“So how exactly did you make it to my farm?” Gil wondered.
“Well,” Breeze grimaced as he scratched his head, “I actually walked for several days after finding some sort of an old service road and followed it west, thanks to my nav-compass.” He pulled his sleeve back and tapped it.
Gil arched an eyebrow. “So you were well to the east of my farm?”
Breeze nodded. “Yeah, guess so. Saw and heard a lot of strange things.”
Gil froze. “What do you mean?”
Breeze told the story of his travels, starting with the strange town behind the fortified gate to the hairy creature by the side of the lake and the ball of light that fought with it.
Gil grabbed him by the wrist. “Keep your voice down, son.” He looked around them to see if anyone was listening, and then motioned for Breeze to follow him as he marched into the terminal.
Inside was a bustle of humanity jostling and shoving to queue up to board their respective liners. There were people from all over the seven territories, each dressed to their regions unique culture and style. People from the North Eastern Territories, dressed in their usual splendor, stood in stark contrast to the rugged folk from the Pacific Northwest. Breeze even saw his own kind from the Desert Country, looking uncomfortable and out of place with their heavy leather and canvas clothing.
Gil stepped between two support columns and motioned to Breeze to follow him.
The old man glanced around. Comfortable that no one was listening to their conversation, he leaned closer to Breeze. “You do understand where you were, don’t you?”
Breeze looked at him blankly.
“Son, you were deep into the Bad Lands!” he said harshly, then looked around nervously. “It’s almost a miracle you even survived.” The old man took in a deep breath as he leaned against a column. “So you’re telling me the hairy creature just stopped and reached out to you?”
Breeze nodded excitedly. “Yeah, it’s like it wanted to tell me something.”
Gil chuckled. “You know, many adventurous idiots go stomping into those lands looking for excitement and hoping to catch a glimpse of creatures of the sort you described. Most of them never make it back. Those few who do, their minds are finished anyway as they go catatonic slowly over time after witnessing something strange.” He pointed at Breeze. “You just casually march through without even a scratch. You are truly are a remarkable young man.”
Breeze was visibly taken back. He tried to speak but could only stammer.
“What’s wrong son? Amazed at what you’ve accomplished?”
“No. Just that you’re the first person to say I’m remarkable.”
“Oh,” Gil said and placed a hand on Breeze’s shoulder. “Son, you are more remarkable than you can ever know. Never forget that. Don’t think that you’re better than anyone, but don’t underestimate yourself. You’ve done more at your age than most people have done in a lifetime.” Gil shook his head. “Totally explains why I found your landing point coming in from the east. You flew out of the Bad Lands and landed in my field. Do you think that was coincidence?” He narrowed his eyes.
Breeze shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
“There is no such thing as coincidence. All things happen for a reason.” The old man stopped to listen to an announcement over the intercom. Breeze’s liner was ready to begin boarding.
Gil nodded at him. “Well then, off you go I suppose. Just one thing though; don’t you find it strange that of all the places to land, you would land on my farm?”
Breeze nodded. “Yeah, I never knew anyone like me. Then I found you and your wife. And then you tell me about your son.”
“Yes. My son.” Gil balled his hands into fists, and then relaxed. “I just think that you were dropped onto my doorstep for a reason. Throw in the fact that I’m familiar with your father and his family.”
The intercom chimed again, informing everyone that the boarding of the liner had commenced.
Gil leaned toward Breeze. “Know this; it was no coincidence we met. You were guided to me. Like a lost lamb, you need to return to the flock to be with your own kind.”
“You mean back to the scrap yard? And my father? In that case, I would rather just keep flying away.”
“No!” Gil shouted. He smiled quickly and patted Breeze’s shoulder to reassure him. “That’s not what I meant. I just believe you will find yourself with others of your kind...our kind, soon. I can sense it.”
Breeze shrugged. He grabbed his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder, then held out a hand to Gil. “Thanks for everything. You know, giving me a place to stay, and the clothes, and this bag to keep my stuff in.” He couldn’t think of what else to say, so he stopped rambling.
Gil stared at him, then pulled him close and gave him a bear hug. “You have a long road ahead of you son, this much I see. But you will not travel alone. Not anymore. Do you understand?” He gently pushed him away to look him in the eye.
“Yes. Yeah, sure. I think.” Breeze shook his head. “What is it with the hugs? First, Maribelle, now you.”
Gil chuckled. “Very well then, your liner is boarding. Hurry along now.” The old man quickly wiped his eyes, and then pointed to the terminal gate.
Breeze watched the passengers shuffle in line to board the liner. He turned back to say one last goodbye to Gil, but he was gone.
Breeze scanned the terminal. He could see crowds of people milling about, but he couldn’t spot Gil anywhere. “He was just here a second ago,” he muttered.
He felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle when he spotted a man on the far side of the terminal staring at him. Realizing Breeze was looking back, the man turned to his side.
Breeze adjusted the band of his sack that was slung across his shoulder as he walked to the end of the line and waited to board the liner.
