by Paula Wynne
Matt reflected on the night’s events and how wrong he had been about Bomber. Even though the pilot could still be angry at him for showing Cami around the hangar and revealing the iron ring in the floor, he was pretty chilled now that she was under their control.
Maybe it was time to forgive him. He’d never forget, but he could at least forgive.
Bomber was gone only five minutes, and when he returned they stood in the fresh night air in silence.
After a moment, Matt cleared his throat and said in a hoarse voice, ‘Bomber, I’m really sorry about showing Cami around the hangar. It wasn’t my place to do that. I guess I was just trying to show off that I know about planes and stuff.’
Bomber gazed at him and his eyes softened.
‘I guess I’ve grown up a bit tonight,’ Matt sounded sheepish.
Bomber didn’t smile but his eyes did. ‘I guess…’
Matt would have liked to stay there and let this new, comfortable silence envelop them, shroud them in a mutual understanding, but Luke was his priority now.
Only a few crickets buzzed out their summer night’s tune. Apart from that, the air was still.
Bomber was about to say something when Matt held a finger in the air to stop him. ‘Hear that?’
‘Nope. What is it?’
‘Not sure. Some strange thumping sound. I’ll go check.’
He peered around the corner and glanced up and down the grassy verge. The moon shone on the aeroplanes giving them an eerie glow. The soft breeze wound amongst the propellers, singing gently against their edges as if calling these ghostly machines to start up on their own.
There was the noise again. He listened.
Silence.
It had come from somewhere near the skip, similar to the one his poor cousin had been dumped in. He walked over to it and found himself gripped by a terrible déjà vu as flashbacks of his gruesome discovery just a few hours ago filled his mind. He forced himself onwards, and with dread weighting his gut, he lifted the lid.
It was filled to the brim. But not with his brother’s body. Filled with bags of rubbish from the day’s festival. No flies feeding on decomposition. He slammed the lid down and listened.
At that exact moment, the peculiar thudding noise came again, closer and from his right. Matt swivelled and his eyes lighted on the poser’s car, parked at that odd angle in the bushes just off the airfield fence.
Matt crawled through the gap in the fence and took the short cut to the partially hidden car on the other side. He cupped his hands and looked in the front seat. Nobody there. He did the same for the back seat and only found emptiness. Now the thumping sounded hollow. Matt dropped his head low over the boot.
‘Luke?’ He fumbled with the boot, but it was locked.
Then, suddenly the thumping started again. This time it was louder, and there was a weird muffled noise like shouting accompanying it.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It came in three short blows and then three long and three short bangs again.
SOS in Morse code. From their barmy-army days.
‘Luke!’ Matt bellowed at the boot’s seal. ‘Is that you?’
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Matt’s heart lifted and he grinned. Luke was giving him Morse code with whatever he had to use as a banging device.
‘Hang on, buddy, I’ll be right back.’
Matt scampered to the hangar. Bomber was towering over Glynn and Cami still sprawled on the floor. He had one of those giant rolls of paper towel they used for cleaning around her waist to stem the bleeding.
‘I found him!’ Matt gasped. ‘He’s locked in a car boot.’
Without even questioning the bold confidence he felt, he marched first to Poser Glynn and quickly felt for any keys. Nothing. Next he turned to Cami, who had regained consciousness and was glaring at him, and patted her down, rubbing any possible area for the car key. He stuck his smirk in her face, ‘Don’t go getting the hots again. I’m just looking for what I need to let Luke out. I’m not in the least bit interested in you.’
Speechless for the first time, she just looked at him.
Matt felt a bump in her back pocket and gave her butt a vicious pinch before removing the car key. ‘You won’t beat me, Cami. I can see through you now. I almost feel like I should thank you for the lesson. All that manipulative sweet talking…that kind of thing usually comes back to bite you in the butt.’ He spun around to face Bomber. ‘I’ll go. Stay here with these two.’
Bomber nodded as Matt hobbled off.
