Eye of the Storm

by Mark Robson

  For a moment, Sam considered telling Nathan about Callum’s plan to try to return home, but he decided against it. There was no telling how the man would react and although Sam knew his mother had trusted Nathan implicitly, he still could not find it in himself to share that confidence.

  Will David be willing to go with Callum if I don’t? Sam wondered. The thought of Callum attempting the journey on his own filled Sam with dread. As far as anyone in this world knew, no one had ever managed to cross back to modern Earth. Also, if anyone had done it, then the crossing had never become public knowledge in either world. Most felt trying to reach the eye of a powerful storm in this world to be a path to certain death. So why do I feel better at the idea of David going along? Surely it’s worse that they both fly to their deaths? There was no justification for his feeling. It stemmed from a selfish desire to put a surrogate in his place.

  Callum was right. Sam had promised to get him home and now he felt like a traitor for even contemplating breaking that promise. He was torn. He didn’t want to abandon his friend, but equally, he had sworn an oath to himself that he would honour his mother’s memory by completing the task to which she had dedicated the last years of her life: a task that would benefit not just one world, but two. One way or the other, he would have to break a promise. Which was worse? He thought he had made up his mind last night, but now he wasn’t so sure. Dad and Niamh would be devastated if they ever found out and the thought of possibly never seeing them again wrenched at his heart. It was a terrible dilemma. Whatever choice he made, Sam knew he would look back at his decision and ask the question, ‘What if?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘Are you sure it will fly in that state?’ Sam asked Callum, looking at the patchwork repairs and the mismatched wheels on the flying machine.

  ‘It flew with a bloomin’ great hole in the bottom wing and more than half of the undercarriage missing, Sam. I’m pretty confident that she’ll fly a lot better now that we’ve put that right.’

  Sam checked over both shoulders to see if anyone was in earshot and lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. ‘And David is still keen on trying to cross with you?’

  ‘As mustard,’ Callum replied, eyeing his friend for any sign of a change of heart. ‘But you could still come, you know. This thing was designed to carry the weight of a raptor. It would easily carry both of us. I could get David to help me adapt the harness. It wouldn’t take. . .’

  ‘No,’ Sam interrupted. ‘I’m sorry, Cal, but my mind is made up. I’m going to see Mum’s plan through. When I’ve done that, I’ll find a way to come home. I won’t be far behind you. Einstein expects to have his machines up and running within the next few weeks.’

  Callum shook his head, feeling the cold sting of rejection inside. ‘I wish I could say I understood, but I don’t. Your mum wanted you to go home, Sam. This is our chance. What you’re doing is madness. Leave Nathan and the others to do it. They’re far more geared up for all this rebellion stuff.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Cal. I know I promised to get you home, but I have to do this.’

  ‘No. You don’t. That’s just the point. Let Nathan and Einstein destroy the pumping stations. If their plan is going to work, it will work with or without you. Please come with me. There’s nothing here for either of us now. If you won’t do it for me, then think about Niamh and your dad.’

  For a moment, Callum thought he had got through to his friend, but even as hope flared within him, he saw the resolve harden again in Sam’s eyes, as if slamming shut a cell door to deliberately lock himself inside. It was clear now that there was nothing he could say to change Sam’s mind. Anger and frustration coursed through his gut, but he clamped down the emotions. Sam had been his friend since day one of secondary school. This might be their last conversation, and he had no intention of parting on anything other than friendly terms.

  ‘Sorry, Cal. I can’t do it.’

  ‘OK. In that case, all I can say is good luck and give the Imperium hell,’ he said. ‘Try to get back before the start of term, won’t you? I’m not sure I’d have the heart to wind up Mr Morris without you.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Sam replied, giving him a weak smile.

  ‘I know you will.’

  Callum turned so the breeze was blowing into his face and looked up as if surveying the sky. Blinking several times, he managed to keep the tears welling in his eyes from escaping down his cheeks. He turned again to climb into the aircraft harness, but before he had a chance to step up, he felt Sam’s hand grip his shoulder and the next thing he knew they were hugging one another.

  ‘Good luck, Cal. Fly safe. Tell Dad and Niamh what I’m doing. I think Niamh will understand even if Dad doesn’t. Tell them I’m going to come home just as soon as I can.’

  He wanted to say more, but his throat was threatening to clamp shut with emotion and he couldn’t articulate just how bad he felt.

  ‘I will. I’m glad none of our other friends are here,’ Callum said, squeezing his friend close and patting his back. ‘We’d never hear the last of this if word got out that we’d been hugging each other.’

  ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

  ‘Not a chance. Be careful, mate. Don’t do anything stupid like getting yourself killed. If Niall Rowlands takes your place as captain of the school football team, it’ll be a disaster of unimaginable proportions.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Sam replied, smiling despite himself.

  They broke from the embrace and both instinctively brushed themselves down as if clearing their bodies of the memory. Callum climbed the aircraft’s ladder steps and settled into the harness, drawing the steps up and securing them on their rail beneath him. He pulled his goggles down, settling them over the top of his glasses and adjusting the straps to get them comfortable. Looking across at David, he gave him the thumbs-up signal and they both switched on their electromagnetic converters.

