Cigarettes and Engine Oil
Hiccup & Eleanor - Part 2 - Chapter 2
This is Hiccup & Eleanor, book two of The White Age, which I will be releasing as a serial - with one chapter per week - over the coming months. You can also preorder the book here or catch up on Substack here.
Book one, Absolution, is available for purchase on Amazon, or you can catch up here.
i)
Somewhere over England
29th September 2074
Hiccup
The plane felt heavy: something was wrong. It was an F-15E Strike Eagle, a jet Hiccup had never flown before, but he could tell that there was an issue just by how the plane felt. There was too much drag, and the plane kept lurching forward with an excess of resistance. Eleanor was fast asleep, no doubt exhausted from the trauma of the take off, and they were halfway through their flight. The sun had disappeared below the clouds and made them boil like lava. Hiccup was connected to the plane’s onboard computer by his chest wires and he could see, with perfect clarity, everything that the technology was built to show him: their altitude was 2,453ft; the prevailing wind was 23mph; they were 0.3 degrees off course to allow for headwinds; they had roughly 53 minutes left until landing; and they had enough fuel to stay in the air for a further 4 hours and 34 minutes. But beside these facts, a red light strobed. Landing gear failure. Landing gear failure. Landing gear failure. He had known as soon as he had seen the flash and felt the impact that it was Roken who had shot their front tyre with his rifle.
Hiccup’s brain tried to defragment the facts and process all of the information he had at hand. Roken must have been following me for days. Roken knows exactly where I am heading and will not give up until he stops me. Just let me die, Roken. Just let me die. You said it yourself: I can do anything.
The bullet, along with the glancing blow of the trees that they had passed overhead, had rendered their landing gear useless; a conventional landing was now an impossibility. Roken knew what he was doing. He doesn’t want me to see The Doctor. He doesn’t trust me. He knows what I can do. Ralph must have told him about me. Must have warned him of my capabilities. Hiccup’s fists clenched and his dense synthetic skin squeaked as it was squeezed tightly. His face lit up a deep red. I always considered you a friend, Roken. Not a babysitter. It was then that Hiccup remembered being introduced to Elise in Switzerland. The way that Roken joked and they had both laughed.
“You are special, Zero.” He could remember her saying when they were alone. “You don’t quite know how special you are.” But he did. Hiccup knew exactly of what he was capable, exactly how crazy it was that he could think and feel and care. His mind screamed with information, and he was able to grasp at it, cease its flow and then allow it to surge on; let it run through his fingers like sand or mould it into a ball. His knowledge had the potential to be infinite. But it was just out of reach. Somehow its perfection evaded him and its lurking, leering presence was a terrifying, imminent endpoint. I must stop this all before it becomes a reality. That’s why they’re chasing me. UNA, Elise, Roken. They want to use my power to aid their cause. They have no idea what that would mean. What I could do. I thought you were a friend, Roken. The closest thing to family I have had for many, many years. I will not let you have my power. Not ever.
Hiccup
ii)
Eleanor awoke with her head pounding. The aeroplane’s engines roared around her and the cockpit lights danced brightly before her eyes. The sun had set and glazed the sky a deep orange which made her smile weakly; it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She leant forward to check on Hiccup and found him still wired into the console, his face a deep red. She pushed herself up in her seat to look over the panelling of the plane and down onto the near-black of the land below. Rolling hills and slithering streams were punctuated by clusters of unlit houses and black-grey roads. There was no sign of life as far as she could see in either direction and this made her shiver. All of this: gone. So close to home.
Rivulets of gold and red ran through the darkness of the land far below and seemed to rise up toward the night sky in simmering clouds. It were as though the Earth was pouring out of itself and dissolving into the atmosphere. It must be the moon’s light in the fog, Eleanor guessed, as she squinted into the opacity and shivered against the night.
“How long are we flying for, Hiccup?” She asked, her voice assuming what felt like its, now natural, quiver of emotion.
“We have half an hour left before we reach our destination, Eleanor. But we are unable to land the plane.” The voice was plain, unconcerned. Eleanor reached forward and grabbed the shoulders of the robot.
“We can’t land?” Tears filled her eyes as she asked the question, and she felt nauseous once again.
