Amy's Ladder

By Mark Haugen

As the sequel to "Joshua's Ladder," this novel will allow Joshua readers to feel better about that dramatic ending.

In "Amy's Ladder," Amy navigates the troubled waters of her relationships with her father, Gen. Levi Johnson, and her fiance, Joshua Miller. She returns to Spearfish, SD, and encounters schemers, dreamers and murderers as she finally tries to make her way down the wedding aisle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Haugen
• Release date: May 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458054814

Mark Haugen

A fifth-generation South Dakotan, Haugen is a recovering journalist living in the Black Hills of South Dakota with his wife and two dogs: Huckleberry and Finn. Haugen is a former newspaper reporter, editor, sportswriter, publisher and award-winning columnist. He has lived throughout South Dakota - in Montrose, Canton, Sioux Falls and Valley Springs. He's worked at the Sioux Falls Argus Leader, Tri-State Neighbor and owned the Tea & Harisburg Champion newspaper in Tea. In addition to several free-lance writing gigs, he also had brief forays across state lines and worked at newspapers in Windom and Luverne, Minn., and Rock Valley, Iowa. Haugen is also an avid runner and gardener.

Book preview

AMY’S LADDER

By Mark Haugen

Smashwords Edition

* * *

Copyright 2011 Mark Haugen

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Dedicated to my mom. She’s always had my back.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

* * *

AMY’S LADDER

The Sequel to Joshua’s Ladder

Featuring Amy

Chapter 1

I haven’t suffered a headache in all my life, but it must have been storing up for the thunderstorm of one I woke up with this morning. Considering that the entire world thinks I am dead, I guess you could say I have a lot weighing on my mind – and it all seems to be sitting on some nerve behind my eyeballs.

I am Colonel Amy Johnson. I was supposed to be famous for being the first female to command a space shuttle mission. Instead, I am infamous for supposedly being blown to smithereens with my crew mates just before landing.

But I wasn’t blown up. They were.

I wasn’t even on the flight. They were.

I will get to the story of how at the last minute I was secretly pulled from the mission against my will and what has happened since then, but first I need to find some aspirin.

2

The dogs laid at Joshua’s feet like two cheap, red throw rugs as he stared into the bathroom mirror of his cabin near Spearfish in the northern Black Hills of South Dakota. He could not have looked worse if you dumped a can of trash on his head – and it would not have made him smell any worse either. It is amazing how much whiskey a guy can drink in six days when improperly motivated.

This was supposed to be our wedding day. Joshua should be shaving, showering and straightening his tie. But he wasn’t. His sandy brown hair was greasy and hung over his eyebrows and dangled along the sides to his bare shoulders. A steely stubble ran up his neck and across sunken cheek bones. Joshua’s eyes were hollow with dark red circles of Jupiter around them. His head throbbed and throat scratched. A healthy slug of Jack Daniels went a long way toward curing the latter.

As he continued to stare at the wreck of misfortune in the mirror, two trickles of crimson began to run from his nose. As if that were not enough to sink his appearance rating this morning, tears began to fill Joshua’s eyes. He squeezed them shut for a few seconds and his fists slowly followed suit. He brought his hands up from their resting place on the vanity and pounded them against the wall on each side of the mirror. The dogs jumped and slunk to the solitude beneath his bed.

Upon opening his eyes, Joshua saw a wet, clouded, red mess looking back at him. He slammed his fists again and swore out loud what was meant to be a prayer, or a plea, or both: Damn it! Please! Please! Help me, God!

It’s not the method of seeking divine intervention either of us had been taught or even that we would recommend to others, but I’ll be darned if it didn’t work for him.

There was a knock on his door. The dogs, named Archie and Edith, didn’t even acknowledge it – probably figuring: You are on your own, Bub.

Joshua grabbed a damp towel and wiped his nose and eyes, mostly just smearing the gunk around his face and adding even more to his lowly appearance. Forsaking modesty, he opened the door in only his flannel boxers, but he brought along his bottle just in case he felt like knocking someone in the head.

Three men stood before him on the small porch. Unrehearsed, they simultaneously greeted his ghoulish visage with: Holy shit!

A cool spring morning in the Hills, Benny Jarret and Joe Rodriguez wore tight long-sleeve spandex shirts and nearly matching baggy plaid shorts that hung over their knees. They both looked down at their Asics running shoes with somber expressions. His old buddies didn’t say a word, but the old man between them did. If you played the kids’ game which one of these does not belong, the guy in the middle would have been the easy choice.

He was decked out in Air Force blues with a chest full of ribbons, medals and bars that showed he had done something with his life besides just raising me. The four stars on his shirt collar indicated some others were impressed enough to make him a General. The tight leather cheek bones, square chin and bullet-proof eyes could convince mountain lions to use a litter box upon his command.

