Oh the Devil You Say

By Aaron T Knight

Frank Fowler has been slaving away in a lower middle management at a giant conglomerate and going no where. His wife on the other hand is a partner in a fast growing IT management firm which naturally causes a growing separation in their marriage. Heading back home from an exhausting trip for his boss, a giant hurricane slams the jet he is travelling on into the ocean. He regains consciousness on a South Carolina beach where he meets a man who claims to have saved him. It is Satan who introduces himself to Frank. Attempts to escape somehow end up back with his gracious host. Conrad, the devil's cover name, makes him an offer to work with him. Rich and famous are the carrots he dangles at him. Frank refuses and he is flown home to DC. Through a series of gross misunderstandings and bad breaks he ends up on his butt, Conrad reiterates his offer and things are so bad, he recklessly decides "what the hell why not? what do I have to lose? Dicey move. His life becomes an exciting series of adventures with Conrad at his side. Until....... Fast and amusing fantasy tale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aaron T Knight
• Release date: Nov 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393590224

Book preview

Oh The Devil You  Say

Aaron T Knight

Off the coast of Africa a tropical depression had formed. Hot winds blowing over the ocean from the Sahara desert began to churn the water into a small atmospheric depression. A fine spray blew upward off the waves climbing in the sunlight to form clouds over the slowly swirling water. Within 24 hours the highly energized mass had become the beginning of a hurricane moving westward with increasing speed. Forces in the ocean combined to create a gigantic storm of rare intensity and size.

Hurricane Arnold moved erratically, because of its high energy, and it became exceedingly difficult to predict where it might make landfall. Wind forces continued to strengthen as the storm gained momentum moving over the ocean. Eventually it made its first landfall in northern Florida then retreated back to the ocean again where it absorbed more energy. Winds up to 160 MPH off the east coast of America began to wreak its havoc in a huge circle nearly 100 miles in circumference.Some aircraft were caught up on the edges of the storm. Hurricane Arnold had become nearly twice its size since the landfall in Florida. Many planes were forced to continue on toward their destination as intended diversion routes rapidly closed on a colossal scale.

A flight from O'Hare in Chicago bound for Washington DC was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was blown off course and the pilot fought vainly to bring the aircraft back to its intended flight path to DC. It was burning fuel at double the rate for normal flight and the plane ran out of gas. The pilot executed a wheels up belly landing in the ocean.

Out of gas? What do you mean, no gas? Frank demanded to know from a stewardess racing by him.  Please just stay in line, I’m sure the captain will explain the whole situation when we are all safe out on the wings of the aircraft. said the stewardess who was employing her self discipline to its limits in her effort to appear calm and professional. Hard to do on a jet airliner which has belly landed into the ocean. Her performance would have been more believable if her stewardess cap wasn't wildly askew on her head, her jacket buttoned wrong, and there was lipstick smeared around her mouth reminding one of a circus clown. Something hard and sharp was poking Frank in the back, and it hurt. He whirled around to see what was causing the pain. It was a lady holding an umbrella upward in a defensive position ready for close combat. As calmly as possible, he said,

Take the ‘harpoon’ off my back, lady.

Her stressed face went from shock, to anger, at the crudely put request,

All right! she snapped, as she lowered the umbrella, And you stop your yelling, the umbrella barely touched your back.

He would have answered her, but he was at the emergency exit of the aircraft. Gratefully he edged out on the large wing, and sat down in a cramped space with the other huddled passengers. Now he looked around at the crash scene. The huge airliner was floating on the ocean with swells periodically submerging the wings where the 200 passengers had taken refuge from the interior of the plane. Water lapping over the wing surface soaked the passengers. Airline personnel were frantically moving among the passengers checking for injuries, and recruiting help from the more composed people to calm down the hysterical ones.

His neck was sore from the terrific wrenching move when the jet hit the water with the wheels up at a speed slightly above the velocity to avoid stalling, then plunging into the ocean in a shallow dive. Something wet was trickling down his forehead and onto his nose, a quick check with his finger told him he was bleeding. I must have banged into the seat in front of me on our initial impact with the ocean, he thought to himself.

The captain of the airliner had a portable megaphone, which he turned on to be heard above the sound of the ocean; and a beeping alarm still blasting away in the passenger compartment.

Ladies and gentlemen! He announced loudly,  It appears we were fortunate to have few serious injuries from our crash landing and minimal damage to the aircraft. I estimate the flotation time of the aircraft to be another hour or so, but we will be aboard emergency rafts before that time arrives. The stewardesses are bringing inflatable preservers to you, There are enough rafts to accommodate everyone, and the stay on the ocean should be quite short, since our emergency signals have been confirmed by the US Coast Guard. Their rescue helicopters will probably arrive within two hours. Thank you.

Frank was busy, along with the other passengers, donning the life jacket which was the old Mae West version meaning the two inflated bags stuck straight out at chest level. Now the crew, with some help from passengers, was navigating the large rubber rafts into position along the front edge of the wings.

