"Shit." Ah cursed to mah-self as Ah took another corner at 90 mile an hour. "Shit, shitshitshitshitshit, shiiiiitttt!" Ah yelled, punching the dashboard of tha truck with each word. Finally Ah hit one too many times an' broke tha radio, tha glass display shattered an' cut my knuckles. Tha twangy lyrics of tha country station fizzled out, drawing a long sigh. "Man, that was mah faverit song too…"

Ah looked in tha mirror, still no cops…yet. Things had gone south faster than ah $10 hooker but at least tha boys in blue hadn't caught up to yers truly…again…yet. Ah took another corner and put tha truck up on two wheels as Ah rocketed past tha church an' courthouse. What Ah failed tah see was tha Sheriff's Deputy parked behind tha courthouse.

"Oh man, that was not what Ah ordered." Ah growled, glancing up at tha flashin' lights in my mirror.

"Pull over to the berm now!" Tha Deputy ordered over his microphone.

"Buddy, ya ain't got any idea who yer tanglin' with." Ah thought, tearing down tha hill t'wards tha twin bridges between tha cities. Ah crossed tha first bridge and hit tha island between tha two with ah jarring bang…Ah knew Ah should've gotten mah suspension fixed. From mah right, down in tha dockyards, a State Trooper pulled out from behind a warehouse. I could see his single red roof light flashing in tha dark.

At tha next bridge, tha crossguards were down and tha bridge was opening to let ah midnight cruisin' sailboat pass.

"Well, truck's already full-ah holes and Ah've already got tha charges on me, what's one more to tha list?" Ah smashed through tha crossguards an' cleared tha bridge but landed hard on mah front left tire. Tha truck bottomed out on that tire, popping it an' destroying tha suspension. Tha Sheriff's Deputy screeched to ah stop at tha bottom of tha raised bridge, but tha State Trooper cleared tha gap in perfect form. Them State Troopers…they're ah dedicated bunch ain't they?

Tha dark blue Charger was now alongside me. My speed was down with tha blown tire, but Ah was still doin' 70 as we sped down tha main drag. It was ah good thing it was four in tha mornin' an' tha roads were empty. More cars out here on tha road would only make life difficult…well, more difficult than needed anyhow.

Ah glanced over at tha Charger, he was slowly droppin' back, probably getting' ready to P.I.T. me. Well officer, two can play that game. To our right was ah long line of parked cars and tha Charger was conveniently on my right. Ah tapped tha brake jest enough tah git alongside him. Now, time tah git him loose an' put him intah tha wall. Ah swung tha truck right hard, knocking tha Charger up onto tha sidewalk. He corrected ah second too slow an' smashed head-on intah tha line of cars.

Ah didn't have tha luxury to stop an' admire my handiwork an' see if he was still pursuing me. Ah swerved off tha main road, loopin' through tha residential streets. Ah went about three or four blocks until Ah found an empty lot next to ah boarded up building. Ah pulled 'round back with tha truck blocked from tha road by tha dumpster wall. Once Ah killed tha engine, Ah groaned an' laid mah head on tha wheel.

"Well…sure didn't peg this when ya got up this mornin' did ya?" Ah hopped out of tha truck an' bent to look at tha front tire. Ah glared at it like it was a dog that'd jest pissed on tha livin' room carpet.

"W'all that's jest great….wonderful…of all the things tah happen of ALL FUCKIN' TIMES!" Ah yelled, spinnin' an' kickin' an empty paint can 'cross tha lot. "Arrrrrggghhhhh! God fuckin' damn it all! Damn it all tah hell!" Ah was pacin' in circles, tryin' desp'rately tah simmer down. Mah head was throbbin', mah heart had moved from mah chest an' was hammerin' away in mah throat, Ah couldn't hold mah hands still tah save mah life…Ah was quickly comin' apart.

