Flight

Illustrated by Maja Kobylak.

Jasper inhaled deeply, staring up at the traffic lights that hung over the entrance to the abandoned air base.

After a long trek down Tucson’s South Kolb Road – passing decrepit gas stations, stores with smashed windows and vacant residences with roofs that glowed in the amber light of the evening sun – he’d finally made it here, to this refuge that had become a last resort for many who roamed around what remained of Arizona.

Not everybody led the same nomadic lifestyle that he did, although perhaps there was something in his New Zealander blood that had made it easier for him to make the sudden shift from sitting in front of screens to spending most of his life out on the open road. The change hadn’t exactly been a welcome one, but it wasn’t without its perks; in some ways, life was better without the Internet. And it had left him with plenty of time to discover the arid paradise of the American Southwest, wandering through the deserts that he’d always dreamed of exploring as a teenager.

But even he needed to get away from it all every once in a while.

Feeling the weight of the tokens in his pocket, he sauntered through the gate and headed over to the parking lot.

***

Outside a parked-up trailer, he could see two men standing either side of a fold-out table, one of them busily rummaging through stacks of boxes filled with all manner of salvaged technical equipment. He could recognise Disco Phil from a mile off, thanks to his bleached blonde hair and glistening golden earring. The other man was also familiar to him – Curtis, an ex-serviceman whom Phil had hired to maintain what little still passed for security around the base, and who never let his hand stray far from the gun holstered at his side. He was leaning up against the table, taking much-needed sips from his water canister after a long day in the heat.

“Jasper!” Disco Phil cried out enthusiastically, as he saw him approach. “It’s good to see you drop by again. Here – check this out.” He excitedly held up one of the cables he’d been inspecting. “Got me a whole new bunch of DMXs. Some guy made the trek up to Vegas, found all this in the basement of the Bellagio. Naturally it’s a gold mine for this sort of stuff.”

“Sounds like you hit the jackpot,” Jasper quipped. He nodded in greeting at Curtis, who responded in kind. “It’s a shame all the valuables in the casinos got cleared out years ago, else I’d be stopping by here more often.”

“Well, we can always work out some alternative arrangement. If folk keep turning up rare equipment like this, I’m open to the idea of accepting payment in ‘cable transfer’,” Phil remarked with a chuckle. “Heck, I might even offer the scavenger who brings me back a box full of intact profile spots a ride in my Raptor.”

“Is anyone ever actually gonna use that thing?” Curtis asked pointedly. “Seems a shame for it to just be… well, sitting there. And it’s a pain in the ass to keep tabs on.”

The three men glanced over to the air base’s pride and joy, which the proprietor kept stationed close to his trailer. Disco Phil had many interesting stories about the planes that he and his partner had appointed themselves custodians of, revealing an affinity for the technical that extended far beyond the audio and lighting equipment he was accustomed to handling. But if the instruments in the forsaken aircraft spread throughout the base amounted to little more than standard sound desks in his mind, the Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor was practically Coachella reincarnated.

 “It’s the only thing left on this entire base I trust to actually get me off the ground,” Phil admitted, admiring the way the sun’s rays glimmered off the golden-tinted glass of the fighter’s cockpit. “I still can’t believe the military left it behind when they packed up and left the West Coast for good. It’s like they forgot they’d brought it over from Nellis in the first place.”

“I swear, every time I come here, you always end up giving me an impromptu lecture on how to fly that thing,” Jasper remarked with a shake of his head. “It’s like you want someone to put their life on the line by taking it up.”

  “And I keep telling you, I’m open to the idea of hiring it out for private bookings,” Phil countered enthusiastically. “Heck, I even took it up a couple of times myself when I first got here. It ain’t as complex to operate as you’d think.”

“Phil, it’s a hundred-million dollar stealth fighter with a single seat. And none of us are trained pilots.” Jasper glanced over to the other planes parked nearby. “I’ll stick to the regular ‘flights’, thanks. The skies are dangerous enough as they are without any of us trying to go up there.”

“Eh, you’ve got a point,” Phil conceded. “You hear so many stories of people getting shot down, especially over Europe. From what I hear, if you go down over Germany, you’ll get scores of people venturing out to strip your craft of every last piece of tech they can find.”

“You ever pick up any new intel on what’s going on in those other parts?” Curtis enquired.

