Phoenix Rising pr-1 Page 5

  “You say that you are afraid the country will collapse,” Solomon said. “What does that mean?”

  “I think it will mean no law and order. It will also mean runaway inflation and if that happens, money will become worthless. We may see wide-spread electrical outages, fuel and food shortages,” Jake said. “If all that comes to pass, there will be riots in the streets.”

  “Will you survive?” Solomon asked his son.

  “I—yes, I think I will.”

  “You only think you will?”

  “I will survive,” Jake said. “I am worried about you.”

  “Worry not about me,” Solomon said. “All the troubles of the English will not trouble us. For many generations we have lived our lives and the English have lived theirs.”

  “Father, I fear that things may be different now. This new president . . .”

  “Is not of our concern,” Solomon repeated.

  “Hide your food, Father,” Jake said.

  “Hide the food? Why do you say such a thing?”

  “If, as I fear, there is a total breakdown of civilization, the English know that Amish keep a lot of food stored. They may come try to take it.”

  “I will not turn away a starving man,” Solomon said.

  “They will be more than starving. They will be desperate, and they could bring much harm to you and to the others. Please, Father, heed my warning. Hide your food and tell your neighbors that they must do so as well. For if you don’t, I fear what may happen to you.”

  “I will heed your advice,” Solomon said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Will you stay with us now?” Jake’s mother asked.

  “No, Mother, I wish I could,” Jake said. “But I cannot.”

  There was no real reason why he couldn’t stay, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either, because he did wish that he could. But he had Karin back in Lancaster, and he did not want to leave her alone. Also he felt a very strong and totally unexpected attraction for the Life that he had abandoned so long ago. It was an attraction that he could not succumb to. He needed to get away now, while his resolve was still strong.

  Jake stood then, and walked over to retrieve his hat from a hat rack that was on the wall just inside the front door. The hat rack was a thirty-inch-long, highly polished piece of walnut. Carved into the hat rack were the words:

  Die Lantz-Familie

  Jake ran his hand over the smooth wood.

  “It was a Christmas present you made for me,” Jake’s mother said.

  “Yes, when I was twelve years old.”

  “If go you must, do it now,” Solomon said.

  Jake’s mother embraced him again, and he could feel her tears on his cheek. Martha embraced him as well.

  Jake waited until he was back on Old Philadelphia Pike before he dialed Karin’s cell phone.

  “How did it go?” Karin asked.

  “All things considered, it went well,” Jake said. “They accepted me without shunning.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Do you need me to pick up something to eat?”

  “No, I walked across the street to a place that serves Amish food. Or so the sign says.”

  Jake chuckled. “That’s for the tourists,” he said. “It’s pretty close, but it isn’t real.”

  “Real or not, it was very good,” Karin said. “How much longer before you get here?”

  “Fifteen minutes, more or less.”

  “Are you still wearing your plain clothes?” Karin’s voice took on a deep seductive tone.

  “Of course. What else would I be wearing?”

  “You’ll need to get out of them.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll help,” she said.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fort Rucker—Thursday, March 15

  General Clifton von Cairns swiveled around in his chair and looked through the windows of his office out onto the parade ground. He was the commanding general of an Army base whose sole reason for existence was to train aviators and aircraft maintenance personnel—but, by order of the Department of the Army, all training had been suspended until further notice. In the meantime he had over twenty thousand soldiers wandering around on the base with no specific jobs.

  Worse, he had aviators who weren’t able to fly, not even to maintain their minimums. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair for a moment; then he reached for the telephone, and dialed the direct line to the deputy chief of staff, U.S. Army, G1, at the Pentagon.

  “This is General von Cairns. I would like to speak to General Roxbury,” he said when the phone was answered.

  “Yes, General, what can I do for you?” General Roxbury said when he came on the line.

  “Tell me, Bill, just when in the hell do you think we will be able to resume training?” von Cairns asked.

  “We’ve been through all that, Clifton. Training will be resumed as soon as we can get reorganized. We have brought three hundred thousand troops back from overseas, the largest part of that number being Army personnel. That has put quite a strain on our military infrastructure as I’m sure you can understand. And right now, our first priority is reorganization.”

  “Alright, I can see that, but why restrict our flying time? As you know, I am not only CG of Fort Rucker and the Army Aviation School; I am also chief of the Army Aviation Branch. These flight-time restrictions are Army-wide, and they are having a serious impact in allowing our aviators to maintain their minimums. And that, Bill, could have dire, and I mean dire, consequences.”

  “I wish I could help you with that, Clifton, I really do. But that is out of my hands. The restriction of flight time isn’t just for the Army. It is for all branches of the service, and it comes direct from the secretary of defense.”

  “Yes, someone who has never served one day in the military, who has never held a private-sector job, and who has never been in charge of anything larger than an office staff. Can’t you talk to him, Bill? Can the chief of staff talk to him? Hell, how about the chairman of the Joint Chiefs? He’s an Air Force man, a pilot; he ought to understand better than anyone what this is doing to training, to operational readiness, to say nothing of morale.”

