Combustion

by Steve Worland

  Corey looks at the astronaut. ‘You really think that’s it?’

  Judd shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I’m guessing, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Whatever it is, we have to stop them detonating that bomb.’

  Corey nods. ‘You got a plan?’

  ‘I’m working on it.’

  ‘Good, ‘cause I got nothing.’ The Australian immediately slows the Loach, searches the roadway beneath them, sees a clear spot and drops the chopper towards it.

  Lola watches. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You’re not coming with us.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ She’s instantly furious.

  ‘They have a huge bomb that might set off a huge earthquake. I don’t want you anywhere near the blast radius or the epicentre. It’s too dangerous. I can’t take that risk.’

  ‘That’s not your decision.’

  ‘It is when I’m the one flying the chopper.’

  ‘You wouldn’t even know about this chopper if it wasn’t for me!’

  ‘True, and I’m grateful - but that doesn’t change anything.’

  The Loach settles on the roadway, which is empty except for coils of drifting smoke. Lola glares at Corey for a moment, then steps out of the chopper. Corey looks back at Spike. ‘You too, dog face.’

  Spike growls.

  ‘I don’t care if you’re hungry. Out.’ Then Corey leans close and whispers: ‘Keep an eye on her.’ The dog barks and hops out.

  Corey beckons Lola to his side of the cockpit. She has to shout over the whine and thump of the chopper: ‘What?’ She is royally pissed.

  Corey shouts too: ‘Stay in this area and take cover. We’ll be back to pick you up soon.’ He nods at Spike. ‘If anything happens - look after him, please.’

  She draws in a surprised breath, taken aback by the request. ‘Oh. Yes, of course.’ She steps closer and the anger drains from her face. ‘Be careful.’

  Corey grins his crooked grin. ‘She’ll be right. Now stand back.’

  Lola steps away and shields her eyes as the Loach spools up and lifts skyward.

  *

  Lola pivots, scans her surroundings then looks at Spike. ‘Well, this sucks.’

  They’ve been dropped in the middle of nowhere. It looks like some kind of semi-industrial wasteland and is dominated by the pungent smell of burned gasoline. Lola doesn’t know where she is and as the place seems to be deserted, she can’t ask anyone. The fact that the streets are empty must mean people now understand that inside is the safest place to be. Trouble is, if the Puente Hills earthquake theory is correct, outside, well away from buildings and structures, will definitely be the best option.

  So what does she do now? Wait for the monster explosion? Or the massive earthquake?

  Neither.

  ‘Screw it.’ She runs, beckons Spike to follow. ‘Come on, boy.’ They jog along the road, past a vacant lot, turn a corner, and then she knows exactly where she is. ‘Right.’ She finds her bearings then runs on, sees a lone figure on the sidewalk in the distance.

  It’s a little girl. She sits on a pink dragster bicycle and watches a solitary car burn on the opposite side of the street. Lola stops beside her, smiles warmly. ‘Hey there.’

  The little girl looks her up and down warily. She’s no more than nine years old but she has the knowing eyes of a wise soul. “Sup?’

  ‘I’d like to talk some business with you.’

  The little girl leans back on the dragster’s seat and takes in the well-dressed lady. ‘I’m listening.’

  *

  The little girl studies the diamond-encrusted platinum Rolex Day-Date that hangs loosely on her tiny wrist, then turns and sprints towards a modest, single-storey house. ‘Hey, momma, look what I got!’

  *

  Lola rides the pink dragster like she stole it, rainbow-coloured handlebar ribbons fluttering in the breeze. It’s almost too small for her but she doesn’t care, running will take too long and she’s happy to be rid of that garish watch. She turns and looks down at Spike, who bounds along beside her. ‘You’re a good boy!’

  The dog lets out a sharp bark and they race onwards.

  *

  42

  ‘Take it up.’

  Corey eases the Loach above the smoke haze and Judd pushes the brass telescope to his eye, scans the sky, picks up the black Air-Crane. ‘There! About a kilometre and a half away. Heading straight for the tar pits. Take it down.’

