Wings of Fire Ch. 01

Author’s Note: So, this is the fourth story I have released, and this will be the limit I have set for the moment concerning how many I’ll work on at this time. Some folks might wonder, how do I keep the worlds separate? That’s why I have my notebooks and write everything down. Makes it easier to sort things and keep everything straight. Hopefully, with everything handled now, I’ll be able to pick up the pace and keep giving you, my faithful readers, something you can read at least once every two weeks. Now, shall we begin?

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James Brighton laid back on his cot as he finished his sandwich, while he picked up one of his favorite books. It wasn’t one of those exciting novels or pulp stories that was circulating around these days. It wasn’t even a comic book, which was becoming increasingly popular with young men his age. No, this was a book about history. Specifically, World War Two and the social and political impact it had on the world at large.

It was one of two history books he owned. In fact, in was one of the only two books he owned, but that never stopped him from enjoying them. He loved the feel and smell of a good book. It reminded him of happier, simpler times, before everything for him changed. Despite learning about history in school and the fact that everyone knew how history had transpired, he liked reading the unvarnished account.

Many textbooks he’d seen and read through were heavily edited and full of nonsensical propaganda that had no place in real history. The current book he held was the version of history that wasn’t taught in the United States, primarily because such books were illegal. Mainly because it told the truth about the actions of those who’d been involved and what they’d done, the good and the bad. Although owning this book could land him in jail, it was a risk he was willing to take.

Even though the war was over by a good nine years, he still liked to read of the exploits of history’s most distinguished figures. By the accounts of those who wrote the other versions that were socially acceptable, they had expunged much of the truth. James hated that when it came to history. If people didn’t learn the truth about the actions of the past, they were doomed to repeat them in the future.

He picked up where he left off during the Battle of Britain in nineteen-forty. How despite great heroism on Britain’s part, the sheer volume of Nazi planes was too much for their air defenses to handle. Seeing no other options available to them, Britain had then retreated to Ireland and Scotland. Despite seeking shelter with those they had once oppressed, they hoped that they could appeal to their humanity. Although they weren’t on the friendliest of terms, both Scottish and Irish nations took in their beleaguered brethren, as the Nazi offensive forced them from their homes.

With the air battle won, the Nazis landed their troops, marching all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. They chased after the retreating Brits, expecting they’d destroy the once mighty empire beneath their jackboots. When they reached the ancient Roman remnant, the Scots caught the first few Nazi battalions in a crossfire ambush, which slaughtered hundreds. It was then they realized that both Scotland and Ireland would not relinquish their lands without a fight. It was clear that the Scots would wage a grueling guerrilla war, one which they had every intention of winning.

The Irish were just as cunning in laying their traps and using their lands to their advantage, the high cliffs giving them a definitive edge in ground combat. The Nazi ships were useless in their landing assault, the high cliffs giving them little to aim at and the few beaches in Ireland having been heavily mined and fortified. The Irish made the Nazis pay for every inch they advanced, steeping it in German blood before giving any ground.

Despite taking Great Britain, the British didn’t leave the Nazis with anything to use, employing scorched earth tactics. They destroyed any military facilities or anything of strategic value as they fled, to buy whatever time was needed to regroup and strike back. With each loss the Nazis suffered, the combined might of the three nations slowly built up their arsenal with stolen weapons and vehicles. It was a bitter tooth and nail fight where Britain fought to the last, in a desperate bid to retake their nation.

Because of the successful invasion, it extended the war, which was previously estimated to take maybe five years, by another three. Because of the trouble the British faced and facing the real possibility of attack from the Nazi regime, America entered the war. With their warships steaming across the Atlantic, the Nazis now had to contend with another enemy, aside from Britain.

With their full attention on the events transpiring in Europe, the U.S. would leverage no sanctions on Japan, so the attack that some analysts predicted would fall on Pearl Harbor never came. The Japanese Empire was free to do what they wished in east Asia and would expand their empire throughout China, Thailand, Laos and many other Asian and Pacific Rim countries.

Since the U.S. was entering the European theater of war, the Japanese felt no obligation to aid the powers that made up the Axis. Once it became public knowledge that the Nazi war machine would sooner wipe them out than give them any aid, Japan broke their treaty with the Germans. They believed the Nazis to be honorless dogs, who would break whatever treaties and deals they wished, whenever it suited them.

Neatly cutting themselves away from any form of German influence, the Japanese Empire prepared itself to dig in and entrench themselves within their new lands. They put down revolts when necessary while secretly sending what aid they could to the Allies. They sent war machines, weapons and even some spare troops for the Allied generals to direct as they needed.

The U.S. did everything they could to slow down and harass the Germans as best they could. Backed by the Canadian fleets and their airpower, the Americans gave the British the much-needed breathing room they required to launch their counter-offensive. Because of this, the British attack was successful, and they drove the Nazis back from Hadrian’s Wall. They pushed all the way back to Oxford, as the Nazis did what they could to halt the advance. But it was a delaying tactic, as they would not stop the vengeful Brits.

It was another whole year before British troops could lay eyes on London again and another six months before they could march in its streets unmolested. The Nazis fought hard to stymie the Allied advance, but in the end, the Allies won out and they forced the Nazis to flee Britain’s shores. There were still several cabals to root out, but it was eventually done. It was while they had cornered and subdued one of the last groups, they made a monumental discovery.

They found Professor Einstein, who was being forced to co-operate with the Nazis, in a below ground facility. It was there that they found him as a prisoner, for trying to run from his masters. He told the Allies that he was conducting research into a compound he’d discovered. It had the potential to change the outcome and tide of the war to whichever side possessed it. This new molecular compound could be tapped as a source of energy or used as a deadly explosive.

This compound, dubbed ‘Flash’ due to the way it would flash rapidly when exposed to light, was unstable. Einstein had been working on a way of perfecting it but had secretly been doing what he could to delay his work. He owed the Nazis no allegiance and ceased working for them in earnest once he found out that his family had been killed by them. In good conscience, he could no longer help monsters destroy this world. So, he ran, hoping that he would escape from these terrible men.

They had caught him while making his way through London, trying to find passage to Scotland, where Allied command had been holed up. They arrested him, locked him up and tortured him, thinking he’d been a spy of the Allies all along. Once the Nazis were convinced that he wasn’t a spy, they labeled him a traitor and were going to ship him back to Berlin to stand trial. The Allied troops had arrived just in time and cut down his captors before they could get to him.

Now that he was free, he offered his research to the Allies, hoping they would end these monsters. More than eager to help, Britain offered whatever assistance they could, hoping he could stabilize the compound so they could put it to use. Despite their assurances, Einstein wished to go to America, as the Nazis would go to great lengths to recover him and his research. Grudgingly, the British agreed and let him go to the U.S., where he’d be safer from discovery.

Once on American shores, Einstein commandeered all the resources he needed to make his experiments work. The Allies would spend the next four years fighting a hard tooth and nail war against the Nazis. In the winter of nineteen-forty-five, Einstein finally delivered on his promise and stabilized the Flash compound. With its stability assured, they experimented with ways to use it to maximize the explosive force of their bombs, among many other applications.

The most successful of which was when they had created a type of reactor that would use Flash to create vast amounts of electrical power. They soon converted gas engines to electrical engines and production on these new machines began. Even with the earliest prototypes, it gave the Allies the edge they needed to finally take the fight to the Nazis. In the spring of nineteen forty-six, the first prototype planes and boats were drafted, then assembled later that year.

This new development would change the entire demographic of war for the rest of its duration and beyond. Now, with the ability to keep planes, flying fortresses, zeppelins and other airships aloft almost indefinitely, as well as tanks, halftracks, jeeps and such constantly moving, it didn’t matter how many boots you had on the ground. What mattered most was how many planes and war machines you could field and the skill level of the pilots who flew and drove them.

Despite the stability of Flash, using such machines was dangerous work, and it killed many test pilots and sailors during the test phases. Towards the end of testing, many soldiers were clamoring to fly and sail these new war machines. Although no one wanted to fly these machines more than the widows of the testers. Their husbands had perished in making sure that these machines would work as they intended. Because of their sacrifice, they felt they had more right than some hotshot pilots who had never flown them.

A woman who was half black and half Japanese, named Margaret Bishop, led them. Her husband had flown the earliest prototypes and died while trying to land his plane. She demanded that she be allowed to honor the memory of the men who made it possible to give the Allies a fighting chance. Many women stood with her, believing they all had that right and had no qualms about making the same sacrifices that their husbands had.

Despite their enthusiasm and need to honor their husbands’ memories, the U.S. military turned them down flat. They were all told to go home and get back to their hearths and kitchens, as women had no place in combat. Refusing to take that as an answer to their pleas, Margaret and the rest of the widows banded together and devised a plan to steal these machines. Packing what was most essential and sending their families off to the western states, they executed their theft.

Using their feminine wiles and charm to lower the guard of the soldiers on the base that harbored these new machines, they broke in. They subdued every guard without setting off the alarms. They did so in the dead of night, when most of the base was either asleep or away on leave. The widows knew it wouldn’t be long before the day shift would show up to take over. Working together, the ladies stole the only prototype carrier, along with both destroyers and several frigates that had been outfitted with the new reactors.

Loaded on the carrier was an entire contingent of XB-30’s and upgraded Corsairs, designed to be faster and more agile in the skies than what the Nazis had. By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, they were long gone, steaming into the South Atlantic. Although many of them had been serving in small capacities in factories and such during the war, their husbands also taught them what they could when they were still alive. Being strong willed and strong-minded women, they wanted to fight alongside their men should the time ever arise.

The time for them to step up was long past, and they all went about the daily routines of looking after their ships and they drilled themselves relentlessly on board and in the skies. After several weeks at sea, just off the southern coast of Africa, they believed themselves to be ready to fight the Nazis. Steaming towards the Mediterranean, they put in at the city of Rabat in Morocco to pick up the supplies they would need for the long fight ahead.

As they put in to purchase what they needed, they found out that the country had been largely ignored. The Allies had thrown Rommel’s Afrika Korps out more than a year ago, so their arrival went unnoticed to the world at large. Once it was known that they were headed for battle, many of the men in the port tried to convince them not to go. Although concerned for their safety, the women knew the men just wanted their ships and planes, but the widows weren’t having their brand of nonsense. If trained soldiers couldn’t stop them, then the patriarchal men of the city wouldn’t either.

In fact, they picked up another several dozen women, widows, all of them, who wished to fight. This was too much for the men of the city, as they believed it was a man’s place alone to go to war. They tried to force their way aboard to take the ships and go to war themselves, leaving the women behind. The men of Rabat got a rude awakening in trying to overpower the widows, and they instead were pushed off the boats, and some even died in their attack.

The fight was a short-lived affair, as the men weren’t trained soldiers, nor did many of them have the stomach for combat. They retreated to the safety of their homes, not wanting to anger the women any further. After tallying their losses and packing the last of the supplies, the ladies weighed anchor and left the city.

They mourned the women they lost while they sailed on, holding a memorial service for those who died before the battle was even joined. With that business handled, they headed into the Mediterranean Sea, then set up shop in the Adriatic. Once there, they launched hit-and-run attacks on German holdings and bases. A harassment campaign on their enemies was effective, and they did what they could to deny the Nazis any form of respite; this was war, after all.

