Forecast

by Chris Keith

  Like firecrackers, more white lights glared through the dense smoke and more giant spheres of fire rose majestically over Europe and Britain. Hennessey estimated the canopy of the first two mush-room clouds at somewhere between two hundred to three hundred miles across and the height to which they’d reached seemed on par with their space balloon. Now she feared for the safety of her own country. America’s involvement was inevitable.

  “Do you think someone is trying to wipe out the human race?” she suggested.

  Something’s happening, Sutcliffe heard the words in his head again. “I just…I don’t know.”

  It was becoming increasingly difficult to make out Europe amongst the featureless radioactive clouds. Below them, also, the toroid-shaped canopies of the bombs on Britain had risen to within a few thousand feet of the gondola. Swirling masses of smoke and dust from millions of tons of excavated earth seemed to torment them. Far off, the Akroid balloon was being twirled around by the whooshing smoke and disturbed air. Then it ripped the balloon apart and the mushroom clouds devoured the cosmic dust collector.

  Sutcliffe fell morbidly silent, his mind generating gruesome images of their world. He imagined the devastation at the epicentre of the astronomical explosions, picturing buildings flying apart as though they were made of paper, like wind passing through dead leaves. Those who survived the blasts, he dwelled, now faced the excruciating heat, the radiation, the starvation, the suffering to come. He remembered the books he had read about Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Contemporary atom bombs were a thousand times more powerful and destructive than those used on Japan.

  A tear formed in the corner of his eye. Martin, his only son…

  Trying to remain strong, unconvinced that it was the end of humankind, the destruction of his country and the people he loved, Sutcliffe tried to make some decisions. “If we return now, the chances are we’ll be caught up in the crossfire. And you saw what just happened to the Akroid balloon.”

  Matthews disagreed. “What do you suggest? That we just stay here, floating about in space until the dust settles?”

  “If we descend now, the balloon will be torn apart and we’ll all die.”

  Matthews peered over the edge of the gondola. Britain had disappeared beneath the atomic cloud. “How long?”

  Sutcliffe looked at his oxygen gauge. Eighty percent of his first tank had been consumed. Radioactive fission particles from the bombs would have already contaminated the skies below. “We all have roughly twenty percent oxygen remaining, right? That buys us about an hour, maybe a bit more, on this tank. Plus we have the second tank in our life support backpacks and the secondary emergency tank with an additional thirty minutes. That’s about another nine hours in total. And don’t forget we have two spare oxygen tanks each onboard. So we still have approximately twenty three hours of oxygen remaining.”

  “You’re joking right?” Matthews said back. “We can’t stay up here for twenty three hours.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. We have enough oxygen for the time being. I think we should wait for a few hours and see what happens. It’s the safest option.”

  “See what happens? Europe’s been bombed. That’s what has fucking happened!”

  Conflicted, Sutcliffe snapped. “Simon, listen to me. All I’m saying is the prudent thing to do right now is wait. Then we can start making some coherent decisions. Get off my back, will you?”

  Burch managed to pull himself together, overcoming his breathing deficiency. He began hitting his navigation monitor again and again in an attempt to restore power, anything to keep his mind off the explosions below. Rage and self-reproach took control of him and he felt responsible for getting the electrics back up, beating the computer with his fists to a pulp.

  “You’re wasting your time, Keith,” Hennessey said. “It won’t work. That was an electromagnetic pulse from the nuclear bombs we experienced. The EMP would have frazzled anything with a circuit board, basically anything electrical. The equipment is useless now.”

  She paused for a moment before continuing. “Listen, everyone, Brad is right. We shouldn’t return yet. From the mushroom clouds, the larger bits of matter fall back to Earth within a few minutes. The smaller bits of fallout borne downwind by the bomb clouds fall within several hours. But the deadly microscopic particles and invisible radioactive particles stay aloft for months or years and circle the world, some even for eternity. That means the radioactive particles may fall all over the world, contaminating farm crops and oceans. In a few hours, the mushroom clouds will thin out and we may be able to descend safely. But whatever happens, the air down there is unbreathable right now.”