  He waved at Sam as he stepped to one side as the gentle humming of the converters was followed quickly by the buzz of the caged fan propeller accelerating and his machine began to gently trundle forward. His goggles began to steam up immediately as tears formed in his eyes.

  ‘Damn it!’ he cursed, tilting the goggles from his cheeks with his left hand to allow air to circulate and clear the fog while keeping the machine straight with his right. It was not easy. The ground here was not as flat as the meadow outside the city where the raptors had flown from. Even at a slow speed the machine bounced and the wings flexed alarmingly. As the acceleration built, the bumping run became progressively more violent until, with one final bone-jarring jolt, the wheels left the ground and hung in the air.

  For a moment, the airspeed indicator needle fluctuated in and out of the green sector as the aircraft appeared undecided as to whether it was ready to be in the air. Gritting his teeth, Callum held the control bar steady and willed the airspeed to climb. To his relief, the steady increase of power from the converters did their job and little by little, the machine staggered away from the ground and established a slow but steady climb.

  A glance to his right revealed David was climbing alongside him and slowly accelerating ahead in the other aircraft. There was no doubt that the newer machine had the edge when it came to power, but Callum did not mind. Having seen the punishment this one could take and still remain airborne, he was perfectly happy to be flying the poor relation.

  The ground slowly dropped away beneath him, quickly taking on the appearance of a complex tapestry. As prearranged with David, they climbed ahead to a safe altitude before turning through 180 degrees and overflying the open ground where Sam was waving enthusiastically at them. David extended ahead before turning, so that he could follow Callum’s lead.

  Callum rocked the wings in acknowledgement as he flew over his friend. To his right, he could see the rebel encampment in the valley near the cave. Avoiding it, he banked away to the left and set a south-easterly course that gave a good closing angle to the coast. Altho
ugh he could no longer see David’s machine, he assumed that the inventor was following.

  The power difference between the machines and the difficulties in flying together had become apparent when they had stolen the machines. When Callum proposed taking the machines to attempt a crossing through the eye of a storm, David’s eyes had lit up at the prospect. He had taken little convincing to make the attempt, but had quickly confessed that formation flying had never been a design consideration when he had built the machines. If it had, he would have given at least one of them the ability to vary the power output from the fan. As the newer machine was considerably more powerful than its predecessor, staying in formation was always going to be difficult, but it was Callum who had devised a working solution.

  Flying behind Callum, David converted his excess power into height, climbing well above the lead machine. After a while, he turned off his magnetic converters and settled his machine into a fast glide, gradually descending until he was below Callum when he switched the converters back on and repeated the procedure. It was far from an ideal situation, as doing this required David to maintain unbroken concentration throughout the flight. Awareness of his speed and relative position to Callum’s machine was essential if they were to avoid an inadvertent collision, but short of making complicated modifications to one or both of the machines, it seemed the most logical solution.

  Callum climbed his aircraft to about a thousand feet, noted the needle position on the altimeter and then concentrated on maintaining his height and heading. He knew this flight was going to take a long time. The plan was to fly to the beach where they had first landed in the Reserve and launch into the next incoming storm from there. The train had taken over three hours to get to the City of the Imperium from the Reserve and that had been travelling at least three times as fast as he was flying. At best, Callum estimated they might just make it there before dark. It took a while for him to relax and the tension in his body quickly developed into pain. His back and shoulders were aching long before they reached the coastline and once they had begun hurting, there was to be no relief.

  Time seemed to drag as the torment of muscle cramps and aches plagued him. It was just after midday when the danger struck. Distracted as he was by the discomfort of his position and the boredom of their apparent snail’s pace, it took some time for Callum to become aware of the three black dots circling in the sky ahead. By the time he did notice, it was already too late.

  Having witnessed raptors hunting in the jungle and encountered at least two large predators of the deep, it made sense that something would hunt the skies with equal ruthlessness, yet the thought had not crossed his mind until now. As a little boy, Callum had played with model pterodactyls and taken great joy in making them swoop down on unsuspecting toy soldiers who were then carried off to nests high on the bookshelves overlooking the battlefield that was his bedroom floor. They had been one of his favourite random battle factors. Playing those games, he had never once given thought to what it might be like to fall under the shadow of such huge wings.

  The heart-stopping screech that carried on the air sent a wave of terror through Callum, as the first approaching black dot blossomed and resolved into a gigantic winged monster. All previous discomfort was instantly forgotten. Through blind panic, he wrenched the control bar to the right, tipping abruptly on to a wing tip and slicing the aircraft into a dive. In a manoeuvre born out of instinct, the creature climbed abruptly, screeching a second time as it passed overhead. Afterwards, Callum reasoned that the creature was probably as surprised as he was by their relative size, which was most likely what saved him from having his machine ripped apart there and then.

  Two other creatures soared over his machine, both screeching as they went. From the brief glimpse that Callum got of the flyers, they were not so much like leathery-skinned pterodactyls as they were the legendary giant eagles known as rocs that he had read about in one of his books of myths and legends. However, although these creatures were feathered like a bird, they did not have hard beaks. Instead they had mouths that were elongated and full of needle-sharp teeth. Also, rather than the expected two legs, they had four and a split fan tail of huge feathers.