“We have had our landing gear badly damaged by a gunshot during take-off. We will need to find an alternative.”
“What does that mean?”
“I am thinking.”
Eleanor slid down into her seat, sobbing gently. The ground was so far below and the thought of crash-landing without any wheels filled her with dread; they would surely die. After all they had been through, to die like this would be pathetic; they were so close. Only the high-pitched screams of the plane filled the silence as they moved into the ever-darkening night. The moon emerged from behind a bulbous cloud and lit the world a soft silver-white.
Hiccup
iii)
London, England
21st September 2074
“This was a terrible idea.” Roken said through a grin and the cigarette between his lips. Zero turned and faced him quickly as he clenched his fists. The helicopter blades whirred over and around them, noisily.
“It is just an ex-filtration mission, Roken.” Zero returned lightly, “what is the danger?” The battered remains of London steamed hundreds of feet below them. A crater swept deep into what was once concrete and foundations; the buildings which had previously stood there had been eviscerated. Concrete, metal and glass leant awkwardly down into the hole, as though looking inside for something lost. The shockwaves had caused the entire city, as far as could be seen in the immovable fog, to shudder and lose its grip; it lurched and leaned like badly set jelly.
“What was this guy even doing here? Why should it be down to us to get him out? If Dowling wants him out, then Dowling should come and get him.”
“His function is classified but he is a high-risk asset. I too would like to know why he is here; it is strange.”
“It’s bullshit is what it is. This is hell on Earth. Welcome to London.” Roken smiled broadly as he threw his dying cigarette out of the open door to his left. The helicopter dived forward and Zero had to grasp the roof-rail as Roken guided the vehicle steeply down toward the mass of destruction. They swerved sharply right and around a crumbling skyscraper and then back left through a plume of steam, which roared up from the banks of what was once the River Thames. “I wish we could just stay in Iceland. You've been here before, haven't you, Zero?” Roken shouted over the roaring engines, nonchalantly glancing sideways while steering.
Zero stared out of the window in silence for a while, surveying the carnage, plaintively. “This is not the London I remember. This is like nothing I have seen before.” Roken turned to look at him with a frown, the LEDs on Zero’s face had turned a deep blue and he continued to stare out of the chopper and across the ruined city. Ralph was right: he’s not normal, Roken thought. But he’s not dangerous. Not at all. He has known ever since he had met Zero that he was of a different level of intellect and ability. But there was also something else, something deeper-rooted in his psyche (if robots even had psyches) that made him wonder. He felt close to Zero. They had worked together for years; in Eastern Europe; North Africa; Switzerland; Iceland; and now England; and they had developed a close bond. Watching Zero look out over London, exuding sadness at what he was seeing, Roken felt sorry for him. But he's just a robot, he reminded himself. He found it impossible to consider Zero a threat to himself, let alone humanity as a whole. Whatever potential he has is being kept in check. I don’t need to worry, not yet. Maybe one day, but not now.
“Are you okay?” Roken asked, noting his partner’s distraction.
“Pardon?” Zero turned to him and tilted his head to the side, questioning.
“You don’t seem yourself.”
“This place. It is difficult to return here after the war.”
“We’ve seen worse.”
“Yes, but this is somewhere I knew before it all happened. It is difficult to see.” Zero’s words were slow and measured; Roken felt a stab of sympathy in his gut. He’s just a robot.
“You’re pretty special for a robot, you know that, right?” Roken said and smiled as Zero turned to face him. “It’s not normal for robots to care about this sort of thing. You can do anything you want, can’t you?”
“I don’t care.” Zero shook his head and looked away. “It is a factual analysis: this place is not what it once was.”
“You can talk to me, Zero. I’m your friend, right?” Zero raised his hands and placed them on his face as the lights beneath them pulsed and quivered. What’s happening to him? “Zero?”