"Okay…okay…breathe man…breathe…" Ah kept saying. Mah heart began tah slow; blood pressure was goin' back tah normal. "Goin' full Redneck right now ain't gonna solve anythin'. Think. What do ya know…and what do ya need tah know?" Ah stood with mah hands on mah hips an' stared down at mah steel-toed boots. Ah admired tha black-ish red blood stains, how they were pattered across tha toes and even spilled over to the cuff-a my jeans.

Okay…whadaya know? Well, yer wanted. Alive at least, so ya got that goin' fer ya, which is great. There's multiple charges ah course, not includin' today's little escapade. Ah recall it added to…30…40…50 years? Now, tack on tah-day. Evading police, resistin' arrest, assualtin' an officer…multiple counts, assault with ah weapon…multiple counts. Hell, they'd probably slap me with damage tah property too, that's another year. Every-thang keeps addin' up, cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching…'cept instead ah dollar signs, all Ah see is another year in a room with ah fat skinhead everybody calls "Tiny".

Well jail is obviously out. Ah won' go willin'lly, so there's that. Can' go home. Can' stay in tah state, rate Ah'm goin' they'll have tha Guard on me 'fore long. Boat's too slow. Trains are quicker but easier tah track. Ah car is risky…Ah looked over at mah truck. Tha blown tire, tha cracked windshield, tha holes in tha door, holes in tha radiator, holes in tha tailgate, tha puddle of somethin' important poolin' under tha engine…an' this truck is purdy much dead. All that's really left is airplanes. Now, where in Sam Hill am Ah 'sposed to get one of those?

Ah looked around at some of tha garbage, maybe there'd be inspiration, ya never know. Ah pamphlet with ah P51 Mustang on tha cover caught mah eye, Ah always did have a thing fer planes. Ah picked it up an' leaned against tha truck to read.

THIS WEEKEND ONLY! The "Lest We Forget" Extravaganza! WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam Displays. Vehicles, Aircraft and Artifacts from America's Fighting past! Come on down to the BH Airport this Friday, Saturday and Sunday for a family-friendly weekend of fun and remembrance. The first 100 to enter the gate will be eligible to win a free ride in a genuine B-24 Liberator Bomber that helped bring down the Nazis!

Huh…ah genuine B-24 Liberator. Well by gosh, that'd sure be ah real sight tah see…Ah wonder…

. . .

The crew of the B-24J "Sally May" had woken up early to perform all their last minute checks, maintenance and top off the fuel tanks. It was going to be a long day of flying all over the area, buzzing the beach and dazzling the town below. They had stopped at the airport's diner for a well-earned breakfast and were halfway through their coffee and pancakes. The main hangar had a phone that was wired to a phone in the diner, in case of something happening on the field…and it started to ring. The waitress answered it and had to hold the phone at arms-length from her ear because whoever was on the other end was in full hysterics.

"Jerry." The waitress waved the Liberator's pilot over. "I think it's for you."

"Hello, this is Jerry. What? Wha…hang, hang on…buddy, slow, slow down…WHOA WHOA WHOA! Stop! Take a breath son and start over. What's goin' on?"

"Oh God I'm so sorry! I tried to stop him, he's crazy! He crashed through the gate with his truck…"

"What are you babblin' on about, you didn't spray yourself with ether again did you?"

"Jerry! Someone is stealin' the plane!" Jerry stood for a moment, not believing what the mechanic on the other end was saying.

"Listen to me Jack…this had better be a joke, because I'm not laughing."

"No man! Get your asses over here and help me!"

The crew piled into their truck and threw gravel as they headed for the hangar. They could see the B-24 on the tarmac, Engines 1 and 3 started and Engine 2 beginning to turn over. The crew drove through the smashed chain link gate, their tires crunching over the glass of shattered headlights. They pulled up even with the plane, next to the hanger. Jack the mechanic ran out from the hangar, bleeding from the nose.

"Did he punch you in the nose?"

"No, I tripped getting' out of the way. Of course he punched me in the nose! I tried to call the cops on my phone, but this POS got no signal."