  ‘Right.’ Corey drops the Loach into the smoke layer, where it is almost completely cloaked.

  Judd turns to the Australian. ‘So, I get what you see in her.’

  ‘Lola? Sure, but you were right.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Corey glances at him. ‘That didn’t sound very convincing.’

  ‘Well, maybe you should - rethink your approach.’

  ‘Rethink my approach? My approach is your approach! I got it from you!’

  ‘I may have been - premature with my advice.’

  ‘Premature?’

  ‘A better word might be - inaccurate.’

  ‘Good God, what are you saying? And stop pausing in the middle of your sentences.’

  ‘I’m saying she may be worth fighting for after all.’

  ‘I said that to you before! And you’re all “oh-no-she’s-got-a-boyfriend-who’s-a-movie-star” and “you-know-how-it-ends”.’

  ‘That was before I met her. Look, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about when it comes to relationships so don’t listen to me.’

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Otherwise the only advice I’m getting is from a cattle dog, which is actually better than yours now that I think about it, not that that would be hard.’

  ‘I’m just saying you should fight for her. Even if it ends badly or, you know, gets embarrassing again.’

  ‘But you just said I shouldn’t listen to you!’

  ‘Exactly. So let’s just deal with these pricks.’ He nods at the Air-Crane. ‘And then I’m sure everything will become apparent.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘I have no idea. I told you I’m terrible at this stuff.’

  Corey exhales and his eyes find the Air-Crane. ‘Okay. So what’s the plan?’

  ‘I’m working on it.’

  ‘We’re getting close so don’t be shy with the details.’

  Judd nods and his eyes narrow as he thinks.

  *

  43

  ‘We need to find a place to land now!’ Rhonda’s voice is thin as she pulls the Southwest 737 into a steep turn. ‘Otherwise we have to ditch.’

  Severson nods. He knows ditching in the ocean is the very last option. So many things can go wrong even when a plane is intact, but ditching with a two-metre gash in the fuselage means the plane will sink, and everyone will drown, in three minutes.

  ‘Okay.’ He surveys the ruined city of Los Angeles below, takes in the odd purple-coloured smoke that blankets the ground. The last half hour has been an education. As the jet slowed and lost altitude they searched through the haze for a spot to land. And searched. And searched. Any place they could see that was flat, long and straight was blocked or clogged with vehicles, most of them on fire. They even flew over LAX and saw the destruction there, the main runway littered with the wreckage of airliners. After telling Rhonda that he would help her improvise, Severson has so far delivered a big, fat duck egg. ‘I can’t see anything.’

  ‘Then we are about to buy the farm.’

  Severson does not want to buy any kind of farm. He hates farming. He wants to live forever so meeting Swayze before he’s even fifty is not part of the plan. He takes a breath, tries to think of something, anything, to fix this.

  LA. He doesn’t know the city that well, hasn’t been there for a couple of years. ‘Who or what do I know in LA?’

  Rhonda looks at him. ‘That’s it!’

  ‘Of course!’ Then he stops, confused. ‘What’s it?’

  Rhonda pass
es him her iPhone. ‘Call Judd. If he’s down there he could know something.’

  Severson’s not convinced. ‘Will it even go through? We’re still pretty high.’

  She glances at the altimeter in front of her. ‘Five thousand feet isn’t high. Anyway, we won’t know unless we try.’

  She’s right. He doesn’t believe the call will go through but then how can it hurt to try? They’re minutes away from ditching in the friggin’ Pacific. He dials and nothing happens, he just hears static-laced dead air. He looks at Rhonda and shakes his head - then it rings. ‘Oh, it’s ringing —’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Judd?’ Severson can’t believe it. It’s Judd! His voice is distant and echoey but it’s him.

  ‘Severson? God, it’s good to hear you, man! You okay? Is Rhonda okay? Where are you?’

  ‘Fine. We’re both fine. Are you in LA? Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes to both.’

  ‘Fantastic.’ He shoots Rhonda a thumbs up.

  ‘Where’s Rhonda?’

