No Promise of Tomorrow

No Promise of Tomorrow

         Benjamin loved the sensation of flying. In another life he would have been an aviator. But in this life that was not going to happen. No, he was quite content to be the passenger. He looked out of the window port of the Cessna Citation. The sleek bird was cruising at 30,000 feet at about 500 mile per hour. The mere thought of it amazed him. He was due in Dallas at a 9:30 AM meeting tomorrow morning. The corporate jet would have him on the ground in less than an hour. By 10:00 PM he would be in bed, trying to sleep but going over the strategy for the upcoming meeting.

         Another glance out of the window into the darkness allowed his mind to wander free from the corporate deals and stresses. He could see the lights of Dallas-Fort Worth in the horizon. It always intrigued him to fly at night. The landmarks took on a completely different perspective. Ribbons of light identified the Interstate Highways, city street lights traced the skeleton of the thoroughfares, and the house lights identified the residential developments. Lakes were obvious because of the total lack of lights, except for the sporadic outlines around the shore by residential development and commercial marinas and other establishments.

         “Mr. Burton, we’re making our descent and we will be on final approach in a moment. We will be landing at Meacham Field in Fort Worth. The tower has informed me that there is a driver waiting for you at the hangar. If you’ll please prepare yourself in the cabin, we will have you on the ground before you know it.” The captain’s voice was clear and strong. The volume was perfect on the intercom. How Benjamin loved the private jet. He would not have to endure the bother of lines and inspections at the airport, as everyone else was experiencing at DFW International.

         “There is much to be said for privilege.” He smiled as he thought to himself. “Money may not be everything, but the fringe benefits it brings have everything else running a distant second.”

         The sleek silver bird taxied up to the hangar and stopped with a near un-noticeable shudder. The whine of the jet engines began to diminish as the door was opened and readied for him to exit. Less than ten steps from the wingtip sat a polished black Lincoln Town Car. The driver was waiting at the door. With his brief case in hand, Benjamin walked to the car and entered the opened door. His baggage had been placed in the trunk before he even left the jet. The smell of the leather filled his senses. He sat back in the plush leather of the seats and considered that he had given up little luxury in the transfer from the jet.

         The ride from the air hangar to the downtown Worthington Hotel in Fort Worth was a very short trip. Benjamin did not notice the depressed areas on North Main Street as he passed through the Stockyards neighborhood of Fort Worth. It was not that he wasn’t observant, but the darkened windshield prevented him from noticing such detail as he enjoyed the trip. A bottle of champagne was open on a fixed tray in the back seat. A sampling of “finger foods” also adorned the tray. He poured a glass of champagne and sampled a couple of the food morsels. As he finished the last swallow of his drink, he realized the car had come to a stop.

         His door was opened by the assistant manager of the Hotel. “Welcome to the Worthington, Mr. Burton. We hope your stay is pleasurable while you are with us.”

         “I’m sure it will be,” remarked Benjamin confident that they would do everything in their power to see that it would be.

         “We have taken the liberty of preparing an evening meal for you in your suite. However, if you choose to dine out we will be only too happy to assist you.”

         “No, the meal in the room will be fine. I have a little work to do before I retire. I require a hair stylist to be sent to my room at 6:30 AM tomorrow to trim my hair. Will that be a problem?”

         “No sir, as usual, Jerome will be there sharply at 6:30 AM.” By this time they had reached the elevator and the assistant manager remained behind as Benjamin entered the elevator.

         “Please call the desk if you need anything, anything at all,” prompted the hotel official.

         Benjamin smiled at him as the door closed and he finished his ride to his suite with the bellman.

         After the evening meal and a good nights sleep, Benjamin was prepared to attend the meeting in Dallas. The same Lincoln Town Car transported him to the executive suite in downtown Dallas. The conference room of the Development Corp. was opulent and designed to impress and intimidate. Benjamin was neither. It was just another room to him. He looked around the conference table. The dozen faces that looked back at him represented the power and prestige of the development community in Texas. In attendance were bankers, brokers, engineers, investors, land people, and governmental representatives.

         “Gentlemen,” for they were all male who sat around the table, “You’ve had ample opportunity to review the concept plans for the Mira Mesa Planned Development Community. My advance people have briefed each of you privately. I could show you a ‘dog and pony’ show to illustrate my vast knowledge of glitz and polish, but it would be a waste of time. The individual packets on the table before you has summarized our concept plan and provides a ten year performa for the total development. I am here today to secure $30,000,000 in funds to begin and eventually complete this endeavor. This project will provide quality, up-scale housing for 5,000 families. Consider the impact that this type of density will have on your communities and businesses. Five-thousand families represents ten-thousand automobiles purchased from your car dealerships. It represents 250,000 meals eaten in restaurants in your community, and 15,000 pairs of shoes for 30,000 feet, purchased from your department stores. It means unprecedented opportunity to increase your personal wealth. Included in the packet is a simple pledge card that can be mailed to my office. Upon receipt of that card my attorneys will draw up the contract that adds you to the investment pool. I expect that upon serious consideration, you will want to be a part of this venture. I appreciate you being in attendance today. I must excuse myself at this time. My associates will answer any questions that you may have. Thank you for your attention and good-bye.”

