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on his charges.  After the plane was airborne, he allowed the group to get up and walk around the spacious cargo area of the airplane.
    Forty minutes after takeoff, the National Guard C-130 nose-dived into a field at over six hundred miles an hour. If, in the ensuing chaos that was tightening its grip on the nation, the FAA had gotten a chance to investigate the crash, their findings would have been simple. Pilot error.
     
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Clearwater, Florida:
    Steve Wendell drove his Jeep through the light fog blowing in from the Gulf of Mexico. Tonight was bowling night, followed by date night. For the first time in weeks he felt free. He had finally found someone to cover the midnight to five AM shift at the radio station.
    The individual who would be taking over went by the name of Tripod, causing Steve to question what happened to radio names like Wolfman Jack. He shrugged it off. Sex and sexual innuendo sells, and in the competitive business of radio you needed every edge you could get.
    Free from worries about the station , Steve’s thoughts turned to what he referred to as his on again, off again, on again, off again, and what now looked like on again, pursuit of Virginia Marston. She of the long legs and most perfect ass.
    The reason for the on again , off again feelings about their relationship was the fact that while they had a genuine connection in the bedroom, the rest of the time they had little in common. Steve oftentimes excused this by saying that, due to his work schedule they sometimes had a hard time getting together and this is where the difficulties arose, but he knew it was more than that. There was also the age difference. He was thirty-eight and she was twenty-four, which resulted in them running in completely different circles and also having a variety of different likes and dislikes.
    Another sticking point for Steve in the relationship was that they started seeing each other shortly after he came to work at KLAM where Ginny was employed as the personal assistant to the owner of the station. Thus breaking one of his cardinal rules of never dating someone he worked with. Although this shouldn't have been a major problem as long as they kept their personal and professional lives separate, Ginny sometimes made it difficult by asking for unearned privileges. She had even gone so far as to ask for a raise she didn't deserve. Steve put this off as age and immaturity, but sometimes he wondered where the relationship was heading.
    If I could just get Ginny to at least like bowling, life would be easier. Then they would have something, besides lust, in common to start from. But he knew it was unlikely that she would attempt to bowl again. The one time she had come with him, she had a miserable time and refused to ever try it again. Steve couldn't understand what her problem was but deferred to her wishes.
    As he prepared to turn into the parking lot of Seminole Lanes, he reflected on how eerie the fog made everything seem. He had noticed only a few other cars on the street during his drive but passed it off as the time of year. This was a tourist city, and the snowbirds wouldn't be flocking until after Thanksgiving.
    As he pulled up to the building, Steve looked around at the almost deserted parking lot and wondered if the bowling alley was shut down for maintenance. Maybe he should have called first. Parking next to the entry doors, he looked back over his shoulder at the huge neon sign depicting a bowling ball hitting a pin. It was lit, so that meant that the bowling alley should be open. The other times when he had driven by and the alley was closed, the sign had been off. Turning forward, he saw light coming from the double glass entry doors to his left, so he grabbed his ball from the passenger seat and got out of the Jeep. Steve walked tentatively up the stairs to the entrance but couldn't see anyone inside and almost turned to leave. Just to be sure though, he reached out, grabbed the door