Yesterday's Flight

by Martyn Ellington

  It came again and then the sound of rain started to hit the tent. “That’s fucking great, not a drop for weeks and when we need to make a call we get an electrical storm!” Bruce shouted, his look of frustration now apparent again.

  “We can drive there,” Simon said. “It’s what? a few hours from here and if we take turns we can make it in one go.” The four of them looked at each other and then bolted from the tent.

  The wind outside had now risen. Dust and sand flew around the tents and their feet, swirling up, making small independent twisters; no taller than a small child.

  Cups and plates from the kitchen tent flew around them and the untied flaps of the tents protested and flapped in the strong wind, slapping against the canvas and guide ropes around them. “Get to the car! I’ll be there in a minute,” Susan shouted to them.

  Bruce, Andrea and Simon made their way to one of the Landcruisers that was parked at the edge of the main entrance to the site and climbed in. Bruce got in the driver’s seat and checked for fuel while Simon climbed in next to him. “We ok for fuel?” Bruce turned and smiled, “Our luck might be changing, we have a full tank and keys!” He turned the ignition and the engine purred into life; the headlights lit up and the sand now swirled and danced in the glare of the brilliant white light.

  Susan finally jumped in next to Andrea. “Where did you go?” asked Bruce.

  “Needed to tell Mark to expect the NSA and CDC and to give them what they wanted…slowly!”

  Bruce laughed, “Ok, then, here we go.”

  He shifted the car into drive and planted his foot down on the accelerator, instantly the 2-tonne truck sprung forward; its four-wheel drive digging deep in to the desert sand for traction and as it did its red tail-lights disappeared into the dead of night.

  The drive to Portland was a long one; over 900-miles, non-stop and it took its toll on all of them. Even taking it in turns and stopping for fuel on four occasions, it had left them exhausted; they had continually tried to call ahead but the electrical storm they hoped they would leave behind in Death Valley had followed them all the way.

  It was a massive system and even the car’s radio had been knocked out by it, they had no communication the entire journey, only now as they approached Portland itself the storm system started to clear and the radio and mobile phones started to come back to life, but by now they were there, now they didn’t need them.

  Bruce was back at the wheel after taking over from Andrea at the last fuel stop. He hurled the large SUV through into the drop-off zone at the airport, desperately looking for a place he could abandon it so that they could stop the plane and stop the series of events that had already happened millions of years ago, and now even though they were almost there and they had explained it to him over and over again on the journey there, Bruce could still not get his head around the premise that the plane they had left on the desert floor could still be on the tarmac right here, right now, but his thoughts and concentration were brought crashing back by Susan.

  “BRUCE!” Her shrill yelling snapped him back but it was too late, the taxi was already in front of him and he had no time to react. The Landcruiser hit the front wing of the taxi and pushed it like a child’s toy across the tarmac and back into the parking bay it had tried to pull out of. In an instant the front of the SUV lifted and mounted the taxi where it came to rest. Bruce - dazed and shaken - turned to his passengers, “Everybody ok?”

  Susan and Andrea nodded.

  He turned to Simon, who waved at Bruce to get out the car. Bruce climbed out through the half-open door and onto the bonnet of the taxi. The driver shouted at them to come back. Pinned by the crushed door and his deployed air bag they left him and the wrecked taxi behind with the Landcruiser still mounted on its bonnet.

  The four of them pushed past the queues of people who were making their way into the airport. They were desperate to try and solve this puzzle and ultimately stop the events from ever happening.

  Simon tripped over a man trying to get out of his way and pushed him against the handle of the door. Swearing at him in retaliation, the man tried to push Simon back but he wasn’t quick enough and Simon left him straddled against the door.

  They pushed on through the airport and made their way towards the administration section. “Stop there!” a voice boomed from behind them.

  Bruce spun round to see an airport police officer catching up to them. Bruce - now almost exhausted and resting his hands on his hips - pulled his ID badge from his pocket. Through short breaths he greeted as best he could the officer who had now caught up with them. “Hi, Bruce Ackland, I’m a lead air crash investigation officer with the NTSB. I need to see the airport manger immediately.”

  The officer had a sideways and dismissive glance at Bruce’s ID. “Listen, I don’t care who you are, for now all you’re going to see is my holding room; the four of you come with me!”

  Bruce moved closer to him and removed his hands from his hips to allow him to stand up straighter. “Listen, I need to see the manager and I need to see him now!”

  The officer matched Bruce’s stance and both men found themselves almost toe-to-toe, but Bruce knew from the guard’s physique and the look in his eye this was one he couldn’t win and backed down to try a different tack.

  “Look, officer, I know, the car outside, but this is very important, let me speak to the manager then you can sort out whatever you need to, please?”

  The officer relaxed, almost in reflection to Bruce, “Follow me,” was all he said as he started to lead them away.

  As Simon started to turn he noticed the man that he knocked over at the door, his impulse was go and apologise but this time he knew he couldn’t; even though he hated the idea of someone walking round thinking he was discourteous or worse: some sort of a thug.