         Without further comments and without providing an opportunity to respond to any questions, Benjamin walked from the conference room. His assistants were already placing additional material before the gathering. A PowerPoint presentation, led by one of his senior assistants, was beginning.

         As Benjamin entered the backseat of the Town Car he spoke to the driver, “Take me to Meacham. I have a jet waiting.”

         The sleek silver fuselage of the jet reflected the sun as it turned to make its sprint down the runway. Sleek as a missile it sat there momentarily as the pilot completed his take-off routine. In a moment he would unleash the pent up power of the jets and scream into the blue Texas sky. Benjamin loved the power of the jet. He secretly desired to harness it for his own use in his business deals. He was like a sponge soaking up every bit of water around it, only to Benjamin it was power. He did not particularly care for money, except for the power that it seemed to be able to provide. For that reason, he had purposed to accumulate as much of it as he could. He was amazed at how easy it was.

         The force of the jet streaking down the runway, gobbling up the pavement like a hungry cheetah, pushed him back into the plush seat. And then he felt the sensation of being airborne. He loved the feeling.

         “Sir, we should be in Seattle before lunch. I have been informed that your car will be waiting for you,” the pilot announced over the intercom.

         Benjamin smiled. His was an ordered world that revolved around pleasing him. Time was money. Benjamin saw to it that he wasted very little of it. He sat back in the seat and closed his eyes. He would use this time to catch up on any sleep that he would surely lose tonight.

         The thump was not perceptible. However it was unexpected. It was a difference in Benjamin’s ordered world. He looked out the window of the jet. Everything seemed normal. He felt a vibration that he had never felt before. His head looked to the pilot. He saw movement from the cockpit. The captain was flicking switches and adjusting knobs. Benjamin clicked the seat belt to unlatch it and made his way forward to the cockpit. It was just the two of them—pilot and passenger.

         “David, is there a problem?”

         “I’m not sure, sir. Something is not right. The controls are sluggish and we are losing altitude.” The pilot remarked with the edge of concern hidden in his voice.

         “Where are we?”

         “I figure that we are somewhere west of Butte, Montana, in the Bitteroot Mountains.”

         “What was that shudder I felt?--what the!” Benjamin’s question was cut in mid-sentence by a loud bang and violent shudder, as the jet dropped two hundred feet in elevation. Benjamin lost his footing as his head crashed into the upholstered ceiling of the jet. Just as suddenly he found himself sprawled on the cabin floor.

         “Get to your seat and buckle-up! It looks like we’re coming apart. I’m going to try to find someplace to set her down, but my God! All I can see are rocks and trees.”

         Benjamin scrambled back to his plush seat and buckled in. His heart raced as he felt the shudder increase in violence. He heard the pilot yelling over the noise in the cockpit.

         “Mayday! Mayday! this is Cessna Citation Nancy-Baker-Six-Five-Zero-Charlie. We are experiencing a major problem here. We are going down! This is Cessna Citation Nancy-Baker-Six-Five-Zero-Charlie; we are going down—repeat, we are going down!”

         Benjamin could see the trees and the boulders of the mountains plainly now as they rushed up to greet the wounded silver bird. Unfortunately, jets do not glide. Without the power of the jets thrusting them forward Benjamin knew they would drop like a rock. Speed held a mixture of hope and despair. They needed speed to remain in control. They needed to decrease it if they were to land.

         The captain fought the sleek silver missile as it neared the solid promise of earth and rock. With its nose up the jet settled between a crease in the mountains. It was not level, but it was the best the experienced pilot could do. Upon impact the multi-million dollar silver investment shredded apart like lettuce in a food processor. Timber yielded as it splintered. The pilot, facing the firmament of earth and timber died almost instantly as the windshield disintegrated and yielded to a million wooden shafts that tore through his body.

         Fortunately, the pilot had dumped the jet fuel on the way down. The near empty tanks did not explode. There were no sparks from a concrete tarmac created as the remainder of the jet gouged the mountain surface, forced by the inertia of its flight. There was only wood, dirt and a lot of rocks. The mechanism holding Benjamin’s seatbelt separated; he felt himself being hurled from the seat into the open cabin. Pain flooded his senses as he struck his head on an object. He perceived blood flowing into his face but was not aware enough of the situation to be sure.

Silence—the cacophony of noise that accompanied the death of the silver bird gave way to the sounds of nature. However, at first even Nature held her breath. The only sound was the hiss of hot metal cooling in the high mountain altitude. Time passed. The coolness experienced by twilight in the mountains descended on the disintegrated aircraft and the solitary survivor. Benjamin opened his eyes. Or at least he tried to. Something held his right eye shut. He could feel the eyelid straining to pull free. Then he remembered the blood. The blood had dried and welded his eye shut. Franticly Benjamin moved his eyelid trying to force the eyelid open.

