Yesterday’s Flight
by
Martyn Ellington
“This book is dedicated to Norman & Reatha, without whom it would not have been possible.”
First published in the United Kingdom 2011.
Copyright © Martyn Ellington.
All rights reserved.
Cover design © Plan4 Media
Cover images
© Leonid Tit
© Oleksandr Bondar
© Chris Harvey
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any other means, without prior and express written permission by the author/publisher.
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-1-907463-40-2
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
William sat down in his favourite chair, the old leather wingback groaned as he settled in to it, its soft leather shaping to his frame. The late evening sun glowed through the large corner window and bathed him in a warm light. He lifted his feet onto the table in front of him, took a sip of his coffee and sighed, closed his eyes and rested his head back. The TV was on, but he had no idea what show was on, no doubt it was another trash TV show targeted at the young-have-it-all-now generation, whose big emergency will no doubt be described by words such as “like, you know” and “yeah” which it seems is all they can muster these days. He opened his eyes and wondered if he was just getting old, or worse, turning into his dad!
Mustering the energy he reached for the remote, pointed it at the TV and pressed mute. Instantly he was in silence, the way he liked it, but he didn’t want the TV off because strangely, it offered comfort.
Streaming pictures of the wider world confirmed to him that he was not so alone, even though he felt it most of the time.
He took a time check. “Shit,” he thought, “I’m going to need to head out soon.” Finishing his coffee with slow purposeful sips, he eased himself out of the chair, switched off the TV, picked up his suitcase and headed for the door.
William was an area manager. He had made his way slowly and sometimes it seemed painfully up the corporate ladder. He got there partly because of his sales ability and partly (he liked to think) because of his attention to detail.
Before closing the door he took one last look in the flat, satisfying himself it was clean and tidy, almost to the point of obsession, but he knew that upon his return in just a short 72-hours it would still be as clean and as tidy, and he could - with minimal effort - drop his case in the bedroom and relax back in his wingback with the soft glow of TV in the background. And with that satisfying thought in his head, he turned and closed the door behind him.
Bruce Ackland was a lead air crash investigation officer at the NTSB (National Transportation Safety Board) in Washington. Parking his car, he switched off the engine, leaned back into his seat and looked up at the grey, faceless building in front of him, he pushed his fingers under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Stepping out of the car he wondered to himself what exactly this day would bring. He was weary and tired, he had just completed a 9-month investigation of a small private aircraft which had somehow managed to get itself tangled in some power lines.
“Why and how do some people learn to fly, with powers of observation that BAD?” he muttered to himself as he headed in through the main door.
Bruce was very good at what he did, but had a long career and decided a long time ago that nothing would surprise him anymore when it came to the reasons and excuses why planes and helicopters ‘land in unscheduled ways’ as he liked to spin it.
Making his way to his office he could see that Simon had beat him in again, but then he should, he lived a lot closer and as he had been in the job nearly half the time, he was still eager to please and still found the excitement that Bruce had long lost.
“Bruce!” Simon shouted across the office.
“Bruce, you got back ok then?”
“It seems so, Simon,” said Bruce.
“I’m pleased you’re in, we’ve had a really unusual call come in this morning.”
Simon sounded far too excited for this time on a Monday morning, but Bruce managed to raise at least some level of interest in his voice.
“Go on then, surprise me, another plane landed in the only lake for 500-miles, or better yet, hit the only tree for a thousand miles.”
He looked up at Simon from behind his desk with a sarcastic look in his eye, “Oh no!” said Simon. “You’re not going to believe this one, a team of palaeontologists working in Death Valley have uncovered what looks like a piece of tail from an airliner.”
“Ok!” said Bruce. “Mike put you up to this?”
“No, really its real, and it seems they uncovered it while digging up the skull of a dinosaur.”
Bruce dropped the look of sarcasm, and changed it for one of puzzlement.
“How can there be a tail section of an airliner lying next to the skull of a dinosaur?”
Simon shrugged his shoulders, “Dunno boss, but they say there is.”
William was sat in the back of the taxi on his way to the airport. “Yet another sales meeting,” he thought, “another meeting to talk about the last meeting we just had.”
The voice in his head sounded frustrated, he hated red eye flights, long ones, flying from Portland to Atlanta was never a nice flight, it seemed to take forever.
“This is the last time for me, they don’t know it yet, but when they’ve yapped their yapp, I’m throwing my notice at them, and that’s me away.”
He felt a smile spreading across his face. He had no idea what he would do, but he’d put enough by so that he could at least do what ever it was he decided to do.
The cab pulled up outside the airport. “Here you are, that’ll be $22.87, bud.”
William shuffled in his seat, until he found the pocket with his wallet in it. He handed the driver $25.00. “Keep the change.”