"Well, there's five of us and one of him, let's get our plane back!" The crew started toward the plane. The window on the pilot's side popped open and a large revolver appeared in the gap.

"That'd be close 'nough genellmen! I'm awful sorry 'bout this but Ah got no other options. Ah want tah thank yah kindly fer fillin' up tha tanks. Oh, an' which one ah-y'all is Jerry?" Jerry begrudgingly and slowly raised his hand.

"Thanks fer leavin' tha start-up checklist on tha front seat! Really helped ah lot!" The other crew members glared at Jerry for aiding (albeit unknowingly) in GTB…Grand Theft Bomber.

. . .

"Ah'll promise ya this much genellemen." Ah yelled as Ah started Engine 4. "Ah'll take good care of her, treat her right and if Ah can, bring 'er back one day." Tha engines were all turnin', oil pressure was good, RPM for all engines was good, fuel pressure was good, flaps were set fer take-off…time tah take this rodeo vertical. Ah tapped tha rudder pedals tah take off tha brakes an' began to taxi tah tha runway. Tha crew stood aghast as they watched tha dull green plane lumber down tha runway an' slowly lift off. They kept watchin', transfixed as their plane disappeared over tha horizon…

. . .

A world away in Roanapur, the day was just like any other. The regular sounds of a city were occasionally broken by the wailing of police sirens and bursts of random gunfire. Actually, those are the normal sounds of Roanapur, never mind.

"Yaaaaaaaawwwwnnnnn…." Revy stretched on the couch, arching her back and sticking out her long legs. "I'm borrreedd…Rock, what're you doing?" The red-headed Chinese-American girl asked, throwing a balled-up napkin at Rock. He was sitting as his desk, staring out the window overlooking the harbor.

"I'm just calculating the Lagoon's fuel efficiency." Replied the Japanese businessman; playing with his tie as he reviewed the spreadsheet before him. "We seem to be burning a lot more gas than usual…maybe engine problems?"

"Yeah, number one has been givin' me trouble." Dutch said between bites of pizza. The mountainous and dark captain was wearing his usual sunglasses, flak jacket and high-cut boots, propped up on his desk.

"I'll have to put in an order for more parts, maybe get an upgrade. What about you Benny, need any new parts for your computers?" Dutch asked as the blonde, ponytailed and bespectacled electronic aficionado emerged from his room.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to get a new cooling system for my set-up on the boat. It keeps getting too warm for my liking, maybe one of those new fans…"

"Benny, you put any more fans on that damn computer of yours," Revy interrupted, rolling her eyes at Benny's techno-babble. "It's gonna take off like a helicopter and fly away."

"Well, if I had the set-up I'd really like" Benny said, popping open a beer, "It'd be liquid cooled, fully immersed with a circulation system, use mineral oil…or maybe…"

"Boooorrrreeeddddddd!" Revy groaned; cutting Benny off before his geek got into full swing. "There's gotta be something to do around here. Hey Rock, wanna go to…"

"Shhh!" Rock said, putting up his hand to tell her to be quiet.

"What is it?"

"Listen."

The crew sat in silence, holding their breath and straining their ears. Slowly, the low drone of engines grew louder.

"Yeah, it's a plane, so what?" Revy said; annoyed at Rock's interruption. "Not like that's new around here."

"No, Rock's onto something. Listen to the engines." Benny opened the office door. "It sounds a lot different than the usual drug runner planes." The Lagoon Crew filed out onto the landing, leaning against the railing to try and spot the plane. It was headed their way, but was coming from the other side of the building…should be able to see it soon…

"Man; that sure is loud." Dutch said, standing on his tip-toes to try and catch an early glimpse. "What is it…?"

WWWWHHHHOOOAAAAMMMMMMMM! A massive, four-engine, twin-rudder plane roared over the office just above rooftop level; the prop wash kicking up a stiff wind. The plane buzzed over the harbor and headed off over the city. As Lagoon stared at the plane, the office phone started ringing. Dutch walked back inside and picked up the phone.

