Blue Angels: ...And Hell Followed With Him

[The Great Dutch Ninja]

Prologue

August in Mountainair was the right time for thunderstorms. Residents paid little attention to the sight of grey clouds pouring over the New Mexico plateaus. The traffic on Route 60, light even in peak hours, would disappear. Those who had lived in the area long enough were well aware of the flash floods that often came with the threatening darkness.
Sylvester Heig went about his normal routine as the first thunderclaps rumbled along the vista. Looking up from his mop, he checked the two gas pumps outside. As he expected, there were no cars, no customers. Finishing his tasks, he stepped outside to take in the refreshing cool breeze that was otherwise impossible in the desert summer.
"Well, that'll be it for business today, s'pose," he said. "Guess I get to close up shop." He couldn't help smiling. For 37 years, he'd run Enchantment Gas, situated right on the border of the Salinas Pueblo Missions National Monument. Countless tourists, with their usual failure to plan, were grateful to see Enchantment on the edge of E. But Sylvester couldn't recall a more stressful time to run a pop n' munch. When gas was $1 a gallon, drivers had little trouble smiling. When you move the number up to $4, threats of gouging come from snarling lips. And customers had little patience for explanations, that station owners had little say over the price. Combine that with a recession that crippled attendance at the park, and Sylvester found himself dreading the oncoming shift. Any excuse to head home in the afternoon rang solid.
Sylvester fumbled for his keys when a bolt of lightning struck the saguaro across the highway. He jumped back from the ear-splitting crash. The plant, his height and twice as wide, caught fire, turning into a flickering tower of red and orange. Behind the cactus, hundreds of feet in the air, a glowing crimson circle rotated amongst the storm clouds.
"What in the hell?" he said under his breath. The circle grew smaller, twisting into itself until disappearing in a flash of blood red. As the light dissipated, a human figure fell from the sky, his form easily noticeable ahead of the plateau. Sylvester watched in horror as he heard a soft thud in the distance before the next clap of thunder.
He ran back into the gas station, past the extinguisher, reaching for the first aid kit, even as he was telling himself that the poor bastard would have little use for it. No one could've survived a free fall like that.
Running past Route 60 without looking, Sylvester raced past the burning cactus and toward the plateau. Crossing the sagebrush, he stopped dead in his tracks.
The man was tall, at least six and a half feet. He wore a white three-piece suit and tie, which probably looked immaculate once, but not rested in tatters on the man's gaunt body. Strips of red bled through the material. His jet-black hair, wild, arched in every direction on his head. A pair of sunglasses, one lens cracked, hung precariously on his nose.
"My God, man. You need to lay down. You broke something. I know you must've," Sylvester yelled, advancing with the first aid kit.
The man in white looked puzzled. "God?"
"Did you fall out of an aircraft? I saw you pass through that red cloud." Sylvester grabbed the man gently, trying to settle him down.
"No," said the man in white. "I didn't pass through it. I came out of it."
"What are you..." Sylvester was stopped when the sunglasses fell off. He gasped open seeing the man's eyes, or seeing the holes where the man's eyes should have been. Instead, there were black voids, with white specks, little cups of stars. But these specks didn't have the allure of stars. These were different places inside the man's sight, places more sinister, places more bold.
"I'm fine," the man said. With sudden and lethal force, white light blasted from the holes. Sylvester didn't have time to duck. The light seared through his chest cavity, leaving a foot-wide hole. The last thing he saw was the man staring through the hole, a thin, pale grin etched across his lips.

