Mind of a Child_ Sentient Serpents Read online

The rest of their equipment would be pretty light. Jungle fighting didn’t allow for packing too much heavy gear.

  The activity level was bustling as more “primitive” weaponry was loaded as well. Small arms like compound bows capable of launching missile-tipped arrows. In a pinch he and his men could go native and make their bows and arrows, spears, and knives, right out of what the jungle so readily supplied. For sure there’d be plenty of hole digging for concealed pits and dead falls, and plenty of trees cut for booby traps and snares. There was no getting around making do with what was on hand. Still, so long as they could hold on to their toys, he didn’t see any harm in them.

  Despite the confusing mass of movement to the untrained eye, the crews were well coordinated and part of a well-oiled fighting machine.

  Leon scrutinized their cover, noticing the makeshift blinders erected to prevent the non-commissioned from seeing anything from the adjoining civilian airport. The Midwest Logistics Airport was technically all civilian now, barring a few structures used to store equipment for urban warfare. As it so happened, Leon kept a lot of toys here on the down low, necessary for his off-book missions. Mostly the sight of military planes departing and leaving civilian airports was ignored. But this much of a footprint… he’d decided to take some extra precautions.

  He watched as his men angled laser devices to prevent pilots flying overhead from seeing what was on the ground of the former military base before landing at the civilian airport.

  Leon used his binoculars to confirm that one of the pilots overhead trying to see details of the military operation below put his hand up to his eyes and squinted, blinded by the sudden green glare.

  There was a rising din of outcries to Leon’s left flank. Even without looking he knew the sounds of entitlement well. He panned his head in the direction of the tumult. Passengers waiting to be on-boarded at the civilian airport, made curious by the mobilizing military in the adjoining airfield, were frustrated by the last of the blinders being slid into place.

  DeWitt, in his late 20s, a born soldier, eager to please, who didn't question the merit of what soldiers did for a second, stepped up to him, noticed him studying their precautions. He was Leon's usually-able second in command. He could probably chisel cement with that square jaw of his, or hammer at the chisel just as readily with the sweeping expanse of hardpan he called a forehead. DeWitt could see more consistent active duty with other outfits, but he felt he learned more from OMEGA FORCE than from all the other Special Ops details combined, so here he was.

  “If they only had a clue the world they really lived in,” DeWitt said.

  Leon grunted, eying the civilian plane landing. “Or the time zone. That technology they're using, the Wright Brothers invented that, didn't they?”

  DeWitt chuckled. “Yeah, it's about seventy five years behind what we've got.”

  “Yeah, well, the regular military is fifty years behind us. I guess knowing that eases the pains somewhat of these short-stay deployments with more downtime than uptime.”

  “You talk as if we’re semi-retired. You'll have to show me how I can rewrite my memories like that, to cover for the truth.”

  Leon smiled without parting his lips. “Yeah, well, Special Ops teams with private charters, I suppose, are a pretty scary thing,” he said, keeping a loose eye on their readiness for departure. “Hence, to the rest of the world, we’re semi-retired. Just security for hire, if anybody asks.”

  “I’d like to ask you again to reconsider using Hueys in tandem with Apache helicopters, operating out of a local airport, for resupplying us and air cover, sir.”

  “Nah, I want to disappear into the jungle entirely. No traces. No way for prying eyes to monitor our supply lines. All those Hueys will do is draw a map for anyone curious enough to inquire into what we’re up to.”

  “How the hell do you plan to land these C-5s in a jungle with barely enough room to land a bird, you know, the kind that flaps its wings?”

  Leon smiled. “We can always count on some starving peasant farmer for opening up a farm and clearing a patch of jungle where they shouldn’t, or drug traffickers for scarring the land with off-the-book landing strips. Something’ll turn up. If not, I hear treetop canopy homes are quite nice. We’ll just land the planes there and turn them into makeshift condos.”

  “For the record, Ajax does the bad jokes around here.”

