Scenic Route To Paradise: Desperado Dale Part 1

Desperado Dale.

Scenic Route to Paradise.

by Andrea Aarons.

"My dear cousin Hugh..." The Prince of D'Almata began with a sigh. "A shrewd man foresees the difficulties ahead and prepares for them; the simpleton goes blindly on and suffers the consequences.

Preface.

Dale stood six foot two, eyes of blue, five o'clock shadow - three days new. His hair, normally cut short to the extreme had grown out during this trip abroad. The tight but large curls lay about his 30 year old head like a two-tone blonde s.h.a.g carpet with a perm.

The trip had been a well earned vacation after several weeks of 16 to 18 hour days freelancing predominantly computer geek work for wealthy clients who were seeking internet security and ident.i.ty protection; Dale's specialty. He had understood from the conception of the trip that his holiday - three weeks in Europe with his wife and daughter wouldn't be all rest and relaxation. His mother had a.s.signed Dale the task of escorting her elderly parents to D'Almata in the Adriatic Sea for her wedding.

Toni Merriweather had been widowed almost three years and she was remarrying. Her parents, Dale's grandparents couldn't travel alone... not together, not separately and not at the mature age of almost 90 years. So in response to his mother's request, Dale agreed.

The trip was swell up until the third day. They had spent two days in Britain visiting Dale's college chum but the third day... On the third day they arrived in France. Minutes after they checked into their htel with their televisions on, they realized all h.e.l.l had broke loose behind them in the states. Earthquakes, terrorism and heartache came streaming descriptively across the flat screen for days on end.

Also, on day three but not as appallingly severe as the news of America under fire from man and G.o.d or so it seemed to Dale, was his grandfather's incessant and vocal complaints about France.

It became months of Grandpa's criticism of everything French and as fate would have it - only Grandpa spoke French fluently within their small traveling group. The broader difficulties of moving through a foreign country during a time of international upheaval were trouble enough. Cell phones and much satellite technology had been all but obsolete for the first few weeks. American credit cards were useless and the emotional torment of their family and friends' well being back home was exacerbated by Grandpa Bernie's vocally cantankerous behavior.

Of course, now they were in Greece!

Dale spoke a smidgen of Greek although after being married to a second generation American-Greek for almost a decade, he understood much more than he spoke. Still, his wife, Anna spoke Greek fluently. Grandpa didn't! Hallelujah!

At another time, he would have been considered a Franco-phile, loving everything French but now Dale was relieved to leave France behind them.

Being the last pa.s.senger to disembark the puddle jumper of a plane that had brought them to this Greek island, Dale headed for the parking lot. A quarter hour earlier, Anna going before him with their daughter, Gwyneth and with Dale's grandparents was picking up the rental car.

The Kirkira Airport was an international one. It was very old and small with modernization in patches like a ranch house modified to include the next generation. Dale looked around and was reminded of the tiny national airports of Africa from his childhood. He was the eldest child of missionaries and Dale had spent half of his life in southern African countries. He had learned a lot in Africa; how to love life, and how to serve G.o.d but also, how to survive many tricky situations while loving and serving.

Thinking of Africa, Dale smiled to himself as he pulled his cell phone from his front pocket. He needed to call Anna and let her know he found Grandma's carry-on bag. He would explain that it hadn't been stolen after all. He planned to tell his wife, that he would be joining them in a matter of minutes as he had just been waved through the customs control security checkpoint. As he slung Grandma Bean's pale pink bag over his left shoulder Dale heard... overheard a security clerk say to another, something about 'the American with the pink bag.' Dale's Greek was not fluent and apparently, the security team thought that he was like the majority of touring Americans - knowing and also understanding absolutely no Greek.

Glancing over his free shoulder, Dale examined the men he had overheard. The two were no longer focused on him. Instead, they were signaling across the short terminal. Dale swiveled his head but the smile, turned sneer continued on his lips as he picked up his pace. Two more guards, thick-muscled, mean men unlike the wimpy looking customs clerks were not a hundred yards from him, sprinting like Rottweilers his way.