After waiting in line and swiping his ticket, he stepped inside the enormous craft with its multiple levels of seats and compartments accessed by ramps that sloped precariously.
Breeze looked at his plastic ticket which glowed with the number of his seat assignment. S-26 it read.
He walked up multiple ramps that flashed the letter of each level. Glowing arrows embedded in the floor led him from A-level and up several ramps until he arrived at S-level.
He gasped when he stepped off the ramp. He was on the upper deck of the liner which had a translucent domed canopy allowing sunlight to stream through.
Someone pushed him from behind. “Come on boy, don’t be impressed. These are the cheap seats. You boil in the day and freeze at night. It takes us forever to get on board and we’re always the last to get off.”
Another man next him grumbled. “At least we can jump off this metal beast at lot easier if she blows a repulsor and flops to one side.” He looked at Breeze and winked.
Breeze swallowed hard as he gripped the band across his chest and scurried to find his seat.
He walked down several rows, passing by an endless circus of strangely dressed people speaking in accents he was unfamiliar with. He was used to seeing all sorts of strange folk in and about his town like the metal scavengers that came in from the deep desert to sell his father the scrap metal they would find from abandoned aerocraft strewn across the desert floor.
There was always one group of scavengers in particular that his father would buy from. Jacob would always speak to the leader of the group, oftentimes pulling him to the side to engage in long bouts of conversation. Breeze struggled to think of his name. John. John Agam. He shook his head. He couldn’t understand why the image of that scavenger suddenly came to mind. Maybe it was the strange garb of the passengers that triggered it.
He found his row and let out a whoop when he saw it was empty. He looked around, uncertain of his new found fortune. Maybe he would be left alone for th
e duration of the trip and have the entire row to himself.
Breeze settled into his seat as a wave of fatigue washed over him. His eyes fluttered as the liner’s engines began to spool up and vibrate the entire ship.
He glanced out his window and saw bright white clouds being overtaken by dark and brooding thunderstorms.
“Going to be one hell of a storm ahead for us!” A passenger from several rows behind proclaimed.
Breeze nodded off and fell into a deep slumber.
THREE
BREEZE WOKE UP TO a loud bang. He looked around wildly with sleep soaked eyes as he tried to gather his wits. A flash of light erupted above him followed by another loud bang. He ducked down and covered his head.
His seat began to shake as the floor beneath him vibrated. He was wide awake now and realized he was still on the liner. The canopy above him had shifted from translucent to transparent, revealing a pitch black night punctuated by intense flashes of lighting followed quickly by peals of booming thunder. Between the flashes, he could see the swollen rain clouds as they dumped water onto the domed canopy. Breeze looked out his window and saw the ground below streaking past whenever the lighting flashed.
The thunder and the drone of the liner’s engines drowned out all other sound.
He looked across the aisle but saw no one. He unbuckled his seat belt, stood up and scanned the entire level, but there was not a soul to be found. He sat back down and tapped the nav-compass on his wrist. The display showed him the time and his current coordinates. He rubbed his eyes, thinking what he saw was a mistake. Did I really sleep for a whole day? He looked down again at his nav-compass and noted the coordinates. Yep, getting closer to home.
A door at the bow slid open and a man dressed in a uniform emerged.
“Last stop of the line! Conception! The city of Conception! This is your last call!” His voice echoed throughout the empty liner as he strode down the aisle. He stopped at Breeze’s row and smiled. It was a lopsided smile that almost seemed like a sneer.
“Last stop of the night, young man. City of Conception. Of course,” he said as he leaned down to look out the cabin window, “this is an unusual stop for us. We usually don’t come out this far. Fuel costs, you see. Company don’t like it. No, sir, they don’t. You must be someone of great import to be taken this far on a near empty liner. Hah!” He continued down the aisle. “City of Conception!” He called again.
Breeze looked back and craned his neck to see him.
The man turned around suddenly. “Calling it a city is a bit of stretch, wouldn’t you say? More like a lonely outpost that’s a bit hard to find on the map. Hah!” He descended down the ramp. “City of Conception! Last stop!” He disappeared from view.
The engines surged to a high pitched whine as the liner banked hard to starboard. Breeze looked up through the canopy as the vessel rolled, letting him see his desert town lit up in the night. The flashes of lightning highlighted some of the outermost settlements. For a moment, he thought he could see his home in the distance across the valley.
The engines settled down to a warble as the liner leveled itself and slowed. He looked out the window and saw the lone terminal of his town’s land port squatting in the soaking rain in all of its drab glory. The terminal flashed with an intermittent strobe perched atop its roof that guided the liner to the gateway.
The liner came to a stop and the overhead lighting slowly flickered on. Breeze got up and walked to the ramp at the stern of the liner. He descended twenty five levels to the lower deck, never once seeing a single soul on board.
He arrived at the exit ramp to disembark, but instead of finding a covered walkway into the terminal, he was greeted by sheets of pouring rain and flashes of lightning. A gangplank had been extended and lowered to the ground. Breeze peered out into the dark as he pulled his jacket in and shivered.