Not knowing who exactly these mysterious pilots were, the Allies were grateful for the help as they broke through the lines of entrenched Germans. In the wake of these harassment campaigns, rebel groups formed in the villages across the Balkans, emboldened by this new resistance group.

Eventually it came out that these pilots and this fleet, was manned by none other than the war widows of soldiers who’d died, it bolstered the morale of the Allies and the rebels in the area. They thought if a ragtag group of women could make this much of a difference in the war, then what could they do? With Margaret as their Fleet Admiral ordering and sometimes carrying out these strikes against the Nazis, it gave the people of these countries a sense of hope. Hope that the Germans could be beaten.

Many people had done what they could to use whatever craft they owned or outright stealing them from the Nazis, to sail out and join this battle group. With so many volunteers, they eventually formed an impromptu battle group flotilla, almost like a massive city on the water. With so many people coming to join their ranks and learn at the feet of these women, their mission became one that attracted the attention of both sides.

The Nazis had sent fighter and bomber wings to destroy them, but they were too well defended, as few planes survived a single strafing run. The U.S. called these women traitors to their country and sent out orders for them to stand down. They tried to call in Allied assistance to have the fleet turned back over to proper soldiers. The British, French and Canadian forces heard these orders, but refused to acknowledge them. The war widows had proven their usefulness and effectiveness tenfold, and they wouldn’t have such seasoned and solid allies jailed.

With the various sorties being sent out daily and the penchant for the ladies leaving few, if any survivors, in their attacks, they were dubbed the ‘Black Widow Battlegroup’. Over the course of the next year and a half, the Black Widows would liberate many cities, sending the Germans running. Most times, once it was known the widows were inbound, many soldiers deserted their posts, not wanting to face the fury of the Black Widows.

In the Spring of nineteen forty-eight, the Black Widows had just liberated Trieste when they received a coded message from the Allies. Although the D-Day landing was nearing launch, it would be a bloodbath for sure, and many soldiers would lose their lives in the first three waves. The message had stated that Adolf Hitler was finally surfacing after spending months underground to rally his troops to fight the invasion that was coming. He would be headed to Nuremberg, where the Nazis always rallied before big offensives, and he’d be heavily guarded.

Although they were all tired from their recent sortie, Margaret rallied her women, many of whom had become aces in their time fighting the Germans. This was the one mission they’d been waiting for, to cut the head off the snake and end the Nazi threat once and for all. Pepping themselves up on coffee and big breakfasts, the women soon mounted up and were airborne. More than half of their entire complement of planes and bombers made the six-hundred-kilometer flight to Nuremberg.

They made the flight with few close calls and they hadn’t been spotted as they used cloud cover to mask their approach. When they arrived, Hitler was in the middle of his speech when they descended like hawks upon the rally, strafing Nazi regulars and SS soldiers in their attack run. They got two passes in before the JG 26, Germany’s oldest and best fighter wing, dropped in on them. The fighter wing was there doing maneuvers to help bolster the flagging confidence of the Nazis.

Despite the element of surprise working against them, Margaret and her widows made a superb account of themselves, dropping half of the JG 26. After an intense firefight, which saw many of their planes fall in flames, the wing commander gave orders to retreat and fall back to the fighter base. While the JG 26 had the advantage of numbers, it was clear they were outmatched and the wing commander refused to lose any more of his men.

Many Widows had been shot down during and after this firefight, with some of them being blown out of the sky. With over eighty percent of her wing women blown up or grounded, they kept fighting. Margaret and her second in command, Yasmin Hassan, gunned down as many Nazis as they could to buy their girls the time to assemble and regroup.

Yasmin herself, however, had spotted Hitler’s motorcade making a run for it, so she shot them up, stopping the motorcade cold before they shot her and Marge down. They brought their planes down near the assembled survivors. The Widows rallied around their leader and charged what was left of the Motorcade, easily overcoming Hitler’s remaining bodyguards.

Killing all his flunkies that were there, they left only Hitler, Goebbels and Rommel alive. Surrounded by the hostile women and with their forces in disarray, they were dragged through the town of Nuremberg to the town square. Despite their calls to the people for help and promises of rewards, no one was willing to challenge such fierce and committed warrior women.

Margaret, in an unusual circumstance, had brought with her the katana sword that had been passed down in her mother’s family. She kept it with her whenever she flew as a good luck charm and as a way of keeping her mother close. Almost every widow carried such a weapon, in the circumstance they had to go to the ground to survive. Most were family heirlooms and still serviceable, so each widow was trained in the use of their weapons.

She had it bared now and, serving as judge, jury and executioner, she condemned all three men to death. Rommel had at least the balls to go out like a man, asking for a clean death, a soldier’s death. Margaret granted that to him and stabbed him through the heart, killing him instantly.

Goebbels, on the other hand, whined and cried like the coward he was, calling it unfair and saying that he should have been spared from all of this. He tried to blitz and run, only to be cut down by Yasmin, using her dead husband’s scimitar. Hitler was defiant to the last, calling them all weak and useless cowards who could not find it within themselves to kill a god. Margaret shut him up by lopping off his right hand, causing him to bleed all over the place, screaming in pain.

Once he had quieted down enough, Margaret said as loudly as she could and displayed it for everyone to see that ‘Gods don’t bleed!’ With that, she beheaded him in front of everyone who had gathered to see their Fuhrer die. Taking his head from the ground, Margaret let out a harrowing war cry, stating that they had slain the false god and that the German people were now free.

Some people wept for losing Hitler as some of them still believed in the man, while others looked like they wanted to close in and kill the Widows for their transgression. Moments later, soldiers burst out from between the buildings and surrounded the Widows. Only these weren’t Nazi soldiers, they were Wermacht. The commander told the Widows to come with them, as the Nazis and SS would be here soon, but the people wouldn’t challenge the Wermacht as they were.

Seeing she had little in the way of options, Margaret and her Widows went with them. They were all taken many miles away, to a secret estate just outside of Bamberg. It was there that they met with the leader of the organized German resistance, Graf Von Stauffenberg. He was grateful to the Widows for dealing with the problem of Adolf Hitler and killing him in such a grisly fashion. This ensured the German people that their ‘god’ was a mortal man who was now dead.

By doing him that favor, he granted the Widows amnesty, so they would find safe passage out of Germany. With Hitler dead and his inner circle out of Germany or deceased, Stauffenberg seized power as the new Chancellor of Germany. His first order of business as Chancellor was to organize Germany’s surrender to the Allies. He broadcast the proclamation in German, French, Russian and English, so that his meaning could not be misconstrued.

In that singular move, Von Stauffenberg had wound down the war to where it was merely a matter of tracking down the final three of Hitler’s inner circle and the soldiers they had surrounded themselves with. That battle was decided on Russian soil and once it was ended, the Allies sought to clean up the mess that Hitler had left behind. With Nazism dead and gone, all of Europe rejoiced as the great dictator was finally dead and all traces of his regime would soon be eradicated.

With the war over, Margaret and her Black Widows made ready to return to the U.S., assured by General Patton himself that they’d be returning to a hero’s welcome. With that, Margaret, Yasmin and all who survived the Raid of Nuremberg prepared themselves to go home. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be receiving a hero’s welcome, but a Traitor’s March.

Von Stauffenberg, now part of the Allies, was privy to what exactly was going on behind the scenes. The U.S. would arrest Margaret, and all who followed her, prosecuting them as traitors. Not wanting to see such brave and courageous women, who to him and the German people were living, breathing Valkyrie, he got a warning to Margaret directly.

Stauffenberg also pulled together an information packet containing all the documents that proved the Americans’ malice. After thanking Stauffenberg, Margaret gathered her battle group and told them what was happening. When she finished explaining, she offered for those who wanted to leave the option of doing so, as for many of them, this wasn’t their fight. Not a single soul left that day, as they had all fought and bled together. They were family, and no one leaves family behind.

With that, they gathered their forces and fled into the Pacific, through the Suez Canal. They thought to join up with or integrate into the new Empire of the Rising Sun, since the entire world hailed them as heroes. But once they were in range of U.S. communications, they had learned that much had changed at home while they were gone.

While they were busy fighting the war, much had been changing back home in the U.S. Minority groups of all kinds had risen up to protest against the government and the way it was treating its citizens, who were as American as apple pie. Many of the citizens who were mistreated were nonwhites and the whites who sympathized with them. The memory of the Gullah Wars and the atrocities perpetrated were not forgotten. The constant mistreatment of anyone who was not white had stoked the United States into a powder keg ready to blow.

Although she loved the United States and all that it was supposed to stand for, many Americans were treated little better than slaves. The Widows had learned that most of the resentment that was brewing was situated in the western United States. Opportunity was in the air, and Margaret took the biggest gamble of her life. She ordered the flotilla to head for Los Angeles, full steam ahead.

When the Widows arrived, the mayor and citizens of the city greeted them as heroes. They lifted many a glass of beer and spirits to them for their initiative and their bravery. They also left glasses full for all of those who were lost in the fight. Margaret, however, wasted no time, as the resentment for the politicians in D.C. was reaching a fever pitch.

Despite the ceaseless propaganda machine that was the U.S. government and military, far too many people refused to believe the misinformation that both the politicians and the top brass of the military were saying about the Widows. Because of the constant stream of lies, which few outside of the whites believed, cities across the U.S. were reaching a boiling point. Riots had broken out in the streets, and the entire country teetered on the brink of another civil war.

Margaret made her move by publishing the communiques between the various Allied commanders and their subordinates and the orders that had come from Truman himself. By making it public knowledge for all to read and know about, a second revolution seemed all but certain. It was then that Margaret executed her masterstroke, by stating that U.S. they believed to exist was a myth. That if there was to be a government which would judge everyone fairly, then it was up to all of them, the people, to make it happen.

She called for a secession of all states that no longer wished to remain in the United States, to form their own independent Republic, where people of all races and colors were welcome. A place where everyone, regardless of descent, religion or sexual orientation, could be free to determine their own destinies. Not have them dictated to them by the greedy and wealthy whites who were currently in power.

The outcry for secession spread across the U.S. like a wildfire, with many people taking up its banner and cause as their own. Many who were once marginalized by an uncaring society now had the courage to rise and fight back. They believed for the first time in centuries that they could fight back and win.

Blacks, Latins, East Indians, Chinese, Japanese, Native Americans, everyone rose up to fight back. Not only did the minorities rise, but so too did many whites who had spouses who were of a differing ethnicity and those who could not in good conscience continue with oppressing their fellow human beings. Both the military and the political elite were shocked and stumped when nearly half of their remaining armed forces abandoned their posts to join this cause.

With this new development and with public opinion against them since the end of the war, the U.S. tried to seek help from the other Allies, such as Britain, but they had their hands full with rebuilding their shattered nations. The Black Widows were a worldwide name and universally recognized as heroes. Even though they had broken many laws in the U.S., the opinion of the world at large, aside from a few small political groups, was against the political elite.

Once they had learned of this, they had no choice but to allow the secession to proceed. With a summit being held in Bethesda, Virginia, both sides signed a peace accord, to ensure that no aggression would be tolerated from either side. On top of which, nearly two-thirds of the U.S. was ceded to the people of this new Republic. What was once the great nation of the United States was no more.