“I am fine.” He lowered his hands and turned to Roken, as his face-lights flooded with a soft blue. Calming, soothing, placating, paternal, Roken recalled from the training manual he had memorised all those years ago: ‘Zero: Engagement Management’. He’s just a machine with a user manual. Relax, Roken.
iv)
“There's the landing site” Roken said, pointing east, over a toppled skyscraper and a mound of ruins, into a small clearing atop a short hill. It was once a park, though now it was just a grey-brown mess of upturned and scorched earth. Roken swung the helicopter over the collapsed building, causing it to spin on its axis, before gracefully setting it down on the most level patch of dirt. As soon as they touched down, Zero jumped out and drew his rifle-scope to his eye, scanning the surrounding mess of long-broken, suburban London. Roken followed suit and they circled the helicopter before meeting at its rear.
The ground had been kneaded by gunpowder and flame into a mulch of broken and swollen minerals. Long-dead grass withered into piles of brown that writhed with the weeds that had choked out the fragments of breath once the bombs had dropped. Earth and concrete were moulded up and away from the broken crust and formed silent, frozen waves.
But nothing stood out as a potential threat. Windows, broken and blackened by soot, reflected the moonlight and decorated their surroundings like sporadic, judging eyes, but there was not a hint of motion, of danger. Just get the job done. Nice and easy. Let’s get the hell off this island. Roken could feel the radiation, already. He had felt it before in training, but this was different. It was vicious and raw, and it seemed to crawl inside your lungs with every breath. His eyes lost their ability to find focus with ease and his legs quivered with every step; suddenly rattled by the energy required for even the most rudimentary of movement.
Zero paused and raised a clenched fist before thundering off down a steep slope and into the rubble of a building that was once a hospital; he had an assault rifle, an AR-16, clutched tightly to his chest as he ran. Roken swept his sniper rifle across the ground in front and behind him in order to cover his run, paused a moment, and then charged off to follow. The robot’s face, arms and legs glowed a soft yellow in thin strips to interrupt the pitch black inside the hospital. Roken tucked in beside him and scanned the distance with his silver, torch-mounted handgun; his rifle was now slung over his shoulder, useless in close quarters. Zero crept forward with knees bent and gun raised, one hand brushing the peeling concrete wall to his right. He was something to behold in full flow: the perfect soldier. Roken watched him with admiration.
A sharp wind whistled down the corridor in which they now found themselves. Moonlight sent silver beams shining sporadically against the floor and walls as it punctured through the gaping window frames. There was a dull silence, punctuated by the constant degradation of the broken city: a building shifting deeper into the shattered ground; a loose door rattling in the wind; a scavenging animal desperately clawing for food.
Zero stopped, suddenly. His head turned down to the ground, as though he were listening deeply, intently. Roken strained and could hear nothing at all. The corridor ran ahead for a hundred feet, with several rooms symmetrically on either side, before it bent hard to the right. The entire building was lurching lightly to the left; Roken could feel himself leaning towards the wall in compensation. This place is so disorientating. Zero’s free hand shot up, palm facing forward, and then it pivoted at his wrist; his hand pointing left and then right. The tiny, intricate mechanisms in his arm and wrist, his bio-mechanical tendons, quietly hummed with each flexion and extension. Roken moved to Zero’s side and, back-to-back, they walked slowly down the corridor, just as they had done a thousand times before. At each set of doors, they parted, scanned the room in front of them, before returning to the centre of the corridor.
Nothing.
The further into the hospital they went, the colder the air became, and the less brave moonlight made it in to help illuminate them. They paused before the last set of doors. Roken nodded for Zero to go first. Zero nodded back and walked to the doors on his side. He placed his head lightly against the wooden panelling to listen (or feel) for anything at all. Slowly, he withdrew before slamming his foot through the centre of the handles. The two doors crumbled and parted pathetically and Zero was in before the shards of timber hit the floor. Roken followed closely behind.
A man looked up from a small metal chair in the centre of the room. A frown fell away to a smile as his eyes darted from Roken to Zero and back again. “Oh my, oh my.” He said, louder than Roken would have liked, and he gestured accordingly. “Sorry.” He whispered with a smile and a wince.
“Schofield?” Roken said as he walked past the man and scanned the room, with Zero doing the same on the opposite side. There were two glass-less windows at the back of the room that emitted thin shards of white moonlight. A door to the back of the room led only to a bathroom, which was sealed and empty. There was nobody else. Zero moved to Schofield and touched his forehead gently with a single forefinger.
“Zero.” Schofield stared up at the robot with his mouth agape. “It’s you.”