"Lagoon Company."

"Ah, Dutch." Miss Balalaika purred. The head of Hotel Moscow was always sweet with him. "Have you seen Roanapur's newest visitor?"

"Yeah I have. He just flew right over my office and nearly hit the radio antennae."

"Quite the daredevil isn't he? He's been calling over the radio for the past few minutes, trying to reach a control tower, the poor thing."

"Huh. That's strange. There aren't any major airfields around here, except for the old army base." Dutch said, rubbing his head as he puzzled over the news. "Did he say who he was, where he was from?"
"No, and that's why I called. I was hoping Lagoon could meet him at the field when he lands…if you're not busy."

"Nah, we can head over. Anything particular?"

"Just the usual. Who he is, who he works for, what he's doing here."

"And if he's difficult?"

"Let Two-Hands handle it however she deems fitting." Miss Balalaika pulled a cigar from its case. "Just be sure not to put too many holes in the plane." SNAP! She cut the tip of the cigar. "It would be a good asset to have if things get out of hand."

"Uh-huh. We'll let you know how it goes." Dutch hung up the phone.

The airfield was a left-over from the Second World War. It had been first built as a Japanese base but was captured by the Americans near the war's end. It was later abandoned after the Korean War because it was too short for B-52 bombers and there wasn't enough space to lengthen the runway. Most of the buildings were still locked and untouched. It was rumored that the place was haunted. The concrete runway had long crumbled away and all that remained was a dirt strip. It was occasionally used by drug runner planes or visiting organization heads. Other than those occasional visitors, the jungle was slowly reclaiming the land.

The Lagoon Crew was waiting by the largest hangar in their GTO. Benny was drumming his fingers on the wheel, Dutch pretended to be asleep, Revy was twirling a Cutlass and Rock's brain, as always, was turning.

"Who do you think it could be?" Rock asked, watching the plane line up for final approach.

"Don't know…" Revy said, tucking the Cutlass back into its holster and stepping out of the car. "Don't care." She finished with her usual indifference.

"Let's just play it cool for now." Dutch said, shutting the door. "It could very well be nothing."

The crew looked on as the landing gear dropped and the pilot lined up the plane. Engines 1 and 3 were feathered back; the plane seemed to float through the air. The wheels touched once, twice and finally landed on the third contact. The dull green paint was chipped in quite a few places; the engines were running ragged and chugged heavily as the pilot taxied off the runway to Lagoon Crew. The plane came to a stop fifty yards from the car and the engines wound down.

"Ah'll be with y'all in jest ah second!" The pilot yelled out the copilot window. Revy turned to look at Rock with a raised eyebrow and a confused expression on her face.

"Did he just say 'Y'all'?" She asked Rock. "I swear he did or am I hearing things?"

"No, that's what he said." Rock was looking at the rough shape of the plane. It looked like someone had flown it through two thunderstorms; golf-ball sized hail and landed it at dirt runways the whole journey through.

"Do you think he could be an American?"

"Could be." Revy said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo. "It's been a while since I've heard a country accent. Well, not counting that cowboy Eda wasted. But there's only one place on Earth where Hick is spoken…and that's the States." The hatch on the fuselage dropped open and a pair of long legs dropped out with stained steel-toed boots at the feet.

The pilot emerged from the plane, standing tall before Lagoon. He was tall, all six-foot-four of him. He wore stained steel-toe boots and denim blue jeans with a thick leather belt to hold them up. Hanging off that belt was a black and silver handled hunting knife, an eight inch blade in a leather sheath. He was wearing a ripped Corona t-shirt; one sleeve was half-on at the shoulder and a pair of aviator sunglasses hung from his collar. He was fairly well-built but nowhere as muscle bound as Dutch. His face was full, covered in a dark, week-old beard. Darker and wildly curly hair stuck out from underneath a black baseball hat with a golden "W" on it. Rock noticed the pilot had bright brown-green eyes that shone with excitement and an honest, goofy grin plastered to his face. What Revy noticed was the grip of a large revolver sticking out of his right pants pocket.