Although the Republic was formed, there were differing ways that were believed on how to govern it. Many wanted their own areas, which held the vast majority of their people, to be under their own governance. Although negotiations were tense from the onset, eventually, all the factions within the Republic agreed to separate into two independent entities.

They would then be known as the Independent Republic of California and the Nation of Indigenous Peoples. All races were welcome within their borders and the laws were primarily the same, but with subtle differences, such as their own traditions, holidays, and the like. The Republic would encompass most of California and Arizona, all of Utah, Idaho, Oregon and Washington, while neatly bisecting Wyoming and Montana.

The Nation of Indigenous Peoples would contain the former states of Colorado, New Mexico, North and South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Missouri, Illinois, Iowa, Minnesota, and Wisconsin. Half of Louisiana was also ceded to the Nation and what remained of Wyoming and Montana, and most of Texas.

Meanwhile, the entirety of Florida, the southern tips of Alabama and Mississippi, the other half of Louisiana, and everything from the Austin city limits all the way to San Diego voted to join Mexico in what would soon become the Central American Alliance. This Alliance was comprised of every nation in Central America and every island in the Caribbean, which longed to throw off the oppressive British rulership.

The border of this Alliance would be the border that separated Panama from Columbia and to the new borders defined by the recent secession. Despite being a separate entity, they proved to be friendly allies to the newly formed nations, and trade would soon flow freely. Most of the Eastern seaboard, along with whatever states weren’t claimed by the Nation of Indigenous Peoples, became the new United States of America.

Despite their losses across the globe and the serious blows to their power, both Britain and the U.S. persevered, holding onto what they had left. Once the secession was concluded and the Bethesda Accords were signed and documented by all sides involved, things changed rapidly. Many people on both sides left the homes they knew and immigrated to the lands they wished to live in.

The mass exodus of both sides began in nineteen forty-nine and would continue until nineteen fifty. It was at this point that the U.S. would close its borders and begin a strict no cross policy, which was enforced with the military standing guard across the border. Soon after these orders went into effect, walls and permanent gun emplacements would go up, meant to both keep people out and in.

Although the new laws forbade anyone from leaving the U.S., there were exceptions. Primarily in the case of mercenaries and other soldiers of fortune. With its drastically depleted military, the U.S. turned to whatever mercenaries they could hire to help patrol their borders, to keep the people in and any potential invaders out.

James huffed in exasperation at why he and his mother had stayed here in the U.S., especially considering his heritage. Unlike his English name, James was not purely white. He was what Hawaiians would call a ‘Hapa’ which meant mixed. His mother was white, but his father, from what he knew, was Japanese, which made him a target here in the United States.

At twenty-four years old, standing at five foot ten, James was a handsome young man, with thick raven black hair, which he kept cut short and styled, in line with how other young men of the day were wearing their hair. He was of a medium build, just shy of muscular, with features that were a complete blend of his heritage, accented with brown eyes, and a rugged jawline. He didn’t have a full five o’clock shadow yet, but he supposed he had his Asian genes to thank for the slow growth of a beard. When he felt like growing one, it would come in with no patchy areas and would be full Viking like beard.

Standing up, he stretched out, popping his joints as he put away his book beneath his mattress. He had to be careful when he read them, because the possession of such books that gave unvarnished accounts of history was punishable by six months of jail time, minimum. That was if he was lucky and wound up with a judge who would be sympathetic to him and, as far as he knew, there were none.

He stood there for a moment, thinking and mulling over the decisions that his mother made, which had them stay in the state of Virginia. He also thought back to the weeks previous, when he found his mother dead in her bed, as he went to wake her for the day. He mourned his mother’s passing and was still grieving after her funeral and wake, when he was unceremoniously thrown out of his own house and home.

Apparently, the will stated that all the assets of the Brighton family were to go to the eldest living Brighton man in the family. Sadly, that wasn’t him, but his uncle Andrew and now that he had full control of the estate, he threw James out. His uncle had always hated him, calling him a stain on the family legacy, because his mother had loved a ‘yellow skin’. Once kicked out, they told James to never come back, unless he wanted to be either arrested or shot.

So, James went to the one place where he was at least tolerated, which was this airfield. Although the owner, Manfredo Marino, wasn’t fond of him by any means, James was useful around the hangar. That he was a half-breed was tolerated, but he knew he was stepping on thin ice. Manfredo had wanted to get rid of him, but because of his skills as an airplane mechanic, they let him stay.

James seethed with rage as he wanted vengeance on his greedy and narcissistic uncle. Unfortunately, James was powerless, being as he was. He had little in the manner of friends and even then; they were more like acquaintances. That and they denied him his mother’s share of the family fortune, his uncle assuming complete control of the entire estate. Since he had little in the matter of finances, all he could do was continue to skate by on his boss’s good graces. Even then, he could sense that those days were ending.

He was then snapped out his recollections by a loud and furious voice calling out for him. Sighing in annoyance, James turned around and kneeled before his cot, making it seem like he was deep in prayer. The door to the small closet he stayed in burst open, revealing a short and angry young man about his age. The words ‘Pezzo di mierda!’ flew out of the man’s mouth and he berated James for lazing about on the job. James rolled his eyes as he realized that those words meant ‘Piece of shit’ in Italian. Standing, he turned and regarded Roberto Marino, Manfredo’s son.

“Your lunch break was over five minutes ago! What the fuck have you been doing for the past five minutes?!?” the black-haired man fumed.

Roberto was infamous around the airfield for having a temper as short as he was. Barely at five foot four, he made up for his lack of height in sheer ferocity and viciousness to his subordinates. Considering that nearly everyone at the airfield was taller than he was, he took out his frustrations on everyone who was taller than him. James being a constant target of his harassment.

“I was just finishing a prayer for my mother,” James stated as calmly as he could.

“Oh,” Roberto popped out, as his rage deflated as quickly as it came. Despite his short temper, Roberto was a deeply religious man, as was most of his family, being devout Catholics. Since James’ mother had passed recently, they granted him some leeway to say prayers for her, being her only child. Roberto also knew better than to insult James or his mother, Anna, as it would be very un-Catholic of him to do so.

There was also the fact that if Roberto said anything of the sort, that his mother, Giada Marino, would hear about it. If there was one person who Roberto feared at all on the earth, it was his mother. She was difficult to anger but took insults to the dead and the grieving seriously. If there was one thing that James knew, it was to never, EVER, piss off an Italian mother, if you valued your hide and your life.

“Well, if you’re done, get out into the hangar. Papa is unveiling something new for all of us to see,” Roberto mumbled as he shuffled away. Satisfied that his ruse had worked, James dusted his clothes for breadcrumbs and closed his closet door behind himself. Walking past the lockers where the pilots stored their belongings, he marched into the main hangar and past several of the planes that were sitting idle inside.

A large crowd had gathered around the entry point of the hangar, where there was something massive underneath a cloth cover. Manfredo stood in front of the crowd, making sure he had their attention, then cast his eyes about to look for any stragglers. He caught sight of James and glared at him in disapproval, but since he was near where the men had gathered, Manfredo kept his mouth shut. An older version of his son, albeit a few inches taller, Manfredo had the look of a typical Italian American man, with the black hair, mustache and olive skin.

“My friends and colleagues, this day is a good day to be a part of our team here, at Marino Aeronautics. Today, you all get a special preview of exactly what we will unveil to potential clients and the U.S. military,” he orated to the crowd of men. “Here and now, I will show you what exactly we have been working on in Hangar Five. A secret project we have undertaken that we are certain will change the fate of aeronautics for all time!”

James almost scoffed, but kept his mouth closed and his face as neutral as he could. Manfredo, or ‘Manny’ as James liked to refer to him as, was every bit the typical blowhard, taking anything that was considered good and dressing it up as something exceptional. He remembered the last time he had given a similar speech, with a new plane design he claimed would make them all rich men. How those like Howard Hughes would be envious of what they had crafted.

Unfortunately for him, it was an absolute disaster, with the plane barely making it off the ground and nearly killing the test pilot in the process. The accident had cost them dearly, with much of their investors dropping them and pulling their funding. That was a little more than a year ago, and the airfield had been running on fumes ever since, attracting no new investors or interest.

James had hoped that he would have been able to purchase the airfield from Manfredo when he went bankrupt and had no choice but to sell it. They had let much of the various staff who worked there go because of lack of funds capable of paying them. There were also people that Manny had brought in, who, at first, he assumed were interns. As it turned out, they were brought in to replace the people who were already working there. Manny was bringing in his own people to take over the airfield, as he wanted no one around who could be loyal to the previous owners.

James was sure that once he owned the place, he’d be able to convince the people who’d worked there, many of which were longtime friends, to come back and work for him. Sadly, that dream went up in smoke with his mother’s death, once his uncle had seized full control of everything.

He figured he could still make it work, given enough time. Manfredo was still giving his speech, and because he was an employee there, James had little choice but to stay and be bored by his pompous orations. Thankfully, it appeared the speech was ending, as he was excited about showing off their new plane. James cracked his neck and blinked rapidly to make himself seem interested.

Manfredo then pulled the cover off the plane, unveiling it for all to see. At first James was impressed at the design as everything seemed to be aerodynamically sound at first glance. As he moved forward, he could see that for some odd reason, the plane looked familiar. It took him a few minutes, but he then spotted the reason why it looked as such. That was because the design was his!

Almost two years ago, James had come up with different ideas of new plane concepts, something that would be both agile and still have the engine power to outrun anything chasing it. He took many drafts and revisions of various ideas he had, but he finally came up with an idea that seemed like it could work. When he finally finished the blueprints after a long night at the drafting table, they’d vanished the following morning.

He’d searched high and low for his plans, but could never find them. He’d asked the various maids and servants at the estate if they’d moved them, and they had not. He trusted their word because many of them looked upon him like he was family. Most of the staff disliked his uncle Andrew for certain, and some of them outright hated him.

He didn’t dare ask his uncle if he’d seen or moved them, but he managed to conduct a thorough search of his room and came up with nothing. Now he knew what had happened to them; they had somehow found their way into Manfredo’s hands. Using the design, they built the plane he dreamed of building himself!

“Who designed this piece of beautiful artwork, messere (sir)?” one of the drivers had asked Manny.

“I’d like to take credit for the design idea, but that honor falls to my son, Roberto!” the elder man stated proudly.

“Horseshit!” James shouted out loud. Normally, Jim was one to avoid conflict of he could, but the death of him mother, being denied his inheritance, thrown out of his home and now finding out that his plans had been stolen, with that snarky little shit taking all the credit?!? This was too much for a man of James’ patience to bear.

“Watch yourself and your tone, boy! My son has created a thing of beauty in this plane, and I will not have his achievement mocked by one such as you!” Manfredo shouted back arrogantly.

“Watch myself? Ok then, how’s this for watching myself?” James said dangerously. In a split second, he charged Manfredo, dropping him with a single shoulder strike. As the elder Marino man fell, James rounded on Roberto, who had already moved to strike him, shouting out loud.

“Get off of my father!”

The punch that Roberto had thrown was weak and ill placed, glancing off James’ collarbone. In response, James threw a solid right hook, followed by a couple of left jabs. For all of Roberto’s bluster, he was no fighter and squealed like a ten-year-old girl at the punches connecting with his face. He tried to cover his head from the attacks, but James was too fast and struck with a right cross.