The driver looked at him in a way that both thanked him and called him cheap at the same time, in return William gave him his best ‘whatever’ look and climbed out of the cab and started to make his way through the revolving doors, clutching his overnight bag.
He’d almost made it in when he heard the unmistakable sound of metal smashing against metal and the dull sound of glass shattering. He turned to see the taxi he had just climbed out of being struck by a large SUV. The four occupants inside, two men and two women, jumped out and fled towards William, leaving the Toyota Landcruiser almost completely mounted on the bonnet of the now partly-crushed taxi.
William pushed through the doors as quickly as he could to get out of the way of the four strangers but he wasn’t quite quick enough. The younger of the two men fell into William, knocking him against the handle on the door. Instantly William tried to push him back but he wasn’t quick enough. With a hastily muttered apology, they were past him and gone. He watched with complete revulsion for them and their actions as they turned the corner and out of sight. As they did he heard the larger of the two men shout something towards one of the women, but all he could make out was her name, Andrea.
He made his way further into the airport and headed to the usual gate, smiling to himself as he noticed the airport police detaining the four people that had pushed past him just minutes ago. Walking slowly he dragged his case behind him, its little plastic wheels skipping and
bouncing over the floor.
William approached the check-in desk and took his place in line, although it was a short a line.
“The only people who caught these red eyes are the people who have to,” he chuckled to himself. Eventually he reached the desk and duly handed his case to the clerk.
William looked at her name badge, Becky, he often wondered if that was ever their real names, or names some marketing focus group had decided people would trust more than the actual name. He stood looking at ‘Becky’ and waited for what he always thought was one of the most stupid questions he would hear in his life-time, and here it came. “Did you pack this bag yourself, sir? Could anybody have tampered with it?”
“Yes and no,” he replied with a small smile in the corner of his mouth.
Becky looked at him and did what William thought only women can do, she rolled her eyes at him, without actually rolling her eyes!
He turned and made his way to the gate, catching his reflection in the tall mirrors, he looked at himself in his off-the-peg blue suit, the white shirt under it and the standard black shoes poking out the bottom of the slightly too long trousers.
He could never get the waist to the right length. William wasn’t overweight or under, in fact his build, and everything about his features, were very unremarkable and very forgettable. He liked this anonymity, he liked blending into the background, not being noticed, being forgotten easily. He could almost hide in plain sight.
“One day when I have that fitted suit I promised myself,” he muttered, “then I won’t look like a bad mannequin dressed by a temp in a charity shop window.”
He pushed his fingers through his brown hair; his hair was like the rest of him, a very standard short cut, no fancy styles, not for William. He was having a very good hair day if he could be bothered to put the side parting in on a morning, he liked to keep that for what he called special occasions. “At least my hair is not falling out,” he laughed to himself, “not yet anyway.”
He approached the gate and he could see the aircraft parked outside waiting for its cargo, which in this case were the passengers. He often felt like livestock being transported to the market or worse: the slaughter house. In fact a couple of the previous meetings he’d been to had felt very much like the latter, but not this one. At this one he’d have the last say when he said goodbye, it was the only reason William had decided to go.
He could have quite easily done this meeting by video link but no, this time he wanted the last say and he wanted it in person, so here he was boarding the red eye, flying half-way across America but it would be worth it, even if the triumph and glory of his departure would never be heard of outside the meeting-room and would no doubt be much more glorious in his head.
He showed his boarding card to another Becky, though this one was called Samantha. “No doubt another focus group name,” he thought as he smiled at her, at least the best smile he could manage at this time.
He headed down the short tunnel and looked down the fuselage of the plane. He stopped, his foot hanging over the gap between the door of the tunnel and the door of the plane, “Welcome to flight 993 American Air Cruises, sir, sir, HELLO!”
William jumped back into focus and looked straight into the eyes of the flight attendant.
“Sorry,” he said, “I was miles away.” He looked at her name badge, ‘Lynsey’.
“That’s ok, sir, do you know where you’re sitting?”
“I do, Lynsey and I even know where it is.” His sarcasm was lost on her; she just smiled a flight attendant’s smile and waved him onto the plane.
He made his way down the ever-so-familiar compartment until he reached his seat. He fell into it and looked out the window. By now the night had taken over, and the day was long gone and forgotten. His partner for the night’s flight appeared next to him. She was a slim woman, he thought to himself, as she reached to the compartment above. She was wearing jeans, a red T-shirt and white training shoes. As she stepped back he looked at her and smiled. She pushed her blonde hair out of her face and smiled back, her brown eyes had a glisten about them as the cabin lights reflected off them.
“Hi! I’m Sarah, Sarah Talis.”
“William, William Relford, pleased to meet you.”
He tried to stand but could only manage a tilt out of the seat before she had sat down.
