Fallout

"It was me." Deckard said as he went about taking the cuffs off.

"Who the FUCK do you think YOU are to go against policy?!" The Deputy scolded. "Just wait until..."

"WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT SHIT!!! You want to rip this guy a new asshole, do it on YOUR time. I want my clients now!"

As soon as the cuffs were off, Travis raced to his sister. The siblings embraced as they hadn't done in a very long time. He immediately felt her tremble in his arms. Travis and Monica had never really had a very close relationship. Though they didn't hate each other, their time spent together was minimal. They always had their own lives and agendas to attend to. Never really spending anymore time together than was absolutely necessary. Their divide had gotten even further apart after the death of their mother. The only thing that kept the both of them sane and comforted growing up.

"I know you guys are happy to see each other, but we really are pressed for time right now." The man next to them stated.

"Ok..." Travis said as he took a seat. "What's going on anyway? And please forgive me; I remember your face, but for the life of me I can't remember your name. You were a friend of my Dad's: right?"

"Yeah I was Travis." Thomas Rollins said. "No offense taken. But as I said before, we are really pressed for time. Hurry up and sign these." Opening a large manila envelope, he pushed a stack of papers to both siblings.

"Travis...you know him? Who is this guy?! OW!!" Monica asked, a pang of pain ripping through her body as she leaned over to sign her stack.

"Just know that as of the time you signed that first sheet of paper, I have become your legal representative, and my first act as such is to get you two out of here immediately. Oh...and personally, I was there at your 13th ballet recital. That girl clipped you."

Monica's eyes grew wide as she stopped signing the papers. That was a memory that she had tried so desperately to forget. She had worked long and hard to prepare for that one seminal moment, only to have Hallie Bryant kick her foot out from underneath her. When she complained to her parents, Dad just shushed her away. She had been heartbroken. She never picked up her shoes ever again.

"Sign now...talk later." Thomas reiterated.

The siblings went through the paperwork. Flipping page after page, signing where the sticky arrows pointed. Finally, they stopped and handed the stacks of papers back to Thomas. Finally, he handed the two each a small stack of papers with the official seal of the State of California on them.

"Sign these immediately. We need to get moving." Thomas added.

The siblings signed and handed them back. Shifting the papers to the Wardens, Thomas pushed them with a good shove.

"This is HIGHLY irregular. I don't agree with this at all." Deputy Warden Spooner commented.

Thomas' voice dropped to that of a cold monotone.

"Yes...for you it probably IS irregular. However, the decision was made by those MUCH higher up the food chain than you; so, your ascent nor your approval is necessary. Just your signature. If you really want to get ugly about this, I suggest you have a much BETTER explanation for why my client is all bandaged up!" Thomas scolded.

That shut down any further protests from either of the federal bureaucrats. Just as they were handing the papers back to the dashing black attorney, Travis brought up at the collection of six well-dressed, thousand-pound elephants in the room.

"Ok...so, who are they?" Travis inquired.

"My name is Roger Laughlin." One of the men answered without being spoken to.

"My associates and I represent the law firm of Brighton, Turner and Goldschmidt; who in turn represent the NAFL. Your former employers."

Travis' jaw grew tight. He recognized the firm as the leading law firm of the NAFL. Mostly because they took a chunk out of all the player's salary in "legal donations," in the event of any legal issues that may arise. Too bad they didn't have his back in this one.

"Our client was made aware of the snafu concerning your ensnarement with this little "raid gone wrong." Yet, as much as they would like to have you back, there is still too much heat associated with your name right now to bring you back. So, the owners of the league held an emergency meeting to address your new-found situation. In exchange for the buy-out of the rest of your contract with the Blaze, as well as a $2 million buy-in from the rest of the owners, they ask you to simply walk away quietly so that they may continue their affairs without the messy public relations fiasco that would accompany your re-instatement to the league."

"And how much do I stand to gain?!" Travis asked through clenched teeth.

"$200 million Mr. Morrison; after taxes."