Within seconds, he had the boot open and yanked it up. A blast of hot stale air hit his face. He’d brought Cami’s torch, and in its circle of light he could see Luke lying in a heap. Gagged, with his hands tied behind his back. Between his bound feet lay the remains of a coconut.
‘What the hell?!’
Matt leaned in and yanked the gag off Luke’s mouth.
Luke gasped and choked. For a long moment, he inhaled and breathed as though he had just run a marathon.
Matt threw his arms around Luke’s shoulders. ‘Boy, am I glad to see you! What happened?’
‘That bitch…Cami,’ Luke panted, ‘she wacked me on the head with the coconut.’
As Matt untied his wrists, Luke pointed at the broken coconut chunks at his feet. ‘My first go didn’t work out.’ He raised the wheel iron that was still gripped between his feet and straightened his legs to bang it against the boot lid.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Matt gawked. ‘So that’s what I heard.’ He started laughing.
Luke reached down to untie his ankles, groaning as his circulation came back. Awkwardly, he climbed out, glaring at Matt who seemed to have an attack of the giggles. ‘It’s not so funny when you feel like you can’t breathe!’
Matt tried to pull himself together. ‘Sorry. I think it’s because of the coconut! But genius use of the wheel iron! I wouldn’t have found you if it wasn’t for that sound.’
Luke’s face suddenly became sober. ‘I couldn’t stand it in there any longer. I was freaking out, so… thanks so much for rescuing me, Matt.’
‘No, Luke, it’s the other way round and has been for years. Thank you for rescuing me.’
Matt dropped the torch in the boot and threw his arms around his brother. Luke’s arms reached up to grip Matt, and they stayed that way for so long that if Ben had been watching, what passed for his brain would have gone into gay insult meltdown.
Suddenly Luke squirmed free and leant into the boot to pull something out of a bag that was in there. ‘Check what I found!’
Matt’s mouth fell open as Luke held up Dad’s red toy aeroplane.
63
Two Weeks Later
Matt listened carefully as Bomber took him through the pre-flight checks. As they walked around the plane, Bomber explained all the safety checks. Matt listened and watched with intense focus.
Bomber had an exact pre-flight inspection pattern that started with the external checks and then moved to cockpit. They walked clockwise around the aircraft inspecting every flight control, hinge, bolt and fluid. When Bomber peered into the fuel tank, he waited for Matt to copy him and check the fuel levels for himself. They opened the cover to the engine to check the oil levels. Checking every detail was crucial to staying alive.
After a thorough pre-flight inspection, they climbed aboard. Matt sat confidently in the cockpit. His heart raced as he strapped himself in on Bomber’s command.
His hand lovingly stroked the flight control stick that would be his, gripped it and gently let it go so the plane did not move. He sat in the main seat while Bomber, as his instructor, sat on his right. With his chin raised, Matt closed his eyes and imagined the moment the wheels would leave the earth.
Bomber’s voice broke into his reverie. ‘You dreaming again?’
Matt stared at him with huge eyes. He swallowed hard. They eyed each other for a moment. Bomber, a predator ready to pounce. Matt, a frightened gosling waiting to stretch his wings.
Then Bomber’s face suddenly softened into a broad smile as he passed Matt a spiral bound flight manual checklist. ‘Time for the Before Engine Start check.’
Matt blinked and watched Bomber point at the instruments. Together they checked that all the lights, dials and gauges were working, and completed the power check.
They checked the navigation strobe lights on the wing tips; the left port lights were red, with green on the right side and white on the tail.
Suddenly the mixture of lights jogged Matt’s memory.
‘Hey, did I tell you about your aeroplane?’
‘I’m telling you about it. That’s what we’re doing here, isn’t it?’
Matt laughed. ‘No, I mean the toy one my dad won off you.’
Bomber stiffened. ‘What about it?’
‘Luke found it in Cami’s car boot. When you were off sorting out the coppers that night and they were putting her into the ambulance, I confronted her about it. She admitted taking it from my house. Said her father had a toy aeroplane just like it when he was a boy in the war, and she just wanted a reminder of it.’ He shook his head. ‘I mean, even though her dad’s toy had a lot of sentimental value, what kind of person do you have to be to just steal like that from someone on a whim?’
