Nerio O. Brillantes is an aspiring writer. He is an adult student of Full Sail University, studying screenwriting and flash fiction writing. A US Navy veteran, Nerio also plans to write short stories of the science-fiction and mystery genres as well as novels. He still plans to become a feature writer/op-ed columnist. His stories are published in the Scarlet Leaf Review magazine.
High-tailers: The D.B. Cooper Case
Tall redhead helicopter pilot Hank Paller walked along the side of Farmer Mills' long barn.
The short blonde former farmhand Daniel J. Ostley walked alongside of him, trying to keep up.
"What's going on, Hank?," said Daniel.
"D. B. Cooper," Hank said.
"Who's D. B. Cooper?" Dan said. Hank bent pass Dan and peaked into the barn. He stood
in front of Dan and looked at him.
"D. B. Cooper was a guy who went on a plane ride in order to steal at least a million dollars."
"He got away with it," Hank said.
"What does that got to do with us?"
Hank glanced at his former police helicopter. "We're going to look for him."
"We don’t even know where he is."
"Speaking of which, we better not let Old Man Mills know where we are. Get in the copter."
Hank looked around for the old farmer. Dan walked to Hank's copter and climbed into the co-pilot's
seat (or cockpit). Hank ran to the pilot's seat and climbed in also. The propellers spun and the
helicopter lifted off the farm grounds. "All's well."
"With the helicopter?," said Dan.
"With not seeing Farmer Mills," Hank said.
"So, D. B. Cooper got on a plane and stole a million dollars, and got away with it??," said Dan.
"Yep, he hasn't been found since that happened a long time ago," said Hank. "And we're going
to try to find him." He held both pilot control sticks.
"We don't know him, Hank."
"Oh, we're not going to meet him. We're just going to see where he actually is."
"Suppose, he's dead."
"You know, Danny Boy, I'm not even sure where he is." A clanging clanging at the belly of the
helicopter. "What the heck is that?" said Hank.
Dan looked down below him. Farmer Mills threw a pitchfork at them. "The Farmer Mills."
The helicopter or Hank's helicopter lifted higher into the air and away from the Farmer Mills'
farmgrounds. The aerial craft moved forward and disappeared in the aerial distance. While
piloting the helicopter, Hank looked all around at the earth surface below him. Dan also looked
around at the same area. "Uh, Hank, what are we looking for?"
"Anything or sign of or related to D. B. Cooper.". The helicopter lands in the midwest part of
of the United States and onto the land estate of a big mansion. "This place seems safe enough
from Farmer Mills."
"But what are we doing here?," said Dan, the two young men step out of the aerial vehicle.
"Cooper is said to have stolen at least a million dollars," Hank said. "If he did, he might've
spent it on this mansion or hidden it."
"You mean . . .."
"Yeeahh, we could find ol D. B. in here, sleeping. Or just find out about the money."
"Are we gonna take the money, Hank?"
"No, especially if it's used up. Besides, if it wasn't, what would we do with it?"
"Return it for a for reward," Dan said. Hank looked at him.
"Okay, new plan. First, we look for D. B. Cooper. Second, we find out about the one million
dollars. Third, if we find it or any left, we'll return it for a reward. Or else, if we don't or can't
find it, we'll move on."
The high-tailers walked forward toward the front gates of the mansion before them.
In the Company of Blue And Redd
I was riding in a dump truck next to two guys: One was the driver and the other was the co-driver. The co-driver was a young man same as I am, mid-thirties. He
had a thin body frame and dirty-blonde clean cut hair. The driver was his coworker, probably, his best friend. The driver seemed to be in his early-forties with a little thick body build and slightly-greying dark hair. He was clean-cut, too.
"Where're you going?" Said the driver. He kept his eyes on the road, while he asked. "Uh, northwest," I said.
"We're going that direction, too," the co-driver said. "Kind of."
"I'm Blue Retton. This is my business partner, Redd Puller." Blue was still driving. "You're Blue and he's Redd?" I said to the two of them.
"That's right. Sounds funny, doesn't it??". Blue sounded serious. "Say, what's your name?"
"It's Whiley Jones," I said to Blue and Redd.
"Whiley? Not Whitey," Blue said.
Like Wiley E. Coyote," Redd said.
"Yes, but there's an 'h' in the spelling." Blue suddenly stopped driving their
dump truck. He glanced at his sideview mirror. I didn't hear any siren, but a highway police officer appeared at Blue's side of the truck. "Any problem, officer?"
"You boys heading anywhere?" Blue, Redd, and I looked at each other. Blue looked back at the highway officer.
"Just Northwest-South," Blue said to the officer.
"Don't leave any farther than that," the officer said and disappeared, walking back to his patrol car. Blue looked at Redd and I, and said "He must like dump truck business es.".