2084 The End of Days by Derek Beaugarde Page A

stated adamantly, that as a Catholic, she would only be happy with the rhythm method of contraception.
    “If it was good enough for my parents, then it is just as good for me also!”
    “Jesus, Maria, your parents ended up with nine kids!”
    “Yeah, well I’m gonna do it right. We’ll have plans and charts and we’ll stick to them, okay, big Jack?”
    “Okay, Maria Conchita, you are the boss!”
    In mid-September 2066 Jack arrived home one night laden down with a magnum of champagne, a huge box of chocolates and an even bigger bouquet of flowers. Maria squealed with delight and little Isabella, already in her baby-grow pyjamas, clapped her hands excitedly. Jack had already had a couple of Jack Daniels and he was feeling elated.
    “Jack, darling, what’s the occasion?”
    “Maria Conchita Crossan - you’re dearly beloved husband has only gone and gotten the Big One!”
    Maria screamed so loud that Isabella started crying with fright.
    “Eeeeh! You got Air Force One?”
    “Ah sure did, honey bunch. John Crossan, pilot to the President of the U-Ni-Ted States of America, at your service, ma’am!”
    After Isabella was put to bed, they celebrated into the night, finishing the champagne and Jack helped himself to a few more bourbons. By the time they were in bed Jack was pretty tipsy and full-on horny. Jack snuggled up to Maria and kissed her neck.
    “C’mon, baby, big Jack needs his momma –“
    “Oh, no, Jack – we are way off the charts tonight. You know it’s too darn risky.”
    “Big Jack promises his Maria that he’ll jump off the train before it hits the buffers. Ba-by, Jacky needs his Maria Conchita?”
    “You better jump off that damn train okay or ah’m gonna kill you Jack!”
    Three weeks later Maria, in tears, gave him the news that she was pregnant again. Jack was profusely apologetic. He knew he had crossed the line and had put Maria’s life in jeopardy.
    “Maria, I’m so sorry. Ah was so drunk that night ah just couldn’t stop myself. Look, baby, the best thing to do is go for a termination.”
    Maria swiftly crossed herself and stared at Jack in horror.
    “Jack Crossan, you horny bastard, don’t you swear at me. Madre Dio! My parents and my priest would kill me if they even thought that I would contemplate an abortion. No, Jack, the baby is ours. I want my baby.”
    Over the next few weeks Jack tried to talk to Maria into the abortion. She would not even hear of it and Jack worried himself sick over Maria’s health. Maria on the other hand bloomed magnificently as each trimester passed. The doctors were delighted at her progress but they advised that Maria should take it easy during the pregnancy, including no alcohol and little sex. As far as Maria was concerned that meant no sex, nothing, nada! Jack, now flying in Air Force One squadron, was at lunch one day at the base canteen with his old wing man, Vance Mulcahey, who was now ‘Top Gun’ on the F-69s.
    “So how’s Maria’s pregnancy doing, Jack.”
    “Oh, ah guess she’s doin’ fine, Vance.”
    “You sound a bit disgruntled there, Big Bro’? You okay?”
    “Man, ah’m just friggin’ gaggin’ for it Vance. Maria won’t let me near her till the baby’s born.”
    Vance put his arm around his old friend’s shoulder.
    “What you and I need to do is to get our old F-6-9 buddies together and have a real good ole blow-out up there in DC. What do ya say, Jack?”
    “Good idea - so long as we’re only talkin’ drinks here, Vance?”
    “It’s the only thang on ma mind, Jacky boy! Although we both know what ‘F’ and ‘69’ really stands for!”
    The eleven Old Boys of the F-69 squadron were having a grand old night out up in downtown Washington. It could not have been any better for Jack. Maria had flown down to San Antonio, Texas with Isabella because her grandmother was very ill in hospital. So it had not been a problem for Jack when Vance and the other guys suggested staying over at the InterContinental in DC.