  “Believe me, he does understand. And he has talked with the secretary of defense as well as the president. But the flight limitations remain in effect.”

  General von Cairns was quiet for a long moment.

  “You still there, Clifton?”

  “Yeah,” von Cairns said. “I’m here.”

  “Look, I know what you are going through,” General Roxbury said. “And I’m doing—we are doing—all we can to get this situation resolved as quickly as we can. All I can say now is for you to just hang loose and keep your personnel ready to resume training at a moment’s notice. This can’t last forever.”

  “No, it sure as hell can’t,” von Cairns said. “Good-bye, Bill, and give Connie my best.”

  “Will do,” General Roxbury said. “I’m going to stay on this, Clifton, I promise.”

  General von Cairns hung up the phone. Nearly one hundred soldiers were moving across the parade ground performing police call. But there was nothing left for them to pick up, because another group of one hundred had performed a police call earlier this morning. This useless waste of manpower was the result of junior officers and NCOs “making work,” for the men and women soldiers on the base. The lack of mission was having a serious impact on troop morale.

  Von Cairns looked over at a shadow box on the wall. Inside the box was a Distinguished Service Cross, a medal of valor second only to the Medal of Honor.

  The framed citation was right beside it.

  Citation: Distinguished Service Cross

  CLIFTON VON CAIRNS

  The President of the United States takes great pride in presenting the Distinguished Service Cross to Clifton von Cairns, Major, U.S. Army, Avn, for his extraordinary heroism in military operations against an opposing armed force while serving as an Apache pilot with the Third Combat Avia
tion Brigade during Operation DESERT STORM on January 21, 1991. On that date, Major von Cairns was flying a search-and-destroy mission at a forward-operating location when he received tasking to look for another Apache crew that had been shot down the night before. For three hours of intensive searching deep inside enemy territory, he risked his life as he had to fly at absolute minimum altitude to pinpoint the survivors’ location. When an enemy truck appeared to be heading toward the downed crew, Major von Cairns engaged and destroyed it, thus enabling a Blackhawk helicopter to secure the rescue. Once the crew recovery was effected, Major von Cairns flew cover for the rescue helicopter, taking out two more enemy gun positions on the return flight. It was his superior airmanship and his masterful techniques at orchestration that made this rescue happen. Through his extraordinary heroism, superb airmanship, and aggressiveness in the face of the enemy, Major von Cairns reflects the highest credit upon himself and the United States Army.

  The door to his office being open, Lieutenant Phil Patterson stepped through it, then called out, “General von Cairns?”

  Von Cairns swiveled back around. “Yes, Lieutenant ?”

  “You wanted the 1352 forms? The Matériel Readiness Reports?”

  “Yes, what do we have?”

  “Forty-two percent of our aircraft could be made flyable by reconnecting the fuel control lines.”

  “What? Only forty-two percent? What’s the problem ? You would think with as little flying as we are doing that we could at least keep our aircraft operational.”

  “Yes, sir, well, it isn’t the fault of maintenance, General. Fifty-one percent of the red-X aircraft are grounded for parts.”

  “Fifty-one percent? What’s the holdup? Are the parts on order?”

  “Yes, sir, and they are on AOG, which as you know is the highest priority,” Lieutenant Patterson said. “Evidently there is a hold on all resupply.”

  “How much authority can AOG have now, anyway ?” General von Cairns asked. “Hell, all aircraft are on ground.”

  “That’s true, General. But I suppose that is the best they can do.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” von Cairns agreed. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  Patterson returned to his desk. He had welcomed the assignment to run down the 1352s. That had given him something to do other than sit at his desk and read paperback novels.

  Opening the middle drawer on his desk, he picked up Death Town by Robert Varney. The other officers sometimes teased him about his “high literary tastes,” but he didn’t care. He enjoyed the thrillers, and the way things were going right now, he needed all the escape he could get.

  JFK Airport, New York—Friday, March 16

  Pan World America Flight 103, out of Frankfurt, Germany, was just entering New York airspace for landing at JFK. Rena Woodward, the chief flight attendant, took the mic from its holder.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has just turned on the seat-belt sign. Please make certain that all trays are stowed, your seats are in the upright position, and your seat belts are fastened. We thank you for flying PWA.”

  Suddenly, from the aisle seat in row twenty-three, Abdullah Ibrahim Yamaninan stood up and, using a cigarette lighter, lit the hem of his shirt.

  “Death to all infidels! Allah hu Akbar!”

  The shirt flamed as suddenly and as brightly as a magnesium flare.

  “He’s got a bomb!” someone shouted.

  Mike Stewart, a former linebacker for Penn State, was a passenger one row behind. He grabbed the blanket off the woman who was seated next to him, then leaped up and wrapped it around Yamaninan, knocking him down as he did so.

  “Get a fire extinguisher!” Stewart shouted as he tried to smother the flames with the blanket.