"And all for the low, low price of a none-disclosure agreement that stipulates you withdraw your right to sue the league at any future point." Added another of the shysters.

So, that's their game. Travis thought to himself. They give him a whopping check to keep his mouth shut and go away. All while allowing him to rot in prison for the past month. Travis could feel a headache coming on. The strain of his facial muscles upon his teeth just shy of making them powder.

"You represent me...is that correct Mr. Rollins?" He whispered to the well-dressed man to his left.

"That's correct; to a point. I was retained to get you and your sister out of here and pass along some instructions from your brother, nothing more. If I were to take on this matter, I would need to be retained by you specifically...and I would have to be paid. But...as a friend in the business, I will tell you this for free. You have a case against the league for wrongful termination, slander and a host of other minor offenses against your name. HOWEVER. That litigation would take years and you would be taking on an organization that has BILLIONS of dollars to throw at your case, meaning you could be in and out of court for YEARS...maybe decades. And even IF you were to win, they could hold that settlement up for even longer just to spite you and just pay the fines. So, in my opinion, as much as it might stick in your craw to eat shit from these guys, my suggestion as a friend and an attorney: is to eat the shit, take the money, and move on with your life. Fight them off another day, in another way. In this case, live better without them. Oh...by the way, can you make up your mind one way or the other in a timely fashion? We're going to be late."

Travis glowered at the sharks across from him. "Give me the paperwork." He spat. Looking over the papers, Travis signed one right after another. A veritable encyclopedia of useless paper that held the weight of the Sword of Damocles. And in the final stroke of a pen; the years in Pee Wee, the years in Pop Warner, the years in High School and college, the years playing professionally, the legend of Travis "the 88" Morrison as a football player...was over.

Sliding the papers to Thomas, who in turn passed them to a Notary, the papers ended back up in the hands of the shysters. The lead lawyer named Roger smiled a toothy grin that must have sent his Dentist friend's (if such a lowly creature can have such things), children an all expense paid ride to the finest Ivy League school they could buy. "A pleasure doing business with you Mr. Morrison." He said as he reached for an envelope in his briefcase. AS one, the lawyers stood in unison to leave. "It's a shame too. I was a huge fan of yours. I won a lot of money betting on your teams." The envelope skid silently across the table as the lawyers left out of the room.

As if that was their final cue, the rest of the people within the room began to stand, making final preparations to depart. "If there's nothing else sir...I really want to get back home to the wife." The warden said.

Thomas too stood up. rapidly gathering all of his belongings. As he was leaving out of the door, he noticed that Travis and Monica were leaving behind him. "Oh no guys....you aren't coming with me. You have other arrangements."

"But, but...all of our stuff back in our cells. Don't we have to get that? What about clothes? I don't want to go home in these rags!" Travis countered.

"Don't worry about it." Thomas assured in a stern but understanding voice. "Per instructions t the warden, your stuff should have been boxed up and taken to the back entrance that they are going to let you out in. The press are all crawling around the front entrance. Someone released the news that something was going on tonight. Unless you want them to be all up in your face with cameras, I suggest you take the back way out." Reaching into his briefcase, Thomas pulled out a manila envelope and passed it to Monica.

"I don't care one way or the other." Monica sniffed, holding onto her younger brother. "I just want to go home."

"Soon enough." Thomas said. "I'll see you guys later. Take care of yourselves." With that, one of the other officers led him away.

"This way 'T-Bird." Officer Deckard motioned the siblings.

Through the darkened hallways, the newly freed siblings followed the young officer to another wing of the complex. "Where are we going?" Travis asked.

"I was just told to drop you guys off at the motor pool. I have no idea about anything after that."

When they arrived at the desk of the motor pool sergeant, Officer Deckard motioned to the man behind the cage that the two former inmates needed their boxes.

Opening the cage door, he placed a big brown box in the hands of both Monica and Travis and then slammed the door behind him.

Going to opposite bathrooms, Travis and Monica opened the boxes and changed clothes. Upon finishing, they met back at the cage where Officer Deckard stood guard. Waiting patiently.

