F. Eugene Barber
The story revolves around a simple robbery of a gasoline station in the high desert hills of southern California. A young woman has forgotten to watch her gas gauge--she ran out of gas. She is thrust into the middle of the station robbery and is kidnapped. She has a harrowing experience and is taken first to the mountains near Big Bear, hidden in a cabin, and then to the Mexican border. An easy read full of suspense and with a bit of romance.
F. Eugene Barber was born on a sharecrop farm in the Midwest at the start of the Great Depression and first attended a one-room rural school with ten other students ranging from the first to the eighth grades. He worked on farms and ranches until joining the Air Force at the age of seventeen just after graduating from high school. During the Korean War, he was an engine mechanic and Crew Chief on the atomic bomb carrying B-36. He later used the GI Bill to earn an AS in Engineering, a BA, and an MBA.
Mr. Barber has worked and traveled around the world—North, South, and Central America, the UK, Europe, Polynesia, Russia and Russian Siberia, Finland, South Africa, China, South Korea, Japan, Australia, Turkey, and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.
He has worked in the Aerospace industry most of his adult life and now consults on FAA and DOD projects. Mr. Barber’s most recent project was two years at the Birk Flight Test Center on Edwards AFB in California and he is now consulting in Minnesota at a large defense plant. He and his wife lived for a time in Yorkshire, England near a joint forces base.
He has held a Nevada Broker/Salesman Real Estate License since 1993. He and his wife now live in Nevada.
“Little lady, give us your dad’s phone number.”
“No!”
“Waddya mean no? Give me the damn number!”
“No!”
He slapped her across the forehead, “The number!”
“No!”
He hit her twice, “The number!”
“No!”
This time he slugged her hard. She tipped over in the seat and fell upside down into the floor of the car. Her nose was bleeding.
“Now you’ve done it. She’s out cold.”
“We’ll go back. I’ll have to find the blasted cell phone! I hope it ain’t broke.”
They drove back near the dry wash where he had tossed the phone. He dug out an old flashlight. The batteries were almost dead; he smacked it on the palm of his hand and it came on a little brighter. They both searched in the dim light, “I found it! It’s layin’ in the sand here in the dry wash.”
They quickly jumped back into the car, “We have lost some time, step on it.” They could see a café in the distance.
Sheriff’s Deputy Lyle Simms was sitting by a window, drinking a cup of coffee in Sally’s Diner just looking out towards the highway. He saw an old tan, 1980 Chevy sedan speeding by. He started to get up and then decided against it, “By the time I get outside and get the bike fired up they will be ten miles or more at that speed and will be over into San Bernardino County,” he went back to his coffee, motioned for the waitress and ordered waffles. He decided he was hungry after all. He could eat waffles any time of the day, breakfast, lunch, or dinner. He didn’t like flavored syrup; just plain old maple was just fine.