  Yamaninan was screaming in pain from the severe burns all over his body. Reena arrived then with a foam fire extinguisher and she emptied it on Yamaninan and Stewart, whose clothes were, by now, also burning.

  One of the other flight attendants called the flight deck to inform the pilot of what had just happened, and the pilot called JFK to declare an emergency.

  “Pan World, what is the nature of your emergency ?”

  “It appears we have a bomber on board.”

  “Say again, Pan World. You have a bomb on board?”

  “A bomber. Or a would-be bomber. Apparently he tried, but it did not explode.”

  “Pan World America, you are cleared for immediate landing on runway 13R, winds north–northwest at twenty knots, altimeter two niner niner seven.”

  “Pan World, 13R, roger.”

  “All inbound aircraft to JFK, be advised there is an emergency in progress. Northwest on short final for 13R. Please expedite your landing, exit runway at first opportunity. All other aircraft in queue for 13R go around for reassignment.”

  “Northwest, roger, expediting approach.”

  “JFK, this is Pan World, we request emergency equipment on site.”

  “Roger, Pan World, we will meet you with emergency equipment.”

  Back in the cabin, the fire was out, and Rena was applying ointment to the burns on Mike Stewart’s chest and arms. Yamaninan lay in the aisle, untreated and moaning quietly. He was naked because most of his clothes had burned off, and his chest, abdomen, arms, and face were charred black.

  “Cabin crew, we’re cleared for immediate landing. Prepare to deploy slide chutes,” the pilot’s voice said over the cabin loudspeakers.

  The big 777 made a much steeper and faster landing approach than any of the passengers had ever experienced. The landing was hard, and immediately after touchdown the thrust reversers were engaged at full power, causing everyone to be thrown forward against their seat belts.

  Once the plane turned off the active it proceeded but a short distance before coming to a stop. The cabin crew opened the doors fore and aft and deployed the sliding chutes. There was an orderly debarkation of all the passengers except Yamaninan, who was now being watched over by Mike Stewart and a male flight attendant.

  Fire trucks, ambulances, and busses were already standing by.

  Fort Rucker—Monday, March 19

  Although Jake and Karin had each taken fifteen days’ leave, they used only five days, spending most of it in Philadelphia, before returning to duty. Coming back from his leave, Jake found that, if anything, the conditions in the Army in general, and on the base in particular, had gotten even worse. Captain Greenly had not returned from his leave, and Jake didn’t think he was going to. Captain Greenly and the three warrants who were assigned to EFT were all gone now, ostensibly on leave, though Jake had serious doubt that any of them would return. All four officers had completed their mandatory service and could leave the service simply by submitting their resignation papers, and Jake was reasonably certain they had either done so, or were going to.

  That meant that Jake was not only chief of the environmental flight detachment, he was the only officer remaining. And now, in an effort to keep his men gainfully occupied, Jake was totally reorganizing Environmental Flight Tactics, the department he was responsible for. He was redoing the curriculum and rewriting all lesson plans, lesson objectives, and specific objectives, as well as reevaluating the course exams.

  He went home late that night, planning to eat alone, primarily because Karin had night duty at the hospital.

  After warming a can of chili, Jake took it and a can of root beer into the living room, where he turned on TV to watch the news.

  President Ohmshidi announced today that, effective immediately, all banks in the nation with assets greater than twenty million dollars would be nationalized. CEOs and members of the Board of Directors of the affected banks will be asked to step down without any terminating compensation. The Federal Reserve will appoint government officials to run the banks, and any profits derived therefrom will accrue to the United States Government.

  As a part of this proposal, all banking, savings, bond, and stock accounts are being inventoried, and a fair tax is being applied. An absolute lim
it of ten million dollars is being put on private wealth, and any amount of privately held funds greater than ten million dollars will be confiscated by the government. Persons with a net worth of between five and ten million dollars will be assessed a tax of seventy-five percent. Those people with a net worth of between one million and five million dollars are being assessed at a rate of fifty percent. There will be a twenty-five percent tax on all accounts between half a million and a million.

  Those with a net value of from two hundred fifty to five hundred thousand will be taxed at ten percent and there will be no tax for those who have a net worth of less than two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

  Anyone who has less than one hundred thousand dollars will come under the president’s new program of equalization. To those people, the government will be sending out checks within the week, totaling up to one hundred thousand dollars per check, the amount calculated to provide a baseline of at least one hundred thousand dollars for every American.

  This is being done, the president says, to provide, fully and equitably, for all our citizens.

  Jake did not have two hundred fifty thousand dollars, so he would not be subjected to a tax this year. He imagined there would be many people in the country who would welcome this tax relief, and many more who would welcome a government contribution that would elevate their net worth to one hundred thousand dollars. But Jake didn’t feel good about it at all. This could not bode well. Where would be the incentive of the more successful and entrepreneurial people to build businesses, which provided jobs?

  Finishing his bowl of chili, Jake went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, then took out a block of cheese and carved off a thick slice. He grabbed a handful of crackers and another can of root beer, then returned to the living room to watch George Gregoire.