Dale rushed forward in long strides pushing through a throng of travelers preparing to depart. The group hadn't gone through security yet. They were the perfect confused diversion he needed. On the other side of the crowd, still running but bent over, stooped in hopes that the security men would lose sight of him, Dale dodged into the second of three semi-lit hallways. Pa.s.sing a couple of doors, he pushed the third door on the right and it opened. What luck he thought but then he realized it was the women's bathroom. The plaque on the door was one indicator and the black stockings stemming up from chunky heeled shoes seen under the first stall was another blatant give-away.

Too late.

Rather than retreat into the hallway, he forced shut the heavy door behind him. Dale continued with a forced calm to the last stall. After locking it, he scanned his temporary refuge before climbing atop the commode.

Not two minutes later, Anna's phone rang.

"Anna!" whispered Dale. "Listen! Get the car and drive to your cousins. Get out of the airport as fast as you can." Anna stammered and tried to talk but Dale spoke over her. "Something's wrong. Don't wait for me. Get away from the airport. I'll call you later. Understand?" When she said "Yes," he hung up and turned his phone off.

The black stocking lady had exited the bathroom and afterward, three men burst in with weapons drawn. Even in the best of times, getting arrested in a foreign country was dicey. But now with America paralyzed from natural and enemy orchestrated disasters... Dale was not about to be arrested on this island, Greek or no. Besides, he decided, There was obviously a misunderstanding.

What did security want with me? They had said something about his pink bag... It was actually, his grandmother's carry-on. Was it him they wanted or the bag or something else? Now, they were just a few feet from discovering him. Dale had realized when entering the bathroom stall that the locked door would buy him only seconds - a minute at the most. Quickly, he had repositioned himself.

Yet now, secured in his hideaway, he realized he hadn't prayed. Was it too late? Dale mouthed a silent prayer. An idea came to him. Dale had a plan and if G.o.d had given him the plan as he surmised, he wouldn't get arrested - not this time. Later? Dale decided he would cross that bridge when it appeared on his radar...

Chapter 1 The Cookbook.

Anna hurriedly left the airport. She wouldn't dawdle and so, the compact downtown area was seen only in her rearview mirror as she drove north toward her cousins' family home. Gwyneth Merriweather was sleeping in her travel seat next to Dale's grandfather...Mr Adams. The travelers had been up most of the night. Everyone was tired. The old man seemed to be asleep too but Anna wasn't certain.

Jellybean or as Gwennie p.r.o.nounced her great grandmother's nickname as simply "Bean," sat in the pa.s.senger seat with a well-worn booklet in her lap. With admiration, Bean was eyeing the unfolding greenery of the Greek isle.

It was a beautiful island, Anna conceded but Anna's appreciation of the scenery was tamped due to the tension brought on by yet another crisis. In her mind, she reworked the newest problem. Her husband, Dale was in some sort of trouble at the airport and he had called her saying he would contact her later. As for Anna, he told her to leave immediately. So, she left him behind.

Beginning their trip from the United States back in March one thing after another had arisen; first the catastrophes that enveloped America and then the international ripples that came in the wake of the American upset. Finally, the inevitable personality stresses that surfaced within their traveling group surfaced ever so often. Only, Gwyneth remained unscathed from the emotional and physical turmoil that sloshed about the little band pressing for D'Almata, threatening to sink them at every turn.

Anna let out a sigh, pushing back a wild wave of tawny hair. She should be anxious and upset about Dale but in spite of the dozens of seemingly unsolvable problems that had loomed before them these past months, they had managed to overcome and proceed toward their destination. In hindsight, the worry and energy exerted to puzzle through the recent difficulties had been a waste, Anna found. Again and then again, she saw that prayer was answered and G.o.d remained in control. Still, Anna's sigh caused Bean to turn from the green and blue collage that was peppered with the brown and beiges of ancient ruins to look with concern toward her grandson's wife - Anna.