  Taking the clipboard from DeWitt, Leon reviewed the list of paperwork that had to be signed in the middle of things being whisked by him. “Okay, let's get junior on board, shall we? He's the most important item, last I checked.”

  DeWitt blanched white. “About that, sir.”

  Leon could tell by the turn of his voice something was awry. He looked up from his paperwork at DeWitt.

  “Honestly, I was hoping to avoid the subject until we found him.”

  “Until you found him? We don't lose people, DeWitt! In fact, we're paid to find them. So you find him!”

  “Yes, sir!” He stopped himself in the middle of hopping to. “Permission to expand the search into the civilian airport if need be, sir?”

  “Tear the damn airport apart if you have to! They can bill me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  DeWitt signaled his men and the search for Natty was officially afoot.

  Leon whistled and gestured to have Laney brought to him. As she arrived, before she could voice her indignation, he said, “Where the hell is your husband?”

  She put her hand to her forehead, embarrassed. “Maybe if you and the boys could be a tad less intimidating...”

  Leon sighed from sheer exasperation. “We were loading boxes, not firing guns.”

  Shuffling his feet, already regretting feeding into Natty's paranoia, he pulled out the bottle of pills she gave him. “Can I double up on these things?” Laney bit her lip. “We haven't even gone into harm's way. Look around, this is the safest place on the planet. Nothing gets past my guys, nothing!”

  The soldiers were soon turning over every rock on the makeshift military air base adjoining the civilian airport. They checked the scoop on the giant earthmover, bigger than a bathtub. Natty wasn’t hiding there. Nor was he inside the cabins of any of the other engineering vehicles. Or the hideaway storage units that served as benches on the C-5. Or in its smoke-windowed cockpit.

  Several of Leon’s people had switched to thermal imaging to ferret him out from inside the shadows under the vehicles, or alongside the giant tires on the big rigs. Others wore goggles that allowed them to see inside their windowless ATVs, and through the shells of equipment storage cases. Ironically, the tech required for that was another of Natty’s designs.

  When canvassing the military side of the artificial divide didn't work, they expanded their search into the civilian airport.

  Ordinary citizens at the abutting airport were starting to panic at the military crawling over them like ants. That included the ones paid to keep the passengers calm.

  As Leon charged past an agent tearing tickets for passengers about to board their plane waiting outside, the ticket agent asked, “Sir, are we under attack?”

  He ignored her, stepping away, and talking into the mike in his ear. “Anything?”

  DeWitt’s voice crackled over the COM. “Not yet, sir.”

  The ticket agent picked then to grow a spine. “Sir, if we're not under attack, you just can't come in here and shut us down.”

  “Apparently I just did.” Leon moved on, ignoring her once again as the soldiers tore through the civilian airport checking every possible hiding place: the baggage belt; the cargo bays of departing planes; the curtained dolly-trucks carrying suitcases.

  Leon surveyed the big picture out all the windows, turning on himself 360 degrees. Think paranoid, Leon. Where would you hide if you were afraid of your own shadow? If you were a genius, and in a heartbeat could calculate the hundred and one places trained military would know to check for you?

  He glanced back at the one C-5 Galaxy still surrounded by m
ilitary vehicles that hadn’t been onboarded, and it dawned on him. “Pull back to the military hangars,” he said into his COM.

  Moments later, at the military base, Leon once again surveyed the field of opportunistic places to hide for likely candidates.

  He watched as a hard-shelled carrying case was dropped from a couple stories up, sliding off the top of the forklift that hadn’t yet had a chance to lower the tines down from where the vehicle had retrieved the case inside the hangar. The renegade item bounced and skidded on the tarmac. This was the army's idea of a suitcase. It looked like it could survive an atomic blast.

  Leon intervened in the soldiers’ onboarding of it, signaling them to step back. He upturned the snaps and opened the suitcase.

  Inside the foam lining on either side, Natty had cut out an oval, womb-like shape for himself and he was reading a book with a flashlight.

  “And just how long were you planning to breathe inside that thing?” Leon said.