  There was more screeching behind him. Callum craned his neck to see if he could see what they were doing, but they were out of his field of vision. Terrified that they were now pursuing him, he levelled the wings and pushed the aircraft into a shallow dive to build up as much speed and distance from them as possible.

  The cries fell behind quickly. Another quick look over his shoulder revealed why. David’s machine was descending in a steep spiral dive towards the jungle with a large part of the upper wing missing. He was out of control with little hope of recovery and the creatures were following him down.

  ‘No!’ Callum gasped, his heart racing as he twisted still further in the harness, trying to follow the path of the stricken machine. Before he realised it, his own aircraft was turning and nosing down into a dive.

  Concentrate! he berated himself, rolling out of the turn and stabilising at a steady altitude. There’s nothing you can do for David. The best thing you can do now is to stay alive and worry about getting home in one piece.

  For the second time in as many hours, his goggles began to mist up as tears filled his eyes. Poor David! He had wanted so much to follow in the footsteps of his grandmother and become a pioneering pilot. How better to make his mark than to become the first pilot to intentionally fly between worlds? To fall victim so quickly to the perils of the air was a terrible tragedy. Worse, it was most likely a fatal one. With hindsight, Callum realised he had not planned this trip with any sort of thoroughness. If he had, he might have thought to question what other sorts of dangers might lurk ahead apart from those related to the storm they intended to brave.

  Callum did not see David’s machine hit the tree canopy, but when he next looked back there was no sign of him or the flying creatures. Had they followed him down? If so, David’s fate might be too horrible to contemplate. He tried to focus on the sky ahead. What mattered now was staying alive. He was alone and feeling more vulnerable than he had ever felt in his life. There was a long way to go and it seemed likely that the three flying creatures were not the only hostile threats he would face. He could meet more of them at any time, or different creatures. For all he knew, there could be worse out there somewhere.

  Keep your eyes open and your chin up, Callum, he told himself firmly. You know they’re out there now. Remember what Leah said about being too scared to set foot out of the door. If she could swim in the sea with full knowledge of the monsters that lurked there, you can cross the sky. Stay alert and you should get enough warning to stay out of harm’s way. Well, that’s the theory anyway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Exhausted, thirsty and hungry, Callum nearly missed Brad and Leah’s house, tucked away against the low bluff. If he had not seen the rooftops of several other houses of human design among the trees nearby, he might have flown straight past it.

  ‘At last,’ he breathed.

  A deep sense of relief washed his body in a warm glow. There was no mistaking it – he had reached the Reserve. Several times during the past hour he had wondered if he had miscalculated the time it would take to get here and flown past it without noticing. At one point he had considered backtracking up the coast, but had decided better of it and was pleased to see his instincts proved correct. He had been on the point of looking for a suitable place to land anyway, as the sun was sinking towards the horizon and the shadows of dusk were lengthening fast.

  Circling once to determine the wind direction, he extended downwind over the tongue of rock that he and Sam had climbed and along the bay to allow enough distance to fly a sensible approach path. Turning back, he switched off the electromagnetic converters and began his final descent to land on the beach. Having followed the coast all afternoon, he knew the tide was on the way in, but it was still only half-tide and there was plenty of hard sand left to land on.r />
  As he descended, so the light got progressively worse until it felt almost like full darkness as he neared ground level. Either night fell very quickly here or this was another flying danger that Callum had not fully considered. Could it have something to do with the curvature of the Earth and angles of sunlight? Possibly, but he could not spare the brainpower to consider it further.

  All Callum could do was apply the techniques he had learned to use by day and hope they worked the same way at night. Looking well ahead, he alternated his focus between the airspeed and the horizon, trying to keep from stalling while using his peripheral vision to get a sense of how close he was to the ground. Given that by the time he touched down he could see very little, he was quite pleased with his landing. A skipping bounce and he was down, decelerating rapidly to a walking pace.

  The shushing noise of the surf helped calm his racing pulse as he flicked on a single magnetic converter and used the boost of power to keep some momentum. He steered the machine round in an arc and drove it back along the beach to where he could now just make out a familiar figure emerging from the treeline. Controlling his forward speed by flicking the power on and off, Callum taxied right up to the edge of the soft sand near the path to Leah’s house before turning off the power and trundling to a final stop.

  Sliding the stepladder out from under the harness was a struggle, and climbing out of the machine even more so. Callum staggered as he tried to stand unaided. After being horizontal in the harness for what must have been at least ten hours, his head spun with the sudden shift to being upright and he dropped to his knees to allow the dizzy spell to pass.

  ‘Hello?’ Leah called from the deep shadow under the trees. ‘Who’s that and where have you come from?’

  ‘It’s me – Callum,’ Callum replied, his voice sounding croaky as he forced the words from his dry throat.

  ‘Callum? Callum! What . . . ? How . . . ?’ Leah came running down the beach to meet him and helped him back to his feet. ‘Oh, you poor boy! You look exhausted. We need to get you inside and get you something to eat and drink. Where are the others? Are they going to fly in as well? Is Brad all right?’