The Demon Drivers BOOK IV - Ch. 2: Lucky Thirteen. Again.
The Demon Drivers BOOK IV
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Parker, Sunny, Bubba, Igby, and Colby stepped out of the elevator, helmets in hand. They approached a metal railing. And stared in awe.
A massive foyer opened up before them. All four sides of the room were lined with walkways from which others could look down upon the floor. When General Ramsey referred to a simulator, Parker had imagined something like the Go-Boy game at Skycade. But this felt more like an indoor sports arena with the lower seating and the floor removed, like when the monster trucks came to town. The Kingdom City Cyclops could play basketball here. All they needed was a hardwood floor, two hoops, and a scoreboard and they could pulverize the Knickerbockers right out of the playoffs and go on to win the championship like they had the year before.
Where the basketball court would normally be lay a sea of large white spheres. Many of the spheres were moving. They twirled and twisted this way and that. Each sphere sat atop an electromagnetic platform, hovering there as if by magic, allowing it to spin in any direction. The electromagnets whirred and hummed, filling the enormous room with an eerie cacophony. A brilliant red number decorated the sides of each sphere. As it spun around, its shape dissolved into a blur. In its place, the bright red number beamed like red laser light, hovering in mid-air.
An immense video screen hung on the far wall, built into the rock. On screen, a sleek grey fighter jet raced through a grassy ravine. The horizon whirled and spun as the pilot skimmed the tree line on a practice target run. Parker almost began to feel dizzy looking at it. Sunny actually looked away.
Parker was disturbed by what he saw next: there were people everywhere. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people. They stood two and sometimes three people deep, packed against the railing on each of the floors above. They clamored to look down onto the central atrium housing the simulators. Parker realized they were all looking at him and the other kids. People in flight suits came and went down below, getting out of the large spheres. Gradually, each of the simulators came to rest and the occupant exited, joining the crowd staring at Parker and the others.
“See?” said Colby, “my public awaits.”
“Your public wouldn’t wait for you to cross the street,” said Bubba.
“Oh yeah?” Colby demanded.
“Yeah,” said Bubba.
“Suck it, fat boy.”
“Put a sock in it, Wizard of Crap,” said Bubba.
Parker tried to ignore the bickering by looking over the railing. Directly below he saw several impressive rows of computer terminals. At each terminal sat a technician who was able to look out at his pilot from the computer observation deck.
“Uh-ten-SHUN!”
Every person in the room snapped to attention, chest out, shoulders back, eyes forward, heels together. Thousands of combat boots pounded the floor in impressive unison.
Parker whirled around to see General Ramsey exiting the elevator. Wendy stood at attention nearby. It was she who had called to order the now-silent room. Dr. Seabrook walked behind the General, followed by Tupper and Royd. Being civilians, they did not come to attention with Wendy and the others. Parker looked over his shoulder and realized Sunny, Bubba, Colby, and Igby all stood at attention, feet together, arms pinned closely to their sides. He wondered when the other kids had learned how to stand at attention, particularly Sunny and Bubba. Perhaps that morning while he was still asleep in his jeans and T-shirt. He quickly tried to imitate their stance.
“Listen,” Colby said softly. “It’s so quiet I think I hear crickets.”
“Cool it,” Bubba hissed. “Hey Park,” Bubba whispered, “think General Ramsey will let us go flying later?”
“Not a snowball’s chance in—” began Colby.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” spat Bubba.
“As you were,” called General Ramsey. Igby relaxed, as did Sunny, Bubba, and Colby. Parker quickly did the same. The scores of people lining the railing relaxed and stood quietly. “As for whether I let you go flying later remains to be seen, Bubba.” Parker could almost feel Bubba’s embarrassment emanating from his body.
“He’ll let us fly if you guys can keep it together,” said Colby.
“Can you?” asked Bubba.
“I know I can,” replied Colby.
“If we all relax, concentrate, and work together, we should do fine,” said Sunny.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Miss Harper,” said General Ramsey. He turned and motioned to the sea of people crowded around the railing. “I see you’ve met The Suicide Squad.”
“The what?” said Sunny.
“The Suicide Squad,” replied General Ramsey. “That’s what they call themselves.” He motioned proudly to the room before them. “This is where Candyland’s student pilots and test pilots spend a great deal of their time. Below us are two hundred full-motion simulators, able to move through three hundred-sixty degrees of rotation in any direction. We’re able to simulate flight in more than two thousand different types of aircraft operating any place in the world, day or night, in all weather conditions. We can conduct massive aerial battles here. All without firing a single live round. Put simply, these simulators will prepare you for combat.”
“You mean we have to get inside those things?” asked Sunny.
“Of course,” replied General Ramsey. “Why, are you claustrophobic?”
“Is she what?” asked Bubba.
“Claustrophobic,” said Sunny, “it means you’re afraid of enclosed spaces.”