  “How do you know so much about nuclear fallout?” Matthews questioned.

  “NASA is pretty thorough.”

  Matthews didn’t say anything. Nothing could have prepared the crew for such a sense of violation. Their hearts sank knowing that everything they had dared and seen and risked and achieved had been worthless, though the deaths of the millions of people caught up in the explosions took precedence over all else. Sutcliffe let out a disheartened sigh. The day which had begun with such promise had ended in the worst imaginable disaster.

  Chapter 13

  “What’s happening?” Faraday yelled.

  The balloon had suddenly dropped several feet. When it finally stabilised, it went into a violent spin.

  “It must be disturbed zonal and meridional wind currents from the bombs,” said Hennessey, holding onto the bar.

  Sutcliffe nervously looked up at the large ropes attached to the envelope. If they split, the gondola would fall like deadweight and the gondola’s emergency parachutes might become entangled with the severed ropes. Unsure whether or not the alkaline batteries had been affected by the EMP shockwaves, he prayed the emergency locator beacon at the base of the gondola still worked. If they were to fall, the beacon could be tracked by ground technicians, if they were still available. With water pouches low and no food, Mission Control no longer in contact and oxygen continuing to drain, he felt they had no choice but to descend back to Earth. The explosions had ceased and the mass of smoke beneath them had discoloured and scattered somewhat.

  “I don’t think the envelope will hold much longer,” he told the crew. “Let’s go back.”

  “Finally,” Matthews remarked.

  “How long will the descent take?” said Hennessey.

  “About the same time it took to get up here, five to six hours.”

  “Do you think it will hold that long?”

  “I don’t know. Simon, can you valve off the helium?”

  “Sure.”

  Matthews opened the balloon vents and dispelled the helium. It took a few minutes for the balloon to respond, though without their instruments they couldn’t confirm how fast they were descending, if at all, until the hurricane-like clouds began to grow nearer. The gondola had stopped revolving, but the balloon hit more turbulence. The crew took hold of the bars until the balloon stabilised again. Burch had designed the balloon using a translucent, polyethylene material with special additives aimed at strengthening performance in high altitude temperatures. High turbulent winds hadn’t been factored into the design because the entire flight had been based on a calm weather forecast. Had the weather been windy, the flight would have been postponed. It had him deeply concerned.

  The balloon continued downward and the first real definitions of the radioactive clouds became apparent. Ash and nuclear mud swirled about in the wind and Sutcliffe further doubted the might of the envelope. Around them, it’d turned eerily dark and volcanic-like ash bombarded the balloon, showering the crew with disintegrated homeland.

  The torment dragged on and on.

  The balloon pitched so violently they could feel the force in their stomachs. The platform swung left and right, banking sharply with each lethal shudder, rattling and shaking. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

  “I can’t bear this!” screamed Faraday.

  Sutcliffe realised that if t
hey didn’t get out of the destructive cloud soon, they would be gobbled up in the alien atmosphere. “Simon, close the helium valves and drop ballast, right away.”

  Matthews opened the ballast tanks and several kilos of sand gushed from the gondola. It didn’t seem to have much of an effect. Sutcliffe unscrewed the reserve batteries weighing fourteen kilos and dropped them over the side, followed by the altimeter. Burch disconnected the navigational computer and threw that overboard. Finally, the balloon began to slowly rise, the helium pulling them skyward again. Eventually, the balloon popped out of the cloud and rose away from it.

  “What now?” asked Burch.

  Sutcliffe’s heart sank. “We have no choice but to detach from the envelope. I will separate the gondola and we will freefall to about sixteen thousand feet where the chutes will deploy. It’s our only hope.”

  No one argued.

