Page 15 of Unnatural Death

When the Mansons moved from Old Town Alexandria three years ago, supposedly it was to get away from COVID. They were opting for the simple life. That’s the story they told when relocating to Nokesville, population thirteen hundred.

“It’s the kind of place where people notice everything and nothing,” Lucy explains. “There’s no real industry, very little going on. It’s just a nice quiet spot if you want to get away from modern civilization. A place to hide in plain view.”

* * *

The rural community of Nokesville has no passenger train service, police department or major medical care. Downtown is a scattering of businesses along the main drag of Route 652. A Dollar General store, a few automotive places, a 7-Eleven, a coffee shop, I recall from a visit not long ago.

“The farm they bought is close to the abandoned gold mine inside Buckingham Run,” Lucy says. “And that was important to them.”

“If anything, I would think it made that area of the forest more treacherous,” I reply, looking down at a mobile home park, a church with a cemetery.

“When you’re surrounded by thick stone walls in the side of a hill it provides shielding in certain situations …” Something has caught her attention outside the windshield. “Here comes trouble.”

She points at a small dot that looks farther away than it is, explaining it’s Dana Diletti’s helicopter. Lucy gets on the radio, and any pilot on the same frequency can hear what she’s saying.

“Request traffic stay clear of police activity in Buckingham Run.” In a nice way she’s telling the TV chopper to make itself scarce.

“Seven-Charlie-Delta is five miles northeast and inbound. Area in question is unrestricted,” Lorna Callis answers, and I don’t like her tone.

A live video image of her suddenly appears on a cockpit display. We’re watching her at the controls in real time, and Lucy’s AI software must have hacked into the news chopper’s cockpit.

“Request that unauthorized aircraft avoid police operation southwest of Nokesville,” Lucy repeats over the air.

“Negative and no can do.Area is unrestricted,” Lorna says condescendingly as we watch her every move without her having a clue. “Will stay on present heading while maintaining space and separation. Appreciate you doing the same.”

“Oh gee. I think she’s telling us to fuck off.” Lucy is talking to me. “Well, that’s not very friendly or respectful, is it? Not even patriotic, let’s be honest. Told you she’s an asshole.”

“Sounds like you two have something personal.” I watch the helicopter coming toward us at the same time I’m seeing live video of the pilot who’s flying it.

“She doesn’t like me for some reason. She’d like me less if she knew we were watching her right now.” Lucy squeezes the mic trigger again. “Roger that, Seven-Charlie-Delta,” she replies over the air, as cool as they come.

“Glad we understand each other,” Lorna has the nerve to fire back. “See you there.”

“Meanwhile we’re seeing her here and now.” Lucy is talking to me again. “Such a shame she has to be a bad sport.”

“Does she know who you work for? Clearly, she must recognize that what you’re flying isn’t exactly a civilian aircraft.”

“That’s a big part of the problem. A wannabe hell-bent on proving herself. She’d be wise to pick on someone her own size. But I guess she didn’t get the memo.”

“Now what?” I watch Lorna on the display, and she’s flying directly toward us with a somewhat maniacal smile.

“Now it’s showtime,” Lucy says. “And I’ve got just the thing in mind. She’s about to have a new experience to write home about. And Dana Diletti will have a death-defying adventure to brag about all over the news.”

Reducing power and slowing down, Lucy scrolls through menus on a touchscreen. She activates the beacons and strobes as the TV chopper gets closer, and we must be flashing like a UFO. Settling into an aggressive high hover, my niece selects what she refers to as amood killer. A signal jammer of some sort, I have a feeling, and instantly Lorna vanishes from the display inside our cockpit.

“And oops! She’s lost her avionics,” Lucy says. “All the displays went black. Just … like … that. She’s trying to use the radio or talk over the intercom right now and nothing’s working, including their phones and TV cameras.”

“She’s not going to crash, is she?” I’m watching out the windshield as the news helicopter flares like a reined-in horse, slowing down.

“She’s fine unless she does something stupid,” Lucy answers.

I imagine Lorna Callis frantically trying to figure out what’s wrong. But we can’t see her anymore.

“Her bird is deaf, mute and blind.” Lucy holds our position. “Oh boy. What a mess.”

We’re close enough that I can make out the logo on the door as the helicopter slows into a hover. Lucy keeps us pointed directly at it in an aggressive manner, staring calmly, not the least bit stressed. She reaches for the touchscreen again.

“Lights back on, no harm done,” she says. “But Lorna’s not sure of that, and unfortunately the cameras are still offline. That must be frustrating.” Waiting a beat. “Nope. She’s not sure of much. And she’s out of here, got no choice. One of thoseland as soon as possiblekind of situations. Better run! Hurry back to the barn!”

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