“Oh,” said Bubba. “Are you?”
“No,” said Sunny. “Well, maybe just a little. After watching the roller coaster go off its tracks, I don’t like being strapped-in or buckled-in someplace I can’t escape in a hurry, in case there’s a fire or I’m plummeting to my death, for example.”
“Rest assured, neither of those scenarios is a possibility,” said General Ramsey. “Follow me.” He turned and headed for the nearby stairs leading down to the lower level full of computers.
Parker gazed out over the sea of simulators. Two pilots stood near a white sphere with 13 painted on its sides. Parker found that the longer he looked, the better he was able to see them, as if he were looking through binoculars. The one on the right looked nice enough, a bit shorter and stockier than the other. His flight suit bore his name: ROJAS. The taller pilot resembled a typical fighter-jock: spiky blond hair, chiseled cheekbones, big blue eyes. He probably moonlighted as an underwear model. A patch on his flight suit bore his name in bold black letters: GUNNER. Gunner pointed up at Parker, then exchanged words with Rojas, who nodded. Parker suddenly wished Dr. Seabrook had sent tiny robots into his ears to improve his hearing as well.
“Wait,” said Parker.
General Ramsey stopped and turned back. He did not appear pleased.
“General, please wait.” Parker saw General Ramsey soften a bit. “Who are all these people and what are they doing here?”
“They’re here to see what you’ve got. I told you before, Parker, good news travels fast. Clearly your reputation precedes you.”
“What reputation?”
“Isaiah Chapter eleven, verse six: ‘And a little child shall lead them.’ Now, if you wouldn’t mind, follow me.” General Ramsey turned and quickly descended the steps leading down to the computer workstations.
“What the heck does that mean?” muttered Colby.
“Come on, you guys,” said Bubba, “this is going to be a blast.” Bubba hopped down the stairs after General Ramsey, followed by the other kids and their tuners. Parker stood alone on the platform. He looked up again at the countless people. He tried to imagine what his dad would do if commanding the attention of a large number of people, perhaps an elite squad of Special Forces soldiers, pacing back and forth in front of them while he explained the mission. Parker imagined them coming under attack, his dad grabbing a radio, calling desperately for aerial reinforcements while Go-Boy Ultra pummeled them from above, swooping in low and fast, striking blow after blow, always disappearing up into the bright blue sky.
“Ahem.”
General Ramsey stood waiting. Everyone in the room was watching him, even his friends. He suddenly felt sweaty-hot and ice-cold at the same time. An airtight knot of fear wrapped itself around his stomach. He wondered if Sunny felt this way during the spelling bee. He tried to act calm and cool, the way Colby always did in his movies when confronted with overwhelming odds, a vastly superior number of enemy forces, and a shortage of ammunition, all of which seemed to happen inevitably right before the end of the movie.
Parker walked down the stairs and joined the others. He pretended he had been here before, that this was something he did every day. In some way, he realized, this was true. He spent at least an hour or two in the Go-Boy simulator nearly every day. Candyland’s simulators looked much more impressive, however. A thousand pairs of eyes studied his every move. Still, there’s nothing to be afraid of, Parker told himself. Nothing except catastrophic failure and unparalleled public humiliation.
“Parker, are you ready?” asked General Ramsey.
“Sure he is,” said Bubba. “Come on Park, get down there and show ’em how it’s done.”
Parker saw Bubba grinning at him and wondered where Bubba found his endless supply of courage. Parker felt anything but courageous. “No sweat.” He looked at Sunny. A mask of concern obscured the sweet beauty he normally found on her face.
“Dr. Seabrook, are we ready to begin?” asked General Ramsey.
Dr. Seabrook finished consulting with a nearby computer technician and stood upright. “Yes, General. Simulators thirteen through seventeen are ready to spin.”
“Excellent. We’ll be watching your every move on the giant screen, Parker. So knock ’em dead. Wendy, why don’t you escort Parker to Simulator Thirteen and help him strap in.”
“Certainly, General,” said Wendy. “Parker, right this way.”
“I can do it myself,” said Parker.
“I know you can,” said Wendy, “but it’s the buddy system. A good pilot never flies alone. Besides, you need someone to button up the sim. You can’t do it once you’re strapped in.”
Wendy was right. Parker descended the stairs and made his way toward Simulator Thirteen. The only sound was his and Wendy’s boots on the black metal grid flooring.
Now that he was down on the floor, Parker saw just how massive the white spheres actually were. About the size of a small car. For them to be lifted into the air and twirled around was truly amazing. To be inside it seemed more amazing still.
Wendy led Parker between rows that seemed to go on forever. The sea of pilots parted for him as he walked. He looked into their faces. Men. Women. Old. Young. Some of them were confident. Some looked scared. Others just looked exhausted. So many of them, gathered in one place, united in their cause. The thought of it sent a chill up Parker’s back, made his scalp tingle, and brought tears to his eyes for the majesty of it all, the dignity, the grandeur. He blinked the tears back and calmed himself.