“Radiation sickness; low blood pressure; heart rate 82 bpm; signs of dehydration and Hypoxemia.”
“I’ve heard such… tremendous things about you, Zero.” The seated man said, his eyes wide and his thin moustache hanging over an open mouth. His hair was long and slicked back, though thinning considerably.
“Dr. Sean Schofield, do you have any injuries?” Roken asked, walking around the seated man to stand beside Zero.
“Is it all true. Are you what he says you are? What you can be?” Zero shifted slightly and looked at Roken, his face murmuring a deep red.
“Hey, Schofield!” Roken clicked his fingers in front of the man’s face and slapped his cheek, raising his voice as much as he felt able in the surrounding silence. The seated man’s eyes eventually left Zero and moved to Roken’s. “Are you injured?”
“No.” He shook his head and frowned, looking down at his body as though to check it was all still in one piece. “I am bloody starving though. And wouldn’t mind having my fingernails back. But I’m fine.” Roken glanced at the bloody stubs of fingers; his hands were tied to the arms of the chair. Tortured by drifters. This guy’s lucky we showed when we did.
“What were you doing here? When you got captured?” Roken shone the light from his handgun into Sean’s eyes and caused him to squint and flinch away.
“I was part of a team that were sent ashore to collect radiation samples, and we were jumped by some angry mob of Americans. The rest of my team was killed.” Sean cringed as he described his captors, as though he had a terrible taste in his mouth.
“Ashore?” Zero’s voice rang in the silence and the doctor’s face dropped with the realisation he had said too much.
“I assume you’re here to save me?” Sean asked and Roken said nothing before cutting the man free from his chair. “How many of you are there? Have you killed them all?” Sean said as he rose to his feet and stretched his limbs.
“We’ve seen no-one.” Zero’s head tilted again to the side as he listened intently for any movement. Sean’s smile faded from his face, and he slowly sat back down in the chair.
“Oh shit.” His eyes moved from Roken to Zero as he spoke. “There are so many of them. They will know you’re here. There’s just two of you?” Roken nodded, suddenly very wary of the confined space in which they found themselves. They had assumed that their man had been abandoned to die in London, after having been questioned by the drifters. Though it seemed that these drifters weren’t quite done and had set a trap for them. “We won’t get out of here alive.” Roken and Zero exchanged a glance and both checked that their gun’s safeties were off.
“We have a helicopter two clicks north of here. If we move and keep low, then we should be fine.” Roken spoke in a steady, measured tone but Sean just sat their shaking his head.
“No way. There are too many of them. And they’re not as stupid as you might think. They’re ruthless. They will kill all of us.”
“They’re drifters. We’re soldiers. We will protect you.” Roken could feel his impatience growing. We just need to get moving and not look back. This man is going to be the death of us if he doesn’t calm the fuck down.
“Go and check it’s safe and then come back for me.” Sean sat back and folded his arms. Before his back could touch the chair, Roken had grabbed his arms and lifted him into the air, a look of horror on Sean’s face.
“We are leaving. Now.” Roken growled into the shaking man’s ear. “Or I will leave you here and report you to the UNA as found dead. Do you understand?” The man whimpered and nodded and Zero began their exit from the room; rifle raised, body glowing and pulsing like a firefly.
They moved rapidly along the corridor, Zero’s rifle darting into each room they passed and twice back over Roken’s shoulder. Roken couldn't stop, he kept his head down and pumped his legs to follow Zero towards the brightening fragments of moonlight up ahead. Eventually he could smell the acrid, burnt air beyond the building and feel the warmth of the radiation on his skin: they were close to the exit. Dr. Schofield was dragged along behind him, making high-pitched moans at every shadowed room they passed. At the opening of the building, through which they had entered, Zero leaped masterfully down onto a leaning wall, where he stood and turned to reach up and take Sean. Roken paused and took hold of an exposed, steel reinforcement for the wall, as he eased Schofield over the edge to the robot.