Travis stepped up to the younger man and shook his hand vigorously. "I don't know how else to pay you Allen. Are you going to be alright after all this?"

"I don't know. The Captain was a little pissed off. But he's always like that. The Deputy Warden on the other hand...."

"Here...take this." Lifting his wrist, Travis unsnapped the $45,000 gold and diamond wristwatch he bought after his 2nd World Bowl victory, slapping it into the hand of his admirer.

"I can't...I can't..." Allen said.

"You will. Without you, I might have lost it up in here. Thanks for being a friend when I needed it. If this goes sideways on you, call me. Your family shouldn't have to suffer for being a kind human being among a sea of hate."

The young officer had silent tears running down his face. A memento to remember his hero by and a tale to tell his children. Blocking the thought from his mind, he opened the wooden door to the motor pol. Inside, another Officer was dressed, busily chain smoking another cigarette. The small accumulated pile at this feet telling the tale he had been waiting for a minute.

"Well...this is where I drop you guys off at. Take care of yourself Travis. You too Travis' sister. And I hope to hear from you guys again."

With that, Allen closed the door shut behind the siblings before they could see him cry.

"I am SO ready to get out of here." Monica stated.

"Me too." The Officer snapped, snatching the box from her grasp and slinging it into the trunk. "The doors are open. Get in the back so we can move." Taking the box from Travis, the Officer slung it too into the trunk of the mid-sized SUV and slammed the door shut with an emphasis. No doubt telling of his irritation of extra work.

The engine started, the truck began to pull forward, the garage door to the motor pool delaying their movement momentarily. Exiting the facility proper, Travis and Monica checked out the scene at the front of the building. Thomas hadn't lied when he talked of the media presence. Even through the staggered lights from the street-lamps outside, the front of the building was awash in the illumination of camera lights.

"Jesus." Travis remarked. "All that just for the two of us? It's not like we are notorious gangsters or something."

"I don't give a shit." Monica groused. "All I know is looking at that shit is giving me a fucking headache." Travis returned to his seat and held his siter close to his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so close to his family. The SUV turned right out onto the back road of the complex and sped off. Within an hour, the car came upon a small airport. Not nearly big enough to harbor airbuses of any kind.

Driving onto the tarmac, the car stopped next to a gleaming Gulf Stream IV jet plane.

The driver jumped out of the car and jogged around to the trunk of the vehicle as siblings disembarked. The driver threw the boxes to the co-pilot, hopped back in the car and sped off. Not another word spoken.

"Morning folks." The pilot said stamping out his cigar. "I have the itinerary all planned out, the tanks are fueled, and we are ready to take off now to fit into our window. Also, there's a couple packages left for you guys in the cabin."

"Thanks." Travis said. Guiding Monica into the cabin, the siblings sat in the comfortable chairs and strapped in. The jet engines whined loudly as the pilot guided the plane onto the runway. With a heavy lurch, the craft rocketed down the strip before lifting off effortlessly into the air, banking slightly before leveling out.

"Good morning folks this is your Captain. We are currently on our course to a cruising altitude of 27,000 ft at 70 knots. Our next destination will be a refuel in Galveston, Texas, before another stop in Gulf Port, Louisiana. Our final stop will be in North Decatur, GA. In the bins above you are boxes we were told to give you once you were here. So, sit back, relax, and let us do the flying. You can freely move about the cabin now."

Monica and Travis unfastened their seatbelts and reached into the bins above their heads. Two boxes sat with their names on them. "Here." Monica said holding her box out. "This one belongs to you."

Travis took the box and hurriedly ripped the tape off. Inside was a change of clothes (down to a new pack of underwear), a fake moustache and beard kit, and a bag containing a passport, driver's license, and Social Security card in the name of

Michael Lee Bailey.

"Michael Lee? That the hell..."

"Hey...don't complain. Apparently I'm Marie Je'Nette." Monica retorted.

Travis checked the rest of the box coming across a manila envelope. Opening it, her withdrew a plain looking sheet of copy paper. Giving it a quick perusal, unconsciously he gave out an audible gasp. His mouth hanging agape.