Suddenly the lights of the airliner went out leaving them in the darkness of the night. It was overcast, so they were left in murky gloom. Probably due to shock, it was relatively quiet among the passengers and the beeping noise had been extinguished in the interior of the plane. Flashlights came out of the emergency packs in the rafts as the passengers climbed on board. Everyone was acquiring night vision now, and one man near him pointed in the direction of the tail of the aircraft at a  black band forming on the horizon, he said,"Looks like a rain storm is coming our way.  Some of the passengers groaned out loud as an expression of their frustration of not only being left to bob around in a raft in the middle of the ocean, but having to weather a rainstorm too. Frank was now the eighth person in line waiting to board his assigned life raft, when a passenger screamed out,

It’s not clouds! Look! It’s a tidal wave.!

There were shouts and screams as the towering wave created by Hurricane Arnold came at them at an incredible speed. It was just beginning to lift up the airliner like a toy when he was knocked over by a passenger trying to reach the raft. His head hit the wing surface and he was knocked senseless as the wave bore down on them. It swept everything in its path up the side of the gigantic wall of water, then tumbled aircraft and passengers into the depths as it rolled over the area. In seconds, all evidence of machine and people disappeared from sight, while the wave rapidly left the area on its way to a distant shore.

Cold and soaking wet, he regained consciousness. There was sand in his eyes and crotch which was extremely itchy. It was painful to open his eyes into the glaring sun, so he turned his head away from the blinding light. He was lying on a beach somewhere, and looking around him didn’t provide any clues to his whereabouts. Behind him came a voice,

Welcome back to the world, I must say you don’t really look so bad for a guy I had to drag for 50 miles across the ocean.

Locating the voice, he peered up at him expecting to see a muscular giant, instead of a scrawny shrunken man, who looked to be at least ninety years old.

Are you telling me you swam 50 miles towing me to shore? I don’t believe it, he croaked, because his throat was  dry from the salt water he had swallowed,

"You’re either crazy, or lying to me mister. Not even the best swimmer in the world could swim 50 miles hauling a man along who was unconscious.

No, no, definitely no.

Some gratitude for saving your life. You explain to me how you got here then.

I don’t know. The old man was glaring down at him, Aw, hell, can’t please anyone.

Then he turned and walked across the beach toward a grove of trees. Frank rather shakily stood up, then swayed, until his body regained its equilibrium. He decided to head for the trees, hoping there was a house over there. He started out walking carefully as waves of dizziness ran through his head. Sitting down, at least for a short break seemed to be a good idea.

Chapter Two

In the distance came the sound of an engine. Out of the grove of trees emerged a bright yellow dune buggy with a red flag flapping in the breeze from a long antenna. Within a few minutes the buggy was almost on top of him. Out jumped a deeply tanned man in bathing trunks. He smiled at Frank, white teeth contrasting with his dark skin, Maybe he's a life guard or something, Frank thought to himself, he sure looks fit enough for the job.

Almost as if he had read his mind, he offered Frank a canteen, "You look a little bedraggled. My name is Conrad, what's yours?'

Frank Fowler, and I'm so glad to see you.

After quenching his thirst, Frank told Conrad about the plane crashing into the ocean. Finishing his story, he said, When I regained consciousness on the beach, there was this really old man who claimed he rescued me by swimming 50 miles to shore, towing me. Fantastic stuff, I can only figure I must have landed on some kind of flotation and the tides brought me to shore.

I guess you'll never know. Conrad replied. There was an old man walking through the trees and headed for the highway over there awhile ago. Don't know where he was heading.

:Well, at least I wasn't hallucinating. I'm relieved to hear he was real, or I'd be worried about a head injury.

Conrad seated himself in the dune buggy and gestured for Frank to climb in. He roared across the dazzling white sand heading toward the grove of trees. On the other side of the trees there was a solitary pink stucco house with a large veranda facing the ocean. Conrad pointed his finger,

At the left end of the terrace is an outdoor shower you can use to wash yourself clean of the sand and salt. I'll bring out a pair of shorts and a shirt which will be much more comfortable than the business clothes you' have on.

Frank stood under the cold water shower for a long time washing away every bit of the crusted salt and sand layered on his hairy body. Stepping out of the stall, he saw a beach towel and the clothes Conrad had promised. He had been thoughtful, since there was also a straw hat to protect his sunburned face from more damage. As he rounded the corner of the terrace, an arm holding a can of beer thrust out in front of him. He gratefully took the beer and looked down the terrace. He had expected to see Conrad, to his surprise, it was the old man.

Struggling to stop a panic attack, Frank inquired Where's Conrad? Uh, I don't know your name. My name is Conrad. the old man replied.

Sort of a family thing then having the same name. Frank stupidly blurted out.

No, I'm the same Conrad who drove you here.

I know the sun is very hot, but I didn't think it could age you so fast. Frank said half jokingly, as his mind tried to come to terms with the bizarre situation.