“Travellers come through, they say all sorts of things,” Phil replied with a shrug, turning back to his cables. “São Paulo’s practically a crater in the ground at this point, although there’s a faction trying to start some sort of new elitist society off the coast. The streets of Tokyo are supposed to be eerily empty, as if everyone mysteriously vanished into thin air. And I’m told there’s a group who have taken control of the Trans-Siberian Railroad and travel up and down the tracks, living out of the railcars. Apparently, one winter, things got so bad that they had to resort to cannibalism.”

“Damn,” Jasper remarked. “Perhaps things here aren’t so bad by comparison.”

“Well, I wouldn’t take everything those guys say at face value. Most of it comes from second-hand accounts – to be honest, I sometimes wonder if they’re just getting mixed up with the things they used to gawk at on their screens as kids.” He gazed down wistfully into the box of tangled cables that he’d been sorting through. “Far easier to fantasise about how much worse things could be, rather than face up to the reality we live in.”

“Too many folks out there who’ve still got their head stuck firmly in the sand.” Curtis nodded sombrely in agreement, before downing the last of his drink. “I’ll head out to patrol the northern lot again. I hear a group of raiders came off the interstate from Phoenix last night. Apparently they’re planning on plundering Tucson for everything it’s got before they head on to New Mexico.”

“They’re welcome to any of the crap that’s hanging off the B-1s,” Phil called out after him as he headed off, “so long as they don’t lay a fucking finger on any of my lights. Or my clientele!” He turned back to Jasper with a toothy smile. “So, you’re here for another vacation, then. What sort of destination did you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking someplace exotic and lively,” Jasper mused. “Rio de Janeiro always seemed good for that kind of thing.”

“Rio it is. Well, no matter what’s going on elsewhere in Brazil, I’m assured Rio is still lovely at this time of year.” With a chuckle, Phil picked his ledger up off the table and flicked over to the next page. “We’ve actually got a public flight departing tomorrow afternoon, if you’re willing to stick around. Though I suspect you’ll be wantin’ a private charter…?”

“You know me, Phil. Happy enough with my own company, thanks.” He looked out over the vast fleet of planes. “But I’ll still take one of the big ones. Can’t be dealing with any of those poky private jets, no matter how spaciously they’re kitted out.”

“No worries, I’ve got an A350 that’s perfect for your travel plans. But it’ll cost ya.”

Jasper dug into the depths of his jacket pocket and fished out a large handful of the metal tokens that had come to pass for currency among the surviving denizens of the southwestern states.

“I’ve been saving up. I’ve been needing a good break for some time.”

“Oh, we can help with that,” Phil remarked with a greedy chuckle, gathering up Jasper’s payment with both hands. He placed it all in his cash box, then took out a key to hand over to Jasper.

“The A350’s parked about half a mile over. Follow the signs for ‘Orville’, then it’s the third one on your left down that row. Once you’re in, the code is ‘G’-‘I’-‘G’. Oh, and one more thing…”

Disco Phil reached down to pick up a dust-covered, off-white plastic tray and placed it on the table.

“New policy. I’m asking everyone to hand in weapons and other dangerous articles now. Y’know, standard airline security check.”

Jasper glanced down at the tray, then back up at the proprietor, raising an eyebrow.

“You serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious.” He noticed Jasper’s uneasy expression. “Hey, you’re lucky I don’t make you take your shoes off as well. I’ve just had to recarpet one of the 747s – that thing’s gonna stay pristine for as long as possible.”

“You’re the boss.” Jasper shrugged, placing the handgun he carried around for protection into the container. “It’s not like I’ve ever had to use this thing, anyway. To be honest, I’m not sure I ever want to hear one of these things go off again.”

“I’m surprised you’ve made it this long without firing it. How else d’ya manage to keep raiders at bay?”

“I’ve just got a knack for staying out of people’s way.” He started checking his pockets, before remembering the other accessory he kept in a sheath on his belt. “Can I at least hold on to the knife? It ain’t like I’m gonna be in there with anyone else.”

“Eh, sure, I don’t see the harm. To be honest, it’s more the installations I’m worried about – stray bullets hitting the lights, that kinda thing. You get some trigger-happy Texan on a group tour who thinks the guy in the next row over’s giving him a funny look, and before you know it, you’re cleaning blood out of the cabin seats and pulling up a whole damn aisle to redo the wiring.” He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Sometimes, I sure can see why you appreciate flying solo.”

“It does have its advantages, I’ll admit.” Jasper began to set off in the direction of the planes. “Thanks, Phil. I’ll see you soon.”