“Admit it, you little shit! You didn’t design this plane, did you? You stole it from me! You or your scumbag father! I designed this plane, not you!” James raged as he beat on Roberto whenever he found an opening. He got in maybe another three shots before the rest of the staff had pulled him off the boy. He tried to struggle against their grip, but they were all strapping Italian men and not easily shrugged off.

Manfredo entered his vision then, helping a weeping and beaten Roberto up to his feet. After ensuring that his son was all right and nothing was broken, he turned to James, cold fury etched into his face. He then rolled up his sleeves and, seeing this, James had a very good idea of what was coming.

“So, you say you designed this plane? That I or Roberto took them from you? A weak half-breed bastard like you, with no family? Do you take us for idiots?” Manny taunted him as he finished rolling up his sleeves.

“No, I take you for a bunch of conniving liars who will steal from those you can, because you can,” James growled. He then spit in Manny’s face, his anger still raging.

“Hold him tightly,” Manfredo instructed his cohorts. Indeed, the grip of the five men holding him tightened as Manny stepped forward and punched James in the face and guts. James took each hit as stoically as he could, being no stranger to pain.

Growing up as a mixed man had earned him a lot of scorn and ridicule from the other boys at school. Because of this, Jim would often end up in fights. He wound up giving as good as he got and could usually take on two or three people at once. It was when there was a whole gang of kids around that he would get overwhelmed.

In this case though, it was only Manny doing the hitting, as he’d sent Roberto away to see the medic. Each hit he landed was seeking a soft spot to make him keel over in pain, but James refused to give Manfredo the satisfaction. It wasn’t until he wound up and landed a haymaker across his jaw did James drop to his knees. The blow was powerful, but not enough to keep him down. He tried to get up, but found himself held in place by Manny’s men.

“One day, I will come back to this place and you won’t have your boys protecting you then,” James said as he raised his head to lock his gaze with Manny’s. “When I come back, I will give you what you so richly deserve, you fucking coward!”

“That day is not today, or will it ever be,” the older man taunted as he delivered another haymaker across the other side of Jim’s face. James cried out briefly, as the sting of the blow was enough to make him feel real pain.

Manny had finally stopped, which Jim was grateful for, but there was still the fact that he stood in front of him. Jim’s head hung down as blood dripped from his mouth due to a busted lip and his face was all cut up from where Manny’s nails had scored him. Feeling his hair being gripped, Jim had no choice but to look up and he grunted quietly but still glared up at his boss defiantly.

“I can spend all day beating you to a bloody pulp if I wanted to, but lucky for you, I’m on a very tight schedule,” Manfredo told him venomously. “You no longer work here and will never work at another airfield for the rest of your miserable life! Boys drag this cazzo (dick) to collect his things and throw him off my property!”

The men holding James moved and obliged their employer, a couple of them more than happy to do their boss’ bidding. Another voice, however, called in question to the owner of the airfield.

“Messere?”

“What is it, Ezio?” Manfredo asked lazily. The man he was addressing was the airfield’s janitor, Ezio Calabrese, whom everyone referred to or called ‘Old Ezio.’ He was well past sixty, nearly at the age of retirement and had been the airfield’s janitor for the better part of twenty years. He was the only employee that Manny had kept around from the previous staff, primarily because the man was Italian.

Despite his age, he was a spry old man, with a full head of grey hair that he wore long, along with a well-groomed beard. His blue eyes were sharp as a hawk and belied a sense of wisdom accumulated from his long years on this earth. He stepped up to Manfredo to speak to the man but spoke his mind loud enough for everyone to be heard.

“Why not let me throw the boy off the airfield? You and the boys have had your fun. Let me have this bit of fun for myself?” the old man asked his employer. Manny looked down at James, then back to Ezio and smirked at the thoughts running through his head.

“Of course, fratello mio (my brother)! Be sure to call one of the boys if he gives you any trouble, though, eh?” Manfredo enthused while clapping the elderly man on the shoulder.

“That will not be necessary, messere. I know how to make these young bucks squeal in pain,” Ezio stated. In demonstration, he walked over to James and grabbed him by the sideburn and yanked upwards. Crying out at the pain of it, James shot up out of the grip of his captors. Looking at Ezio with a sense of admiration, the men holding James dispersed as Manny ordered them back to work.

Frog marching James to the locker room, Ezio kept a lively pace, briskly striding with James, almost half dragging him. Once they walked into the locker room, Ezio looked about and once he was sure they were alone, he let the young man go. Unbeknownst to the rest of the employees of the airfield, Ezio and James were friends and had been for many years. James looked up to Ezio as a father figure, since he did not know of his real father.

“Sorry that I had to yank so hard, boy. I had to make it convincing enough so they would leave us alone,” Ezio apologized.

“I understand Papa. Those assholes had to believe what they were seeing. But, for all their pompous and vain attitudes, they are dumber than a bag of hammers,” James said as he rubbed his sore temple. Ezio laughed at the insults that were directed to the other men as he knew it to be an ironclad truth.

“Well said, boy! I also know Roberto would not have had the imagination to come up with such an inspired design for an airplane. He’s more interested in drinking, eating and chasing anything that wears a skirt,” Ezio sighed as he shook his head. “I remember watching you up late some nights, like you were going over ideas or numbers sometimes, when you dallied here later than normal. You said you designed that plane that’s out there now?”

“That’s right. I referenced various books and even studied the old planes from the war, and taking a few design ideas from the various planes that are currently in service,” James explained as he walked into his closet. He collected his clothes and stuffed them into his duffle bag, along with his meager possessions and books.

“It’s not right! Because that cane (dog) is the owner’s son, he thinks he can do what he pleases, and no one can touch him?” Ezio fumed.

“That’s the way the world is,” James sighed as he finished with his packing. He grabbed his wallet, which held maybe one hundred dollars, and stuffed into his pocket.

“Do you remember what happened many years ago, when you were just a boy? About those who changed the world as we know it? They dared to change the world as it was and make it what they wanted it to be! We all have that power, boy, and you are letting these bastardi (bastards) make you believe you do not!”

Sighing, James stood up and faced the old man. Ezio was red faced from his raving, but he was making some good points. James didn’t like the fact he was right, but he would not give up. Not yet. Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, James reached for his flight jacket and fedora, putting them both on.

“I’m not giving up Ezio,” James said as he gripped the man by the shoulders. “I just need some time to think things over and figure out what I will do now. Once I do, I’ll let you know what happens and how it turns out, ok?”

“Don’t take too long. If you’re going to do anything, do it quickly, before that cazzo, Manfredo, ruins you any further,” Ezio replied kindly before bringing James in for a hug. Hugging his old friend back, James knew he’d have to leave this town and would likely not see his friend again. Fate had not been kind to him recently and now James was on his own and, in some ways, it terrified him.

“Well, it’s time to finish the show,” Ezio said somberly. Nodding, James stepped next to him and let Ezio grab him by the sideburn again as they marched out of the locker room. Ezio then twisted his hand, causing James to squeal and dance on his tiptoes as they walked outside and into the sunshine. It was a beautiful day out, with clear skies and a slightly cool breeze blowing through the area.

“Move along, meta razza (half-breed)! Your time here is over and like Manfredo said, you won’t work this kind of job ever again!” Ezio shouted and he near dragged James to the gate in the chain-link fence. Without missing a beat, he half threw and half pushed James through the gate and gave him a good kick in the ass.

The kick was enough to send James sprawling into the dust, face first. As he got up and dusted himself off, he heard laughter and looked about for its source. He found that a small cluster of men who worked the airfield had gathered to watch his unceremonious expulsion from the place. Snorting to himself as he watched Ezio walk away to pleased laughter, James cleaned his hat as best he could. Fitting it back onto his head, he grabbed his half empty duffle and walked down the road towards town.

The local town wasn’t that far, maybe seven or eight kilometers from the airfield, but even so, James had a bit of a walk ahead of him. The first thing he had in mind was to find something to eat and maybe get a room for the night. It would bite into his already meager funds, but at this point, James had little choice. The walk was mostly uneventful.

Once he made it onto the main road that led into town, he saw a few cars pass him by, but ignored them. He knew being a mixed man was just as bad as being a person of color here in the U.S. Flagging someone down for a ride would have been a sure way to endure more scorn and ridicule and that was something he wanted to avoid at this point.

He walked into outskirts of the town and looked about. It didn’t seem overly busy today, since it was a Tuesday in early May, but still he looked about for any place that might serve him. He walked over to a couple of diners and once he’d sat down in them; they asked him politely to leave. James tried to convince to let him stay and eat and that he’d mind his own business, but the owners of the establishments weren’t having it.

Grumbling to himself as he walked about in search of some place that might let him have something to eat, he came across a bar that looked seedy, but didn’t seem to be too picky about its patrons. Deciding to forgo dinner, he walked in, seating himself at the end of the bar, away from anyone else, as he just wanted to be left alone at the moment. One of the bartenders walked up to him, a heavyset man with a handlebar mustache, and gave him a look up and down.

“You look white enough. Cash up front if you want a drink here, son,” he stated in a neutral tone. His demeanor was one that didn’t care where he came from as long as he paid for his drink. Nodding in compliance, James fished out his wallet and pulled out three dollars, laying them on the bar.

“Pint of Smith’s Lager, please,” James asked politely. Nodding as he scooped up the money, the barkeep went over to the till, rang the purchase through before fetching a glass for the beer. He arrived less than a minute later with fifty cents in change and a tall glass filled to the brim with the amber liquid. Nodding in thanks for the consideration and decency, James picked up his beer and started into it.

He sighed in relief as the liquid hit his taste buds with the pleasant and smooth taste that Smith’s was known for. Few people drank this beer, as it was a small and local brand, but it did well enough where they’d been around for some years now. He had drained half of his glass before setting it back down on the counter in front of him. The barkeep had been looking at him out the side of his eye and nodded, impressed that James could drain half his glass in a single pull.

James then took the time to enjoy the beer he held as he was formulating what he’d do next. As his mind was whirring in the context of where he’d go, a trio of men who were laughing hard at the table behind him interrupted his train of thought. He turned slightly, thinking to give them a piece of his mind, but stopped short of opening his mouth as he glimpsed them.

The three men in question were pilots in the USAF, judging by their uniforms. He guessed that they were off duty, as the USAF was still strict on discipline where its members were concerned. The three of them looked to be having a good time, and they weren’t bothering anyone. Not wanting to draw any attention to himself, James turned back to his beer, grumbling quietly.

“I tell you, man, we’re going to see ourselves some serious action!” one of the men enthused to his colleagues.

“You sure? The way things have been over the last few years hasn’t really got my hopes up. Been a while since we’ve flown anything else but those old beat up Corsairs. I mean, there’s only so much you can do to upgrade a plane,” one of the men groaned. James smirked at that, as most of the best aeronautical designers and engineers had left for the U.S. in favor of better-paying jobs and accommodations in either the Republic or Council lands.

“I’m telling you, man, we’re going to be on top of the world pretty damn soon! We’ve got a new plane to test out at a nearby airfield!”

“It’s not one of those God-awful creations by those Italians, is it?” the third man groused. “Last time, Benny nearly got killed because the wing sheared off mid-flight! The captain said we’d never be dealing with them again!”

