sudden impact

Sudden Impact By Jerry B. Jenkins Release Date: 3/5/2013 Price: $9.99 [For more information on this title, click HERE!] Three books in one, this AirQuest Adventure bindup by #1 New York Times bestselling author Jerry Jenkins combines pulse-‐pounding suspense, nonstop action, and a message of hope amidst tragic circumstances. Travel with twelve-‐year-‐old Chad, his younger sister, Kate, and their fighter pilot father, as the three span the globe helping those in need-‐-‐-‐and land in more trouble than they ever imagined! About the Author

New York Times bestselling author Jerry B. Jenkins, former vice president for publishing and currently chairman of the board for the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago, is the author of more than 180 fiction and nonfiction books, including the bestselling Left Behind series. He is the owner of Jenkins Entertainment, an award-‐winning filmmaking company, and of the worldwide Christian Writers Guild, aiming to train tomorrow's professional Christian writers. He and his wife, Dianna, have three grown sons and eight grandchildren. Find Jerry online on Facebook and at his website: www.jerryjenkins.com

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ZONDERKIDZ

Sudden ImpactCopyright © 2013 by Jerry B. Jenkins

Crash at Cannibal ValleyCopyright © 1996 by Jerry B. Jenkins

Terror in Branco GrandeCopyright © 1996 by Jerry B. Jenkins

Disaster in the YukonCopyright © 1996 by Jerry B. Jenkins

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Author’s Note

I had as much fun writing this trilogy of books as any other

kids’ books I have written. Want to know why?

Besides using two of my kids’ names (Chad and Michael),

the story allowed me to imagine being in a family that has

gone through a huge personal loss, but which also gets to be

involved in all kinds of adventures.

My own father was a police offi cer, which was cool

enough. But wouldn’t it be something to have a dad who

fl ies planes all over the world?

I hope you enjoy reading these books as much as I

enjoyed writing them. And if you do, I’d love to hear from

you.

Jerry B. Jenkins

Box 88288

Colorado Springs, CO

www.jerryjenkins.com


To Dallas, Chad, and Michael.

May you remain ever young at heart.


13

Misery in Mukluk

Chad Michaels bounded out of Mukluk Middle School in

northern Alaska. He ran as fast as he could despite his huge

boots, down-fi lled snow pants, mittens, and hooded parka.

At noon, he and the other sixth-grade guys usually

engaged in daily snowball fi ghts against the seventh graders.

Chad hated these fi ghts; he would have skipped them if it

weren’t for the name-calling he’d have to endure. Today’s

snowball fi ght couldn’t ruin his day though. He had two

special things to look forward to that afternoon, and that’s

what he thought about as he ran out into the snow.

The winter sun set early in Mukluk, so the whole school

was let out for recess before lunch every day. That meant

there were just too many kids to watch at once, and the boys

could get away with breaking the no-snowball rule. Besides,

these guys had been snowball fi ghting for so long, they

knew where to play without getting caught. Chad glanced


Jerry B. Jenkins14

over his shoulder. The other sixth graders were right behind

him.

Chad hadn’t even had time to stop and scoop up a ball of

his own when he saw Rusty Testor, his least favorite sev-

enth grader, standing a few feet away, a huge snowball in

his palm. The icy wind stung Chad’s exposed cheeks as he

sprinted for all he was worth, but the bigger, older Testor

had the angle on him and was closing fast.

Rusty had a gap-toothed, freckle-faced grin that gave

Chad nightmares. I’d love to pop him, just once, Chad thought.

He imagined himself rushing Testor, driving his head into

the bigger boy’s stomach, and knocking the wind right out

of him. That’s what his friends would do.

But not me, Chad thought as he ran. Rusty’s right. I’m a

wimp.

Chad headed for the highest, deepest drift he could fi nd,

planning to hurtle over it and fi ght back from the other

side. But from the corner of his eye he saw Testor draw back

his throwing arm. Chad mistimed his leap over the snow-

drift and left the ground too early. He spread his arms and

legs, but instead of fl ying over the top to safety, he fl opped

face-fi rst into the side of the drift.

As he called to his friends for help, Rusty’s snowball

smacked his cheekbone and drove ice and water into his ear

and eye. It burned, and he wanted to cry, but he would never


Crash at Cannibal Valley 15

do that. It was bad enough he was a klutz; he wasn’t going to

be a baby too. At least he wouldn’t show it if he was.

Chad turned and saw Rusty scooping more ammo from

about ten feet away. Several other seventh graders joined in,

grinning just like Rusty. Chad squatted, covering his face

with his arms and drawing up his knees to protect himself

as the fusillade pummeled him.

Here was the perfect opportunity for his friends to

charge the seventh graders from the rear, while they were

all occupied with him. But where were they? Was he sacri-

fi cing himself for no purpose? He peeked through his hands

in disbelief. They just stood outside the circle of older kids,

looking at him in disgust.