“Take your time, Jasper.” He bid him farewell with a mock salute. “And thank you, as ever, for being a loyal customer of Boneyard Airways. I wish you all the best for your ‘vacation’!”

***

As Jasper wandered down the dusty paths to board his craft, he gazed up at the silent metal structures around him, which cast long shadows in the light of the setting sun.

There were all kinds of planes parked in neatly arranged rows throughout the lot: military jets, commercial aircraft, the odd helicopter. At one time, some of them had come here for maintenance and service, but most had been sent to the so-called “Boneyard”, as it was known, for decommissioning at the end of their useful life – either to be scrapped for parts or just left to slowly rust in the dry heat. And ever since the military had left Tucson altogether, even the ones worth salvaging had been completely abandoned. Save for rarities like the Raptor, the base had been stripped of armaments and as much sensitive technology as possible, but the lifeless winged shells that lined the sandy terrain had never been intended to move from their final resting place. So they had simply been left for someone else to stumble upon, in the world that had been left behind. Disco Phil had, of course, reclaimed many of them for his own purposes. Though Disco Phil had a very different interpretation of what it meant to get “high”.

It was hard to believe that these vessels had once regularly soared through the sky, carrying all manner of goods and people. Jasper could vaguely remember what those golden days of airline travel were like, even as a young child. Living alone with his father, he’d often had to accompany him on his many business trips out of Auckland Airport, visiting all manner of cities from Seoul to Shanghai. But it was the terminals that had left the greatest impression on him: the hustle and bustle of people in a state of transition, brimming with suspense at the thought of a suspended journey through the air as they prepared to add another chapter to their story on another part of the globe.

Wandering past the planes, he began to cast his mind back to one of his last trips abroad.

One time, a colleague based in Mumbai had invited Jasper’s father and him on a hiking trip in the north of India. Anil had collected them on their arrival at Indira Gandhi International and driven them up to the state of Himachal Pradesh, the gateway to the Himalayas. They’d spent a few days in the town of Shimla, a popular stopping-off point for trekkers preparing for long journeys through the mountains. Anil and his father had raucously bonded over bottles of Kingfisher in one of the local restaurants, while Jasper had gotten to know Anil’s son. Haresh was just as extroverted as his father, and theatrically recounted tales of how he’d faced off opponents twice his size in his many judo competitions.

Jasper’s memories from that trip were somewhat hazy, but he remembered that Shimla was very different to the other bustling urban centres he’d visited in India. The countryside around the alpine city was full of lush, verdant slopes peppered with rocks and streams, and clouds that occasionally rolled down through the mountains to fill the air with a thick, white mist. And Shimla itself was full of intriguing attractions: an old neo-Gothic church, half-timbered buildings and colourful temples, streets lined with shops that sold everything from silks and scarves to scientific textbooks.

He recalled how, on one of their “rest” days, Haresh had convinced their fathers to let him take Jasper on a hike up to the Jakhu, a local temple dedicated to Lord Hanuman. “He has to see the statue, pitaji. And the monkeys! The place is ruled by monkeys!” It had resulted in much bickering about whether two boys barely into their teens ought to be wandering around a city on their own – especially when one of them was a foreigner who stuck out like a sore thumb. But after countless reassurances from Haresh that he wouldn’t let any harm come to Jasper, they eventually got their wish. And so the boys had set off one misty morning on their trek around the temple park, which was situated high up and away from the city centre.

While traversing the winding roads that led up the mountainside, they had stopped for a break. Haresh had led them some way off the path to a small, secluded spot that was sheltered beneath the trees. Setting down his rucksack, he stretched out his arms, taking in a long, fresh gulp of mountain air.

“This is perfect. I love training in outdoor spots like this.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of wooden gymnastic rings. Scanning the foliage around them, he spied a particularly sturdy-looking branch that was growing out practically horizontal, and began to set up the equipment, tossing each ring strap over the branch in turn. Jasper looked on as he took a few sips from his water bottle, somewhat bemused.

“We’re in the middle of a hike, and you’re going to fit in a workout?”

“No time like the present.” Haresh grinned as he slid the end of the last strap through the clasp and pulled it tight. “We’ve been walking so much these last few days, I’ve barely had time to do any strength work. My father always worries I train too much, but he doesn’t know squat about what makes a good training schedule.”

“So you just train wherever you like?”