  The crew braced themselves, nobody comfortable with the idea of falling out of the sky, nobody in objection either. Sutcliffe looked at each of his crew as he floated his finger over the button to initiate the separation from the envelope. The crew would have to depend on a series of stabilising parachutes that, once deployed, would be discarded to allow a second batch of parachutes to open and slow their final descent.

  He pressed the button.

  Nothing happened.

  He pressed it again.

  Something was wrong.

  “Fuck!” he bellowed.

  “What’s the problem?” said Hennessey.

  “No power. I forgot about that.”

  “What does that mean?”

  The crew waited for his decision. When Sutcliffe made up his mind, he knew without doubt he’d made the right choice, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “I’m sorry,” he said, putting his fist to his visor. “I wish there was another way.”

  “We have to jump?” said Hennessey.

  “Yes. I’m afr –”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Matthews reacted so fast that his words overlapped Sutcliffe’s.

  “The gondola can’t be detached.”

  “Brad, we don’t know where we are,” said Burch. “We could be over the Atlantic for all we know. If we land in the ocean, we’ll drown in our –”

  “I’m aware of the danger, Keith. Does anyone have a better suggestion?”

  “No. Jumping is our safest option,” Hennessey said boldly.

  “But we’re so high,” Burch complained.

  “We’ll be okay,” said Hennessey. “It has been done before.”

  She started unbuckling herself. She stood and took two spare oxygen tanks from the balloon chest and sealed them in both pockets on the lower legs of her spacesuit. Her bold courage inspired her crewmates and one by one they unstrapped themselves and collected their reserve oxygen tanks. Burch and Faraday peered over the edge looking for the way home. The idea of jumping into mushroom clouds was lunacy, but more appealing than staying in the stratosphere on a temperamental gondola, thought Faraday.

  Matthews pointed to his partner. “If we’re going to do this, I think you should go first, Brad. Then Claris, Jen, Keith and I’ll go last.”

  “Fine,” said Sutcliffe. “It is vital that we jump immediately one after another. That way when we land, we will all be in close proximity.”

  Sutcliffe knew it was a moment of his captaincy where he had to lead by example and show himself worthy of trust. He couldn’t show his fear. He couldn’t hesitate. He couldn’t talk his way out of it. He could only do it. The parachutes had been the idea of Mike Townsend in a case of extreme emergency. Not once had it crossed his mind that they would actually use them. He wished now that they’d had more skydiving lessons. Below him, dark, menacing cloud hid the Earth. What lay beneath those clouds he did not know and it deeply worried him. If they were over the Atlantic or the Channel, they were in big trouble. They would plunge into the deep ocean and would be untraceable. They would tread water until their oxygen ran out. Opening their visors to breathe in radioactive air would allow water to seep into their heavy suits, making them lead weights. That weight would pull them hundreds of feet below the surface. During that time, their last thoughts would be their airless lungs and should they not have jumped, dying in a sea of regret, lost forever.

  Staring up at the entangled ropes high above the gondola, then dead ahead, admiring one last time the beautiful curvature of the Earth, he touched his helmet and chest in the form of the cross for the first time in his life, then stepped off the gondola.

  For a few nerve-rattling seconds, Faraday peered over the edge and watched her captain disappear into the dark cloud below. On any other day, she would have been determined to set a new record- breaking altitude jump. Not on that day. She was overcome with the sense that those were the last precious minutes of her life and she couldn’t even savour them.

  Hennessey put her hand on Faraday’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Claris,” she said softly.

  Faraday gently shrugged her shoulders, closed her eyes and jumped.

  The faces of her parents appeared in Hennessey’s mind. She could feel their presence, there watching over her, with her. She had parachuted from high altitude time after time, but jumping into the unknown was different. A number of questions danced in her mind. How were Sutcliffe and Faraday faring? What was the world like down there? Was she about to die? She tried to rid her mind of dispiriting thoughts, twisted her head back at Matthews and Burch to give them a supportive nod, took one large stride forward and dropped over the edge.