“You’re too easy,” Rusty said. “Go hide somewhere.”

Chad wanted to charge him, to throw ice balls at him,

but not if his so-called friends wouldn’t help. He was tired

of being a sitting duck. He stood, shoulders sagging, hands

at his sides, as the seventh graders turned their attention to

the other sixth graders. They would put up a better fi ght,

which was more fun for the seventh graders than terroriz-

ing Chad.

When they trudged back into school for lunch, one

of Chad’s friends caught up with him. “What’s the deal,

Michaels? Every day it’s the same thing! You’re big enough,

you’re strong enough, you’re fast enough. You’re as good at


Jerry B. Jenkins16

basketball as anybody in the class. But outside you’re like a

pansy.”

Chad just shook his head as he peeled off his snow gear.

Maybe he was a wimp, but he wouldn’t let anything ruin

this special day, even if he wasn’t the rugged outdoorsman

that most of the boys at Mukluk Middle School seemed to

be. They fi shed and hunted, camped and hiked. He had

nothing against that, and his father had taught him a lot

about the outdoors. The truth was, he just wasn’t good at all

that stuff.

Chad would rather sit at his computer, surfi ng the

Internet or maintaining his fi les on his favorite pro and col-

lege sports teams in the lower forty-eight states. He loved

downloading scores and statistics in the morning before

school; because of the time difference, all the results from

the night before were already listed on the news and wire

ser vices. No one in the school knew as much as he did about

sports.

After lunch Chad’s teacher, Mrs. Wright, called the class

to attention. “For the third straight time, I’m happy to

announce that Chad Michaels is our student of the month.”

She added, “Congratulations, Chad,” as most of the boys

shook their heads and grimaced, while several of the girls

turned and smiled at him. Chad’s dad said the guys were

just jealous, but there were days when he wished he were



an average student. He didn’t need something else to be

ridiculed about.

“And,” Mrs. Wright said, “Chad has two things to share

with the class, don’t you, Chad?”

Chad felt the heat creeping up his neck. “Uh, no, not

really.”

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Wright said. “Come on up here and

tell us what will be happening this afternoon.”

Chad shot her a pleading glance, but he could see it

would do no good. He shuffl ed to the front and turned,

feeling as if he were facing a fi ring squad.

One boy groaned. “Is this where we get to hear about

his dad the hero again? Does he still call you Spitfi re,

Michaels?”

Mrs. Wright shushed them. Chad stared at the fl oor.

“Well, fi rst, my sister, Kate, is speaking to our class in about

half an hour.”

“A fi fth grader?” someone said, snorting.

“Kate will tell us when she comes in,” Mrs. Wright said.

“But what else — ”

“Radios, of course,” one of the girls said. “She knows

everything there is to know about radios.”

Chad nodded. “She knows even more’n my dad about

radios.”

“I knew he would come up,” a boy said.


Jerry B. Jenkins18

“Now that’s enough,” Mrs. Wright said. “Chad, tell us

what’s so special about today. ”

They don’t care! But there was no getting out of this.

“Well, uh, Kate and I will leave school early today to go

with Mom to the airport. The peacekeeping mission is over

in the Middle East, and my dad landed near Washington,

D.C., several hours ago. He should be in Anchorage soon,

and then he’ll fl y here.”

“Did he kill anybody over there?” someone shouted.

“I don’t know,” Chad said. “He could have. He fl ies — ”

“Fighter planes; yeah, we know.”

Face burning, Chad sat back down, more sure than ever

that the other kids were jealous. None of their fathers did

anything as exciting as his dad did. Even when he wasn’t

being called into duty by the Air Force, he fl ew charter

fl ights all over Alaska, Canada, the northeastern United

States, and even the Pacifi c. Dad owned his own com-

pany — he called it Yukon Do It — which included ten

planes and employed several pilots.

The other kids could mutter all they wanted and make

fun of him, but Chad knew they wished their dads were as

daring as his. The school assemblies that Bruce Michaels

spoke at each year were always the most popular and talked

about. And when Chad’s class took a fi eld trip to his dad’s

hangar, and the kids got to take rides in one of the small



charter planes, Chad lived for days on the attention. For a

while, some of the kids even called Chad Spitfi re like his

dad did. Mr. Michaels had told him a Spitfi re was a World

War II plane that could be quick and deadly. “And that’s

you,” his dad often said. Chad secretly liked it when his dad

called him Spitfi re, but he asked his dad not to do that in

front of his friends anymore.

An hour later, Chad was again amazed at what his sister

could do. She didn’t even seem nervous when she arrived

with her radios and oscillators and gave her little demon-

stration. A bit shorter and thinner than Chad, she had his

blond hair and green eyes, and it wasn’t unusual for people

to ask if they were twins.