“It’s different this time! Apparently, one of them got inspired to create something completely new from what we’re used to! The captain has already seen it and he’s told me himself that it actually could work as the new fighter we’ve been looking for. We’ll be flying it tomorrow, all three of us testing it out to see what it can do!” the first man said.

“You better be right, Connor, because if you’re wrong….” the one known as Benny let the threat hang in the air ominously.

“Don’t worry! We’re going to fly that new plane tomorrow and once we’ve put it through its paces, production will start and once we have enough of them built, we’ll start seeing some action against those hated redskins! Just you wait and see!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Benny agreed.

“Cheers!” the third man stated.

James controlled his anger as he finished up his beer. He knew racism ran deep within America, but he didn’t think some people would still be so callous when referring to their fellow human beings. He decided it was past time he leave as the men in question seemed to be getting drunker and rowdier. It wouldn’t be long before they felt the need to exert their superiority on someone there, and he’d rather not be around when that happened.

Gulping down the last of his beer, he set the glass down carefully on the bar and donned his hat. Snatching the strap of his duffle bag, he walked on out without so much as a glance backward. James passed the barkeep on his way out, who was polishing a glass and nodding towards him.

“Smart,” the man mumbled before he went back to polishing the empty beer stein. James figured that it was, considering how he’d seen things like this play out at least a dozen times before. Some of those times, he’d been the target of a drunk’s ire and wanted to be away from the place before things got ugly.

Stepping out into the afternoon, he looked around to get his bearings before he was so rudely run into. Jim went down in a heap, with the offender tumbling atop of him, squealing in surprise. Growling loudly, James picked himself up and prepared to let this person, who had so callously run into him, a piece of his mind. The words died on his lips as he saw who it was that had slammed into him.

The person in question was none other than Marisol Escobar, his mother’s personal maid! She stood shorter than he did at maybe five foot five, with brown eyes and long black hair she usually had in a fancy hairstyle when she was working at the estate. She had it a simple braid right now and was wearing a pale blue dress that accentuated her considerable assets. Marisol was a well put together woman, who had curves that men could stare at for days, and was the epitome of a curvy woman.

“Mari! I’m so sorry! What are you doing here?” James asked as he helped the woman to her feet. She looked as though she was about to deliver a serious tongue lashing, but then her face softened as she heard his voice.

“Jim! I was actually about flag down a cab to come and see you at the airfield!” she replied in equal surprise at his being there. “What are you doing here in town…” the remnant of the question dying in her throat as she saw the damage done to his face. “What happened?”

“Long story short, I got fired,” he blurted, not wanting to drag Marisol into his gloomy world.

“That will not do. I want to hear everything that happened, and I won’t have you leaving anything out,” she said authoritatively. Although she was his mother’s maid, she was older than he was by several years and was used to giving him orders. Since his mother’s health had started to fail, she had taken on a sisterly role towards him. An annoying older sister, but still a welcome presence in his life.

“Fine,” he sighed, knowing this was a fight he wouldn’t win. “But can we go somewhere a little more private? I don’t want everyone and their dog knowing my business.”

Looking about, Marisol could see that their little accidental scuffle had indeed drawn stares. Some had continued along with their business, uncaring, while others had stood by, waiting to see if an argument would blossom. Intent on disappointing the onlookers, Marisol nodded and the two of them left the roadside arm in arm.

Marisol led the way, and James let her decide where they’d go. Although she was a Latin woman by descent, Marisol was granted more leeway and tolerance than James would ever have been given. They stopped briefly by a pharmacy where Marisol disappeared inside for a few minutes while telling James to wait outside. He waited, and she reappeared ten minutes later, carrying a small paper bag.

Leading the way once again, she kept walking alongside James until they reached a hotel that was several blocks from the bar. It was a little run down, but the price was decent, considering its location. Despite wanting to pay for the room, Marisol paid after fixing James with a glare that would have made his mother proud in its disapproval. Taking the key, they made their way to the third floor and let themselves into the room.

After looking about the place and finding it in a clean state, James dropped his duffle bag and sat in one of the chairs that was by the door. He sighed in relief at being off his feet, placing his hat on the coffee table in front of him and shrugging out of his jacket. Marisol had seated herself on the bed just across from him and looked at him.

“So, why don’t you start at the beginning, about how all of this happened?” she asked him as she dug around in the paper bag.

James told the story in full, from him finishing his lunch to where he walked out of the bar. While he was telling the story, Marisol had quietly tended to his wounds, cleaning up the cuts and marks left behind by Manfredo’s abuse. He left no detail out and voiced his frustrations to Marisol as she sat there and listened. Once he was finished, Marisol had a disgusted look on her face as she took in the whole story.

“This is absolutely sickening! Not what you did, but what both your uncle and employer did to you! As bad as it was, I’m sorry, Jim, but it gets worse,” Marisol said consolingly.

“How could it be worse than what it already is?” James asked aloud.

“Because your uncle helped Manfredo Marino steal those plans from you,” she said as softly as she could.

“What?!?”

“A couple of days ago, I was doing my job at the estate when I learned that Manfredo had arrived as a dinner guest of your uncle’s. We were instructed to make his stay as comfortable as possible, and some girls were most uncomfortable around that man!” she stated.

“Did he do anything to the girls at the house?” Jim asked worriedly.

“Although Manfredo was a guest, Sven was nearby most of the time, so it spared the girls his actions. He made no secret of what he’d like to do to some of them though, if his leering stares were anything to go by.”

“But anyway, I was busy clearing away the dinner dishes when I heard both your uncle and Mr. Marino making jokes at your expense. More importantly, they went on about how you were so stupid and trusting to leave your blueprints at the estate while you were off at work. It was during one of those days, just after New Year’s, when your mother was going through one of her coughing fits,” Marisol explained.

“Your uncle had apparently taken your plans and given them to Mr. Marino, so they could make use of them. Mr. Marino did, and he’d planted the blueprints on his son’s desk when he was dead drunk. He then made it seem that Roberto drew them up while he was going through one of his drinking binges. Your Uncle Andrew was very specific in stating that it had to seem that someone not linked to him had done these up. Although he controls the estate, he could have no legal backlash if he wanted to maintain full control of the estate. His hold on the whole thing is tenuous as it is,” Marisol told him.

“That dirty rotten son of a bitch!” James cursed. “Sorry about the language, Marisol, but I am so furious right now!”

“I don’t blame you one bit for that, James, so I’ll let it slide when it comes to your uncle.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised, though,” James said. “That bastard has always hated me, even as a child, but he’s given no reason for why.”

“Men like him need no excuse. They think it’s their right to do things their way and God damn anyone who spoils their perception of what is right,” Marisol soothed. “But there is some good news.”

“I could really go for some good news right about now. What is it?”

“Before your mother died, she instructed me to get a letter out of the house from her room. She had me do it in secret when everyone was asleep. She knew your uncle had eyes and ears inside the house and grounds, so she ensured I could carry it out without being noticed,” Marisol told him.

“A letter from my mother?” James breathed, scarcely believing what he was hearing.

“Yes, a letter I have with me, right here,” she said, patting her handbag as she stood by the table, putting away the ointments and spare gauze she had purchased.

“Could I have it, please?” James asked pleadingly.

“Yes, but I want something for it,” she said coyly as she stood before him.

“What do you want? I have little to offer, but I really want that letter,” James almost begged.

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, James. You have so much to offer a woman,” she said before plopping down into his lap. Before he could ask why she had just done that, Marisol leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth. Shocked by what was happening, James sat there, stunned for a moment. It froze his lips stiff from the shock of it, but in moments, he softened up and kissed Marisol back.

She moaned into him, savoring the kiss and parting her lips slightly, letting her tongue peek out and brush his lips. The contact sent a jolt through James, and he backed away in a start. His breathing had sped up to where it seemed that he’d just run five kilometers at a dead run, instead of kissing the woman on his lap. Marisol gave him a knowing look and smiled.

“What was that for?” James asked out loud, bewildered by her actions.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the last few years, since you came into manhood. I feared that you might take more after your uncle, but seeing you develop into a kind and caring man has attracted my attention,” she stated, giving him a smoldering look.

“But what about Sven?” he asked, referring to the groundskeeper of the estate and, as far as he knew, her boyfriend.

“Sven is just a cover,” she explained. “You see, there are a couple of things about him that people don’t know. First, he looks on me like a little sister rather than as a girlfriend and it ties in with the second thing.”

“Which is?”

“Sven is gay. What he and I have is something just to throw people off our scent. He does it mostly to keep your uncle away from me,” she said.

“Hmm. Well, I’m sure the fact that he’s a six-foot five giant would keep my uncle on his toes,” Jim acknowledged.

“That and he’s the son of George Magnusson.”

Jim’s eyes widened at that last bit of information, which he did not know about. George Magnusson was a war hero and a household name across America and Europe. He, like his son, was a giant of a man, standing over six foot eight and built in such a way that would make anyone pause in challenging him. The man’s exploits were so well known, people believed that he was Ragnar Lothbrok reincarnated.

When the Nazis tried to march into Sweden, Magnusson and the men he commanded met them on the field of battle. Although he was a giant, George possessed the mind of a tactical genius and had used the terrain and the Nazi’s tactics against them, suffering virtually no losses while decimating the invasion forces. Despite the Germans’ claim of victory over the Swedish that day, everyone knew the truth of the matter.

George had then led his forces in various offensives, forcing the Nazis to halt their advance and eventually retreat. Because of the bravery of his unit and the courageous determination with which they fought, they were christened the Einherjar. They went to launch counterattack after counterattack that sent the Nazis running with their tails between their legs.

Since the Nazis retreat from Sweden, stories were told about the heroic feats these men had accomplished against them. Even to this day, nearly ten years after the war, stories still circulated about the man. Many men of this day and age attempted to hold themselves up to his standards, to be truly thought of as men.

“That would keep my uncle at bay! No one would want to cross the son of such a man, much less risk his wrath!” James said, awed by what he learned.

“Yes, and he took a liking to you, you know,” Marisol teased.

“What??” James said in shock.

“Yeah, he mentioned it in passing some time ago. But I told him in no uncertain terms that you’re mine to take,” Marisol said huskily.

“Well, thank you for that. It’s not that Sven isn’t a good man. I just don’t… swing… in that direction. I like the feel of a woman’s curves in my hands,” James said as his hands found the swell of Marisol’s ass.

“So I’ve noticed,” Marisol said while licking her lips.

“Before we do anything…” James got up, forcing an indignant Marisol to her feet. He approached the door and engaged the deadbolt, locking the door. “I want to ensure that we’re not disturbed.”

“Ah! Smart idea!”

“Now, where were we?” he asked as he closed in on Marisol.

Her face lit up with a smile as James walked up to her. Placing his hands on her hips, he drew her into him and brought his lips to hers. Her mouth met his halfway and their lips locked together, their tongues engaging in a sensuous dance as passion overtook the both of them. She moaned as her body pressed up against him and wound her arms against his neck. Breaking the kiss slowly, James caught his breath as Marisol did hers.

“I often wondered about some looks you gave me while I was still at home. Was this what it was all about?” he wondered. Her head nestled into the crook between his chin and chest, and she sighed excitedly before responding.

“Yes. I always found you attractive, and the last few years have turned you into a handsome and strapping young man. I’ve wanted you for a while now but couldn’t as it wasn’t my place,” Marisol confessed.