  On the walk through the private corridors of the airport, the parts the public never get to see, the security guard informed the duty manager he was on his way and who he had with him.

  The officer led the four of them into the duty manager’s office. “Sir, these are the people I told you about. This is the air crash investigation officer, I’m not sure who the other three are.”

  The manager looked up from behind his desk. “That’s fine, officer, I’ll call you when we’re finished here; can you please arrange to have their truck removed and that taxi towed as well?”

  The officer - that had all but frog-marched them to the office - turned and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

  The manager stood up and introduced himself. “Hello, I’m Michael, I’m the duty manager for the night shift, who might you be?”

  He was a polite man, he reminded Bruce instantly of all the political types that he had to work with and report to that he hated so much. He had been in the desert now for what seemed an eternity, surrounded by tents, sand, dust and heat and he’d been so focused on the plane and the mystery around it that he had almost forgotten about the concrete and chrome world he actually belonged to.

  Bruce extended his arm forward, “I’m Bruce, this is Simon, Andrea and Susan.”

  Michael nodded and gestured for them to be seated and settled back behind his desk. “So, Bruce, tell me, what is it that’s so important you feel you can crash your truck outside my airport and run through it like some half-assed recreation of Die Hard?”

  Bruce didn’t respond straight away. He wanted to, he wanted to reach across that flatpack cheap desk that was planted in the middle of this grey dull office, grab him by his cheap tie and shake some sense and respect into him, but he knew he couldn’t, he knew this was a job for diplomacy; this couldn’t be sorted by shouting and banging, so he drew a deep breath and started to explain the events that had brought them all to this point and the reason they had come to his airport tonight.

  Time seemed to stand still while they did their best to convince him to take their story seriously, but it was to no avail.

  Bruce knew from the start that Michael - like all the rest of the
corporate clones - would not listen to them. He wouldn’t take their story on face value and nor would he act on the information they had given him.

  After three hours of trying their level best, he simply asked them to leave, promising that he would look into it and report back to Bruce if he came up with anything and Bruce knew as he shook his hand, he would never hear from him again. And so exhausted, they walked back through the airport towards the entrance. Bruce stopped and looked out of the viewing gallery windows, he could see the aircrafts taxiing, taking off and waiting for their passengers to board them. Simon joined him by his side. “Imagine, Simon, it could be any one of those planes out there, it’s enough to send you stupid.”

  Simon didn’t reply to Bruce. He put his arm around him and gently pulled him away from the window and followed Susan and Andrea as they headed back towards the parking area; where they could retrieve their car for the long drive back to the dig site; where they knew the government agencies would simply shut them down, remove the plane and deny it ever existed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Twelve years had passed since they had landed in this place. Twelve years since William had lost everybody around him, except Sarah, who had survived with him throughout this time.

  Ten years since Amy had been lost to a stampede of Stegosaurus that had bolted when they had tried to hunt using the 9mm that Marcus had left in his bunk the night the Rex took him. The shots that rang out from the gun had startled them. Amy was fast and she ran as quickly as fear itself could carry her, but she wasn’t quick enough and her screams of panic - and then of pain - still haunted him to this day.

  It had been six years since Nick had died; this time not by a dinosaur or some other freak of nature that William hated so much, but by the simple act of a heart attack. Even here amongst all these monsters and dangers in a place with a million ways to die, it was a heart attack, a 21st century killer that got him and to William, in a perverse way, it brought him comfort to know that some things could remain constant and familiar. They had buried him with Steven and Holly, they had said some words, but both of them knew now for sure that no God could be responsible for this place.

  It was another winter’s morning that they had woken to. The sound of the rain rattled against the now dull and scratched bodywork of the plane. In some places mould had taken hold of the cream and beige roof lining and the windows were streaked and dirty, but it didn’t matter to them, they never opened the blinds now; the only light that got in was in the flight deck or when they went out for food and water. They had to take it in turns now, there was no-one left to operate the cargo bay door, and they still didn’t dare leave it open. In the last couple of years a new menace had come to call on them, when the T Rex wasn’t around the Raptors were, and they feared them even more than the Rex.

  Today it was Sarah’s turn, they headed down into the cargo hold and William winched the door open, throwing the net out after it. “You be careful out there,” he said as Sarah started the climb down. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in no time to annoy you,” she said back to him, smiling.

  Water collection no longer involved the journey to the river. They had managed to rig a pulley system in the larger of the trees that surrounded the plane. Now they lifted the water containers up on a rota basis allowing them to fill with rain water, it was the hunting that took the time now, but today was just water and both them felt very relieved that it was.

  Visibility on these dark cloudy days was not good and once you were in amongst the trees it nearly became night and then it became unnerving almost to the point that starvation was preferred to going in there at all.