After a few interruptions from the class clowns, Kate

quickly won them over with her knowledge of the history

of the discovery of radio waves, and her explanation of how

quickly the technology had grown, even in just the last

fi ve years. “You know,” she said, “that television signals are

really just high-frequency radio waves. Some day we’ll be

wearing TV phones on our wrists and looking at each other

while we talk.”

She also told about her recent trip with her father to an

Asian radio-manufacturing plant, and all she had seen and

done there. When she fi nished she received loud applause


Jerry B. Jenkins20

and cheering. “I have to get going now,” she said, smiling,

“because in about half an hour, my mom — ”

“We know, we know!” some boys hollered. “We’ve heard

all about it!”

Kate blushed as she packed up her things.

Chad and Kate squabbled as much as any other brother

and sister, but now he sat beaming. He was proud of her,

and while he might not admit that to her, it felt good. He

was glad she was his sister.

Chad found it hard to concentrate on anything during

the next half hour. He had his stuff arranged and was ready

to go. His dad had been gone six weeks now. It had been

longer the time before, and he had shot down an enemy

plane that time.

Chad’s mother was good about not showing her worry.

They prayed for Dad every night, of course, but she didn’t

cry or talk about the danger all the time. She said there was

just as much danger when he fl ew his charter fl ights, and

they weren’t going to waste their lives away worrying about

things that may never happen.

Chad stared at his watch, trying to make the time go

faster. The seconds seemed to tick like minutes. At two

o’clock he was to go by Kate’s classroom and walk with her to

the offi ce where his mother would meet them, sign them out,

and then they’d head for the airstrip, forty-fi ve minutes away.



Finally his watch showed two o’clock sharp. With a nod

from Mrs. Wright, Chad quietly left the room. “Say ‘hi’ to

your dad for us,” someone whispered. He nodded. He could

even put up with Rusty Testor on a day like this.

“So, how’d I do, Chad?” Kate said as they made their way

to the offi ce.

“It was all right,” Chad said.

“Just all right?” she said. “Really? Just all right?”

“You were great, of course,” Chad said. Why couldn’t he

ever tell her how he really felt? What would be wrong with

that?

“You sound like you’d be happier if I’d made a fool of

myself,” she said.

“Nah,” he said. “You did good.”

“Well, you mean.”

“Yeah, you did well.”

Chad was surprised his mother was not already at the

offi ce. He and Kate peeked outside at the parking lot to

watch for her while the receptionist took a call. “Kids,” she

said then, “your mother’s been delayed. It’ll be a little while.”

Chad squinted and said, “Was that her on the phone?”

“Um, no. But they told me she’s been detained.”

“Detained?” Kate said. “Who told you that?”

The receptionist looked nervous. “I didn’t catch his

name.”


Jerry B. Jenkins22

“Listen,” Chad said, “my dad will touch down in an hour,

and we’re supposed to be there waiting for him. He’ll worry

if we’re not — ”

“It won’t be long,” the receptionist said, “before we’ll

know something defi nite.”

“About what?” Chad frowned. Why wouldn’t the recep-

tionist look him in the eye? “Who was on the phone?”

“I just take the messages, kids. I don’t explain them. Your

mother has been delayed, so you might just as well take a

seat.”

“For how long?” Kate said.

“I honestly don’t know, honey,” she said, turning back to

her work. “You know as much as I do.”

Chad and Kate looked at each other, and Chad shrugged.

He guessed there was nothing to worry about, like Mom

always said. But it would have been easier not to worry if

it were his mother on the phone. She would have asked to

speak to him.

Chad and Kate sat fi dgeting while they watched for their

mother out the window. Eventually, a police car stopped at

the entrance, and the uniformed cop glanced at them as he

hurried in. What was going on? He bent to whisper to the

receptionist, who immediately went and knocked on the

principal’s offi ce door. She and the offi cer went in then and

shut the door.



A minute later the principal and the receptionist came

out. The receptionist went back to her desk without look-

ing at the kids. The principal, a grandmotherly woman with

white hair, came and bent before Chad and Kate. “Would

you join Offi cer Flanagan and me in my offi ce, please?”

Chad wanted to ask what it was all about, but deep in his

stomach he was afraid he knew. After he and Kate entered

the principal’s offi ce, the principal shut the door. Offi cer

Flanagan sat at a small table and pointed to two chairs. The

kids sat.

The offi cer was not smiling. “Chad and Kate, is it?” he

said.

They nodded.

“Chad, I need to get some information from you. What

time is your father expected?”

“In an hour. Why?”

“And you and your sister and your mom were going to

meet him?”

“What happened to him?” Chad said.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you,” Offi cer

Flanagan said. “But it’s not about your father.”


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