Bean placed her reading gla.s.ses in front of her eyes with one hand while tapping the booklet on her lap with her other. In her usual raspy tone she said, "I got another great idea from this senior's Great Tips and Diverting Trivia book." The elderly woman was hoping to distract Anna from the mysterious circ.u.mstance that caused them to rush from the island airport, without Dale. "A cookbook... I am going to put together a cookbook for the girls. You know, Anna, I'm getting older and so I want to leave a legacy to my girls and the grandchildren, too."

Anna glanced at Bean. She was serious. The older woman always dressed impeccably but also in comfort. Today she wore a navy blue velour jogger's set that complemented her deep blue eyes. She had this same outfit with a zip up jacket in three other colors. Her long white hair was pinned up as usual in a fluffy Gibson-girl style. Anna asked politely, "So, what kind of recipes are you thinking to include?"

"Well..." Bean paused as she hadn't formulated her distraction beyond the immediate. "Perhaps, a traveler's recipe book. I've traveled extensively you know and now here we are in Greece! Of course, we enjoyed some delicious food while in France..." Anna winced at her words and as antic.i.p.ated, grandpa in the backseat piped in.

"French food! Now that's a good one! If it takes the Frogs as long to accomplish competency in running their country as it did to hone their excellent culinary achievements... little Gwyneth here will have died of old age." Bernie Adams gave a bushy-browed wink toward the awakening child. He was a handsome man with his full head of iron-grey hair and his bright grey eyes.

Jellybean looked to Anna and then she said complacently, "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Me, Mommy. I have to go-o-o!" said four-year old Gwyneth ending her munchkin-like words with a yawn. Gwennie had the sky-blue eyes of her parents but the wavy dark hair came from Anna's parents and their ancient Greek heritage.

"Me too," said great-grandpa with another wink.

Anna wanted to point out that they all had used the toilet at the airport approximately 30 minutes ago but she knew from experience that this bit of information would change nothing.

"Look there Anna. It's a street cafe. I can get a cup of the excellent Greek coffee while you ladies are using the little girls' room." At Bernie's words, Anna looked to the right and there were two tables arranged above the lane on a hillside patio. A splash of greenery interspersed with red and white flowers cascaded from the stone wall. In her opinion, the place looked extremely inviting.

Maybe Dale will call before we get too far from town. We could meet him somewhere... Or possibly turn around and go back. Anna weighed her options.

"What a gorgeous little haven!" exclaimed Bean.

Anna made a quick turn, driving up the hill to pull up at the curb under the flowers. "Okay. We'll use the potty and have a cup of java. Maybe Dale will call and we can pick him up before getting too far from the city," Anna announced with decision.

"Excellent suggestion!" remarked Mr. Adams who had reached over and unsnapped Gwennie's seat belt. He was out the door and opening the car door for Bean before Anna had set the emergency brake.

By the time, Anna had Gwyneth out of the car with her purse on her arm along with a change of clothing for the child who was hot and sweaty, Grandma Bean and her estranged ex-spouse, Bernie Adams had finished their slow crawl up the half dozen steps. When mother and child finally arrived at the hilltop patio, Jellybean was returning from inside and great-grandpa had forgotten about the restroom. He was sitting at one of the two tables. A young man with the sleeves of his white collared shirt rolled up to his elbows followed patiently a few steps behind Bean.

Looking past the elderly couple, the man said to Anna in Greek, "May I help you?"

Anna smiled and said, "Yes, thank you. My daughter needs the bathroom and her great grandparents are in desperate need of something to drink... coffee, preferably."

"Young man, would you please put up this table umbrella? Your sun is bright and inviting after the dreary days of French overcast and the recent rain. You see, we're old and too much sun isn't what we should have," Bean explained, a.s.suming that the fellow spoke English.

He did.

