The Last Airship

by Christopher Cartwright

  *

  Blake Simmonds followed his team as they tried to gain further control of the region of the lake where the tunnel lay, toward the eastern end. He was long past the age in which he thought that he’d need to use his training as a military operative, but as it stood, what was at stake was far too valuable for him to entirely rely on someone else’s training and expertise.

  He’d already accepted that John Wolfgang had switched sides, but with whom, he had no idea. Whoever they were, they had considerable firepower and a professional team who knew what they were doing.

  Blake had watched as the two Blackhawk helicopters chased the Robinson 44, and he hoped that they had taken the ruse, and consequently given him much more space and time in which to capture the Magdalena’s most valuable treasure.

  When his men approached the eastern side of the lake the incoming firepower increased dramatically.

  Red tracer bullets now scoured the lake’s bank.

  So, they obviously know that Sam Reilly is going to come out from inside that tunnel, too.

  As far as he could tell, all of the firepower was originating from a higher vantage point on the northern side of the tunnel. They would be able to reach the tunnel if they kept going, but to capture Sam Reilly, his men would first need to take out the enemy on the other side of the tunnel.

  He pushed his men hard and offered an additional half-million dollars to each of them if they were successful.

  It was enough of an incentive to drive his men to push themselves literally to their deaths.

  A tracer bullet suddenly flew past his head, missing him by no more than a couple of inches.

  Shit, that was close. But where did it come from?

  It wasn’t from the north; instead it had been fired from the south.

  Whoever the enemy team were, they had looped around the lake to approach him from behind. His men were now being outflanked by constant enemy fire from a stationary position in the north, as well as from a number of other attackers from the south, that were now moving in for the kill. To the west, Lake Solitude provided virtually no protection and to the east, the vertical limestone that formed the giant mountain range had them trapped.

  It was a classic military strategy to outflank an enemy and thus divide their forces. Blake just hoped that he’d brought in enough men to overcome this maneuver.

  Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, he was able to determine that his men outnumbered his enemies, but the enemy forces had superior firepower, and had bunkered-in earlier. He couldn’t be certain, but to the north, there appeared to be three shooters with large, mounted machine guns.

  His 72-man team greatly outnumbered the enemy, who, as far as he could tell, had somewhere in the vicinity of 12 men, but that wouldn’t matter if he was unable to get control of those machine guns.

  “Mr. Osborne, take your best men, and see if you can take out those gunners in the north,” Blake Simmonds ordered.

  “Understood.”

  He then watched as Osborne and 10 of his best soldiers climbed the debris field above the tunnel opening in an attempt to reach the machine gunners.

  Below them, the fast-flowing, turbid water was surging through the tunnel opening and flowing into the lake. Its whitewater turbulence was tearing at the sides of the tunnel, and ripping out large chunks of limestone from its walls.

  Any man who had the misfortune to fall into the raging maelstrom would be dead before he even knew what had happened.

  Blake’s eyes kept track of them for a couple of minutes until they disappeared from sight.

  The myriad of tracer bullets continued to shoot through the air. It was hard to tell whether his team was winning or losing, and he had no idea whether or not the men he’d sent to destroy the gunners were even still alive.

  Then, he heard the grenades explode.

  The explosions emanated from north of the tunnel, and the entire area was lit up as if it were broad daylight. The surrounding pine trees caught fire. He heard loud screams of pain, but from whom, he had no idea.

  The machine guns went silent.

  Had his men destroyed them?

  They were now in control of the lake. They would now be able to easily maintain the upper hand.

  The fast-flowing water from the tunnel had settled as the water level inside the tunnel and that of the lake, had finally reached equilibrium.

  Then, from out of the enormous tunnel opening came the unmistakable sound of large propellers spinning.

  Blake Simmonds watched in awe as he bore witness to the nightmare of his father’s past.

  In front of him, in all its evil glory, he saw it – The Magdalena!

  Her giant propellers spinning, they drove her inexorably towards the entrance of the lake.

  “Get ready men, don’t let her escape,” Blake warned.

  More than thirty of his men took aim at the propellers, ready to stop its forward momentum.

  They never had a chance to pull their triggers.

  The ground shook violently as another set of explosions detonated below their feet.

  Blake watched, as the entire southern side of the lake burst into flames, as though someone had poured aviation fuel on the lake surface and tossed in a lit match.

  The blast of heat that followed was so intense that those who weren’t immediately incinerated dove deep into the lake trying to escape the conflagration.

  Had the mystery military team set a trap for them?

  Blake Simmonds couldn’t answer his own question as he waded into the icy waters of the lake. All he knew, as he watched his professional team run for their lives, was that in the same instant in which he thought he had finally achieved the lifetime goal he once promised his father that he would fulfill, he had lost it all.

  Without any other possible alternative or solutions, once he reached the western edge of the lake, he simply walked away from the disaster, finally free from the corruption.

  In the background, the Magdalena sailed quietly into the night’s water of Lake Solitude, unhindered.