“Hey Par-ker!” shouted Bubba. “Lucky Thirteen. Again!” Bubba grinned his toothy grin and waved his arm over his head, then pointed at Simulator Thirteen. Parker nodded and waved. He even managed a bit of a smile.
Directly ahead lay Simulator Thirteen. Right next to it stood Gunner and Rojas. Parker forced himself to keep walking. He forced himself not to think about what the two pilots might have said about him. He forced himself not to throw up.
Wendy stopped in front of Simulator Thirteen. Right next to the two pilots.
“Parker,” said Wendy, “allow me to introduce two of Candyland’s finest: Gunner Tom and Alex Rojas.”
Parker pretended to be seeing them for the first time. “Nice to meet you guys.”
“I just bet my compadre here a hundred bucks that you crash and burn,” said Gunner. He smiled a sinister smile.
“Gunner, he’s too young to be impressed by your debauchery,” said Wendy.
“Whatever you say, gorgeous.” Gunner raised his eyebrows a few times, smiling again.
“When pigs fly,” Wendy retorted.
“Seeing as how Ramsey’s now got kids doing his dirty work,” Gunner continued, “I suspect airborne bacon is in the not too distant future. I’ll get Igby to cook me up some swine when he’s finished rerouting the path of the Earth around the Sun.” He looked down at Parker. “What do you say to that, kid?”
Parker didn’t know what to say. He had the impression he’d entered a room just after the two people already in it had been arguing. Like the night before his tenth birthday, the night his dad gave him the watch, the night before The Attack. The night before his mom was killed. She would say, Kill ’em with kindness. Mrs. Black would probably say Love thine enemy or Turn the other cheek. Whatever that meant. “Maybe we’ll, uh, get to fly together sometime.”
“It’s already been arranged,” said Gunner. “We’ll see what you’re made of.” Gunner and Alex strode away. Gunner looked back, over his shoulder. “I’ll keep the door unlocked and the champagne on ice, Wen.” He winked at Parker and was gone.
Parker looked at Wendy.
“One weak moment at the office Christmas party and he thinks we’re soul mates,” Wendy sighed. She opened the door to the simulator and it swung silently upward on its hinges. “Climb in, soldier.”
“Lucky thirteen, huh? I haven’t had such good luck with thirteen the past few days.”
Wendy offered an encouraging smile.
The door of the simulator stood open. The interior was nearly dark. There were rows of lights and a series of video screens, all mounted to resemble the cockpit of a Go-Boy Battle-suit.
Parker couldn’t go in.
He just stood there. The simulator looked the same as the arcade version inside, but something about it was different. And he couldn’t make himself climb in. Seconds ticked by. There was a raging silence inside his head. Everyone was looking at him, watching him stand there like a frightened child. Surely by now they were wondering what the problem could be. Time dragged on. The longer he stood there, the more difficult it became to act. He waited for something to propel him into the dark confines of the big white sphere.
Parker looked over his shoulder. The other kids stood on the technician’s platform, watching him. Sunny looked worried. Bubba rubbed his stomach, looking hungry. Colby sneered. Igby was pecking away at his wrist computer, probably re-computing thrust-to-weight ratios or gravitational constants. Dr. Seabrook leaned over and said something to General Ramsey. They both looked around at the thousands of people. Dr. Seabrook seemed agitated. General Ramsey held up his hand, insisting they wait just a little longer.
They’re testing me, thought Parker. So get in. Just do it, climb in. He struggled to think of a reason to get in. Imagine Dad . . . lying in some burned-out hotel, cut off from his unit, popping in his last magazine while the enemy closes in all around him. He needs you. So get in. Now.
Parker took a deep breath, pulled his helmet on, and climbed inside the sphere. Once inside, it seemed even darker. The array of video screens loomed before him.
Relax, you’ve done this a thousand times.
He got into position and leaned against the backrest. He gathered the straps of the safety harness and fastened them together with the big buckle on his stomach. Wendy fastened several wide straps around each of his legs and one over each of his boots.
“Comfy?” asked Wendy.
“Uh, sure.”
“I understand you’ve spent some time in the arcade, playing in the sim.”
Parker nodded and surveyed the interior of the sphere.
“The technicians were in here all night rigging this thing up for you. It’s just like the arcade game. Except this one is going to spin around, to give you the sense that you’re actually flying. It can be a bit disorienting at first, but just relax and pretend you’re in the arcade. And don’t worry if you crash and burn. The sim is for practicing procedures, mostly. Everybody crashes and burns. Even Gunner.”
“Have you?”
“Not lately.” Wendy smiled. “You know, Parker, you and I are a lot alike.”