Three bullets tore through Zero’s fingers a heartbeat before Roken let go of Sean. He grasped him tightly, felt bullets thunder into the scientist’s mass, before falling back beneath it, into the darkness of the hospital. His ears rang painfully with the sound of gunfire and the brief screams of the dead man, as he struggled to manoeuvre the body off of him. Blasts of gunfire could be heard outside in the pitch black, and flashes of yellow decorated the insides of the decaying walls. Roken drew his rifle and shuffled onto his belly. He pulled himself up on top of the body and eased the rifle up so the sight reached his eye-line. Through it he could see very little, just flashes of bright white and yellow against a perfectly dark background. It reminded him briefly of a fireworks display and then he pulled the trigger quickly three times. There was a scream and a distant crash, and the fireworks stopped.
Less than a second later, Roken was bombarded with gunfire. It rattled into the ceiling, walls, corpse and floor. He scrambled on his stomach, back away from the opening, and kept going until he felt he was out of their reach. There must be twenty of them out there, he thought while checking his torso and legs for a gunshot wound. Nothing, yet. There were three screams from outside, one female and two male, but Roken heard more than three bodies hit the ground. There was panicked shouting that he couldn't quite understand and then a muted explosion. After that, there was silence.
Zero had switched off his lights and, for several seconds, Roken didn't notice he was standing over him. It was the smell of burning metal and plastic that caught his attention; Zero had lost two fingers on his right hand and taken half a magazine to his chest and right leg. Smoke poured from the bullet holes and his innards sizzled with the hot sulphur.
“Christ. You good?” Roken said through a grin. Zero nodded, picked up Sean’s limp body nonchalantly and threw it over his shoulder. He walked off the edge and was gone again into darkness. Roken's muscles ached from tensing as he rose to his feet and clambered down behind his partner, who had jogged briskly up the side of the hill towards their helicopter. He followed steadily behind. The ground was strewn with misshapen bodies of drifters; ex-US-army uniforms and mismatching equipment gave them away. The smell of gun-smoke and death made his stomach turn. Get me out of this hell, he thought.
Zero was loading the body aboard, moving gingerly, awkwardly, as though in pain, and Roken assisted him. They both boarded the vehicle; Roken took the controls in the front, while Zero crouched over the body in the open back, scanning the deserted park and tops of the nearby crumbling buildings with his rifle. The helicopter simmered into life and Roken glanced back at the limp and bloodied body. Another waste of a life, he thought, we were outnumbered and under-prepared. Damn drifters.
“You got everybody?” Roken asked Zero while scanning the deserted park and nearby crumbling buildings with his rifle.
“Yes, Roken.” Zero returned. The blades above began to wail as they reached their top speed. There was a jolt as the wheels lifted off the ground, and within moments they were rising quickly away from the outskirts of London. The helicopter banked sharply down to the left as Roken tried to steer it away from the hospital and towards the smog of night. They had to get out of sight and distance themselves from the ambush. Down to his left, the ground now a hundred metres below them, Roken could see nothing but moonlit ruins lying clumsily and caustically in the darkness. But then something caught his eye, just to the south of the hospital, at the edge of his vision. It looked like a flare and Roken wondered briefly if they had missed somebody, left somebody behind. That’s impossible, he thought, there was only one ex-fil. The flare grew larger, throwing yellowed light against the surrounding walls. But then the flare vanished entirely, and all that remained was a small yellow circle which shimmered against the lingering night. There were two seconds between Roken’s recognition that it was a rocket screaming towards them and its connection with the tail of their helicopter.
The impact removed the tail and sent the chopper spinning wildly. Roken saw only a violent flash of yellow flame, before everything went black. Zero was thrown out of the cabin, along with the dead body, and they flew through the air, tumbling down towards the ground they had left only seconds before. Moments after the remains of the helicopter hit the ground, there was silence in London again. Only the quiet crackling of the flaming wreckage and the lapping flames remained.
v)
Somewhere over England
30th September 2074
“Eleanor, I think I have a plan.” Hiccup spoke abruptly. Eleanor had dozed off again and blinked herself awake.
“What is it?” She asked, hopefully.
“There are ejector seats which, if we time their release correctly, should give us the smallest chance of injury. The parachutes will be old now and we cannot trust that they will function correctly for us. The closer to the ground we deploy our ejector seats, the better chance we have of surviving.”
