I will not let go, will not let go, too much at stake. With my right hand I reach out and grab one of the two main rotor blades, twist it, and wrench it from the hub. It falls to earth at the 50 yard line. The other blade soon joins it. I toss the 8,000 pound machine a few feet in the air, get beneath it, turn the nose toward the ocean and push every molecule I can find.
The helicopters behind me try to keep up, but I am at least four times as fast, avoiding supersonic flight only out of fear that it would rip the helo apart. Ali has thankfully forgotten that he has a bomb, at least for now, or he designed it to detonate on impact, not on command. Either way, I am not stopping to ask him.
We reach the ocean, and I take the helo in my right hand, pull my arm back behind my head, and let fly. Not a very tight spiral, but I'm not a quarterback. It doesn't matter. The helicopter hits the ocean, bounces up once, and then crashes down, exploding into a ball of aviation fuel, plastic explosive, nerve gas, and No Longer a Problem Ali.
I float there, watching, making sure no head still attached to a body comes up and swims away. The news copters have finally caught up, first flying over to the burning scene, and then turning like a swarm of bees, racing toward me. It is time to go. Straight up, supersonic, fuck the windows. Then hard over to the north losing altitude at a dizzying rate, and finally ripping to the west, away from my real destination.
The coast of Molokai is in my sights before I turn around, maintaining 20 feet, and heading home. I'm pretty sure that nothing built by man could follow me, and as far as I know, I am the only thing built by fog. I land quietly at 2 a.m. on the beach by my apartment, and bounce into the dark space between two houses. I take my jacket and pants off, leaving me in just underwear and socks, and squeeze the light.
Retracing my earlier path, without the record high jump, I slip quietly into my building and up to my floor. Perez is sitting with her back against the door to my place, still in uniform. She gets up slowly as I walk down the hall, then gurgles gleefully, and starts pounding on my left arm with both fists.
I stop her with a big hug, and a whispered thank you. She pulls back and hits me again.
"Stop it." I'm laughing as I say it, her joy becoming mine.
"You didn't fuck it up. You saved everyone."
"Except Ali."
"Is that a problem?" She's looking at me funny.
"No. I just wanted it to be more personal, for what he did to you."
She shakes her head. "You already set that right, Air Force. And by the way, you looked way cool in HD, but we have to do something about those stupid socks."
This time it's me shaking my head, as I open the door and invite her in. "Every plan I've made has ended up in the garbage. Ali just ended my year long quiet phase after four months. You up for helping figure out what to do next?"
She smacks me on the arm again, and pushes me through the door.
Table of Contents
The Fog Bastards, Part 1 © 2012 Bill Robinson
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Fog Bastards 1 Intention Page 21