  “This foam is quite porous. I'm guessing it traps a lot of air.”

  Leon pulled him out by the collar. “Look around!” he said gesturing with the arm holding the rifle.

  When Natty shuddered at the commanding nature of his voice, Leon throttled down his impatience. “Look around,” he said more obligingly.

  Natty gazed at the impressive armaments and soldiers. “Okay, what am I looking at?”

  “This is all to protect you.”

  “I still feel safer in the suitcase.” He stepped back into the suitcase.

  Leon stifled a smirk. He couldn’t help liking the kid. “It's Indiana, dude. Their idea of excitement is the occasional cyclone.” He took Natty by the shoulder and pointed. “See that plane over there? It's made to fly through cyclones. Are we feeling safe yet?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Tell you what, you sit with me.”

  “I especially don't feel safe around you.”

  Leon bit down on both lips until he felt them bleed. He looked over at Laney, and signaled for her to come over with a gesture of his head. Laney trotted up and stood next to them.

  Natty looked at her rebukingly. “How come he can get you to fly across the tarmac with a gesture and I can't get you to move with anything short of a half dozen lawyers?”

  Laney joined the lip biting competition underway.

  “What if she sits with us?” Leon suggested, handing him a couple of his anti-paranoia pills and a flask of water.

  Natty downed the pills dry, shaking his head at the ominous flask of water. “Maybe.”

  Leon sighed. “Good, it's settled then.

  “He'll grow on you if you give him half a chance,” Laney said.

  “Oh, he's growing on me already. Like fungus.”

  “He's got a sense of humor!” Natty exclaimed. “Tell him I have a sense of humor too, honey. Go ahead, tell him.” Leon moved off to finish attending to business.

  Laney sighed. “Maybe when he's less at his breaking point.”

  She took Natty by the cheeks in one hand and kissed him. “I agree a healthy adult is someone who also has a healthy inner child and a healthy inner parent. You’re one for three. How about we work on the other two, huh?”

  “Transactional Analysis. Yeah, that’s good. The theory’s been around forever though. I’m sure it’s been debunked by now.” She gave him a stern look and padded off. “Or not,” he mumbled.

  It dawned on him. Speaking up, he said, “You’re okay with me growing up on my terms, right, as opposed to, I don’t know, yours?” He returned to his mumbling, “or anybody else’s.”

  He tapped the shoulder of one of the military people walking by. “Um, why couldn’t we just take off from LAX?”

  “We find no one much minds what happens in the Midwest. Even UFOs have the sense to crash out here.” He moved on before Natty had a chance to formulate a reply.

  SIX

  With the C-5 cargo plane in mid-flight, Leon remained seated to one side of Natty, and Laney to the other. Leon had seldom left his roost except to discuss things in private with his men.

  This particular C-5 had been retrofitted and as a result was laid out more like a C-130, with web seats, shoulder to shoulder, down the sides for the passengers, cargo stacked in the middle. Ordinarily, there would be a dedicated compartment for the soldiers facing the rear of the plane that you’d have to climb up to. And just as typically, the cargo area would be filled with cargo. But unsure how Natty would handle the sense of claustrophobia, Leon had kept much of the floor space in his section of the plane clear. He justified the blank canvas as something he could use as a mobile command center, or a mechanic’s bay, in a pinch.

  Natty turned to Leon. “These C-5 Galaxies are underpowered, you realize that, right? I mean, it's a known issue. Then there’s the fact that they break down every five minutes.” He raised his voice to make sure he was being understood over the plane noise. “Not to mention, the damn things are thirty years out of date, at least. Maybe we should have gotten the South Korean military to protect me. You can bet their technology is up to date.”

  Leon stayed focused on his paperwork to Natty’s consternation. “Relax, kid. I think you'll be a little more impressed by what's stowed away inside the C-5s.”

  Natty turned to Laney. “He's very good at dismissing me. Did you give him some pointers?”