“You know that sort of thing doesn’t matter to me,” James said as he raised Marisol’s chin with his finger, so she made eye contact with him. “Besides, you’re an exquisite woman who, from what I understand, is in need of some love and comfort.”

Squeaking in happiness, Marisol kissed James again, drawing him to her as she backed up. She stopped the moment her calves bumped against the bed, then turned, still holding James, and pushed him onto the bed. Startled by the action, James looked up to see Marisol unzipping her dress. He hadn’t noticed that she was wearing black stockings, which went beneath the hem of her dress.

Once the dress was off, he saw that she was wearing a black bra and matching panties. Her stockings were held up by a garter belt, which sat beneath her panties. The sight awed James, as she looked like one of those pin-up girls that some of the boys had up at the airfield. Seeing her give him a look, James comprehended it was his turn to lose his clothes and was more than eager to comply.

Popping off his suspenders, he made quick work of losing his white shirt, then dropped his tan pants. Stepping out of them, clad only in his boxers, Marisol stared at him lustfully, her chest rising and falling fast. He went to Marisol and kissed her again, and as they kissed, James moved his hands behind her and undid her bra. With the garment snapping free, Mari backed away from James long enough to discard the unwanted item.

Closing with James once more, she pushed him down on the bed again. Only this time, she went with him, falling atop of him as they kissed. With her breasts pressed up to him and her hips over his, she ground her core into him, her moist pussy seeking his hard dick. Finding it was no trouble, as he was already hard and poking against her, groaning in desire.

James wasted no time, his hands finding the hem of her panties and tugging them down slowly. Although it was his first time with Marisol, it wasn’t his first time with a woman, and he knew a little about what to do. Gripping her tightly, James rolled over, so he was atop of Marisol and she squealed in delight. Bringing himself to a kneeling position over her, James then finished what he started with the removal of her panties, tugging them clear of her legs.

With her exposed to him, he went against his body’s instinct to take her right then and there. Deciding to have some fun with her first, James sidled up to her, drawing her to him for another kiss while moving his left hand to her weeping pussy. Once his fingers brushed her nether lips, she let out a small squeak. It quickly turned into a moan as his hand covered her heated core with his fingers, dancing all over her gooey labia.

Her breath caught as his hand rubbed her moistened lips, making her groan in desire. As James continued rubbing, Marisol’s breathing accelerated, her heart hammering in her chest as he continued his ministrations. She leaked like a sieve, slathering his hand in her essence, and at that point, he changed it up. Using his middle and ring finger, he slowly penetrated her steaming love channel, causing her to moan and shake.

Once he was as deep as he could go, Jim then withdrew his fingers before pushing them in again. He continued with a slow rhythm, in and out, keeping his palm on her pubic bone as he did so. Marisol tried to reach up to kiss him, but he hovered just out of reach, denying her what she wanted as he continued to finger fuck her. She cried out in frustration and bliss as he went on doing this to her, making her squirm and moan in a way beyond measure.

Marisol was getting close as her inner walls were grasping Jim’s fingers hard. It was almost like they wanted his intrusive digits to stay where they were. When she did that, James then curled both fingers within her hard, pressing the pads into her G-spot. Marisol yipped loudly as she came, the orgasm blooming through her readily. It was then that James kissed her hard, and she reciprocated, drawing him down to her.

Marisol trembled as she felt the reverberations course through her, her core clenching insistently on James’ fingers. When she finally relaxed herself, James slipped his fingers out and sucked on them with relish. Seeing this turned Marisol’s afterglow into a massive surge of lust, and she desired to give as good as she got.

Popping up, she got off the bed as she then grabbed James by the legs, forcing him to a sitting position at the edge. Before he could say anything, Marisol had stripped him of his boxers and was taking his half hard member into her mouth. The only thing that came out of James was a long and lustful groan as she sucked.

Using her hands, Marisol stroked the part of James’ shaft that her mouth couldn’t get and his balls. Though she’d done this a few times before, no one previously had responded as quickly as James. He reached steel hardness in less than five minutes, and Marisol couldn’t help but smile inwardly. Though he was more than hard enough, she wanted to enjoy giving this man a good sucking.

She’d told no one because of the way she’d be looked upon, but sucking a man’s cock was one sexual act she could do for days on end. Marisol had always wanted to try it out when she was younger and when she lost her virginity to her first boyfriend, Trent, she couldn’t get enough. Although a few close calls and harsh wake ups forced her to be more careful and choosy with those that she would take to her bed.

With James though, she felt she could bare herself to the man and he would accept her how she was. At least Marisol hoped that was the case. She could tell that he was truly enjoying himself and, with the way that he was looking at her, told her everything she needed to know for that moment. He wanted her in the worst possible way and would likely continue to want her for long after.

Popping her mouth off his swollen dick, she stood up and straddled him. James reached up and drew her to him, his hands on her back, pulling her body close to him. His mouth quickly found her breasts, and he licked and sucking everywhere but the nipple and areola. Marisol found it both strange and a turn on that he was focusing on the areas that most men ignored. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the attentions he lavished on her as she guided his still hard cock to her wet and steaming pussy.

The moment the tip of his cock touched her nether lips, James broke away from his sucking and cried out. The feeling of this woman inching her wet cunt down on his turgid dick was almost enough to make him blow his wad right there. He calmed himself as best he could as she slid down onto him. He looked up to her face and saw the same raw passion he was feeling, and kissed her with all the emotion he felt.

Slowly, Marisol rocked her hips back and forth, grinding slowly onto her lover. She broke away from his mouth and wrapped her arms around James, burying her head into his neck. Feeling his hands on her ass, she felt a surge of pleasure as James’ hands clenched her round globes and squeezed. Gasping as the feeling, Marisol shifted James sideways, pushing him so he could lie down on his back comfortably.

As he settled into the mattress, Marisol continued to grind into him, letting the friction play a delicious beat on her emerging clit. She kept at this for several minutes, letting the feeling of his rock-hard dick dance around inside her. Though the rubbing was good, she needed to feel something more and tried something she hadn’t before.

She stopped moving and repositioned her legs, moving them so she was flat-footed on the mattress. As Marisol did this, she placed her hands on James’ chest and put some of her body weight there. Once she was ready, she lifted her hips upwards, sliding James’ dick out of her. When the tip was at risk of popping out of her, he slammed her hips down hard on him, burying his cock in her once more.

They both cried out at the sensation, as they could see and feel that the other had enjoyed that. Soon, the slapping of flesh on flesh filled the room as Marisol continued to ride her man. Jim had placed his hands on Marisol’s C cups as they jiggled violently at her motions. Once she had established a rhythm, her pace quickened as she drove her hips into his pelvis relentlessly.

A slight purring sound escaped Marisol as she started this, which had turned into a full on feral growl. Sounding like a wildcat, Marisol rode James for all she was worth, chasing another orgasm that had found its way into her. It kept taunting and teasing her, staying just out of reach, no matter what she did, to bring herself closer to completion.

Sensing this, James decided that he’d help Marisol achieve just that. Sitting up, he pulled his cock out of her and she whined at the loss of it. She was about to ask why he’d done that when she was suddenly turned and thrown onto her back, where James was lying down. The shock of what he did wore off as she saw him close the distance between them. Seconds after he drew near, James speared her sopping cunt with his still hard dick, drawing a small scream out of Marisol.

Buried to the hilt, James let her recover for a few moments before he moved in and out of her. The pace was slow for maybe a minute, but then James ramped up his speed to where he was sliding in and out of her, with all the force of a jackhammer. It caught Marisol off guard by this sudden change, and now he was smashing into her relentlessly. The orgasm that seemed to hover just beyond reach had filled her with its nirvana-like high.

She cried out in little squeaks with each strike she received from James’ efforts. His hands had gripped her hips right by her waistline, fingers digging in so hard that it almost hurt. The level of pleasure she was receiving was more than enough to offset any pain she was feeling. Marisol could feel the rising wave of the orgasm that was coming, and she knew it would be intense.

James sped up his drilling hips, if that could be possible, and she could hear him groan and growl. He was drawing near his completion as well and she wanted it to happen the same time that hers did. On reflex, she wrapped her legs around his hips and locked them in place as she felt the first wave break upon her. She shivered and howled like a woman who’d lost her mind, as each rising wave threatened to send her off into oblivious bliss.

James could hardly move with Marisol’s legs holding him so securely in place, but it hardly mattered. Her pussy muscles fluttered and clenched his cock so hard that he growled like a possessed beast. What came out of his mouth was between a loud growl and a full on roar as his cum fired out of him like water from a fire hose. His cum filled Marisol’s pussy right to the brim, and some of it had leaked out, staining the once pristine sheets.

Looking at each other with desire and thankfulness, James and Marisol kissed each other tenderly. They didn’t care that they were both sweaty and gooey from their lovemaking. The two of them enjoyed each other and the moment they were in. Sadly, the moment didn’t last as they heard banging on the ceiling from the floor above.

“Hey! Keep it down, you horny kids! Some of us need sleep, you know!” an old and cantankerous voice sounded through the ceiling.

Looking up, then back at each other, James and Marisol then broke into a fit of laughter before they lay down next to each other. They cuddled for a few minutes before Marisol got up and walked back over to the table. Rummaging around in her handbag, she found what she was looking for and withdrew it. She walked back to the bed, holding a sealed manila envelope in her hands.

“As promised, Jim, here is the letter that your mother asked me to deliver to you,” she said as she handed him the envelope. “I hope whatever is in it contains the answers and closure you seek.”

She then turned and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her to give Jim some privacy. Although they had just had some seriously life altering sex, Marisol respected James enough to let him read his mother’s letter in private. Sighing happily at Marisol’s attitude and her, James tore open the letter as he heard the shower being turned on in the bathroom. Inside was a single sheet of paper and a stub from the local Vault-Safe branch.

Vault-Safe was a package service that could either hold or deliver packages and letters according to the wishes of the customer. It was a service that had sprung up in the wake of the second World War. Many men had gone off to war and needed some place to store their valuables and ensure that those who they were intended for would get to them.

Since the end of the war, Vault-Safe’s business had expanded dramatically, as there were many people who wanted a safer place to store their heirlooms, wills and such. Many people couldn’t afford safe deposit boxes that banks offered. Vault-Safe stored any item at a fraction of the cost, which made them an ideal place for keeping any heirloom safe. There were also the policies that Vault-Safe had in place, which made people feel they could trust them better.

James set aside the claim stub and read the letter. He knew his mother had written it because of the elegant flowing script that graced the page.

‘My dearest boy, James,

If you are reading this right now, I have likely departed this world and you are now on your own. Don’t despair or weep for me, my precious and beautiful boy. I did everything I could to keep you safe and although there are some things I’ve done that you have questioned, just know they were done with your safety in mind. You no doubt have questions, so I will do what I can to answer them.

You remember when we tried to leave when we were heading for the border? We were almost through, but they separated us. I’m not sure if you recollect this, but us being separated was a deliberate move, engineered by your uncle. He had friends in the U.S. army and had us corralled so we couldn’t leave.

Andrew has always enjoyed controlling people, and with me, he wanted nothing less than ultimate control. You see, the estate was to be left in my name, as your grandfather had always favored me over him. That was something that Andrew couldn’t have, and keeping me here was a way of exerting his authority over us. He found me in a holding cell and demanded that I forfeit all claims over the estate. He threatened your life if I refused to cooperate, so I did, to save you.