Looking confused, he replied in English, "Sure, why not? The bathroom..." He didn't finish because Jellybean finished for him.

"Oh Gwennie! poor little thing! Anna, just go through that red door there and then it's on the left. Don't go too far or you'll end up in the kitchen... I did!" Bean directed with a hand wave pointing beyond the young man in white sleeves.

Anna nodded and pa.s.sing the others went toward the red door. Inside, the smells reminded her of childhood when she visited Greece or even in America when she went to her elderly relatives' homes. Gwyneth was in a hurry and so Anna's reminiscing was interrupted as she tended to her little girl.

There was a wonderful view from their roadside table. The capital, Kerkira and the airport were behind them hidden by rows of red-roofed houses on either side but before them an expanse of turquoise water meeting pale blue sky and toward the north at the other end of the island, the lumpy landscape, dusty velvet-green. Mr and Mrs Adams were quiet, enjoying the moment, Anna decided as she rejoined them. There were four gla.s.ses with water on the table and a thick Athens phone book on one of the wrought iron chairs which Anna realized was a makeshift toddler seat for Gwennie.

The man returned with two small cups of thick black coffee and a short pitcher, filled and steaming milk. He set the tray down in front of Mr Adams.

"So you were here during World War II?" the waiter asked the older man continuing their earlier discussion.

"Oh, sorry no I didn't mean I was actually here on the island. I worked with several members of the underground in France and then in Germany after the war, too," Dale's grandfather explained.

In her wiry voice, Jellybean said proudly, "Mr Adams was known as Berlin Billie back then... or just Bernie. In those days, we knew a young couple by the name of Manikas and they were from here. I suppose they are very old now as that was back in 1948."

Anna having made Gwyneth comfortable, turned her attention to the younger man standing above them. He was very Greek looking according to her standards; the dark hair and eyes, straight nose set above dramatic lips. He was about her age - 30ish and her height at five foot six although he looked as strong as a bull with broad muscular shoulders and forearms.

After some minutes of trading information and talking history, Anna was ready to order a bite to eat.

"Call me Nick," he was saying and so Anna interrupted.

"Nick, you don't have Baklava do you? I have had a craving for some Baklava for weeks," she asked in Greek.

He laughed but shook his head, "No! That is not one of our specialties. Let me go see what we have and I'll be right back."

While Nick was inside, "Mr Adams" (as Bean usually referred to her ex-husband), began recounting the ill.u.s.trious qualities of the Greeks and especially the Kerkyrians compared to the French. Anna nodded several times in agreement because everything Greek to her was above average, if not excellent. Although she had nothing against the French or any other particular nationality, Dale's grandfather's speech was absolutely correct from her viewpoint.

Nick came out the red door with dishes and tableware, a platter of food, a pitcher of water and two bottled soft drinks for Anna and Gwyneth. He returned inside as they examined the foods before them. Anna was quite pleased with the edible mosaic he served which included a little bit of several Greek dishes familiar to her.

Some time later, Nick came out with a cell phone to his ear as Gwennie was taking the last bite of the Mousaka.

"You beat the French out my boy - You Greeks always do!" exclaimed Mr Adams. Both Nick and Anna nodded in agreement. Jellybean was directing Gwyneth's attention toward a large white b.u.t.terfly which had landed on the balcony flowers. The old man said, "If I didn't know better I would say that these were leftovers from your Aunt Sophia's dinner preparations last night."

Nick, smiling as he hung up, absentmindedly nodded again. "Actually, my Aunt Olympia's fine cooking," he told them before adding, "I must be going. Please, drop in anytime." Nick was pulling down his sleeves and b.u.t.toning the cuffs as he spoke.

"Young man. Um... Nick, please bring our bill as we would rather leave our gratuity with you than some other waiter," requested the elderly, Bernie.