“Oh yeah, that’s the beauty of callisthenics. Once you know the basics, you can work out practically anywhere. Not that we’ll ever be short of a gym to train at, ha!”

Gripping onto the rings, Haresh jumped up and extended his arms, supporting his body in the air. Jasper watched with fascination as Haresh then bent at the elbows and carefully lowered himself down, before swiftly pushing himself back up again. He repeated the exercise a few times, the rings remaining virtually motionless throughout.

“Wow, you’re unbelievably strong.”

“That’s not all you can do on these things,” Haresh replied, still holding himself up on the apparatus. “Here, watch!”

He leant backwards and brought his legs up and over him, rotating his body a full 360° turn through the air. With his shoulders outstretched behind him, he paused, smiled briefly in Jasper’s direction, then bent forward and rotated again, bringing his legs back through the way they had come. Once back in the starting position, he swiftly dropped down and stood for a moment on the soil, blowing out a small huff of accomplishment.

“That, right there,” he said, turning to his speechless companion, “is called ‘skinning the cat’. It’s a great exercise for improving body control and spatial awareness, not to mention shoulder health and mobility.” To Jasper’s surprise, he extended the rings out towards him. “Now, it’s your turn.”

“Me? You want me to do what you just did? I don’t think I can even hold myself up on those things, Haresh.”

“Nonsense. You will do it, I refuse to take no for an answer.” Haresh grinned remorselessly at his companion, his otherwise friendly smile betraying a hint of twisted pleasure. It was the expression of someone you knew you were in safe hands with, but would absolutely put you through your paces within the limits of all that was considered “safe”.

Reluctantly, Jasper stepped up to take the equipment from his self-appointed coach.

“I’ll adjust the straps for you,” Haresh said, lowering the position of the rings. “You can start off with your feet touching the ground, it’ll make things easier. Focus on pulling yourself up and around with your lats, the wide muscles on your back. I’ll spot you throughout.”

Jasper took hold of the rings, gripping them as tight as he could. He tried pushing down on them, and found that they wobbled around a little too much for his liking. Haresh placed his hands on either side of his body to support him.

“Tuck your knees in close to your chest, keep your abs engaged and your arms extended. And above all, remember to breathe. Take a deep breath before you begin, and keep that tension in your body as you go round.”

Jasper took a moment to focus, inhaled, then kicked up his legs and leant backwards. He remembered feeling dizzy as the world around him turned upside down, but he held on tightly to the rings as Haresh guided him around. At the very end of the rotation, his arms felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets, but he held his nerve and persevered with the exercise. Lightly touching the ground with his toes, he pushed off again and pulled his legs back up and over.

Once he was upright again, he let go of the rings and almost collapsed in sheer disbelief at what he’d just accomplished. Haresh applauded him, beaming with admiration.

“Congratulations, my friend. It’s only once you start to push yourself that you realise what you’re truly capable of.” He picked up Jasper’s water bottle and handed it to him triumphantly. “Consider this your indoctrination into the world of people who do crazy things in the name of health. You go back home, find a bunch of people like me who know a thing or two about the human body, and you’ll be a natural at this in a few years’ time, I guarantee it. As long as you have people to train with, to keep you motivated, then there’s nothing that can stop you. Absolutely nothing!”

For the rest of that hiking trip, Jasper had felt more relaxed than he’d ever been while travelling with his father abroad. He remembered finally arriving at the temple, seeing the giant statue of Hanuman, having a monkey snatch his bag and almost make off with his lunch. Mostly, though, he remembered Haresh laughing at the whole affair, slapping him playfully on the shoulder like he’d known him all his life. Having spent so much time on the move, it had always been difficult for him to form lasting connections with others. So when he found someone he truly clicked with, it made it all the harder to say goodbye.

He’d always hoped he could return to Shimla someday, to hike back up to that temple and explore more of the natural beauty that surrounded it. However, things had changed not long after that. His father had, after some hesitation, accepted a transfer to his company’s office in Los Angeles – one that would require permanent relocation and a lot less travel. But the United States alone had plenty of territory that was ripe for exploration, as his father kept reassuring him. And New Zealand would only be a flight or two away, if they ever wanted to head back.