. . .

Ah stood before them, feelin' like it was tha first day of school all over again. W'all, let's look at who Ah'm dealin' with. Ah big, bad-lookin' black dude in ah flak jacket. He looks like he's tha boss…has tha look of ah Marine. Blonde, ponytail, glasses…Hawaiian shirt…definitely ah Yuppie, techno-babbly geek. Next is ah…Chinese, no, wait American? My, that's ah large tattoo. Beretta 92FS, oh, two of 'em! Nice. Red-headed, good lookin' too. Nicer still. Ah-ha, Ah always did love me some Daisy Dukes. Then again, she looks like she'd kill ya soon as look at ya. Last, Jap'nese obviously. Dark hair that looked like it had been combed at some point…was he really wearin' slacks and ah tie in this humidity? Dude must insane. W'all, first impressions are always important. Best tah start with ah good one.

"Well howdy!" Ah said, walking toward tha group. "Y'all must be tha Welcomin' Committee?" Tha Russian lady Ah talked to on tha ray-dee-oh said there'd be four of yeh at tha airport…" Tha Red-head drew ah Beretta faster than ah snake could strike an' announced Ah was "Close enough Farmer John."

In ah reaction Ah was becomin' all-too familiar with; mah hands were up, jest level with mah shoulders.

"Okay, well, nice tah meet you too Miss…?"

"We'll ask questions for now kiddo." The black guy said. Okay, tha 'kiddo' part stung ah little, Ah was 21 after all, but Ah'll let it slide. Tha Black Dude seemed tah be ah little cooler headed than Shorty-Shorts over there. Tha man shifted his weight an' Ah could see tha gun on his hip. Oh, ah Smith and Wesson 29 in 0.44 Magnum, most powerful round in tha whole world an' could blow mah head clean off. Maybe he was ah Dirty Harry fan?

"Your gun." Redhead again. "Let's see it…reallll slow."

"All right. Ah don' know y'all…y'all don' know me, seems fair." Ah took mah right hand an' turned it so tha palm faced outward an' mah thumb faced me. Ah slowly grabbed mah gun, drawing it from mah pocket.

"Good. Now," Redhead gestured with her Beretta. "Drop it."

"Uh, rather not drop it. This was Grandpap's gun, don't wanna scratch it up. How's Ah put it down, turn 'round an' one y'all pick it up?" One part of me was not happy in the least 'bout bein' ordered 'round like this. It was eggin' me on tah jest spin tha gun 'round an' end the bullshitin', but mah common sense reasoned tha odds jest weren't in mah favor.

"Fine, Rock, get his gun." Ah put it down an' slowly turned. Tha Japanese fellah, Rock? Really? Walked over, picked it up an' handed it to tha black guy.

"Here Dutch. You know I don't like guns." Rock said. Rock? Dutch? Is this tha Monty Python Ministry of Goofy Names? Dutch was definitely tha boss though, no doubts 'bout that. He checked tha cylinder, looking over tha gun with ah practiced eye like he was appraisin' it.

"Smith and Wesson…0.357 Magnum, Model 28, six-inch barrel…Highway Patrolman." He paused for ah moment. "Well, at least you've got good taste."

"W'all thank yah sir. So…y'all got questions fer me?"

"Yeah." Dutch laid mah gun on tha hood of tha car. "Who are you, where are you from, what're you doing here…and what," Dutch pointed over mah shoulder at tha plane, "In the blazes hell is that?"

"W'all, that" Ah said, gesturin' behind me, "Is a B-24J Liberator, Consolidated Model. Ah won' lie to yah, Ah did borrow it…without askin'. Ah promised 'em Ah'd bring 'er back one day…y'all ain't tha Feds is yah?"

That got ah laugh outta tha Redhead. She even lowered her gun tah lean against tha car, her shoulders shakin' as she laughed.