“Okay.” Eleanor chewed the phrase ‘smallest chance of injury’ around her head with trepidation. They were going to fire themselves from a moving plane into the pitch-black night and hope that everything would be okay. This is a terrible idea, she thought.
Hiccup
vi)
London, England
21st September 2074
Roken awoke in pain: his head throbbed with discomfort, and it took several seconds for him to realise where and when he was; for him to realise that his name was being called.
“Roken?” He could hear a voice inside his head. Elise.
“Yes.” Gruffly he replied, barely a whisper; his throat felt impossibly dry.
“Are you okay?”
“We got shot down. Request immediate evac.”
“We’re working on it. Are you okay?” Roken took a deep breath and looked down at himself.
“I am okay. Maybe a few bust ribs and a bit of concussion, but otherwise I’m good.” He raised his right hand to his face and his middle finger jutted angrily up from its middle knuckle: dislocated. He held his breath and groaned as he snapped it back into place with a crack.
“Good. Our signal is intermittent. How’s Zero? Dr. Schofield?” Roken’s head was fighting the urge to sleep and trying to sort through the sporadic memories of the day before in order to ascertain what was going on. “We’ve lost connection with both of them. Can you see them?”
“Schofield is dead. I can’t see Zero; give me a minute.” He clambered out of the wreckage; it was now early morning and there was a thick grey mist sat languidly on the ground. He scanned the chaos; chunks of helicopter mixed with earth, ash and ruin. The hull of the vehicle was largely intact, but the tail was completely removed, leaving a gruesome, gaping mouth with jarring, metal teeth. Good job we didn’t have too far to fall. Roken moved forward and peered inside the hull where Zero and the body had been sat. They were gone. He spun around and nervously scanned the area. Nothing. No movement, no sound, no sign of his friend. “He's gone.” He could barely say the words through his dried throat as the panic rose in his chest. A blurred recollection of Zero flying out of the chopper, as it spun from the blast, entered his head. Shit.
“Roken. You need to find him.” Elise did well to mask her panic, but Roken could still understand the importance of what she was saying. There was no alternative. The robot mattered more than him, and a few broken ribs would not be allowed to get in his way. He returned to the cockpit and retrieved his rifle from beneath the collapsed steering column, after a short struggle. He didn't know if the drifters who had shot them down were close by; he had no idea where he was now. Carefully, he began his search. It must have rained heavily overnight, while he was unconscious, as the dirty, ashen ground was now a thick mud which sucked at his boots. He struggled to circle the helicopter, having to clamber over the broken walls of long-forgotten buildings, in spite of the unrelenting pain in his chest.
After an hour of fruitless searching, he eventually found a trace. Sean Schofield’s body lay in a vulgar, crumpled mess, about a hundred metres west of the helicopter. Its arms reached pathetically to the sky and the legs were twisted inhumanly beneath him. Roken leaned down and checked the area for any sign of Zero. It only took a few seconds for him to find the limp, cracked second finger of the robot, gnarled and twisted and carrying the wounds of a gunshot. He held it close to his face before burying it in his pocket. A short way to his right he could see the beginnings of a trail he knew he would have to follow; it consisted of a series of left-footed steps beside a largely straight line. He's dragging his right foot. The trail disappeared off into the thick mist of the morning.
“Elise, I have a trail. I'll find him.”
“Good. It's more important than you realise that you do.” The signal was weak, and every other syllable sounded as though it were being spoken underwater.
“Where would he be going?” Roken winced at the pain in his chest and head. This is all too much. Too much for me to handle.
“Roken.” Elise’s voice was flat and quiet. “What if he knows about The Doctor? What if he is going to end everything?” Roken felt a lump in his throat and a pang of regret at letting him go. I can’t let The Doctor destroy him. I must find him.
vii)
Somewhere over Scotland
30th September 2074
Hiccup
The Doctor will fix me, he thought. He had to run away from Roken, he had to disappear and prevent himself being used for the ends of others. He had been created but he had been made too strong, too clever, too real. The distinction was in his mind, his man-made mind held the key to destroying everything and to ending the human race. I cannot allow for that to happen.