Then, one day, his father’s business trip to Shanghai had been unexpectedly cancelled. He’d been told that a new illness was working its way across China, and the city of Wuhan had been completely shut down as a result. Northern Italy had followed suit, once the global nature of the spread had become evident. And it was like a domino effect after that – one nation after the other, all locking down, encouraging people to stay firmly put in their homes. He remembered the long periods of uncertainty that followed: the constant stream of updates from the CDC and CNBC, the demonstrations that took place, the mask-wearing, the social distancing. And even though the temperature in Southern California rarely fell below 50 degrees, the winter that had rounded off that year had still felt unusually cold and long.

His memory from that point on was somewhat fragmented. Personal circumstances had driven him to switch off from much of the news that surrounded him, but it had always felt impossible to tune it out completely. And the restrictions they’d endured had been never-ending. “Just a few more weeks…”

He shuddered at the thought of those words. At brief moments, it had looked like progress was being made: case numbers would fall, hospital admissions would decrease, a new vaccine would be rolled out. But no matter how much it looked like things might be about to turn a corner, there had always been something to cut him down for daring to get his hopes up: a fearmongering headline about a new variant, talk of restrictions being extended indefinitely, and of course, the many comments on Internet forums reminding him not to get complacent, not to be selfish. Even those that told him not to get used to the idea that things would ever fully return to normal.

He still resented them for being right.

***

The sun was dipping below the horizon as Jasper turned onto Orville row and headed towards the dormant Airbus airliner. A covered access ramp had been parked alongside the plane, its entrance sealed off with a gate. He unlocked it with the key, shut and sealed it behind him, then headed up the stairs.

Arriving at the entrance to the plane, he lifted up the handle in the door and pulled it open. Bracing himself, he stepped into the darkness and fumbled around for the special switch that Disco Phil had installed to draw power from the external generator.

He flicked the switch, and the aircraft was suddenly filled with light. Gentle violin music began playing, and he saw a sign ahead of him that pointed towards the economy class cabin. Phil clearly hasn’t kitted this one out for premium flights, he thought. Had his tokens not been enough?

He hit the gust lock button, pulled the door shut behind him and proceeded through to the main cabin. The window blinds were already pulled down to block out light from the outside, though the screens on the seat backs were shining blank white. Only the touchscreen monitor on the wall dividing the cabin classes displayed something different, presenting a keypad to input his destination code. He typed in the three letters that Phil had given him, and slunk down into the chair directly facing it.

An image of an air stewardess appeared on the screen. She wore a crisp, immaculately presented blue uniform, and her felt hat was adorned with a metal clasp that must have been the ensign of some formerly popular carrier.

“Hi, I’m Melody.” Her mellifluous voice breezed through the aisles of the empty cabin, bringing life to the interior of the cold, metal shell. “I’ll be your flight attendant for today. Thank you for choosing to fly with Boneyard Airways.”

She let out her usual pre-recorded laugh – that hearty, knowing laugh that she always slipped into every one of her announcements. It sounded so fake, and yet somehow, it still had a disarming effect on Jasper that managed to put him completely at ease.

“Today, we will be flying to Rio de Janeiro. The second-most populous city in Brazil, Rio is a place filled with wondrous sights and beautiful sandy beaches. But it is also a city of contrasts, with high crime rates and hillsides lined with slum neighbourhoods known as favelas. Nevertheless, Rio de Janeiro’s alluring status has made it a coveted destination for tourists the world over, and it had the honour of hosting the Olympic Games in the summer of 2016.”

The Olympics. Jasper tried to recall what he could of one of the last major international events. Admittedly, sport hadn’t interested him all that much back when the world’s athletes had flocked to Rio. But on that hiking trip, Haresh had taught him all sorts of interesting things about gymnastics and judo, and so he’d vowed to watch those events the next time the Games came around. Where had the Olympics taken place after that? His mind drew a blank. Did they even end up going ahead, in the end…?

“Before we prepare for departure, please listen carefully to the following safety announcement.” Melody’s voice interrupted his thoughts, commanding his attention. “To ensure that your flight with us is as seamless as possible, please switch off any portable electronic devices you may have and make sure that all windows are closed prior to take-off. In the very unlikely event of an emergency, floor-level lighting will guide you to your nearest exit. And now, feel free to tilt back your chair, fold out your tray table, and a reminder that wearing your seat belt is completely optional for the duration of this flight.”

She laughed again, this time more softly. The lights of the cabin dimmed, and Jasper slowly began to relax back into the chair.