‘Hah!’ Bomber muttered and then declared, ‘Come on, let’s fly.’
Finally he was about to take to the sky, follow in his father’s footsteps. At that moment, a peculiar heat rose from his feet up to his heart and flowed out across his face. He cringed and squeezed his eyes shut.
He sees a fighter jet pilot. His face is not visible behind his helmet. The engine roars. Shouts from a pilot in distress. The face is tumbling as the plane spins out of control. Flames engulf the cockpit and a horrendous boom explodes the air.
Matt clenched the stick, squeezing it so tight his knuckles went white.
Bomber touched his hand. ‘You okay?’
Matt shook himself. Sucked in air as he dragged himself out of his nightmare. He breathed out slowly and gave a sidelong glance at Bomber who was now gazing dead ahead.
Without looking at him, Bomber murmured, ’I have them, too.’
Matt’s eyes widened. He’d been so wrapped up in his own world that he hadn’t noticed Bomber’s distress.
‘They’re painful.’ Bomber thumped his chest with a rolled-up fist, ‘They hit me here each time I take off.’
Matt was silent, unable to speak. His father’s death had haunted him, but now he suddenly needed to be set free. ‘That day…’
Bomber nodded and took up the story. ‘It all happened so quickly. When the Falklands was occupied by Argentine military forces, our aircraft were sent to disable the runway with RAF Strike Command Vulcan bombers and Royal Navy Sea Harriers. The first raid was successful, and on the second one we’d dropped our bomb right on target on the runway, but as we were pulling up we spotted one of our troop units pinned down by a group of enemy soldiers.’
Matt held his breath, staring dead ahead.
Bomber murmured, ‘Your father and I were in the same plane. We reported what we’d seen and were ordered to pull back. I was the ranking officer, but he was the one who suggested it. I can still hear his voice. “Bomber, those are our lads back there. We can help them get away. We have to make one more run.” I agreed, which I shouldn’t have, and we did it.’
Matt stared at him with wide eyes.
‘There shouldn’t have been much risk to it, because the Hostiles didn’t have any anti-aircraft on the ground, but someone must have got in a lucky shot. As we came in there was…this explosion underneath us. That was what burnt my leg. I don’t remember anything about it, I only came to on the ground, but I must have hit the ejector button. The plane was just burning wreckage scattered across the ground.’
Matt paled. He didn’t want to hear anymore but he sat rigid, imagining Dad’s last moments.
‘By then the landing site was under fire, but some Young Pups…young marines found me. They said I kept shouting “Where’s John? Where’s John?” If I hadn’t been discharged because of my wounds, I probably would have been court-martialled for disobeying orders.’
‘I thought―’
‘I know you’ve blamed me for his death.’ Bomber lifted a hand to stop Matt’s protest. ‘I blame me, too. I was the commanding officer. I should have known better. The thing is that we were also best friends, and if there was a leader there then it was him. I knew what I should do, but I didn’t do it. It was my fault, you’re right.’
A huge weight tumbled off Matt’s shoulders. All this time he had blamed Bomber, thinking he had instructed his father to fly into the fray. Suddenly everything fitted. What Bomber had described was exactly how Dad had been. Going back to help those troops was just what he would have done…had done. He would have concentrated on the moment, not worrying about his own life…only thinking of those who needed him at that very moment. Dad had been a true hero, but in war a lot of heroes don’t make it out.
Now Matt realised he had been looking for…had needed someone to blame for taking Dad away. It had been easy to latch onto Bomber because he had been there too, and then had broken the news to Mum.
‘You have to focus on one thing. Your father died being who he was and doing what he loved the most.’ Bomber turned away.
Matt blinked, struggling to clear his eyes, which were swimming with tears. One escaped and ran down his cheek. He didn’t try and hide it. ‘All this time, I thought―’
‘I know! Who could blame you for thinking I caused your father’s death? You know, he’s up there now, watching you.’ Bomber finally turned to face Matt, making no move to wipe away the wide streaks from his own tears. ‘I know he’s very proud of you. Both of you boys. He loved you so much.’