  *

  Sam Reilly felt right at home as his hands ably steered the giant craft. It hadn’t taken him very long to get used to its controls. It slipped out of the tunnel opening and sailed quietly into the lake.

  Next to him, Aliana had the burner on full, expelling enormous volumes of heated air into the canopy of the Magdalena.

  Sam could feel the pitch of the nose rising further and further out of the lake as the Magdalena slowly motored towards the lake’s center. He wasn’t completely certain that they’d made the correct calculations for the amount of heated air that was necessary inside the canopy, and he wondered, if it was even possible to now get the Magdalena airborne.

  Then, like Peter Pan, the Magdalena started to lift out of the water and gently float upwards into the sky.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  The Magdalena flew through the night.

  Sam Reilly was almost convinced that they had achieved the impossible. The enormous canopy slowly floated through the night sky like a dark rain cloud. He had flown many different aircraft in his life, but the Magdalena was one of the most magical. Like the child who dreamt of one day flying, the Magdalena seemed to belong in the sky. A part of him wished that he could have been around when airship flight was far more commonplace.

  Sam watched as the beautiful girl, who was half asleep next to him, began to stir. He gently slid his hand forward and entangled hers. “Good morning,” he murmured softly as she smiled at him.

  “We’re still alive?” Aliana asked, surprised.

  “So far. I still haven’t found a safe place to land. We haven’t gone very far, perhaps 40 miles?”

  “Now what?”

  “I’m not sure about that, Aliana. You’re the microbiologist. What are we going to do with this obscene virus?”

  “You know that it must be destroyed, don’t you?”

  “I do. But when we land this ship, they’ll never let it leave her.”


  “Then we must destroy it before we land.”

  “So many people have already been killed trying to acquire this weapon,” Sam said. “How do we destroy it before they use it to destroy humanity?”

  “The burner. That’s what we’ll use. We need to burn the entire container, so that as it melts, the virus won’t have a chance to escape.”

  “Can’t it escape as we open the container?”

  “No, as long as it remains inside the burner, the virus will die instantly. The heat will most likely kill it before its container melts, anyway.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  Sam picked up the metallic suitcase, looked at it once more and asked, “Are you absolutely certain this will work?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Sam then tossed the suitcase directly into the blue blaze.

  It took a few minutes for the shiny metal case to turn from a gloss to a blazing red, before suddenly combusting. The contents of the glass vials inside it bubbled as it was affected by the heat. Before long, the dreaded contents of the suitcase were finally destroyed.

  “It’s over, then?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, it’s finally over,” Aliana replied.

  He took her in his arms, and held her, as they both sighed with relief. Behind him, Sam heard the distinct sound of something he’d heard many times before. Sam didn’t even have to turn his head to know that the Magdalena was being followed by two Blackhawks.

  He only wished he knew who was piloting them.

  *

  Sam heard an American’s voice, coming over a loudspeaker, and he gripped the Magdalena’s steering wheel tightly, as he wished that it could help him find an escape route. Advanced as she was when first built, the Magdalena was more than 75 years behind the times when it came to her engineering and was certainly incapable of reproducing the speed and agility of modern day aircraft.

  “Sam Reilly, this is Lieutenant Commander Ryan on board the U.S. Navy Blackhawk requesting that you land the Magdalena immediately.”

  Sam had no means of messaging the Lieutenant by radio, so he handed the steering wheel to Aliana, and then walked out onto the open-air gangway.

  Next to him was the Blackhawk, which he presumed had ordered him to land.

  He waved his arms, and then pointed to the mountains and pine trees below, as if to say, “Where the hell do you think I should land?”

  “Sam Reilly, follow the Blackhawk in front of you. It will take you to the nearest landing site.”

  He waved his arms again to indicate that he would oblige.

  It took more than six hours to reach the landing site. Sam concluded since they hadn’t simply been shot down, that the U.S. government obviously wanted something that they had.

  Finally, Sam saw a flat grassy area came into view below.

  “Okay Aliana, I’ll take over from here.”

  “She’s all yours.” Aliana said, looking relieved to turn the steering over to Sam.

  Sam took the steering wheel in his hands again. It felt good. After making a couple of slight arm movements, he once again felt in control of the Magdalena.

  Next to him, Aliana reduced the acetylene valve until the burner flame was almost entirely extinguished.

  “Okay, pull the excess pressure lever,” Sam said. “Remember, small bursts, we don’t want to go crashing to the ground.”

  Following Sam’s instructions, Aliana gently pulled on the excess pressure lever.

  Above, they could hear the sound of heated air being released from the canopy.

  There was no change in their flight.

  “Okay, pull it a little more,” Sam instructed.

  After the fifth release, the Magdalena began to lose altitude, ever so slightly.

  “Okay, let’s increase the flame, just a bit. The ground is coming in a little too fast for my liking.”

  There was very little wind.

  Sam would have appreciated a slight headwind to help steady the ship, but no wind was the next best thing.

  Between the two of them, they continued adjusting the burner flame, the valve release and the speed of the motors, until the Magdalena eventually touched ground on the grassy field.

  “Touchdown!” Sam exclaimed.

