selecting the women for his unit. They had to be better looking then you would normally find in such a cross section of people, and he insisted that they be more liberal in their sexuality as he considered that a very important component in keeping up the morale of his men.

John thrilled at the intriguing scent that surrounded Shelley as she moved. This was the first time since he had lost Sandra that he found himself being aroused. She moved ahead of him, and he studied her firm bottom pressing against the rear pockets of her flight suit. He wanted to put a hand into each pocket and pull her towards him. She looked back over her shoulder and caught him looking down at her.
As she placed her arm around his neck, he drew her tightly against him, and they wormed their way through the other squirming bodies on the crowded floor.

"Sweet thing, you have no idea how good you feel?"

She pressed herself against his throbbing groin. "I'm getting a message, loud and clear, as you pilots like to say."

He pulled away from her for a moment, and in the dim light of the dance floor looked into her beautiful face and sparkling green eyes. Her ash blonde hair barely touched her shoulders in a carefree, natural wave. When she smiled, he saw her shining white, even teeth. This was no ordinary woman working in safety equipment. She was here to do some kind of a job, and he wondered what it was.

"Can we go somewhere...and be alone?" he asked.

"What about Red?"

"You tell me... what about Red?"

"He's just a companion, a good friend. Know what I mean?"

"As I said, can we get together somewhere?"

"Let's tell Red we're going to the hangar to check out the equipment I organized for you. We can be alone there. Everyone seems to be here tonight."

"Good idea."

They returned to their table and gave Red the word. He just smiled and waved them off, then turned to the people at the next table and joined them.

Shelley was right about the hangar being empty. John wondered how many other guys had been given this tour. Instead of taking him to the parachute room, where John was sure they would get together, she took him to his aircraft and began pointing out all the preparations she had made for him.

"Are you for real?" asked John.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I thought that we...you know what I mean."

"But I thought you wanted to see what I had done for our trip tomorrow."

"Our trip?"

"Yes. I'm going with you."

"On an oil recce? You crazy or something?"

"I'm going south with you, back to Washington."

He grabbed her by both arms and pulled her towards him.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Shelley Blackbird."

"That supposed to mean something?"

"It would if you'd been around for the past ten years. My father is Garnet Blackbird, Chief Justice Blackbird, of the Supreme Court."

This was no ordinary good looking lady. This was a woman with a past, and she was cutting herself in on his action.

"Go on."

"Uncle Alex arranged for me to come here."

"The General...Alex Bird?"

"He's my father's brother. Changed his name years ago when he was accepted at West Point."

"I'm listening."

"Well I got into a mess over a drug thing when I was at Briarwood Finishing School, and they were going to send me to the Gulag. They've been doing that a lot since the revolution. Daddy called Uncle Alex, and he said he'd let me do my time up here. That's about it."

"Like hell it is. What made you say you thought I was going back to Washington...and tomorrow at that?"

"Uncle Alex told me. He knows all about you and Barry and your plans. He wanted me to go with you and that way he gets to solve both his problems."

"You mean he isn't going to stop me?"

"That's what he said. That's why he and Barry went to Resolute. He wanted to give you a head start. He believes in your story, but he can't come right out and say so. This way it looks like you've escaped, and I was a stowaway."

"What the hell kinda guy is he?"

"A lot sharper than many people think. If it wasn't for Uncle Alex, I'd be a coal picker, or worse, doing hard time in Alaska."

"Aren't you afraid he might come after us, and things would be even worse?"

"Not after what I've done for him."

"I don't get it. What have you done for him?"

"Screwed his ass off. Can you imagine what would happen to the general's career if I told dear daddy his brother's been making it with me. There's no way he's going to try to stop us."

"I can't believe this. What's happened to being decent in this world?"

"You've been gone a long time, John. Now it's everyone for himself."

"I don't stand much of a chance spreading the good word of IAM."

"You'll never know unless you try."

"You know, Shelley, when you left with me, I thought we'd make love, and tomorrow I'd leave you, and remember you for the rest of my life. Now all that seems so corny. So out of date."

She leaned over and kissed him. Her tongue probed, touching his and he suddenly was back in white heat. She caressed his throbbing passion then grasped it firmly, almost making it split open.

"I want you inside me John. This is not a game. I really need you."

As she spoke, she unzipped her flight suit. She was wearing transparent, delicate panties, and a half bra, which was struggling to contain her brown and pink nipples that pressed hard against their flimsy container.

He fumbled to release his pulsing organ. With great expertise, she took it from him and stroked it gently, teasing it until it spewed tiny, slippery drops. He could barely keep himself under control. Guiding it to her own fragrant opening, she took it entirely in one thrust through the edge of her panties, her moistness wetting him thoroughly as he plunged in and out of her eager body. It made him remember Sandra back in the fishing shack on Pozzuoli.

She took her mouth away from his. "I told you. I love making it with older men."

View original paintings by William James Johnson at www.noozoon.com