         “Oh my God! I can’t open my eye!”

         He reached with his hand to wipe the substance from his face. But something was terribly wrong. His mind told his hand to work, but it did not.

         “All I want to do is see! God why can’t I see? God, why can’t I move my hands?”

         His pulse raced and adrenalin flooded his body in the ancient instinctive urge to take flight. He tried to roll over, to get up, and to run from this place. But nothing worked. He had his senses, but his body did not work.

         “Am I dead? Am I dead and that’s why I don’t hurt and why I can’t move my body? My God, if I’m dead, why am I still here? God, what’s happening? Oh please God, don’t let this be happening!”

         Tears flooded into Benjamin’s eyes as the horror of the moment overcame him. The tears rolled out his eyes and down his cheeks. He could not control them. He could not wipe them. Remarkably, through the moisture of the tears, the gummy substance which held his eye closed, yielded and he opened both eyes.

         He darted his eyes around in their sockets, straining to see where he was—to get his bearings. The darkness of the twilight gave way to darkness of night. Benjamin could make out very little that was around him. He gathered that he was lying on the destroyed cabin floor of the jet. It was littered with debris. He could not make out the nature of the debris.

         “Am I in pain? I don’t know. Perhaps I’m just in shock. Perhaps in a moment I will begin to regain sensation in my extremities. Sure, in no time I’ll be standing. Then I’ll be able to walk down this mountain to safety—in just a little while.”

         Darkness, other than the night, crept upon Benjamin as he lost consciousness. The wildlife, no longer bothered by the intrusion of the hurling silver jet through their habitat, began to do the things that wildlife did. Birds landed in tree branches and sang their songs. Squirrels scampered. Insects buzzed, chirped, and stung. Foxes, cougars, and wolves hunted their prey silently. In the midst of it all, Benjamin slept his unconscious sleep until the new day broke.

         A leaf detached from a distant limb and was caught by the morning breeze. It flittered and floated on a descending journey to the ground. It landed on Benjamin’s upper lip. Benjamin felt a sensation under his nose, as if someone were drawing a feather across his lip. He opened his eyes to the sensation. He felt a smile that did not happen.

         “Feeling, I feel someone tickling my lip! I know that feeling. But no one is here.”

         Benjamin forced a rush of air from his lungs. It blew out of his mouth and his nose simultaneously. He saw a leaf flutter to the cabin floor. Both joy and despair filled his soul.

         “I can feel sensation on my face! But I can’t even move my mouth! I can’t scream. My God all I can do is see, breathe, and think!”

         Sunlight crested the top of the mountain and instantly flooded the destroyed cabin with light. Benjamin could see a gaping hole in the plush upholstered ceiling of the remnants of the corporate jet. He darted his eyes around the cabin to gain more information. He could see the doorway to the cockpit. All he could make out was an arm dangling into the open doorway. He supposed it was attached to the rest of the body of the pilot. He focused his eyes on the objects closer to him. But as he did a haze began to fill his eyesight.

         “Oh no! I can’t pass out! God let me at least remain conscious. Please Lord, let…..”

         Unconsciousness took him again. Somewhere down the mountainside rescue teams checked maps and secured gear. Groups of men in sets of four began the trek up the mountain side. None of them held any hope that they would find living souls at the crash site. The corporate officials in Benjamin’s office had already convened and established contingency action for when they were officially notified of his death. Power was being shifted—the power that made life meaningful to Benjamin.

         He opened his eyes. It was harder this time to see. He had to concentrate on his vision. Benjamin looked around the cabin for something that would give him hope. He saw little but debris. He felt the breeze on his cheek. It rustled the papers in the cabin where he lay, motionless. Movement caught his eye.

         “What’s that? It’s some paper. But what is it? I’ve got to concentrate. It looks like strips of paper.”

         Benjamin smiled as realization of what he saw focused in his mind. He began to laugh. He could not hear himself laugh but he could sense the building laughter as it rushed the air in and out of his lungs and mouth with each spasm of laughter. He focused on the object of his attention.

         “It's money. It’s my money. It’s my money. There’s loads of it. There…there’s a hundred dollar bill…and there…there’s a thousand. Lord, there’s enough to buy a first class ticket off of this mountain. Does anyone want to make a little money?”

         The silent spasms of laughter overwhelmed Benjamin. His eyes clouded again with unconsciousness. The laughter transformed in to sobs—and then into a whimper—and then into nothing at all--forever. He lay there. Thousand dollar bills littered the cabin floor and blew out the opening in the ruptured cabin. They would be used as nesting for birds. They would deteriorate and become fertilizer for the plants. But they would no longer buy power. No, they were no longer needed.