They both gazed at the skyline in silence.
Then Bomber murmured, ‘Should we do this?’
Matt nodded his head and, following Bomber’s gentle instructions, taxied the Provost down the runway and stopped at the runway hold short line.
As Bomber instructed Matt, he concentrated, taking everything in.
Once Bomber had clearance from air traffic control to taxi to the runway, he throttled the Provost forward.
Matt’s face was animated as the engine thundered forward. The roar in his ears set his heart on fire.
Bomber eased back on the throttle at the hold point. ‘You’re not ready to do a take-off yet, obviously, but you can take control for a while once we’re up. Okay?’
‘Cool!’
Bomber grinned at Matt’s excited glaze. ‘Right, when we’re at sufficient height and out of the airfield airspace, I will talk you through the controls. Such as the transponder, fuel, turn co-ordinator, altimeter and airspeed, attitude and heading indicators. Then, and only then, I will hand control over to you. We’ll do straight and level and possibly some turns. You only do that when I say, “You have control.” Got that?’
Matt shook his head vigorously.
‘Before we do all that,’ Bomber continued, ‘the sticks move together. Feel the stick now, learn how it moves. That’s your connection.’
Matt stared at him; his eyes wide as saucers. Then he sat up, dead straight, and focused on the horizon. Pure joy and exhilaration lit his face. Holding the control stick with Bomber, Matt was in heaven as the propeller spun faster and he felt it take hold of the air.
He might never fly with an RAF aircrew, might never wear a beret in a squadron photo like the one of Dad and Bomber on the mantelpiece at home. He would never have their “Wings,” but he would still fly.
Matt was vaguely aware of Luke running along the grassy strip alongside the runway, shouting and waving, and if the noise hadn’t been so loud, he would’ve heard Luke yelling, ‘Matt! Matt! You’re doing it!’
Bomber received take-off clearance from Little Hollow air traffic control and turned to Matt. ‘Ready?’
‘You bet!’ Matt grinned in awe.
‘Okay, when we reach t
he proper airspeed, I’ll say “rotate” and I will pull back gently on the stick.’
Matt’s grin was a cross between terror and joy. Even so, he was high on adrenaline.
The Provost accelerated down the runway, the engine gaining momentum as the wings clutched the breeze, ready to launch into the sky.
As Bomber pushed the throttle forward he murmured, ‘Right lad, let’s dare to fly.’
64
Two hours later, the brothers strolled across the field. Matt held open the gate and Luke stepped through.
‘So?’ Luke’s eyes questioned Matt.
Matt let go the gate behind them. It thudded into place, the latch clicking into its lock.
‘Wicked!’ Matt dug in his pocket and hauled out a slab of chocolate. ‘I even did a loop!’ He broke off a chunk of his chocolate bar and passed the rest to Luke, talking animatedly about his first flight.
Half an hour later, they sat shoulder to shoulder on Matt’s bedroom floor, Luke playing the flight simulator game and Matt saying that after really taking to the skies, the bedroom version wasn’t quite doing it for him anymore.
The door creaked open.
Mum stood in the doorway; her face sombre.
‘Uh-oh,’ Luke muttered, ‘Now what?’
‘Bomber called,’ Mum muttered.
Matt and Luke were instantly on their feet, dread in their eyes. Luke moved closer to Matt’s side and whispered, ‘She found out about you going up.’
Matt placed his arm protectively around Luke’s shoulder. His eyes flicked briefly to the picture of the man on the wall. Then, he stared at Mum, his eyes pleading for her to understand.
‘Why are you against Bomber?’ Luke burst out.
‘I’m not. I just didn’t want to be reminded of Dad with Bomber around.’
Matt saw the old sadness in her eyes, but now they were also gleaming with pride.
She turned to Matt, held out her hand and softly touched his. She placed something in his hand and squeezed his fingers closed.
‘I think you deserve these.’ Her eyes flicked to the framed photo of Dad hanging on the wall. ‘He’d be proud.’ She smiled and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.