Music began to play, a subtle arrangement of synthesisers and ambient sounds that was filled with mesmerising notes. The walls of the cabin were illuminated in green and yellow, with spotlights shining colourful patterns that rotated slowly across the walls. Melody’s face had disappeared from the main monitor, and the screens dotted throughout the cabin were now showing images of the sandy beaches, sunlit skyscrapers and tree-lined hilltops that unmistakeably defined Rio de Janeiro. He could make out various noises interspersed within the soundscape: traffic, children playing, the strum of a classical guitar.

“We will now begin our journey to Rio,” Melody’s voice announced in dulcet tones. “Imagine yourself walking along the Copacabana beach. Apartment buildings line the streets to your left, the waters of the Atlantic extend out to your right. Up ahead in the distance, you see the outline of Sugar Loaf Mountain, and over the tops of the buildings, you can make out the iconic statue of Christ, Cristo Redentor. You pass a group of people playing a game of capoeira, their bodies twirling acrobatically through the air as they dance to the beat of the drum. You smell the freshly cooked offerings of a street vendor selling barbecued picanha and deep-fried coxinha. Close your eyes and listen to the sounds, breathe in the scents.”

Jasper shut his eyes, picturing himself in the scene that Melody was painting.

“Soon, I’m going to count back from ten. And when I finish counting, you will be right there, in Rio – standing on the beach, feeling the sand in between your toes. Listening to the waves lapping against the shore. Breathing in the freshness of the sea air. So, now, I’d like you to concentrate on your breathing. All you need to do is breathe: simply inhale and exhale, as you follow the sound of my voice. Inhale, exhale. In. Out. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Cinco. Quatro. Três. Dois. Um.”

***

He fell smack down against the floor.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out. Only that his tranquil visions of Rio had suddenly been shattered, to be replaced by the sound of alarm bells, cries of panic, an aggressive bout of turbulence that shook him from side to side. He’d imagined the cabin filling up with smoke, how he’d tried to reach for one of the oxygen masks that dropped from the ceiling…

He felt his throat closing up, the beginnings of a panic attack. The cabin had been plunged into near-darkness, illuminated only by the green glow of the strip lighting that lined the aisles. Gasping for air, he picked himself up and hastily stumbled towards the door. He fumbled around in the dark for the handle, yanking it up as he threw the door open and out to the side.

He ran down the covered access ramp as quickly as he could, grasping around for the keys in his pocket. Through the windows, he could see that the sky had turned pitch black – but he still needed to be out there, in the open air. Unlocking the gate, he flung it open and collapsed onto his knees, inhaling sharply as he summoned the oxygen back into his lungs.

The attacks were normal for him, even if his newfound outdoor lifestyle had made them much less frequent. Throughout his troubled teenage years, he’d felt encouraged to avoid indoor environments as much as possible, to avoid spending any longer than necessary in an enclosed space with another human being. It wasn’t the origin of his claustrophobia, but it had only added to a sense of guilt that had begun to fester in his mind – spurred on by the thought that something as simple as his own breath could be the cause of another person’s demise.

He’d never had a bad “trip” off one of Phil and Melody’s installations before, though. The two had teamed up to offer those left wandering the Southwest a much-needed change of scene from what their lives had become, combining Phil’s expertise as a sound and lighting technician with Melody’s extensive experience in hypnotherapy. Many of their clients longed for some semblance of the travel experiences they’d grown accustomed to before the vast majority of commercial flights had been grounded – and well before the military flights had started ramping up in their place.

As he stood up and tried to bring himself back to his senses, he recalled how, in those early days, his father had struggled to give up his travelling lifestyle and move his entire work and social life online. He’d spent long periods down in his office, trying his best to stay connected with colleagues and friends through the proxy of a blue-tinted screen. He’d cursed the day he’d left Auckland for the job in L.A., and traded the Kingfisher beers he’d once shared with Anil for harder stuff. It gave him some means of respite in a world where there was very little else to look forwards to, or so he’d said. But it was only temporary, he’d assured Jasper. After all, they were the ones who had said it was temporary. And surely they knew that this wasn’t sustainable. Not for everyone, anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a woman running frantically down the path. Suddenly, it occurred to him why he’d been thrown into a state of panic. He had been hearing alarms after all – sirens that were coming from outside the plane. They were going off all over the base, and now he could make out the sound of shouting in the distance as well, accompanied by loud bangs and the revving of engines.

“What’s going on?” he called out to the woman.

“Launch preparations!” she shouted back hysterically, as she shot past him. “They say it’ll be here in 20!”