  After Sarah had climbed down, William closed the door and made his way to the flight deck. He watched her leave as he had countless times before. He watched as she disappeared in to the jungle and he didn’t move until he saw her come back out. As soon as he did he bolted down into the cargo bay and started to wind the door open. As always, she was standing waiting for him, her usual smile and deep blue eyes were a welcome sight. He lowered the cargo net down and started to pull the first of the two water buckets into the hold. He took hold of it and pulled it up in to the cargo bay. Placing it to his right he leant back down for the next one; Sarah was reaching up with it. She was at full stretch, the container was almost within reach when a dark shape passed quickly from under the plane. Instantly, Sarah dropped the container she was holding up for him; it fell backwards rolling away under the plane and the water escaped. Sarah set off after the container. He didn’t see the shadow, he was convinced she had just tripped back from the net. If he had seen it he wouldn’t have let her go after the container, but then he saw this dark shape flash pass the fuselage and in an instant he heard her cries. His heart sank and immediately he knew what was happening. He reached behind his belt and drew the pistol that they had kept. Pointing it out of the hold he pulled the trigger, hoping that the noise would scare off her attackers. Four shots rang out before the barrel cocked back and chamber was empty but it didn’t stop them. He froze holding the now useless gun, still in the air, pointing it up, his mind overloaded as the screams of David, Marcus and Amy came flooding back.

  Sarah’s cries snapped him back and he dropped the gun. Smoking, it fell to the ground and as it did her screams became a gurgled cry for help as her own blood started to choke her.

  Still half-hanging out of the cargo bay door desperately trying to locate where her cries came from, William felt a sharp pain in his hand. He pulled it back towards him instinctively and he realised it was a Raptor that had jumped and struck out with its forearms. He looked in horror as two of them now ripped and pulled at the net that still hung out of the open door and onto the ground. He pulled against them as hard as he could, his adrenaline now giving his muscles as much power as they could but it still wasn’t enough. The two Raptors snarled and barked as they frantically tried to get to him. His hands sweated, he couldn’t pull against their weight and he knew if one of them made it up he would stand no chance. He had one more chance to get the net, one more thing he could try.

  Reaching across he pulled the last remaining flare gun from its resting position by the door and fired it directly at the lead Raptor. The red hot flare hit the animal head on and with an unearthly cry it let go of the net followed instantly by the second one.

  William pulled the shredded net in as fast as he could, his arms were tired, he was exhausted; every sinew of him ached and wanted to quit, but he knew he had to get the door down, he had to get the plane locked and secured or his fate would be that of Sarah’s.

  Sarah, his thoughts turned back to her, her cries and screams had long since stopped. He knew she was dead and he knew that he could do nothing for her; just like he could do nothing for all the others that had died before her.

  In the noise and chaos a thought shot into his mind; clarity came to him and all around him seemed to be a dream. Would it be so bad to give himself to these monsters that were now clawing and scratching at the fuselage below him? How long would it take for them to rip him to pieces if he just jumped down now? He still had his knife, he might even be able to take one of them with him.

  He looked down at the creatures that baited him, their sharp serrated teeth set in long protruding snouts that foamed and curled, their excitement and euphoria at the thought of him as their next meal was making them become frenzied, like the sharks he had watched feeding in documentaries, except this time the bait was him.

  He snapped back to reality again, he noticed their strong forearms and those claws on their feet. Instantaneously he was filled with revulsion and disgust, the dream state switched back to the clear and brutal reality he was in. No, if he was to die here it would be on his terms, his way and with that he wound the cargo bay door shut and pulled the safety catch across, collapsing back onto the floor. He could still hear them scratching at the metal but he knew he was safe. He regained his breath and composure. Standing up he made his way up the ladder into the galley and plac
ed the hatch down. Locking it into position he went into the galley, dressed his wound with a clean white handkerchief and poured himself a cup of water from the last bottle he had up there.

  His mind was clear. Now the Raptors knew he was here they would never leave, and that meant he could never leave, they would starve him out, he would run out of water and food and in here - in this 21st century piece of technology - he would die a slow painful death.

  “Not me,” he thought to himself. “If this is my time then so be it, but it’ll be easy and it’ll be nice.”

  William made his way through the plane from the rear of the economy class, clearing and tidying as he went, just as he had done before he had left his flat all those years ago. Eventually he reached the captain’s bunk and the flight deck, and as with the rest of the plane, he made sure nothing was out of place. Once he was satisfied he made his way to Sarah’s bunk. She had stayed in the same bunk after Holly had passed away, he was never sure why and never got round to asking, but he found what he went there for, it was the book she had brought with her to pass the time and she must have read it now hundreds of times. He smiled as he picked up the worn book, holding it close to his nose he smelt it through deep breaths and it smelt of her. A warm smile spread across his face as he remembered her laugh, her smile. He stopped and slowly lowered the book down, the smile evaporating from his face as her memory started to fade and he made his way over to his bunk.

  Night was starting to pull in, he could see the changing shapes and patterns through the blinds and as it did the Raptors gave up their siege for the night, but he knew they would be back in the morning, but by then he also knew it wouldn’t matter anymore. He reached into the overhead locker and took out the note he had prepared some time ago when Sarah had been out collecting water. He settled into his bunk pulling his blanket up and pushing his head back in to the deep soft pillows and he felt at ease for the first time since that afternoon in his apartment while he’d been waiting for the taxi; as the sun glowed through his window and bathed him in its warmth.