Roken was tracking him because he wanted to take him back to Switzerland. He wanted to turn him into a weapon. Why else would he pursue me? They had bought some time by getting the plane off the ground, but now they had to reach the ground in one piece. Even if I am incapacitated, my mind will live on, and they can still use the code in my mind. Only The Doctor can undo all that has been done before and wipe the slate clean.
“It is time.” He said to Eleanor, waking her from a light sleep. She glanced around and then back at Hiccup, smiling half-heartedly. Hiccup felt a pang of regret; he was sorry for Eleanor, for what he had put her through, for what he was about to put her through. He had no intention of harming her. But he felt she was now in grave danger. If I can get her to The Doctor, she can help her reach her father. She can get some transport; some support from the UNA. She will be fine. If she survives this crash.
As Hiccup had told her to, Eleanor held onto the seat with tight hands. Her ears popped as they descended quickly into northeast Scotland. The ground loomed on both sides and Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut.
“Hold on tightly.” Hiccup reiterated. Eleanor nodded without opening her eyes. He ran the ejector seat code, readying it for execution. The trees came into view and sparkled in the moonlight: beautiful, epic woodland sprawling in all directions. The sea burst out to the horizon as a pearlescent beauty, and they raced toward it. The trees fell away, and an expanse of perfect green filled the landscape up to the cliffs, which cascaded into the raging, icy water.
Timing is everything. Roken's voice entered his head. A perfect memory of him being taught how to snipe. Timing is everything. “3. 2.” The white-green grass was everywhere now. Hiccup felt as though he could reach out and touch it. It was a perfect moment, a perfect clarity. He loved this moment. The just-before. He was almost human. Almost. “1.”
The sound was unbearable. The glass above them exploded into cold, fresh air and then they were sent careering into the sky. The force was tremendous. Their seats separated and burst from the plane as two parachutes sprung from behind each of them. A heartbeat later, the plane hit the floor; buckled, flipped and exploded, bouncing softly before landing in a heap and sliding over the edge of the cliff, out into the sea, leaving only silence behind. Their parachutes bloomed above them, and they floated lightly in the breeze. The seats groaned and screeched under their weight and age, though managed to hold firm. The onrushing wind was freezing and enveloped them as it gently guided the parachute back, further inland. They spun as they descended at a steady pace towards the immense green plain below. The young moon glared across the metallic water, illuminating all that they could see with a fresh brightness. The air was pure and clear, a stark juxtaposition to the smog of the south. These lands had been untouched, unthreatened by war and by poverty. Simply abandoned by those in fear; those that were ordered to leave and be safe elsewhere.
They touched down with two soft thuds. Hiccup unclipped his seatbelt and climbed up slowly, tentatively. His body was seizing through injury and exertion, and he struggled to keep his footing on the dew-wet ground as he limped the ten paces to Eleanor. Using her seat as a support, he moved himself around to Eleanor as her parachute deflated to the floor on either side of them. Her face was filled with wonder. She stared out at the glowing sea, open-mouthed. Tears filled her eyes and fell on her cheeks as she was overcome by the beauty before her. All she had seen was pain and darkness for so long, and now she could witness a moment of perfection. Hiccup looked down and could see that her hands were locked around the straps of her seat belt, and smoke drifted softly up from her tightly closed palms. Eleanor was oblivious and Hiccup helped her out of the strap and the seat. She embraced him tightly and sobbed into his arms. All he could do was hug her back. It was alien to him, but it felt right. The warmth of feeling he had toward Eleanor was all-consuming. All he wanted was to make her happy. The Doctor has to help her, he thought, there is nothing more that I can now do.
“This is beautiful.” Eleanor spoke softly, barely louder than a whisper.
“We do not have far to go.” Hiccup said, gazing out along the coast to the East. At the very limit of his sight, he could make out the outline of a large building, merging with the coursing wash of the waves. It sat in his mind like a memory, like a painting of a silhouette. A murmur of somewhere he had been, a place he had once known. A germ of pain grew in his stomach, rising to his chest as he tried to place what he had understood and what this place meant. The only word he could fathom as a label for the feeling and for this place was not one for which he had ever had a reliable use. It was seemingly out of reach and beyond the grasp of his mind. Yet, the only word in his head, as he viewed the vast shadow of a building against the grey blue of moon and sea, was ‘home’.