Shelton Family Saga

Chapter 61

Alex Callie, 2021 - 74 yrs old

The last trip Juntas and I took before I got sent off to the penitentiary was on a yacht sailing across the Pacific Ocean on our way to Russia. The plan was to sail into Alaska and when the boat docked, we would swim part of the Bering Strait before hitching a ride on a personal boat with an international jewel thief by the name of Lenka. Lenka was actually an American guy who had taken up a life of fencing rare precious stones. I eventually ran into him again twenty years later at Butner FCI in North Carolina where I also served time alongside the infamous Ponzi schemer Bernard Madoff. Meeting Lenka was an experience that introduced us to the world of some people who live a rare and different lifestyle. People who are known as the one percent. When we boarded the boat, the waters were pretty rough, and we weren't quite sure if we would make it to shore; but, somehow we did. Once reaching the promised land we followed Lenka to an estate in the countryside. It was more of a compound surrounded by a tall ornate iron fence around its entire perimeter. There were fifteen dogs guarding the estate. I remember it being fifteen, because every time we saw one, I would comment how it had followed us from the front entrance to wherever we were riding on the luxury golf wagon when the chauffeur would inform us it was not the same dog. I had kept count wondering how long it would take any one of them to maul a human to death. They were massively  stout creatures. I'd never seen or heard of a Cane Corso, but that's when I learned they were Italian mastiff dogs. The kind used by the mafia as guard dogs for imminent protection. I instantly thought of Al Pacino in the movie Scarface. Once we reached the main house, which was about three miles back from the road, we were introduced to two dudes carrying AK-47 automatic assault rifles. They didn't smile or make eye contact whatsoever. As stone faced as they were, I couldn't make out who I should fear more, them or those fifteen dogs. They led us to a deserted area about twenty-five feet behind the main house where we met a guy named Shorty. Shorty was just that, incredibly short. He had to be all of about four foot something; but he had the face of a killer. I say a killer, because it killed me internally to look at his face. It was hardened with so many wrinkles, and he had large round sad eyes. He looked as if he'd been born to just do damage to people. I later found out from Lenka that Shorty had been a homeless hobo hopping trains at the edge of the city, living out of the empty boxcars. That's where "the man" had found him. He'd once had a beautiful wife and baby daughter, but they were blown to pieces by a factory explosion. It was a chemical company where his wife's brother worked, and she'd gone to pick him up from work one day, when there was a toxic spill inside the factory that quickly turned deadly. It had caught fire and Shorty's wife with their new baby in tow was trapped inside the fence at the factory, because the gate guard had abandoned his post to try to help with the spill inside the factory, leaving all the people in the parking lot trapped inside the fence. The spill ignited into a large fire, eventually erupting into a full blown explosion. A lot of people passed away from the smoke and soot without ever having the fire reach them. The story touched me deeply, for I know what it feels like to be burned, being I once had my whole face burned off from the explosion out back of that tiny shack in Helmsville. After being led inside the house, we were greeted by African Boer Boer's, which are another dog from the mastiff breed. We were greeted by five of them, along with William, the housekeeper, who led us into a grand parlor to meet "the man." I was pretty nervous, but my brother Juntas was as cool as a cucumber. He always was the laid back type who could calmly and safely navigate his way through any situation. I was glad he was there with me rather than me having taken that trip alone. "The man" spoke very softly, but sternly. I will never forget his face. He looked each one of us dead in our eyes as we spoke. He studied our faces, and listened intently, making no facial expressions of his own and without displaying any body language. There was no way to gauge whether he was about to embrace us or put us on ice. I just couldn't read him. After we left out of there, Lenka explained how "the man" never forgets a face which is why he meets face to face with every top associate who's been directly recommended or brought to him. I was so glad to be leaving there. From there, we boarded a private jet further back on the property. The jet had luxe leather seating, a fully stocked whisky bar, large curved tv screens and secret hideaway spots. All three of us had a glass of straight whisky, which we welcomed. We strapped ourselves in, settled back and in a moments notice ascended into the sky of pitch black barren darkness. I didn't mind flying at night. In case it was the end, it just seemed a better way to go; into the darkness, rather than in broad daylight panicking from fear and pleading for mercy to be saved.

*****

Pfft. The tail end of the jet did a fast dip. We all remained still thinking nothing of it. Pfft. It did it again. Without moving my head, I cut my eyes toward Juntas who appeared relaxed as ever. Pfft, pffft .... I cut my eyes toward Lenka, where his eyes met mine. He quickly shrugged it off, murmuring, "air pockets."  I tried to relax by leaning into the cozy leather that wrapped around me in my seat. I let out a long breath of air and just as I went to close my eyes, PFFFFFFT.....WOOOOOOOO.

The jet made a weird whistling noise and spun once, then again, and again in rapid succession. We were tumbling at a rapid pace. Forget calling upon the Gods of Grace, I called out for Chief. This was a moment I needed my daddy. "Oh Father, don't let me die."