Though I had convinced him to not kill or harm either of us outright. It would look suspicious not only to father, but to the police. Even of a man with the Brighton name, there’s only so many people he could keep quiet. So, I managed to convince him that the only way for it to happen was for him to wait and allow me to change father’s mind. I told him it could take years. He didn’t want to wait that long but, in light of father’s suspicions of him and the threat of the police looking into his affairs, convinced him otherwise.

I don’t doubt that your uncle now controls the estate and likely my share of the family fortune. I’m sorry that I failed you all those years ago, when we tried to get across the border. Though your uncle has control of what should now be yours, you have a right and a proper claim to that money. Sadly, I am afraid that your uncle will exert every influence he has to keep it out of your hands.

There is something though that I have kept out of your uncle’s hands. It is something that belonged to your father and now; it belongs to you. Take the Vault-Safe stub to the branch that is printed upon it. When you find it, open it in a safe place, away from prying eyes.

Always remember my son that I have loved you every day of my life and my only regret is that I won’t be around to see you give me grandchildren. Farewell my handsome boy and I hope that you remember all that I have taught you. Love,

Mom’

James teared up and was nearly bawling his eyes out upon finishing the letter. He reached out to his pants and pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket. Using it to clear his eyes and nose, He read the letter at least three more times before picking up the stub he set on the bedside table. Reading it over, he realized he knew the address of the Vault-Safe branch. It was just down the road from the hotel!

Deciding that he needed to find out exactly what his mother had stored at Vault-Safe, James quickly got dressed. Though he reeked of sex, he didn’t care one whit of what people thought of him. As he finished with his shoes, James knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yes, Jim?” Marisol asked, peeking from behind the shower curtain.

“I need to step out for a few minutes. Have an errand I need to run, but I’ll be right back, OK?”

“Promise?” she asked, giving a mild stink eye.

“Scout’s honor,” he replied, holding up his hand. Smiling, Marisol went back to the shower and James snatched the key from where it sat on the table. He walked out of the room, down the stairs, and stepped outside, heading down the road. He didn’t have to go far, maybe a whole block, before he arrived at the Vault-Safe branch.

With the tab in hand, he walked on in, thankful that it was still early enough. Another hour and the branch would have been closed. As he walked inside, he saw a pair of burly men dressed as guards sitting at a nearby desk. They were chatting but the moment he entered; they looked right at him, faces like masks of stone.

Not wanting to draw undue attention to himself, he walked up to the counter, where a young man about his age seemed to be busy writing something. He looked up and gave James an appraising look, but one that also had a good deal of judgement behind. James bristled at the thought of being judged but kept calm, as he didn’t want to cause a scene.

“May I help you?” the young man asked haughtily.

“Yes, sir. I’m here to retrieve a package. I have the payment stub right here,” James replied as cordially as he could manage.

“You? Retrieve a package? With a stub you no doubt stole?” the boy scoffed.

“Wait a minute, I found this in a letter from my mother and…”

“Say what you will half breed. I refuse to believe it. John, Buck, remove this yellow trash and don’t be gentle about it,” the arrogant boy smirked. The guards advanced on him, but without the smile that the clerk wore.

“What is all the commotion going on up here?” a wizened and snarky voice piped up from behind the clerk. Turning instantly, the young man blanched as he spoke to the presence behind him.

“It’s nothing, sir. Just another transient with a stolen stub,” the boy explained hurriedly.

“A stolen stub, you say? Let me have a look at it and I’ll determine if someone has stolen it,” the man’s voice said.

“Sir, there is really no need…” the boy said before he was cut off.

“There is every need for me to see it. Now move your ass, Bart, before I kick it from here to Germany!” the man snapped. Jumping at the threat, Bart moved away from the desk as the old man approached it. He was a heavyset man, with hair that was silver grey and well groomed, a thick mustache and piercing blue eyes. The nametag on his uniform labeled him as Adam, the Vault-Safe manager.

He held out his hand in a gesture to receive the stub, and James gave it to him. The guards, John and Buck, had stopped in their tracks the moment Adam got involved. They sat there, waiting for either the go ahead to throw Jim out, or the order to return to the desk. Adam scrutinized the stub carefully, then turned to James and peered at him, as though he was trying to place him. A moment later, his face lit up as he remembered something of importance.

“Oh, yes! I remember this one! A beautiful young woman came here many years ago. I often wondered when you’d be about,” Adam addressed James. “Bart!” he barked, and the boy rushed to his side and Adam handed him the stub.

“Go find the package and bring it here. Move your ass, boy!”

Bart did as he was told and took the stub, turning to the vault area. He shot a glare at James as he shuffled away, obviously not happy at the turn of events. Like he had eyes on the back of his head, Adam’s hand flew out and cuffed Bart upside the head. He cried out in pain and rubbed the back of his head as he turned to question his boss about what that was for.

“I saw that,” was all Adam said before he dismissed Bart and turned to the two bricks that were standing like lumps on a log. “Well? Back to your security desk, boys. Save your energy for your lady friends you’re going to see later.”

The guards looked at each other and then shrugged as they turned back to the desk. As they left, James saw the ghost of a smirk on their faces. Apparently, James and Adam weren’t the only ones who didn’t like Bart.

“I apologize for the boy’s rudeness, young man. He still has a lot to learn,” the old man apologized.

“Indeed.”

“As I was saying. I wondered when you’d come along to claim this package. Your mother was very specific it be handed to you and only you,” the manager said.

“How did you know it was my mother who dropped off the package for me?” James asked.

“It is simple, really. You have a good deal of her in your features, son. She was quite the beauty last time I saw her. I am curious. How is she these days?” the older man queried.

“She’s….” James couldn’t finish the sentence, and he didn’t need to.

“I’m sorry, son. I didn’t know. The world is a lesser place with her gone. You have my sympathies,” Adam apologized again.

“Thank you,” James said. “Hopefully, she’s in a better place now.”

“That’s all we can hope for when it’s our time to go, isn’t it? Ah! Here it is! I will need a signature from you to verify that it’s been received,” Adam said. James knew the protocol of Vault-Safe as when a package was deposited, a name, or names, would be given by the depositor of who was to claim it. If the name matched the one the depositor left, then the package would be handed over. If it didn’t, then the person in question would see the inside of a jail cell before the night was over.

James signed the paper that was tabled to him by Adam. After checking its veracity, Adam nodded, then gestured to Bart, who slid the package to James. It was sizable to be sure, about a foot wide, by a foot high, and almost four feet long. James thanked the manager once again as he took his parcel and left without another word. As he crossed the threshold, he heard Adam’s voice shout out in anger, and James smirked to himself as he walked out.

James knew for sure that Bart was getting his ass chewed out by the kindly manager, and he almost laughed out loud. He could have looked over his shoulder to see the arrogant boy take his licks, but that was just bad manners. The afternoon had darkened to late evening, and it was nearly twilight outside. James hurried along back to the hotel before someone stopped him and demand to know what it was he was carrying.

Thankfully, James made it back to the hotel without incident and walked back into the room, locking the door behind himself. He set the parcel down on the coffee table and looked about for Marisol. He listened and found that she was still in the shower. Taking a moment, he sniffed himself and decided that he could do with a shower as well. Working all day in this heat in an airfield tended to make you smell like you rolled out of a dumpster.

Shucking his clothes, he walked into the bathroom and slipped into the shower behind Marisol. She squeaked in surprise, but then smiled up at him as he cozied up to her under the hot needle spray. Sighing into his chest, Marisol just sat there, nestled up against her lover as she just let herself be.

James also took the time to just stand there and enjoy Marisol’s presence. Growing up in the house, people always surrounded him, most of whom were servants. Though he was generally well liked, a few of them made it seem like he shouldn’t even be there. Marisol, no matter the hour or the place, always made him feel at home and welcome, like he belonged there.

He looked down at the woman he had shared his bed with not too long ago and drew her face up to his, kissing her. She reciprocated the action, moaning into him happily as she hugged him. He could have gone for more nookie with her and almost did, but he stopped himself. As much as he wanted to take her now, he still had to open that package that his mother, Anna, had left for him.

Sighing to himself, he reached for the soap that the hotel had provided and washed himself up. Marisol took the soap from him when he was done and washed up as well. Once they were clean, James shut off the water and they stepped out. After getting toweled off, the pair of lovers got dressed. Marisol in her clothes she’d worn, while James fished out a set of clean clothes for himself.

After setting his belt, James went over to the package and tore off the tape that held the lid shut. Lifting the flaps, he saw that the whole box was filled with old rags, stuffed in to where they provided a complete nest like shroud. Anyone who held or moved it would likely have no idea what was contained within it. The rags seemed to give off some kind of fragrance that he had trouble placing, though it reminded him of cloves.

James, using his hands, carefully delved into the mess of rags, trying to discern what was within it. After maybe five seconds, his hands found something that felt almost cylindrical. Reaching with his other hand, he found another piece of whatever it was and gripped it. Ever so slowly, he pulled it out of the box; the wrappings falling away from the item. As he turned about to face Marisol, the item was revealed to the both of them.

It was a Katana sword, the preferred and favored weapon of the samurai. The handle appeared to be made of a cherry wood, the color of the stained wood showing through the webbing that wrapped around it. The sheath was similarly decorated, but in colors of red and black lacquer, with a design of golden dragons scrolling up and down its length.

James was stunned that his mother had something like this in her possession! She’d never told him about it, but considering the letter she’d left for him, he figured she didn’t want his uncle to know about its existence. Marisol was similarly entranced, having never seen such a beautiful sword until now. The old European blades that decorated the estate walls seemed dull and uninteresting in comparison.

James had read about these kinds of blades and knew there was a trick to drawing them. Grabbing the sheath just below the hilt, he placed his thumb at its base and pushed it upwards. With a soft click, the blade came free of its prison, and he drew it out. The blade gleamed dully in the room’s light, its luster dimmed by the coagulated oil on it. Entranced by the blade, he didn’t hear Marisol say anything until she stood up and grabbed his face, commanding his attention.

“Jim, I think there is something else here for you,” she said, pointing back to the sheath.

Sure enough, there was a sheet of browned paper that was wrapped around the sheath, secured by two pieces of string. Carefully setting the blade down, he slid the paper off the wooden item and dispensed with the string, unfurling the paper. It was another note from his mother, although this one lacked her signature. He read it to himself, his eyes widening at the contents.

‘If this is being read, then I know that I have succeeded in keeping this weapon safe from the clutches of my greedy and ruthless brother. James, I know you’re wondering why I hid this note here with this sword, and I promise you, everything will reveal itself in time. Right now, there is something you need to know; your father is alive!

We were supposed to meet him on that night when we were to cross. But we lost all contact, and I dared not try to find him, lest your uncle or his friends find out who he is! I can’t say much on that right now, for fear of discovery or on the off chance that someone else other than you finds this.

I will tell you how to find him, though. Find Margaret Bishop, in the Independent Republic of California, and ask her about the lone samurai in the green hat. If I am gone when you get this, I hope that you find him. He is a good man and had always wanted to be here for you, but because of who is he is, he could not be. Godspeed on your journey, my son, wherever you decide to go.’