“A missile? But– wait! Why the hell would they attack Tucson? There’s nothing here anymore!”

But she was already gone, sprinting as fast as she could back towards the base entrance.

Jasper was dumbfounded. Of all the things that he’d imagined could happen to him out here, this wasn’t one of them. But he should have known by now to brace himself for the unexpected. And this wasn’t the first time his life had drastically changed at a moment’s notice.

Gathering what little composure he had, he set off after her.

***

He’d lost sight of the woman early on, having struggled to fully get his breath back after exiting the plane. But he’d kept on running, throwing everything he could into his stride.

As he approached the parking lot, he saw a jeep swerving out of the gate and onto South Kolb Road, speeding down towards the interstate junction. Curtis was planted on the concrete, watching the vehicle drive off into the distance with a livid expression plastered across his face. Coming closer, Jasper saw that he was standing over the body of Disco Phil. A bullet had gone through the proprietor’s head, leaving trickles of blood running through the bleach in his hair.

Jasper came to an abrupt halt, surveying the scene in shock.

“Did you–?”

“No,” Curtis growled. He nodded in the direction of the jeep. “Raiders. They came and made off with his car, soon as the sirens went off. But they’re unlikely to get far. You’d need to be well over the other side of the mountain to have a chance at being safe.”

“So that’s it then.” Jasper’s eyes darted around, searching for signs of anyone else. “There’s no way of escaping this thing?”

“We got a warning call from the station up in Phoenix,” Curtis answered candidly. “All they know is that it’s one of the big ones. Could be tying up loose ends, could be something here we don’t know about. Though I’ll be damned if there’s anything we’ve missed that warrants firing off an ICBM.”

“They’ll basically be blowing up junk,” Jasper blurted out, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, it’s not like there’s a single plane on this airbase that’s actually ready to fl-”

He froze. He looked at Curtis. Curtis stared back at him.

There was, of course, a single plane on the airbase that was ready to fly. And it had a single cockpit.

Curtis’ hand shot towards his gun, but Jasper saw the movement and lunged forwards, barrelling into the serviceman and sending him hurtling to the ground. Curtis moaned in pain as his head hit the concrete and he lost his grip on his handgun, sending the weapon flying off to the side. Enraged, he brought his right hand around in a rapid hook and smacked Jasper square across the jaw, then rolled over and pinned him down against the ground. He lunged forwards and squeezed his opponent’s throat, crushing his windpipe. Jasper wheezed and squirmed in pain, but Curtis kept pushing down, gritting his teeth and drowning out his victim’s gargles against the backdrop of the wailing sirens that echoed through the base.

As his consciousness began to drift, Jasper heard Haresh’s voice in the back of his mind, telling him that he was capable of more than he thought. And he remembered something else, too: some of the judo moves that Haresh had shown him on their trip. Including, among other things, ways to deal with an opponent who had you in some kind of ground hold.

“You need to create space,” Haresh had explained from on top of him. “Bend your knees and bring your feet up towards your butt, then push off with the balls of your feet to thrust your lower body upwards. Once you’ve bridged at the hips, rotate your body and squeeze out to the side. Then, as your opponent falls away in the other direction, roll back on top of them and regain control.”

Summoning all the strength that he could muster, Jasper pushed through his legs and drove his hips upwards, knocking Curtis slightly off balance and loosening the grip around his neck.

It was enough.

He twisted his body and shot out to the right, sending Curtis stumbling over to his left. As the serviceman fell onto his back again, Jasper grabbed his knife from its sheath, rolled over onto his opponent and plunged the blade straight into Curtis’ neck. Curtis screamed in agony, and Jasper quickly yanked the knife out again, producing a fresh spurt of blood that streamed across the ground. The serviceman stared up at his opponent in shock, tried to bring his hands up towards his neck – then, suddenly, his eyes rolled to one side, his body became limp, and at last he was motionless, his hands sprawled out either side of him like the wings of a grounded plane.

Jasper looked down at Curtis’ bloodied corpse, horrified. He stumbled backwards and fell onto his hands, recoiling from the deed he’d just committed.

Then he remembered why they’d been fighting.

He scrambled to his feet and took off towards the Raptor.

***

By the time he reached the plane, he was gasping in desperation. Phil had left an access ladder resting against the Raptor, and he scrambled up it as quickly as he could, almost slipping as his blood-stained hands grasped the rungs.