  ‘She’s busy flying the plane.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘We’re five thousand feet above you with no engine power and there’s a large gash in the fuselage. The captain’s dead, the copilot’s unconscious and there are seventy passengers on board. The airports are all blocked and every goddamn road is jammed with burning cars. Even the canals are full of cars. We need a place to land ASAP.’ Severson says it in one breath.

  ‘Christ. What are you flying?’

  ‘A Boeing 737.’

  *

  ‘Right. Okay.’ Judd is horrified that Rhonda is aboard a crippled jet above LA - and relieved she’s the one piloting it. If anyone can bring it down safely it’s her. She’s still alive and in one piece and in charge of her own fate.

  Okay, mofo, time to think.

  Judd knows that even though the 737 is a small commercial airliner, it’s still a commercial airliner, so it needs plenty of space to land. He looks out the Loach’s windscreen and can’t see a spot that would be suitable. Then the haze clears momentarily and the La Brea Tar Pits loom in the distance. The museum, a low-slung, two-storey building, is borded to the left by a giant, kidney-shaped lake of black oil. In between the two runs a long, wide walkway that leads to an expansive, green park beyond. Apart from a stand of trees at the far end, the park is empty. ‘La Brea. There’s space there if you can’t find anything else.’

  Severson sounds sceptical. ‘The tar pits? How do you know this?’

  ‘I’m staring at it. There’s a walkway that leads to a park beside the museum. You’ll have to be super-accurate and bring it in slow to make it work. It’s short.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘But - and I know this is going to sound strange - there’s a guy with a bomb on the way there now.’

  ‘There’s a what now?’

  ‘It’s not confirmed, but I think he’s heading there.’

  ‘Is that a joke?’

  ‘I wish. It’s a really big bomb. We’re on our way to stop it now.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Corey and me. So, because of that, La Brea should be your last option.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘Can you put Rhonda on?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Judd hears a rustling sound, then Rhonda’s voice: ‘Hey, babe.’

  Hearing her makes his heart hurt. Instantly he wants to get all lovey-dovey but he knows she doesn’t respond to that kind of thing so he sticks with the tried and tested: humour. ‘Well, I’m just loving this trip to LA. It’s so relaxing.’

  He’s sure he can hear her smile on the other end of the line. ‘Yeah, I’m really enjoying the flight too. Such great service.’

  He laughs, then she surprises him. ‘I love you, sweetheart, always know that.’

  What?

  ‘I lov-’

  The line cuts out. ‘Oh, come on!’ Judd immediately calls her back but no joy, it goes straight to voicemail.

  Man!

  She told him she loved him on the phone, the first time she has ever done that, which makes him think she is either heavily medicated or her situation is much worse than he thought, and he’s pretty sure it’s the latter.

  He should have said it straight away. As soon as he heard her voice.

  Christalmighty

  He hopes that isn’t the last chance he gets to say it.

  *

  Severson redials Judd’s number but the call goes straight to voicemail. As he does it he realises, for the first time in his forty-five years, that he has no one to love in his life, no one to have a heartfelt conversation with in a moment of crisis. He decides that if he gets out of this alive he must remedy that.

  But that’s something for the future. Right now he knows that La Brea is not only their best option, but their only option. He makes an executive decision not to tell Rhonda about the ‘guy with the bomb’. As far as he’s concerned there’s no reason to even bring it up until they actually get there. ‘Okay, Judd said there’s space to land at La Brea.’

  Rhonda continues to wrestle the jet’s controls, confused. ‘What’s a Labrea?’

  ‘The tar pits. The La Brea Tar Pits. You know, with the tar.’

  ‘Don’t say it like I should know what it is. I need directions.’

  Severson swipes open the pilot’s iPad, works the screen, pinches and zooms his way across the map app. ‘It’s somewhere on - Wilshire Boulevard, I think. Near the Miracle Mile. Christ, I haven’t been there since I was a kid - come on, where are you, you bastard?’

  ‘Quickly.’

  ‘I’m doing it - okay, I think - I got something.’ He shows her the iPad’s screen and points. ‘We’re here, we need to go here.’