“I hate these red eyes,” she announced.
William was already regretting saying hello now, he just wanted a quiet night. He wanted to rehearse his parting speech, over and over again until the delivery was to the standard of any great thespian. He imagined the scene. He would be standing at the end of the long table, the other managers clasping their hands and begging him not to leave as he stood heroically, a bright light shining behind him while he delivered his grand opus, not just for him but for all the people that have ever wanted to leave the job they hated. He smiled a little as a thought shot across his mind that the reality of course was that he would hand them his resignation and before he could start his delivery it would be accepted and forgotten as quickly as he would be.
“Penny for your thoughts!” Sarah said.
“Oh, nothing, just a little day dream.”
She smiled and took a magazine from the seat back in front and started to read it.
“Thank God,” thought William.
“Peace.”
“Bruce, I’ve arranged the flight to Death Valley, the earliest I could get is tomorrow morning 10:00am.” Bruce looked up at Simon from behind his glasses, “Ok, I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow, seems a waste of time though. I’m sure these palaeontologist know their T-Rex from the, whatever the other dinosaurs are called.”
“Raptor?” Simon interrupted.
“Well, whatever they might be called I’m sure when we get there this so-called tail section wont be.”
With that last complaint about going registered, Bruce left the office. Simon shook his head and sighed, he couldn’t understand why Bruce was so uninterested in this one. He looked up and watched Bruce leave the room, smiled, turned off the office light and left for home himself.
After an early start and sitting on a plane next to Simon becoming ever more excited about this mystery tail section, that will no doubt turn out to be nothing more than an ‘interesting’ rock formation, the last place Bruce wanted to be was in the back of a Toyota Landcruiser as it bounced and heaved slowly over the desert floor as it lumbered its way to the dig site; eventually coming to a stop 200-yards from the tape-protected mystery spot.
Bruce grabbed the door handle and swung the Landcruiser’s door open. Immediately the cold air-conditioned environment they had enjoyed on the journey from the airport was replaced by searing heat.
“Shit! It’s like opening an oven door,” complained Bruce, but Simon was already out and opening the tailgate to retrieve his pack. Bruce looked at him, “You’re just like a kid getting out of the car at Disney World!”
“Oh come on,” replied Simon, “even you must admit, it’s a bit exciting.”
Simon had a shine in his eyes, a wonderment that Bruce remembered he once had from what seemed like a long time ago, back when doing what he did seemed exciting and challenging; challenging in a positive way, not challenging in a “pain in the arse way,” he thought.
Bruce climbed out, and started behind Simon, placing his baseball cap on his head, he could already feel sweat accumulating on the bald patch on the back of his scalp. He scratched at his thick tangled beard, “I hate the heat, no wonder these stupid things died out if they decided to live out here!”
“Actually the environment was very different during the cretaceous period.” Bruce swung round to see who had corrected him whilst he was complaining to himself. “What?” Bruce snapped back, “This whole area was lush forests back when these guys were wandering around.”
“Who are you?” Bruce replied with a note of I don’t really care and I don’t want this conversation.
“I’m Susan Lavey, one
of the palaeontologists who discovered the tail section.” “Yeah, tail section, read a piece of freak rock, like one of those potatoes that are supposed to look like Jesus.” Susan looked at Bruce, smirked and walked away towards Simon, who seemed to be getting more and more excited.
Bruce started to follow he walked over slowly dragging his feet through the dirt, he really had hoped by this time in his career, field work would be a memory, and he would be sitting in a nice office barking orders out at all the Simons who run around excited and wanting to please like some new puppy wanting its play ball throwing so it can retrieve it and start all over again.
He pushed his way under the “Restricted Area” tape that surrounded the excavation. As he got closer he could only just make out the jaw line of something huge over the shoulders of Simon and Susan - who were squatted down, bending over the find.
He lowered himself down and pushed his way into the middle of them, then stopped dead, his eyes fixed straight. He tried to make them focus harder on what he was seeing. He wiped more sweat from his brow with the back of his right hand. The feeling of the sun on his bare neck was gone, he was oblivious to everything, the heat, the dryness, the noise of the dig, the dust that swirled around them, everything except what he saw in front of him.
He turned and looked at Simon, whose gaze was fixed directly ahead. He looked at Susan and she was staring right back at him, with a huge smile on her face. “Funny-shaped rock?” she whispered softly with a raised eyebrow. Bruce turned his gaze back and bent forward his hands; reaching out like some feelers or tentacles on the top of an ant’s head as it struggles to understand its surroundings or looking for treats or food to take back to the colony.
He had to touch it because he didn’t believe his eyes. He needed confirmation from another one of his senses, as if somehow his eyes had become untrustworthy and his brain wanted a second opinion.
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