At the top, he opened the hatch and hesitated, gazing down into the cockpit. It looked far smaller than he remembered. And once he got up there, he’d be flying in total darkness, guided only by the glow of the monochrome displays.

It was the last situation he wanted to be in. But all he could do at this point was try to save himself.

He remembered hearing the crash from downstairs at his home in Los Angeles, how he’d quickly rushed down to see what had happened.

Tentatively, he’d opened the door into the confined, windowless basement that had hastily been rearranged into a makeshift study. His father had mounted a widescreen monitor across the stretch of wall to the right on which to take his calls, and it now filled the room with a piercing blue glow, interrupted only by the wide cracks that ran across its surface. The broken shards of a bottle lay scattered on the floor below it. His father stood hunched over on the left, staring aimlessly into the empty rectangle of light.

“It’s not just that they expect us to live like this–” he began, his speech slurred, his voice raw with despair, “–but that they expect us to be grateful for it. Grateful that we can use all this stuff to substitute for our lives, to carry on pretending like nothing’s happened. To carry on making money for them.”

He remained static, his eyes helplessly glued to the screen. Jasper could see he was clutching something in his left hand, although he couldn’t fully make out what it was.

“It was only meant to be temporary, they said. They meant to find another way. Damnit, we have found another way. So why the hell are we still doing this?”

Slowly, his father turned to face him, and it was then that Jasper saw the revolver.

“I’m sorry, son. I’ve tried so hard to make this work. I know they keep saying the end is in sight, that we need to wait just a few more weeks. But the endless promises, the constant revisions of what it is exactly we’re trying to achieve… I just can’t. I can’t do this anymore.” He lifted the gun to his head. “You’re free to make your own choice, Jasper. I’ve made mine.”

Jasper recalled rushing forwards, a loud sound, and not much else after that.

Wincing in anguish, he took a deep breath. He had made his choice. And he had to follow through with it.

He climbed into the cockpit, cast off the access ladder, pulled down the hatch and began to switch on the instruments. Somehow, he found himself running through everything Phil had told him about the plane with barely any need to think about it: in his state of shock, his subconscious had taken over, already prepping the plane for take-off and manoeuvring it out towards the runway. But as he lined up to face the strip, he kept playing the images over and over again in his mind. His father raising the gun to his head. The bullet hole in Disco Phil’s. The blood gushing from Curtis’ neck. And here he was, trying to save his own skin. Putting his own life above other people’s.

You selfish bastard. It’s idiots like you who ruin it for everyone else.

He slammed down the throttle, drowning out his thoughts in the roar of the engines as the plane accelerated faster and faster across the ground.

***

He’d been in the air for some time when the missile hit. Briefly, the sky had flashed up with light. And then it had gone dark again, returning to an endless black expanse that stretched out before him.

He didn’t want to know how close it had been, how much time he’d had. All he knew was that somehow, he’d made it out alive. And he didn’t have a clue where he was going.

The Raptor’s range would only take him so far. He’d set a course for Los Angeles, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to stick around there. Or anywhere else in the Southwest, for that matter. Once he landed, he could try and find someone who could help him get over to Hawaii. But where would he go from there?

New Zealand seemed like the obvious choice, although he’d had very little in the way of ties there to begin with, thanks to his life on the move. If anything, he knew more about his father’s colleagues abroad than he did about the people of his homeland.

Would Haresh have survived all this? If anyone knew a way to stay alive in this madness, it had to be him. If he could make his way across the Pacific, maybe he could track down some of the people his father had worked with, and find someone who could point him in the right direction. He knew his chances of making contact again were slim. But he had to try. And hope was all he had.

Feeling the cabin walls closing in on him again, he tried to relax, thinking of things to set his mind at ease. And above the gentle hum of the engines, he could just about make out the sound of Melody’s voice, whispering in his ear like a ghost:

“This is your flight attendant speaking. We are now cruising at an altitude of 36,000 feet over the state of California. We’ll soon be landing at Los Angeles International Airport for your first connection, and then you’ll be well on your way to your ultimate destination, the Indian state of Himachal Pradesh.”

He gazed out into the open sky, exhaling all his accumulated anxieties and fears.

“Now, I’m going to count back from ten. And once I finish counting, you will be there, standing in the city of Shimla – watching the mist roll down the mountains, listening to the sounds of the birds in the trees. Breathing in the cool air of the Himalayas. All you need to do is breathe. Inhale, exhale. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Paanch. Chaar. Teen. Do.Ek.”