"Well...don't keep us all in suspense!!" Monica snapped.

Clearing his throat, Travis began to read:

"Hey Guys, Little brother here!

If you're reading this, you have met Thomas, you're out of Prison, and on a jet to Georgia. Told you I would take care of everything. But....I know what you're thinking...why all the subterfuge? Well, I can't give you the long version, so, here's the short of it. Sharmel had Dad killed! And I'm not sure how she will react with a warrant out for her. So far, she hasn't been caught. Last known location was in Nice, France. With that knowledge, Thaelor and I wanted to know you guys were somewhere safe. She says "Hi" by the way. Yes...even for you Monica. Besides, with Sharmel still loose and the obvious media frenzy that will no doubt erupt as soon as you guys are known to be free, I thought you could use a nice, quiet place to regroup and get some R&R. As for the disguises...well, that's all a part of hiding in plain sight. Be careful though, although the documents are good and should hold up to most scrutiny, they are still forgeries. Any search stronger than a cursory look and you guys could be toast. So be careful. As for Georgia, where you guys are going is beautiful. Nice, small, and quiet. Thaelor and I spent a few days down there and we loved it! We hope you guys will to. Along with this letter are instructions to get to your final destination for the biggest surprise in your lives! I won't spoil the for you, just prepare yourselves! Don't worry about a thing. All the arrangements have been made. There is money in these boxes to take care of the final leg of your trip. Be safe guys. We love you both.

Little Brother and Sister

Ryan and Thaelor

XOXOXOXO"

"Oh, fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK ME!!!" Monica spit.

"This is a fucking nightmare." Added her brother.

"Fuck a nightmare...did our BIG-HEADED BROTHER leave any pain medicine in your box? My fucking head is killing me!!!"

The remainder of the flight was nice and mostly without incident (with the exception of a delay in obtaining fuel at the airstrip in Gulf Port). Either way, the siblings were able to finally stretch their collective limbs in freedom in a month. The final approach into Georgia was smooth as silk. The pilot (a guy named Lenny), gave the duo a softer landing than either had ever imagined possible. Walking onto the small tarmac, Michael and Marie Bailey walked to the end of the hanger they had parked at. Sitting like an old friend, a shiny grey, 4-door Pantera Eclipse sat waiting.

"How's your head? Did the medicine you picked up help any? I'll drive if you want."

"A little. But my eyes still hurt from the light."

Travis jumped behind the wheel of the car, the keys having been left in the ignition. Turning on the navigational compass, he guided the vehicle onto the road and headed South towards Atlanta. Travis recognized some of the landmarks as they drove past the elegant city of the South. All the trips he had made as a football player. He even remembered some of the turn offs to some of the strip clubs he had frequented while there. None of which amused his older sister in the slightest. After the third such sight seeing observation, Travis figured any more would produce the physical daggers that lie behind her good eye into his chest.

It was just before 11:20 at night when Travis guided the car down the darkest, back roads he had ever driven down in his life (quiet as was kept, he really wanted to soil his pants after he almost hit that 2nd deer). As the car glided to a stop at the rustic, old style, cobblestone house, the two siblings looked at each other with just the slightest hint of trepidation in their hearts. Walking up the front porch, the duo gave the door a quiet couple of taps. Neither sure what to expect.

"Maybe everybody's asleep. I hate to say it but you might need to knock a little louder." Monica said. Shivering against the chilly breeze.

"No...I think I hear someone moving in there now." Said Travis. "I just hope this is the right house. I would hate to get capped coming to some old redneck, kooks house."

At that, the light came on above their heads and the locks on the inside turned.

"No." The little woman inside said. "You have the right house Travis baby."

Travis's eyes bugged out of his head as he took in the sight of a short, black skinned woman with patches of white along her arms. The mixture of salt and pepper hair was unmistakable. As was the warm, familiar smile.

"Mom? But...but...but...."

"No...but close sweetie." Florence Bailey smiled, holding her arms out wide.

Monica simply feinted.