Nick had already started down the stairs but he grinned lopsidedly at them as he said, "I never charge my guests when they drop in during my lunch break. I work downtown. You see I live here... and also, my sister. This is our family house but I cannot ever recall an incident like this... Tourist mistaking our back balcony for a roadside cafe!" He disappeared behind the wall of rock and flowering foliage with a resounding chuckle.

Chapter 2 Plying the Sea of Insanity.

Several hundred nautical miles west of the Ionian isle of Kerkyra, the Serendipity sailed a choppy Atlantic Ocean. Malak D'Almata or best known as Mac, and his crew made up of his recent bride - Merry and the young American cousins, Junior Tapia and Tino Lucero as well as the 30 year old Mexican national, Zeff Zeferano, sailed from the Mexican port of Vallarta in early July. Merry's sister, Kate Merriweather joined the group briefly only to be left on St Helena off the coast of Namibia to recuperate after being kidnapped by pirates from the Gulf of Guinea, West Africa.

Within hours of brother Dale's airport setback, Merry received an almost incoherent but urgent call from her mother, Toni Merriweather. Kate had also called using the ship-to-sh.o.r.e radio announcing her engagement to Mac's long time St Helena friend, Roger Cowels. So Kate, now fully recovered from her abduction ordeal was getting married and the couple would be meeting up with the Serendipity and crew on the Island of D'Almata... Mac's homeland.

The legendary island nation of D'Almata in the Adriatic Sea is often described as being 200 miles from anywhere. Isolated D'Almata, north of Kerkyra had been the destination of dozens of Toni Merriweather's family and intimate friends. Toni, a widowed missionary had family mostly from the east coast of the USA but her friends lived worldwide and several had planned to attend her wedding to a D'Almatan diplomat some months before. The devastating earthquake which split the Midwestern United States like a Jack the Ripper victim was followed within hours by a three-p.r.o.nged enemy a.s.sault. The national collapse had changed not only Toni's wedding guests' travel plans but the socio-economics of the entire world.

Like the t.i.tanic sinking in slow motion, America had received a fatal blow and life Americana was completely and irrevocably gone. Although the world continued to reel under the ramifications of the American catastrophe, the initial weeks were the worse. In the months following, China and Asia, Russia, Europe and the Mideast were scrambling to take advantage of the military and economic voids left by the United States' enfeeblement.

The sea of insanity of which the people of planet Earth found themselves afloat was awash with tsunami size problems. Those that had lived anch.o.r.ed to the superficial and short-sighted philosophy which declared that twentieth century western lifestyle was a permanent landmark and becoming globally more so, were caught unawares. Life had gone topsy-turvy even for those people who were not directly affected by the continent splitting earthquake or the vicious unilateral attack from America's ill-wishers.

Besides the New Madrid Earthquake, several nuclear accidents caused by continual and ma.s.sive earthquakes convulsing throughout the world were taking a toll. Pockets of people worldwide were affected as the radiation concentrated in specific areas and global climate was destabilized. A chain reaction of climate and nuclear toxins greatly diminished the beleaguering agricultural markets which in turn caused food shortages. The result was extreme price hikes where food was available. Some visionaries saw where the famine was headed just as they foresaw the fragile international security atmosphere before the United States was a.s.sailed. Even so, the majority of the world's populace had little idea how quickly a descending and a meager existence the regular joe was headed for.

The older people had been through tough times but always there was a season of prosperity which followed. The common mindset: Would this downturn be any different? Surely, not! As for the younger generations who had known only virtual catastrophes, they were immune to the new reality. After all, when the game or movie ended they could get up from the couch and go raid the refrigerator before the next virtual scenario began. True, "the kids," those peterpan under 30 types, had heard the real stories and even had a few encounters with spiritual dark forces but an indefinable insidiousness had taken hold, permeating to the core of the soul of these groups, leaving them incapable - as a group of grasping pure truth. Yet, groups are made up of individuals and so individually, because of the abundance of modern information and because of the good G.o.d in heaven restrained spiritual darkness - individually, some young souls broke away from the group.