  Aliana then pulled the excess gas release valve, so that the entire canopy released all of its heated air and the Magdalena’s now empty three gondolas sank heavily onto the ground.

  *

  Immediately after landing, several Navy Seals stormed the pilot gondola.

  “Sam Reilly?” Asked the young man wearing military camos who greeted him. With the soldier’s finger resting just above the trigger of his assault rifle, he gave Sam the immediate impression of a redneck hillbilly who wanted nothing more than an excuse to kill someone. The military needed people like that, he understood. They had their place, and for the most part, they could become excellent soldiers, but they were rarely bright enough to make it in, let alone to remain in one of the Navy's elite SEAL teams.

  “That’s me,” Sam acknowledged.

  “Stay where you are, and don’t move. Who else is with you?”

  “Just one other person. Her name is Aliana Wolfgang.”

  “Don’t move or I will shoot to kill you both,” the man said harshly.

  “That’s don’t move, sir,” Sam replied to his order.

  “Who are you to tell me how to address you?” The soldier sounded irritated, and was just naïve enough not to show any concern.

  “I can answer that one,” stated the leader of the SEAL team. “Sam Reilly retains the rank of Major in the U.S. Marine Corps, as a nonoperational adviser, in his otherwise unspecified role – whatever the fuck that is.”

  The young soldier looked concerned, and started to justify his ignorance, but Sam ignored him completely and said, “Lieutenant Commander Ryan!” Sam looked genuinely pleased, “How are you, you old bastard?”

  “Sam Reilly!” Ryan broke into a grin that matched the width of his enormous hand, as he reached out to take Sam’s hand and shake it. “I never thought I’d see the day that I’d be the one breaking you out of a sticky situation.”

  “But how did you get involved here?” Sam asked. “And how did you know about me?”

  “We had no idea that you were even involved until we captured Tom. It was just very good luck that the two of us once worked together in Afghanistan. He told me about your exploits. I was a little skeptical at first, and then when he told me that you were involved, I knew it had to be true.”

  “But why were we involved in any of this?” Sam asked, referring to the U.S. military.

  “Surely you must know why, Sam.”

  “I can imagine, but I have no idea how your boss learned of its existence, especially since I first heard about it only two days ago?” Sam was genuinely surprised.

  “I find that hard to believe, Sam. So, where is it then?” Ryan Walker inquired.

  “The virus?” Sam didn’t even bother to try to deceive his old friend. They had completed countless missions together over the years.

  “Yes, what else do you think the President would be so concerned about?”

  “What do you think I would do with a virus so lethal that it had the power to destroy the human race?”

  Sam watched as Ryan’s eyes slanted a look at the burner, its blue flames still a vibrant glow of amber.

  “You silly rich bastard! You burned it?”

  “Would you rather check the rest of the airship?”

  “No, I can imagine there’s no point.” Ryan looked at him and said, “You know he’s going to be pissed off about this, don’t you?”

  “Who?”

  “The President.”

  “Publically, in his war room, I’m sure he’ll appear to be mad as hell. But I’ll wager a year’s salary that he’ll be relieved that this decision was taken out of his hands.” Sam then looked at Ryan and said, “So, I guess that’s it then. Shall we all go home now?”

  “No, there’s
still the matter of the terrorist who has been after the virus.”

  “I thought we were the only ones after it?” Sam had decided early-on that the less information he betrayed about how he got involved in the matter, the better.

  “No, there is someone even more dangerous than an altruistic fool like you, Sam. You’re free to go, but we’re going to have to borrow the Magdalena. Our one saving grace after losing the virus may just be to catch the man who wanted it so desperately.”

  He then explained to Sam exactly what they planned to do.

  *

  John Wolfgang stared at the Magdalena in the field ahead of him as the Blackhawk approached the landing site nearby. She had eluded him and his father for their entire lives. He wondered whether any of it was worth it, and wished that his father had never even discovered the damned virus.

  The Magdalena was much smaller than he’d imagined she would be. The sharp lines of her aerodynamic canopy appeared more like sinister blades that took life than the beautiful airship that he’d imagined.

  He wished the airship had never been built.

  “Is my daughter onboard?” He asked of the soldier who had greeted him kindly in the Blackhawk, but who now acted as his guard. John had a slight quiver in his upper lip, the only visible sign that he was no longer in control.

  Aliana was all that mattered to him now.

  “Yes, she is,” the soldier answered.

  “And is she okay?”

  “I’m told that she’s fine.”

  “Thank goodness,” John said.

  “You’ll be able to see her soon.”

  The pilot then landed the Blackhawk.

  “So, it’s over then?” John asked.

  “What is?”

  “Everything. The deal, the virus… it’s all now under your control, and I hope your government uses it wisely for the prevention of war instead of as a biological weapon.”

  “It’s not over yet. Lieutenant Commander Walker will explain it to you in more detail. He’s waiting for you on board, and will explain everything.”

  The soldier then escorted John to the Magdalena.

  A Navy SEAL with fire red hair and a confident smile shook his hand when he came aboard.

  “John Wolfgang?” He asked.