He jammed out a hand to Joshua and said in a raspy staccato voice: I am General Levi Johnson. There was a pause during which it did not dawn on Joshua to shake his hand, so the General added: Amy’s father.

Then Joshua properly greeted him and managed to choke out his own name.

And we’re his privates! Benny smiled, his curly blonde hair atop a 6-foot, 1-inch slender frame giving him the appearance of a living Q-Tip. He winked at Joshua to grab his double entendre.

Why don’t we talk out here, Joshua said. I wasn’t expecting company.

No kidding, Joe said, pinching his nose. Stockier than Benny and a couple inches shorter, Joe’s slicked-back black hair made him look like a Latin soap star.

Archie and Edith heard the friendly Floridian voices and ventured out from their hiding spot. Joshua closed the door behind them as they greeted their old beach buddies with their Irish Setters tails swishing and slobbering licks of their hands.

General MacArthur has some news for you, Benny said, never missing a chance to snub authority.

The General’s eyes shifted behind slits in his eyelids toward his blonde annoyance, but he remained ramrod straight and otherwise unmoving. Even in his 60s, the General looked like he could snap any of them in half with some secret Special Forces move if he wanted to. But that was not his mission today.

What’s the news, sir? Joshua asked.

It’s about Amy, he said.

I’m sorry for your loss, Joshua added.

That’s not necessary, he said.

Well, Joshua began to expound, but the General interrupted.

She’s not dead.

Benny and Joe grinned like they just won backstage passes to an Elton John concert. But it did not register with Joshua. His brain could barely process the month of the year. He certainly could not comprehend what the General meant with that stupid statement.

She’s alive, he repeated. She wasn’t on the shuttle.

How can that be? Joshua asked, his forehead wrinkled in confusion and his knees going wobbly.

I pulled her off the mission the night before it went up, he said.

Why?

I expected you to be happier, the General said, peering into his eyes.

I am, but I don’t believe you.

I wouldn’t lie to you, he said. She’s alive and well and on base.

Why hasn’t she called?

You have a phone here?

Well, no.

That’s part of the reason, but also she’s on a solitary hold for the time being.

Solitary hold?

She can’t leave, yet.

Why not?

She’s rather upset.

Why?

I pulled her off the shuttle and replaced her with the reserve pilot when I received uncorroborated evidence that the mission might be sabotaged by unfriendlies.

Why didn’t you halt the entire mission?

Benny and Joe nodded as their heads bounced back and forth between Joshua and the General.

Like I said, it was uncorroborated, flimsy intel that didn’t warrant a commander to halt it, but it was enough for a four-star father to pull his daughter off it.

And she’s mad, Joshua said, even though she’s alive.

Angrier than any individual I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some mighty pissed off people in my day, the General said. She’s furious, guilty, embarrassed, sad and every emotion in between.

But alive?

Yes, alive.

And hates you for it.

Yes, and I don’t blame her.

But alive, Joshua repeated.

There’s only a small circle of people who even know about this, and now you and these two ...

Gentlemen, Joe finished for him.

It’s kind of a stricter ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of thing, Benny added. But it was a tough crowd unwilling to offer even a chuckle.

You’re the only one she will talk to, the General said.

How’d you find me?

Amy said you had a cabin and mentioned these two ...

Gentlemen, Joe quipped.

We couldn’t find you. This cabin doesn’t seem to be on any map, but it didn’t take the CIA to pick these guys out of the crowd in town. So we needed to bring them into the loop.

In the loop! Benny shouted and high-fived Joe behind the General’s back.

I’d like to escort you back to Canaveral, if you would like, he said.

I would, Joshua said. Then he motioned to Benny and Joe. Can they come along?

Either that or I have to kill them, the General dead-panned. They gulped. The General smiled for the first time in a long time.

3

I stood in the shower of one the Air Force base’s VIP cottages letting hot jets (pardon the pun) of water pulsate on the back of my neck. Security guards were stationed outside the building oblivious to whom I was or why they were guarding me. A foggy mist filled the bathroom, though the steam from my ears probably would have been enough to cause that effect.

Alternately crying from the despair of my crew mates’ deaths, the guilt of being alive, and the confusion of my unknown future, I could not help but picture myself on the cover of Time. The cover photo was not a self-aggrandizing one, for I sincerely never hold myself up as better than anyone, but instead I saw my mug shot taking up the entire page with the headline Daddy’s girl saved! or mocked in some other way on newsstands across the nation I love so much.

Then I tried to imagine the pain Joshua felt and what he must think of me now, as my dad, the General, was breaking the news to him. He suffered through so much in the past with losing loved ones. Now to have this. Would he think less of me? Would he even want to see me? Would he hate me for putting him through this? Was the life I had hoped for with Joshua now ruined? How