“We are?”
Wendy nodded. “Being a female working in a traditionally male profession, I constantly have to prove myself. See, you can take the cave man out of the cave, but you can’t take the cave out of the man.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means with all these chauvinistic fighter jocks strutting through the halls,” she bobbed her head in the direction Gunner had departed, “I always work just a little bit harder, fly a little bit cleaner, and shoot a little bit sharper than everyone else. That way, no one can say I don’t belong here. Now, you’re the youngest pilot I’ve ever met. I’ll be honest with you. Many of the people in this room want to see you fail. They don’t think a kid, sorry, a person your age has any right heading up a squadron of Top Secret, cutting-edge aircraft. But just between you and me, I think they’re jealous. I’m betting you have more flight time than any three of them combined.”
Completely unconvinced, Parker replied, “But I’ve never actually flown before.”
“I know. But once you get over that, once you find your wings, I think you’re going to soar.” Wendy smiled. “Parker, can I ask you a question? What is it I heard you and Bubba say before? Kick something?”
“Oh. That. Right. If something is really, really important, you say, ‘Kick some plasma.’ And then the other person knows you’re there for them.”
“Right. Okay. Thanks.”
“Followed a close second by the always-popular, ‘Kiss my plasma.’”
Wendy laughed. “I’ll remember that one, too. Believe me.”
For a moment, they shared a comfortable silence.
“Well, I’d say you’re ready to spin,” said Wendy.
Wendy backed out of the simulator and grabbed the handle hanging from the big, gull-wing style door. “One last thing: barf bags are located in the map pocket to your right. Have a good flight.” She pulled the overhead handle. “Oh, and Parker?”
He looked up at her.
“Kick some plasma.”
Wendy swung down the gull-wing door. It shut on its hydraulically-actuated hinges. There was a metallic clank and then a green COCKPIT SECURE light on the door lit up.
With the door closed and Wendy gone, Parker felt completely isolated. He looked around the cockpit. Everything looked familiar, all right. A bit newer and more shiny than the arcade game in Skycade, but similar nonetheless. Maybe I can do this, he thought. He noticed some writing scrawled on the instrument panel:
A person’s true character is revealed by what he does when no one is watching. –Anonymous
But they are watching. Thousands of people. And they’re all watching me. Maybe I can’t do this.
“Parker, do you read me?” The radio in Parker’s helmet scratched to life. He lowered his face shield and heard a hissing sound as his KID Suit automatically pressurized itself. He felt a slight pressure on his eardrums.
“I read you.”
“This is Dr. Seabrook, Parker. How are you feeling in there?”
“Uh, fine, I guess. I like the lights. Kind of like Christmas.”
“Sunny wants to know if it feels claustrophobic.”
“It’s cozy, actually.” He felt anything but cozy, but it wouldn’t do any good for Sunny to know that.
“Roger that, Parker. I’ll tell her.”
The radio scratched for an instant, then went silent. Parker hoped Dr. Seabrook was doing his best to calm Sunny’s fear of being strapped inside the dark sphere.
“Parker?” It was Dr. Seabrook again. “We’ve got you on-screen. Everyone out here can see what you see and hear what you say. We’re powering-up the sim now. You might feel a slight vibration. Sit tight.”
“Uh, roger.” He hoped he sounded professional, pilot-like.
A vibration began to creep into the simulator. Parker felt it first in his feet. It was like a steadily increasing current, giving off a frequency he could actually hear inside his helmet. He felt a slight pressure pressing down on his entire body. The sphere was being lifted into the air by the massive electromagnetic current. He couldn’t see anything beyond the confines of the sphere’s interior but his other senses told him he was moving. He’d never experienced motion sickness, even while riding in a moving vehicle with a dark hood over his head. There’s a first time for everything…. He looked over at the map pocket Wendy had mentioned. Sure enough, the plastic draw string of the sick sack poked out of the top of the map pocket. The vibration subsided suddenly, as did the pressure. He had the distinct feeling of floating.
“Ready when you are, Parker,” said Dr. Seabrook. “We’ll begin with some basic aerial maneuvers . . . straight-and-level flight, steep turns, that kind of thing. Once you’ve had a chance to get the feel of the sim, maybe we’ll even initiate some system failures, just to test your troubleshooting skills. Sound good?”
Troubleshooting skills? “Roger that, Doctor. I’m ready.” I hope.
The video screens inside the sim lit up. Parker was surrounded by blue sky. He looked up. Where the walls and roof of the simulator had been moments ago, he now saw more blue sky, lit by a bright yellow sun. He squinted at its brilliance. He could almost feel its warmth on his face. His helmet visor winked to grey, shielding his eyes so he didn’t need to squint.
“Commence flight on my mark, Parker,” said Dr. Seabrook. “Three . . . two . . . one . . . mark.”
And then. . .
I’m falling.
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