  Rhonda studies the map for a long moment.

  ‘Can we make it?’

  She looks anything but one hundred per cent confident. ‘It’s a way.’

  Severson leans close. ‘Hey, if you want to sit up here at the big kid’s table you’re going to have to stay positive.’

  Rhonda stares at him for a moment - then cracks a grim smile. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’ She works the controls and the jet tips into a steep turn.

  Severson holds on tight.

  Next stop La Brea.

  *

  44

  The Tyrannosaur slows as it descends, now just fifty metres above the ground as it slashes towards the sprawling oil lake that dominates the La Brea Tar Pits complex. The giant chopper’s shadow slides across a family of mammoths that stand next to the wide walkway beside the lake.

  With the SAM again lying across his knees, Bunsen studies the three life-sized models, a long-time favourite of visitors to the tar pits, then speaks into his headset’s microphone: ‘Park it over the middle of the lake.’

  ‘Will do.’ Enrico directs the Tyrannosaur into position.

  Bunsen turns to Kilroy. The old guy looks terrible now, his eyes shut, his face drained of colour. ‘I’ll get you to a doc really soon.’

  Kilroy’s voice is little more than a low croak. ‘Have you released the video?’

  Bunsen scans the horizon, searches for a threat. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You said it would be done before Phase Three. Before we ignite the oil lake. Before the earthquake.’

  ‘I know.’

  Kilroy opens his eyes and looks at Bunsen. ‘People must know before it happens. You must warn them.’

  Bunsen looks at him and shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen.’

  ‘But - you promised me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Kilroy exhales noisily. Bunsen knows that sound well. It’s the sound of disapproval. It hurt to hear it when he was a child and it has exactly the same effect on him now. He looks at Kilroy, expects to see that emotion on the old man’s face, but it’s not there. Instead of disapproval he finds disappointment, which, in many ways, is worse. ‘You lied to me.’

  Bunsen nods. ‘I did.’

  ‘Why?’

/>   ‘Because I knew you wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Understand what? I thought the purpose of the earthquake was to make sure the oil lake burned for two weeks so the virus went global.’

  ‘It is but it’s more than that. We need to make an example of this city. Los Angeles is the single most important place on the planet for the motor industry. We need to get rid of the old infrastructure and the old ideas and start again.’

  Kilroy looks at him, horrified. ‘You’re talking about destroying a city, our city, killing thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of innocent people.’

  Bunsen nods. ‘It’s the only way to be sure.’

  ‘Didn’t you learn anything from me?’

  ‘Of course. That’s why we’re here.’

  ‘No.’ Kilroy shifts painfully in his seat, looks Bunsen in the eye. ‘We don’t want to destroy the world, we want to save it. We don’t want to hurt innocent people, we want to make their lives better.’

  ‘Yes, but to do that we have to change everything. It must be a revolution, otherwise we’re just playing at the edges and everything stays the same.’

  Kilroy stares at him for a long moment, speechless, then turns and looks out at the sun as it sets on the horizon.

  Bunsen opens his mouth to speak, then realises there is nothing more to say.

  *

  The little yellow Loach stays low as powerlines zip past a metre below.

  A gap in the haze opens up and Corey sees the giant tar pit for the first time. He’s impressed. ‘It’s so big.’

  ‘That’s what she said.’ Judd cracks a grin as he focuses on the Air-Crane hovering over the pit. ‘So I guess we can confirm La Brea is the target.’

  Corey pulls the Loach into a hover then turns to the astronaut. ‘So, what’s the call?’

  Judd looks at him - and his hands go Rubik.

  Corey can’t believe it. ‘You only do that when you don’t have an idea! Don’t tell me you don’t have an idea!’

  ‘No, I do it when I’m thinking.’

  ‘Thinking was for earlier. This is happening now.’’

  Judd knows he’s right. This is exactly what happened at the Imax Theatre, when he couldn’t save himself or his friends. This is a moment when he needs to rise to the occasion and be the man everyone thinks he is - and yet he can’t even come up with one goddamn idea. He realises saving Atlantis was just a fluke -