That was where the note ended, and James had to sit down and take deep breaths to calm himself. His father was alive! In the Republic! In several minutes, everything in his world had changed, and now a concrete plan formed in his mind. It had started as a flight of fancy, something he had planned out for some time, but never had a clear direction of where he would go next. Now he had a destination.

“I know that face, James Brighton. It’s a face you get whenever you are about to get up to some mischief,” Marisol said in an authoritative tone. “Just what exactly are you planning?”

“I’m leaving, Mari,” James said with a sigh. “I can’t stay here. Not just because of Manfredo’s reach, but also because it’s clear I’m not welcome here anymore. Present company excluded, of course!”

Marisol smiled at that last, but it was a sad smile. She knew things would eventually come to this and, as it was, she could not go with. Not that she didn’t want to, but it was because she still had her mother and little sister to care for. Her mother had contracted some illness that had left her bedridden, and her sister was still in elementary school. It was her salary from being a maid at the estate that kept them all going, and Marisol couldn’t sacrifice that.

James knew all of this, having spoken with Marisol at length some days back at the estate. He knew the only way she’d leave was if she could bring her mother and sister along with. The plan that had come together in James’ head didn’t have room for anyone who wasn’t mobile.

“I know James. One day it would come to this and that you’d leave. But things as they are, I can’t come with you,” she said regretfully.

“It’s sad that you can’t come, Mari. I know that you’re devoted to your family, and I wouldn’t ask you to abandon them to the mercy of my uncle Andrew,” he replied. “Though I will have to leave now, tonight, if my plan is going to work.”

“Can you tell me what you have in mind?”

“Honestly, I’d like to, but I can’t. When I’m gone, they may call you in for questioning and the only way I can ensure your safety is if you can honestly say to the police, ‘I don’t know.’” he stated to her. Although crestfallen, Marisol understood his reasoning and watched him pack his things up into his duffle, sheathing his sword and stowing it in the bag. He had just pulled on his jacket when she stood up and crossed the small room to where he stood.

Pulling him down, she locked her lips onto his and kissed him fiercely. Jim reciprocated the kiss, kissing her like he wasn’t going to see her again. If he was honest with himself, he knew he likely wouldn’t, not with the path he had set in mind. He drew her in, letting his arms, lips and tongue do all the talking for him, showing Marisol how much he’d miss her. They broke apart after what seemed like an eternity, breathing heavily.

“If I can, I’ll come back and get you and your family out of here,” he promised to her, holding her in his arms.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she whispered to him and she caressed his face. With a quick kiss to her lips and forehead, he snatched his hat, duffle, and was out the door. Although sad to see him go, Marisol knew he had his own path to walk, as did she.

***************************************

James was out of the hotel as quickly as he dared, donning his hat in the process. Night had fallen, and the streetlamps were already on, illuminating the town streets. He hurried along, retracing his route back to the airfield as he went over the logistics of his plan. It was a bit of a distance to get back there, but if everything panned out, he wouldn’t have much to worry about in the future.

His plan was a simple one; hike back to the airfield, find the keys for the plane that was built, and fly it out of this town! There were a lot of variables to consider and any of them could have his plan come apart, but in this case, he had nothing left to lose. Right now, he was willing to take any risk necessary in order to pay back those thieving sons of bitches! James soon came upon the dirt and gravel road that led to the airfield and turned down it.

He kept close to the wooded area, in case a vehicle came down the road, so he couldn’t be easily spotted. He needn’t have worried, as no vehicles came down the road in either direction. James trekked through the sticks, fallen logs and brambles with little difficulty, and soon found the airfield lying before him. There were some basic lights on, making it seem like someone was around, but he knew better.

It was a ploy that Manfredo did to make it look like someone was still at home to deter thieves. He always was a cheap bastard, and that cheapness would bite him in the ass tonight. James circled around to the rear of the airfield where there was a section of fence that had a slight hole in it. It was just large enough for a man to climb through and if he knew the men at the airfield; they were a bunch of lazy fucks who didn’t care about fixing shit. He hoped that was still the case, at least.

James kept walking along the fence line until he found the opening. It was maybe a foot and a half in width and four and a half feet in height. At a distance, it was hard to tell that it was there and because it was right behind Hangar three, which was hardly used, and made it practically invisible. Jim first pushed his bag through, sliding it onto the ground with little effort. He followed through maybe a moment later, doffing his hat and crouching to get through.

Once back on the ground, he put his hat back on, hefted his duffle and double timed it to the main office building. Because it was attached to the main hangar, it was easy to get into, since those arrogant bastards had forgotten to repossess James’ keys to the place. Before James tried to the door, he listened to the area surrounding him. He heard nothing, no chatter, no footfalls, just the idle night wind and crickets sounding through the night.

Drawing the keys from his bag, he found the correct one and opened the door. Walking in, he went over to the connecting door and let himself in. Walking up the flight of stairs in front of him, rather than going left towards the locker rooms and storage areas, he found the offices that Manfredo and his cohorts used. There were only six rooms on the second floor, and from what he could see, they were all dark.

He decided to check the concept office at the end of the hall, as that’s where Roberto and Manfredo liked to work. Walking in, he checked it quickly, but found nothing. No keys, no designs, nothing. It seemed like James would have to do this the old-fashioned way and look through each office one at a time. He took the better part of an hour to look through them, but he found nothing, not in any drawer, cabinet or tabletop.

James was getting frustrated and was contemplating on giving up when he saw a small sliver of light out the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the light was emanating from Manfredo’s office. He didn’t know how that was possible, as that was the second place he’d checked, and it had yielded nothing! Shaking his head and pinching himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, he walked over quietly, wondering who could have snuck in behind him!

As he walked in, he saw that the light was coming from a bookcase built into Manny’s wall, but it was shifted to the side, like someone had moved it! Drawing closer, he placed his bag at the foot of Manny’s desk and saw that the bookcase was a ruse and there was a hidden room behind it! Slowly and quietly, James opened the hidden door further and was surprised by what he saw.

In front of him was Roberto Marino, passed out and dead drunk, with no less than three empty bottles of red wine in front of him. A fourth and fifth bottle were on the ground, still corked, and they rolled out past him as the opening widened. James looked at the door and its housing and noted that a latch of some sort was built into it. It seemed to him that Roberto had walked in here and had forgotten to secure it. For all their sneakiness, these idiots were unerringly sloppy.

With Roberto passed out, James looked around and found what he was looking for. The keys to the new plane, his plane, were sitting atop the drafting table, just out of Roberto’s reach. Carefully, Jim picked them up and tucked them into his pocket. Breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn’t woken Roberto, James was about to leave when he saw that his blueprints were right there underneath Roberto’s head!

James was about to curse his luck when he thought about what else this room might contain. He resolved to search it and see what else might be in it before he took his plans back. When he did, he was sure that Rob would wake up, but he’d deal with that problem when he came to it. Noting that there was a small cabinet with flat drawers, James thought to have a look through those first. Half of them contained nothing of interest, just some pencils and blank blueprint paper.

It was the last three drawers that caught his interest, however. In each drawer was a detailed blueprint for other planes, each one of which was based on his initial design! Although some proposed changes made little sense to him, aerodynamically, others did. Not wanting to let these plans stay in their hands, James took them and put them in some carrying tubes from atop the cabinet and quickly stowed them in his duffle bag.

Going back inside, he looked about and found nothing unusual but saw that a small floor safe stood next to the drafting table. It was locked, and he would have left it alone, but it was then he spotted a sequence of three numbers written on a slip of paper by Roberto’s left hand. The numbers read; thirty-three, seventeen, one. Thinking he’d try it, James kneeled in front of the safe and tried the sequence. After two failed attempts, he nailed it on the third try, and he heard the click as the safe opened.

As quietly as he dared, James turned the handle and opened the safe door. Inside lay thousands of U.S. dollars, probably the whole payroll for the year, and Manny had it sitting around inside this safe! He also spotted two brown leather-bound notebooks, one plain and the other, with a strange symbol embossed on its cover.

Puzzlement on his face, James took them out and stared at them before opening both. Inside the first was a detailed parts list of his plane, which James knew he was keeping. The other was filled with a series of entries that looked like they were in some cipher, which James couldn’t read or understand.

Shaking his head, he saw that behind the notebooks lay several gold bars, also embossed with the same symbol. James almost cried out at the turn of his luck! The price of gold by the ounce had skyrocketed since the end of the war and anyone who owned at least one such bar had enough to buy themselves a mansion with money leftover!

Looking up to see that Roberto was still asleep, James quickly moved each bar and stack of cash into his duffle bag. Five minutes later, his bag was considerably heavier, the five bars weighing down the duffle, but he could still lift it. The strange notebook also found its way into his bag because, from James’ perspective, if it was locked behind a safe, it had to have value. He would have to decrypt the cipher, but that was a challenge for another day.

Now that he was almost finished, James steeled himself for the last thing to be done. As carefully as he could, he returned to the room and lifted Roberto’s head off the blueprints, and pulled them out. He laid Roberto’s head gently back down on the table and went to put the blueprints in another tube. There were some wine stains on the paper, but they had dried and thankfully hadn’t marred the integrity of the plans.

Just as James had finished rolling and stowing them, Roberto stirred. James froze in place just in front of him, hoping that Roberto would go back to sleep. Sadly, he didn’t and raised his head off the table, blinking his eyes blearily. He looked straight at James, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, with a shake of his head, he blinked again and sat upright.

“Jim?” he croaked out, his voice soured by the wine.

“Good night, Robbie,” James said evenly before decking him.

His fist connecting squarely with Roberto’s nose, the drunk man went cross-eyed before his head fell back to the table. James looked at Roberto and was certain he’d knocked the boy out. Smirking, James went back outside into Manfredo’s office, closing the door behind himself and turning out the light. He also scooped up the bottles of wine that were on the floor, figuring to have himself a celebratory drink when he was far away and across the border.

James was just finishing with putting away the last of his spoils when he heard something. It almost sounded like someone clearing their throat. His head snapped up, and he saw a figure there, standing in the doorway. He heard a click and the hallway light turned on, illuminating the figure. It was a woman, but not the one he had hoped for or expected. The woman in standing there, looking down on him in disapproval, was none other than Laura Marino, Roberto’s little sister.

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And that’s where the first chapter of this story ends folks! I do hope that you’ve enjoyed this new story idea that I’ve cranked out. I had a lot of fun writing this one, as I’ve always wanted to write something that had a Rocketeer/Indiana Jones-esque feel to it. I always loved those movies, though honestly, wasn’t too pleased by Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

Getting back on topic, I know that I’m being a bit evil in leaving it as a cliffhanger but as a writer; they are lots of fun to write! *chuckles evilly* How will James talk his way out of this predicament that he’s in? What is in that notebook that he’s discovered? Will he cross the border and find his father? Those answers will come in future chapters of this story, so you’ll just have to be patient and wait until more chapters land.

Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my work and I do hope that you’ve enjoyed it! I’m open to constructive criticism and will seriously consider any suggestions made about various story arcs. Please feel free to rate and comment on my work down below. If you like what I write, don’t be afraid to follow and share, though your views, ratings and comments are quite enough for me.

In the meantime, this is C.H. Darkstrider, signing off to grab a beer and some quality time with the wife! ;) You will attain whatever you most desire, as long as you believe in yourself. Cheers!