"Pfffftt…Rock, did ya hear that? 'Y'all ain't thu Feds iz yuh?'" Alright, woman, my accent ain't that bad…

"Dutch, this bumpkin is fuckin' hilarious! We ought to take him to see Fry-Face. One sentence from him would make even her laugh!" Dutch seemed to turn it over for ah moment an' picked up mah gun.

"Okay, here's how this is gonna work. Answer my questions first. Then, you're gonna take a ride with us and meet the woman you talked with on the radio." He stopped, arms reach away, waitin'.

"Alright. Ah'm from Michigan, in tha States. Ah'm runnin' from tha Feds because of some illegal guns, turned semi's into fulls, bought ah bunch of stuff without tha paperwork an' licenses from some question'ble individuals. Friends call me Country." Even at this close, Ah still couldn't see through Dutch's sunglasses.

"Okay. Progress. That's good." Dutch spun mah gun on his hand, holding it out tah me by tha barrel. "Now, if you promise to behave, you can have this back." Ah slowly brought mah hand down an' took tha grip of tha gun, makin' sure tah keep mah shootin' finger waaaaaaaay away from tha trigger. Dutch didn' let go right away, but instead seemed tah stare right through me, like he was readin' mah mind.

"And if you can't handle that, Revy here will blow your brains out and we'll find you a nice ditch to chill out in. Understand?"

"Perfectly." His grip relaxed on tha barrel and Ah returned mah gun to mah pocket.

"Alright Benny-Boy, start the car." Rock pushed tha shotgun seat forward so Ah could sit in tha middle of tha back seat. Fer mah height, Ah would've preferred shotgun…but Ah 'pose Ah can sit with mah knees by mah ears fer a bit. Benny started tha car an' we rolled down tha runway t'wards town.

"Oh, will tha plane be alright?" Ah asked, lookin' 'round at tha four other passengers in tha car. Benny looked at me in tha mirror an' jest laughed.

"Don't worry about it. No one knows it's here and won't be near the airfield anytime soon anyway."
"Why's that?"

"They think it's haunted." Rock said, pullin' out ah pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. "Want one?"

"Ah may blow smoke from time to time," Ah said, tryin' on ah joke fer size, "But Ah don't smoke, know what Ah'm sayin'?" Tally: Zilch from Dutch, ah smile from Benny, an annoyed scowl from Revy an' ah laugh from Rock. Two-ish out of four…rough crowd.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Revy asked; starin' out her window like she was bored outta her skull.

"Well, kinda yeah."

"Do you do those often?"
"From time tah time…"

"Well don't." She blew ah cloud of smoke out tha windah. "It makes Rock's lame ones hilarious by comparison."

"Alllll righty then." Ah looked over at Rock. "She always like this?" Ah felt ah cold barrel pressed against mah temple.

"Now what's that supposed to mean?" Revy growled in mah ear.

"Revy, go easy on him." Rock said.

"Yeah, he's new." Benny said as he changed lanes an' got back on tha paved road. We must be goin' tah town. "Ignorant to the Rules of Roanapur."

"Yeah, Ah'm ah bumpkin remember?" Tha hammer clicked off an' tha gun went back intah its holster. So far, Rock an' Benny Ah like. Dutch makes me nervous but Revy…scares me. Like more'n veg-ah-tarians.

"So tha name ah this place is Roanapur? Never heard of it."

"Never heard of it huh? You've really gone off the deep end haven't you?" Rock asked.

"Reckon so. Wait, wha's that?" We were approaching an old an' rusted bridge. From tha crossbar over tha road hung not ah welcome sign, not ah city name, but ah collection of nooses. Well, ain't that neighborly?

"Were those nooses?" Ah asked, looking out tha back windah tah make sure Ah wasn't seein' anythin'.

"Yep." Rock said, crackin' ah knowing smile. "Welcome to Roanapur: Sin City of the South China Sea."

. . .