  Burch was next. He inched his way forward, his whole body shaking and his heart pounding. At the edge of both the gondola and undoubtedly his life, he stopped, paralysed with the thought of what he was about to do. Even if he wanted to take another step, his legs refused and he just stood there incapacitated. It was just too high, he couldn’t make the jump and that was that, he decided.

  “Keith, come on, move it!” Matthews shouted.

  “You go, I’ll go last.”

  The last thing Matthews needed right now was a debate on who went first or last. If Burch didn’t want to jump, then Matthews wasn’t going to waste his time trying to persuade him to, therefore jeopardising his own life. Striding three paces, Matthews folded his arms across his chest and plunged into the atmosphere and was gone. Now Burch was alone. By the time he did gather the courage to shimmy his way forward to the edge of the gondola, the crew of Fable-1 had long since jumped. Quivering, he just stood there. Sutcliffe, Faraday, Hennessey and Matthews were surely dead by now. Feeling unbearably lonely, his body clammed up with vertigo and instead of jumping he closed his eyes.

  “Your mother has Alzheimer’s disease,” said the nurse, and Burch closed his eyes, concerning himself with yet more nursing duties that would inevitably continue to put his own life on hold. “And not just the early stages either,” the nurse continued. “We think she may have had it for a few years now.”

  Burch opened his eyes, his hands deep in his tracksuit top. He brought one of his hands to his chin and stroked it. The news was a lot to take in. William Harvey Hospital had become like a second home. As a matter of fact, he could not recall a single month that year when he’d not been at the hospital. His mother was a walking health hazard. She was annoying. Not a single day passed when she wasn’t sick or moaning.

  “What does this mean? Will she lose her memory completely?”

  “Eventually, yes, I’m afraid.”

  The nurse explained her developing symptoms, explaining that one day she might not even remember her own son. It shocked him and he thought it over as they exited the hospital. Installed behind his mother’s wheelchair, pushing her to his van, he assisted her into the passenger side where he strapped her in.

  “Everything is gonna be alright, Mum, I will take good care of you.”

  Overwhelmed by all the probing, tests and inundation of drugs, she didn’t respond and just stared blankly out of the window. When he got her home, he took her to her armchair and made h
er a cup of herbal tea. When he set her cup down on the table, she clasped the back of his hand. “I’m so proud of you, Keith. You’ve always been there for me, even when your father left. I know I moan too much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think the world of you. Don’t you forget that?”

  Burch had to leave the room with a sudden crushing sense of guilt overcoming him. The old bat drove him up the wall, but he loved her deeply. In a few words she had made him feel important and appreciated and loved. For all those years he had thought she despised him because she had always done her best to make him feel worthless. But he enjoyed her presence and he never felt lonely. She was there for him and he was there for her. And that worked. Unlocking and entering the studio beneath his house, he sat with his back against the wall where he closed his eyes.

  Burch opened his eyes. The crew of Fable-1 was gone, undoubtedly dead. He would be safe on the platform for a while longer. He wanted to mirror their bravery, but he couldn’t get his head around jumping to certain death or staying there, running out of oxygen and dying. Staying gave him a longer life, or an elongated death. He wondered which was worse. He looked up at the ropes attached to the envelope, admiring for the last time his exceptional design. Sutcliffe had presumed right when he had said the envelope would not hold much longer.

  The gondola suddenly became the victim of a strong wind and pitched sharply. Burch struggled to keep his balance and lost his footing altogether. As his reflexes snapped to stabilise his centre of gravity, he slipped and fell off the gondola. Plummeting towards the Earth back first, he stared up at the balloon pulling away from him, an indication of how fast he was travelling. The red tracking beacon fitted to the base of the gondola was blinking intermittently, it had worked after all. His limp body fell from the void of space at over six hundred miles per hour and his heart rate fluctuated wildly. In less than thirty seconds, he hit the roof of the dying mushroom clouds. With zero visibility and a visor fogged up with grit, he lost all sense of downward motion.