“Not much of a way to come back home, is it?” The voice of the mystery conductor boomed from behind. Startled, Breeze whirled around.
“Expecting some sort of a hero’s welcome, I gather? Greeted instead by the fury of the elements. Not a good sign!” He threw back his head and laughed, only to have it cut short by harsh coughing and wheezing. “This weather doesn’t agree with me! Or maybe it’s just the dank air of this old beast of a liner. What difference does it make?” He produced an oil soaked cloth from his back pocket and blew his nose into it, then folded it and wiped the spittle from his mouth. He folded it again and placed it back in his pocket, then motioned toward the gangplank. “Well son, I know this is unceremonious, but you really must step off. We have a schedule to maintain.” He pulled out an old watch from his pocket and tapped it.
Breeze looked again at the pouring rain. He tentatively stepped onto the gangplank and was greeted by a howling wind that drenched him with cold water. He jumped back and turned to the conductor. As the lightning flashed, it highlighted the man in an eerie light as he tapped his watch incessantly.
Breeze quickly descended the gangplank and into the pouring rain. He lived in Conception his whole life and never once saw this much water fall on the town in an entire year.
He stepped onto the ground and dashed to the terminal as torrents of fast moving water streaked across the tarmac. Upon reaching it, he stopped to look back at the liner.
He was amazed at the immense size of the vessel. The terminal looked absurd to be hosting such a massive ship. Breeze could see the conductor at the top of the entrance waving to him as the gangplank retracted into the ship. Flashing strobes underneath the liner flickered as the engines spooled up. The liner glided away from the terminal with a grace that defied its size. The bow turned into the open desert, and the liner disappeared into the depths of the rain soaked night.
Breeze opened the door to the terminal. The worn out hinges creaked as he stepped inside where he was greeted by more emptiness except for a lone individual sitting in the passenger waiting area. The man looked up slowly from his slumber to cast a wary eye at him, and then returned to his nap.
Breeze strode across the terminal to the main exit. The automated doors opened briefly, and then shut themselves on him as he stepped between them. He leaned his shoulder into one of doors and forced it open.
He stepped again into the pouring rain. The lightning had subsided, but the rumble of deep thunder persisted. Breeze pulled in his jacket as he stumbled down the washed out street that led to the rural service road to his home. He stopped and looked back, half expecting to see his father waiting for him or pulling up in one of the scrap yard trucks to pick him up.
Nothing.
The deep rumbling of thunder continued far off in the distance.
He began the long walk back home.
He arrived at the foot of his driveway in the early morning hours. He could see smoke rising from the foundry smokestacks in the distance. He took in a deep breath and trudged down the driveway to his home.
Upon arriving he went up the steps, and then hesitated before opening the door. He turned to his left and saw his father had the tractor out with the rake implement attached to the back. Breeze shook his head. His father had been out again filling up the holes he would leave behind in the desert floor from his crash landings when he would practice his flying at night. He long ago gave up the pretense that he was hiding his evening flights from his father. The tractor and the rake attached to it was proof enough that he knew, and had known for quite some time.
The hinges on the door squealed as he stepped inside. So much for the quiet approach, he thought to himself.
Walking into the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of his father sitting at the table.
Jacob looked up at his son as he carefully placed his cup of coffee down.
Breeze stood his ground. His clothes were damp and his hair was wet and dripping onto his face. His boots were muddy and left tracks on the floor. �
��Dad, I can explain.”
Jacob immediately held up a hand. “No need to. I understand. Took off for a few days to cool off. I was a little bit harsh with you about that air show. My fault. Should’ve gotten you into training a long time ago.”
“Really?” Breeze’s eyes lit up.
Jacob nodded as he lifted his cup and took a sip. “Yeah, would’ve been the right thing to do.” He pointed toward the window. “I know I have a couple of old propeller trainers out back somewhere in the storage. I could teach you to fly one of those. You probably would’ve been pretty good, had I started you out when you were younger. Who knows, you could’ve become the next Buck Bonanza. Now there is one hell of a pilot!”
Breeze’s shoulders slumped as he looked down at the floor. He became transfixed at the puddle of water he had created.
Jacob put his cup down and began tapping his fingers on the table. “Yep, would’ve cured a lot of problems, I see that now. Could’ve had you competing in those air shows to give you a chance to show off a bit. Would’ve made things a lot smoother for you.” He looked down at his cup, then up to Breeze. “But that’s the thing son, life is never smooth or easy.”
“You’re not even going to ask me where I’ve been, what I saw? You’re just going to sit there at the table and tell me you’ve made mistakes?” Breeze said.
Jacob began tracing his finger along a grain line on the wooden table. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. “I go out, night after night, looking for those impact craters you usually make when you come back from your night flights and try to land. I sometimes wonder if I’m going to find you in one of them seriously hurt, or dead.”
Breeze Corinth (Book 1): Sky Shatter Page 6