****

Captain Linarkos always got a chuckle out of the name of the cruise ship he helmed. The Festival Lines' pride and joy, the Aegean had never been within a thousand miles of Greece. The owner of Festival just thought the name sounded cool.
This particular run took the luxury liner on course from Port Canaveral to the Bahamas and back. A thrifty, seven day jaunt for the budget-oriented tourist.
It would be the usual melange of bourgeois taking in one too many daiquiris, complaints about how the slot machines are rigged, the occasional sea-sickness. Nothing to write home about.
The tranquility was shattered quickly.
With the first officer in charge on the bridge, Linarkos made his way down the halls of the ship, greeting passengers, putting on his best airs of calm and professionalism. Since the cruise had run headlong into a slight thunderstorm, the majority of the passengers had stayed in for the evening. Linarkos deflected the concerns of the few passengers who thought the weather would cancel the remainder of the trip. He always found that a strong smile worked better than a thousand words of the company line. Nothing would be wrong while he was in charge.
From outside, he could faintly make out a man's scream.
Running outside, he saw a pasty-faced man in a red Hawaiian shirt yell, "There's a woman overboard!"
"Dammit," Linarkos muttered under his breath. "Okay. Keep pointing at her. Try not to lose sight of her." He picked up his Nextel from his pocket. "Make a Williamson turn to the starboard side. I'm going to give you the angle at which to turn from here. We've got a possible person overboard. Turn off the engines on my mark after completing the turn in case we lose visual. Looks like those muster drills will actually come in handy for once."
The tourist kept a steady point. "She's still over there. I saw a red circle coming out of those storm clouds. It almost looked like she fell out of the center."
Linarkos looked up at the sky. Looked like any run-of-the-mill storm. "What circle?"
"Just the thing, sir. It disappeared. And then I saw the splash. If it weren't for the last bit of light in the sky, I would've thought it was fish or something."
"Okay," said Linarkos. "Just keep an eye on her."
As the ship neared the victim, the crew through over a PFD attached to a rope. To Linarkos' surprise, the woman reached for the preserver, wrapping her arm around the edge. Shortly thereafter, she swam underneath and wrapped it around her waist.
"Hoist her up," yelled the second officer. In minutes, the Aegean had another passenger.


****

The man in the white suit held his thumb out as he walked eastbound on Route 60. He walked for nearly an hour, leaving almost four miles between himself and Sylvester Heig's body, before a red Chevy Suburban stopped for him.
"Hospital," the man in white said.
"Jesus, what happened to you?" asked the driver, face half-hidden by a yellow trucker hat and scruffy beard.
"Accident. Must get to hospital."
"Well, Albuquerque's a good forty miles away. You think you can make it?"
"I'm sure. Thank you," said the man as he entered the passenger side.
The driver hit the accelerator hard, and the Suburban's wheels squealed as it zoomed off.
"Try to stay awake," said the driver. "We can start with introductions. I'm Ernie. And you are?"
The man in white flashed his pale grin again. "Meyrick. Meyrick Marwolaeth."

****

The young woman, short brunette hair still plastered to her face by the salt water, slept on the cot in the nurse's station of the Aegean. Captain Linarkos sat at her side, shaking his head. All passengers and crew were accounted for. Coastal said there had been no reports of overboard victims in the last 48 hours. Who was she?
He looked at the tag that had been found attached to her shirt pocket. It was blue, but no company name listed. There was a bar code on the top side, but it looked more complex than the normal UPC label. He did get a name from the tag.
"So, tell me, Kelly Penrose. Where did you come from?"
She groaned in her sleep. Linarkos wasn't surprised; being lost at sea is hardly the most relaxing ordeal in the world. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "It's going to be alright."
As he lifted his hand up, he looked at the residue left behind, then looked down.
He gasped.
The skin of her shoulder was scattered, like sand. The particles in his hand slid off, drifting toward their place on her shoulder. Blinking, Linarkos reached down and scooped up a tiny handful of her shoulder. Again, the structure of her body gave way, and he was left with a handful of particles. Once in his hand, the particles drifted away, airborne for a moment, before settling back in their normal place.
As he watched the shoulder reassemble, his eyes met Kelly's.
"I'd thank you if you don't do that again," said Kelly.
Linarkos backed up against the wall. "What are you?"
She rose out of the cot. "I need you to call someone. Ask for Karla Lee. She needs to be warned."
Linarkos found that he couldn't move.
Kelly's stare didn't waver. "Do it. Now."

[SGWriter]

Simpsons Comic Book Guy: "BEST STORY INTRO EVER!!!!!!!"

A new BA tale awsome GDN!

[superpics4les]

What can I say, GDN? OMG!! When I read the man in white's description I said, NO FREAKIN' WAY!!!! :shock: =D> =D> =D> =D> Bravo! This is gonna be good!!

[phoxy_brown]

Words cannot describe how incredible this intro was! Readers of your past work welcome you back with open arms...Anybody out there not familiar with GDN's work, do yourself a favor and read this legend's past volumes. This story has the makings of a definitive masterpiece.

Glad to have you back!!!