The old man stood up and crossed over to Frank. He stuck out his hand. Slowly he did the same. They shook hands,'

I have had the advantage here, knowing you are Frank Fowler, and leaving you without a name to match up with my face. I am Satan, my given name, but you also have heard of me by a number of other names, devil, etc.

Frank was slowly shuffling backward on the terrace with his eyes frozen on the face of the old man. I'm here with a lunatic! Maybe he has a gun or something, so I'd better play it cool, until I can run the hell away from here.

Pleased to meet you Mr. Satan. he replied, figuring he had better placate the crazy old bastard, and stall for time. His feet were still slowly shuffling him toward the edge of the terrace. Satan, or whoever this nut really was, turned around, and headed for the door to the house.

I need another beer, he told Frank.,

He was nervous but trying not to show it. He waited until the door of the house closed behind the geezer, then whirled around to make his escape. As his right foot was out in midair to step off the terrace, he was gently, but firmly held in place.

He looked like a sports photo freeze frame of a runner in the act of jumping a hurtle in a foot race. Surprisingly, it was sort of comfortable to be supported in mid air, even though his heart was thumping like it wanted to leave his body and fly away. Then he was gently let down on the terrace. Conrad was now the young man again. Frank suspected it was a prank.

Conrad seemed to know his thoughts,

You haven't had a chance to drink your beer. he put up his can as if to toast Frank. A beer never tasted so good, nor needed as much, as it was in his present situation. He drained the can in three gulps. Another beer was somehow placed in his hand and he repeated the first drinking performance. A little buzz began in his head. Conrad had watched him and sensed Frank was calm enough to talk to him.

They sat down on the terrace, and Conrad said , "You are not being held prisoner here, even

though I did restrain you a bit. It was done only for the purpose of talking to you before you left.

By the way, you can leave anytime you want to

and take the dune buggy to the town a few miles

down the highway.

"Your jet plane crashed off the coast of South

Carolina, near Myrtle Beach. Sad thing, your plane really did run out of gas. Apparently,

someone miscalculated how much fuel was

needed to reach Washington DC bucking the head winds coming in from the north. Saving you wasn't a random act on my part. I have been studying you, and some other men around your age for awhile now for a very special assignment."

All of the terror he had felt a few moments ago came back. Frank jumped up, and shouted,

I'm the wrong man, you somehow made a mistake! I have never been involved in Satan worship, or witchcraft of any kind, so I wouldn't have a clue. Get someone else!

Conrad was calm and appeared to be somewhat amused,

I have no intention of starting nonsense, for  that is what witchcraft is, old superstitious hysteria. Please sit down so I can explain what I would like you to volunteer for, and the emphasis is on freely agreeing to work with me. I will give you all of the time you want to make up your mind.

He sat down, but there was enough tension in his legs to spring him across the terrace, if need But it would probably be a useless move. He nodded his head, trying to control his feelings lest he do something to piss off Conrad. He was handed another beer as Conrad spoke,

"Some of the ancient history about me and God is true. The story diverges though, I wasn't an archangel. I was a partner in creating the world. Little differences of opinion would come up now and then, but nothing that we couldn't iron out between us. It was awhile before I discovered He had his own secret agenda for man. There was a confrontation over our ideas for humans. I wanted a paradise for humans where they could live freely and happily.

"So, when we created the Garden of Eden I was delighted. Then one day, there was the incident of the temptation by a snake and the law was broken about eating an apple from the Tree of Knowledge. I always thought the forbidden thing was a little strict and a sophomore-ish rule to impose on ignorant humans we're supposed to love.

"I was astounded when God threw them out of Eden. I protested strongly at this harsh treatment and I said it was only one little apple, what's the big deal? As the argument continued, me defending, He condemning, the truth slowly came to the surface about His motives for this treatment. It was about power, He couldn't stand disobedience over even a minor infraction like losing one lousy apple.

"Power mad, He created the sin system as a perfect way to keep an iron grip on humans. It was 'His way or the highway' for man, which I considered to be mean spirited, and I let Him know how I felt. Mounting a sneaky attack on me, He cast me out of the house and told me to never come back. Well, I didn't want to be around Him anyway, So I left, contenting myself with making little adjustments and improvements to the world where needed, because we had slapped it together too quickly.

"He formulated His strict rules which would take the smile off anyone's face. Everything man enjoyed immensely was now bad for him. Eat sweets and you get fat, too much fat from those juicy steaks gives you a bad heart, drink too much, there are things like liver failure, heart attacks and alcoholism. And, of course, sex has a whole range of pitfalls. Now think carefully Frank, does that sound like a formula for a happy life. or is it, in a subtle way, hell?

"Now He needed to keep up his image of being the good guy, so he started planting rumors about me being the one who was causing all the grief. Me, who had always been on the side of humans, and their happiness, became the monster. Once the smear campaign got rolling, no matter how much I protested, the damage was done. I got the shaft.

"I ran into Him awhile ago, but instead of