  “He's just a natural, dear. Some people don't need to be home-schooled on how to deal with lunatics.”

  He made a "ha-ha" face and a soundless laugh as he shook his head at her.

  ***

  Laney noticed Leon use one of his easy-to-miss gestures to coax one of his men to approach Natty. Considering the high amount of plane noise from the propellers and the poorly sealed cabin, she wasn’t surprised they were adept at soundless communication. If anything, on the ground, in active combat, the noise level likely escalated even further. And he and his people would need a workaround.

  Crumley, ten years older than Leon, at fifty-six years of age, was one of their two senior officers, “senior” as in most experienced. Despite a gorilla physique and the silver-back hair to go with it, his demeanor was more that of a teddy bear. It was her guess Leon hoped he embodied the kind of adult and parental figure Natty would warm to enough to role model himself after. Crumley took Natty by the hand like a kid and led him away.

  Laney watched as Crumley suited him up with flexible body armoring made for sparring.

  Crumley shadow boxed with him, not actually making contact.

  Natty loosened up a bit as he realized he could punch and kick Crumley without really hurting him and at least feel like a stud.

  But the shuddering of the plane hitting an air pocket was enough to knock Natty to the ground in short order. “Woah! I didn't even see you move.”

  Crumley chuckled; it looked as if he were taking a liking to Natty.

  As Laney kept an eye on what was going on in the background, she said to Leon, “I see you know a little about raising kids too.”

  Leon snorted. “Most of these guys had younger brothers they lived with at one time or another.”

  Laney continued to take in the mock sparring. “But they know to tone it down, right? Way, way down?”

  Leon threw an eye on the sparring before returning to his paperwork. “You wouldn't beat up on your little brother, would you?”

  “Look, no offense, but, to the overall economy of the planet, he makes IBM look like an afterthought.” When Leon didn’t look up from his paperwork, she said a little more leadingly, “So just how good are you?”

  He closed his folder. “Pick a country. Any country.”

  “Why?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh, I see.”

  “We reshape the world as well, in our own way.”

  She noticed Natty faring better now that he felt the adrenaline rush of doing something physical for a change.

  “Funny, you seem to know how to keep everyone's spirits up but your own.”

  Leon put the
pen down, threw aside the paperwork. “You can go too long without getting a chance to be everything you were meant to be. I envy your husband.”

  He listened to the carefree laughter coming from Natty as the soldier he was sparring with tackled him and peppered him with toy blows as if indeed playing with his younger brother. “He may feel like a stranger in a strange land, but that's a small price to pay for not having to sell yourself short, ever.”

  Leon retrieved the clipboard and his pen as if stoically accepting his grim fate. She continued to read him, and put her hand on his knee supportively. “Your semi-retirement doesn’t wear as well on you as on some. You’re like the tiger caged and taken out of the jungle. It's wrong, but it doesn't change what you are.”

  He harrumphed dismissively. “I guess that’s part of it.”

  She forced herself to peer further into his soul through his eyes. “Ah, I get it now. You’ve been to hell and back multiple times, and never found anything all that scary.” She huffed. “Hang around my husband and I long enough, and that’ll change. We work in separate fields that only sometimes intersect. But people like us are building a future I’m not sure any human, without some sort of upgrades, will be able to inhabit. Far too challenging. Even for the likes of you, I fancy.”

  He pretended not to be moved by her rhetoric, letting a condescending smile creep across his face. But when her attention was off him, his eyes went back to her.

  ***

  The plane jostling before the air pocket snapped Leon awake. He checked his watch, surprised to see Natty and Crumley still going at it. Natty had the endurance and endless energy of a child. Crumley was only expending a fraction of the effort he was, able to move professionally, even in a mock fight, explaining why he’d been able to hang in there so long.

  Leon figured he’d make the most of the time. “You want to give me some more insight into your husband?” he said to Laney.

  She snorted as she eyed her spouse. “Natty is trying to save the world in his own cockamamie way.”

  “That’s a lot of self-importance.”