Retribution Road by Jon Coon (e reader comics .TXT) 📕

There were vintage aircraft from every conflict Mexico had participated in. A mock dogfight directly over the stands thrilled the audience as nimble biplanes danced and dodged. Next, three jets made roaring low passes, and a trio of heavy bombers made a formation run over the field.

“Where are our planes?” Carol asked. “It looks like the show’s nearly over.”

“It’s only beginning. Trust me,” Gabe said. “Just remember, it’s only a show.”

Then, from out of the sun, the two B-25s and the Lockheed A-26 Invader flew toward the stands and specifically toward the flag-flying podium of politicians and distinguished guests. Machine guns opened fire, and explosions trenched the field towards the spectators.

Terror hit the audience like a hard rain as the planes pulled up, and a dreaded black star—the emblem of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation, infamous for their bloody attacks against the government in 1994—was clearly visible on each of the green fuselages.

The planes broke formation. One strafed the tarmac while another fired into the old airport building behind the stands. Fire rose from the roof, sending customers screaming, not knowing which way to run to shelter. The third plane unleashed a torrent of napalm on the hangars Tom’s team had occupied and then rolled back toward the distinguished-patron seating area. The machine gun blast was deafening as the plane made its pass at what felt like only inches overhead.

Then, from the east, the other two CAF planes, now painted with Mexican insignia, gave pursuit of the Zapatista planes, firing machine gun bursts and tracer rounds. Two big and too heavy for aerobatics, the planes still managed a deadly dance over the field. Then, one of the Zapatista planes streamed fire and smoke. It made a run toward the far end of the field and disappeared behind trees and a low hill. The plane in pursuit followed, still shooting. There was an explosion, followed by a ball of fire reaching high into the sky.

The two remaining Zapatista planes fled the field with two pursuit craft still firing from behind, trying for another kill.

“Oh my God,” Carol said. “What was that?”

“That crash wasn’t in my script,” Gabe answered. “I don’t know what that was.”

“Take us down if you can,” he said to the pilot.

“I’m sorry, sir. Those are not my orders.”

“Your orders?”

“Yes, sir. My orders are to fly back to Palenque and load this thing back in the C-130. As quickly as we can.”

“Who gave you those orders, may I ask?”

“Captain Bright, sir. The young lady’s father.”

The flight took the airship over five hours, and while Carol paced and fumed, Gabe got on the internet and read the news. The government statement said that while the president, the Calderas, and most of the distinguished guests had escaped unharmed, there had been numerous casualties and injuries caused by the panicked crowd that required hospitalization. The raid was blamed on the Zapatistas and retaliation was promised. The president was mobilizing the military and stating loudly that the time for any Zapatista sympathizer to safely live in Mexico had come to an end. And that specifically meant the cartels and left-wingers who had resisted government efforts to save the last of the Lacandon Jungle.

“I think I understand it,” Gabe said. “I think I understand what he did.”

“Tell me, because I haven’t a clue.”

“Your dad knows the government has been turning a blind eye to the drugs, either because they are involved or because they are afraid. But the communists, the Zapatistas, are growing stronger with help from Caldera and others. The only way to stop the cartels from taking over is to force the government to fight back. Stopping the cartels cuts off funding to the communists. But the government was reluctant to do that for fear of what the cartels would do in return. Now the whole country has witnessed the Zapas attempt to kill the president. And everyone knows who funds the Zapas. Your dad just forced the government’s hand. Now they have to fight back. It was one hell of a show.”

“But all those people killed the news just reported—”

“No, the government reported. Let’s just wait and see.”

They crossed the mountain ridge south of Palenque and the magnificent Misol-Ha waterfalls to the municipal airport north of the city. The C-130 and the four CAF planes waited. The planes had been scrubbed, removing the combat green and Zapatista markings. As they traveled, Gabe wondered why, after the near killing of El Presidente and the “distinguished guests,” not to mention the destruction of the old airport, the Mexican Air Guard hadn’t followed the planes.

Unless …

It took a crew of ten to land the blimp, and once on the ground, the crew set to work deflating and disassembling it. Gabe and Carol went to find Tom and to find out what the devil was going on. Carol strode so quickly across the field Gabe had to hurry to keep up.

“Henry, where’s my dad?

Henry Atkins looked at them and shook his head. “It was only supposed to be a show.”

“What do you mean?”

“Carol, I’m sorry. Your dad was in the B-25 that went down. We don’t know what happened. By the time we got there, the fire had destroyed the plane. I’m so sorry.”

Carol fell back against Gabe, but she didn’t go down. She straightened herself and fought back the sobs. “What do you mean, it was only a show?”

“Let’s find somewhere to sit, and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

“No. This is fine. Tell me now,” she demanded.

“It was all a show. We were shooting blanks. The explosions were pyrotechnics Chuck had set in advance, like he does for the movies. And it all came off without a hitch … until your dad’s plane went down. Like I said, we haven’t a clue what went wrong.”

“So it was about the communists?” She took a step back and looked for something to hang on to. Not finding anything, she grabbed Gabe’s arm.

“And the cartel. Your dad’s