Джеймс Блатч - The Final Flight

Susie followed it around as it drew a wide arc in the sky, just above the trees. An object fell from its open rear cargo doors.

“Blimey.”

“What?” Megan asked without looking.

“That aircraft just dropped something. Is that Porton Down?” She could make out a series of low buildings in a field that backed onto the UK’s chemical weapons centre.

“They gas animals in that place,” Megan said, sitting up. “Perhaps they bomb them now as well.”

The aircraft carried out two more runs over Porton Down, releasing one more object. It took a wider arc south and descended, turning back toward West Porton. As it levelled out on the far side of the airfield, it pointed directly at them.

Susie squinted, studying the flight path as the Argosy descended even lower.

“What’s happening now?” Megan said.

“It’s OK.”

The aircraft travelled straight across the runway threshold and directly over the peace camp.

The engines sent powerful reverberations through the ground, and both women flinched as it tore overhead and pitched up into a steep climb.

The rear doors were still open and Susie could see a figure inside. From behind him, an object moved and the man leapt out of the way. A pallet, with what looked like a black barrel strapped to it, fell out of the opening.

She watched in horror, looking below the falling object to see who was in danger.

“ Watch out !” she screamed, leaping to her feet.

The pallet hit the ground and smashed into several pieces; the barrel split in two or three parts.

As far as she could see it hadn’t hit anyone.

But as the aircraft noise dimmed, a hissing sound emanated from the barrel, along with a plume of white smoke.

“Get away from it!” Susie screamed.

A stinging sensation in her eyes. It started as an annoying tickle, but soon became a powerful irritant. Susie closed her eyes tight as the gas caught in her throat and she doubled over, coughing. Screams sounded across the camp, then moaning and coughing.

Susie gripped Megan and walked as fast as she could while virtually blinded.

She tried to open her eyes as they hurried away, alongside the fence, but another blast of irritant hit her, and water streamed down her face.

“ Jesus Christ .”

She forced her eyes open.

Megan’s hand went limp. She dropped to the ground, hands over her face.

She looked in a bad way; incoherent and wailing.

Around them, people ran in different directions. Most campers escaped the field through the main gate.

Susie dropped next to Megan

“We have to get out of the field.”

“No! Leave me.” She curled up and began rocking.

Susie hauled Megan to her feet and set off with her under her arm.

As they neared the gate, Susie tasted fresh air again. The gas was dispersing.

They joined the others, spilling on the road.

A police siren wailed in the distance.

Someone had brought a bucket of water over, and the group splashed the cool liquid over their faces.

Susie looked at their puffy red eyes. Men and women, crying and wailing.

Her throat stung, and the acrid gas in her lungs triggered a coughing fit.

She squatted down and spat onto the road, desperate to clear the metallic taste from her mouth. “ Christ alive .”

Eventually she regained control over her breathing and stood up.

A green military Land Rover with a blue flashing light arrived and two soldiers jumped out.

“Is everyone alright?” one of them shouted.

He got a chorus of anger from the protestors in return.

“What do you bloody think?”

“What the hell was that?”

“Are you bombing us, for Christ’s sake?”

The men didn’t answer. They scanned the crowd, then jumped back into their vehicle and drove onto the field. More sirens in the distance. A white ambulance rolled up, followed by another.

Susie walked to the field entrance and watched the two soldiers. They put on gas masks and slowly approached the remains of the crate and barrel, turning the debris over with their feet. They picked up the bigger pieces and loaded them into the back of their wagon.

The ambulance crews began to inspect the injured.

The Land Rover appeared at the gate and eased through the crowd onto the road before driving off.

“That’s the evidence gone,” Susie said. She looked at Megan, who didn’t seem capable of speech.

Susie got down on her knees next to her.

“I think it was just tear gas. It’s gone now.”

Megan didn’t respond.

She encouraged her to her feet. Slowly, they made their way back into the field where Susie sat Megan in the entrance to her tent and went off to fetch her water.

David was already at the plastic water barrel.

“Megan’s taken it badly. I’m worried about her.”

“Not surprising with her background.”

“What do you mean?”

He moved away from the crowd around the barrel and beckoned her to follow. “She was orphaned in the war. House bombed in London. She and her brother lived, but both parents died.”

“Christ.”

“Like I say, she rarely talks about it. Keeps it all inside.”

Susie took Megan fresh water and sat with her for a while, but she was unresponsive. Eventually she left her to sleep it off.

MILLIE WAS PLEASED WITH HIMSELF. The flight was purely a familiarisation for the new pilot, Jock MacLeish, and so no official tapes were due back. That gave him ample time to build up his stock. He was onto his fourth reel as they descended toward the circuit at West Porton.

“Something’s happening down there,” MacLeish said over the intercom from his right hand seat in the cockpit.

Millie and Bright, with no usable windows, just looked at each other.

“What?” Bright said.

“Loads of blue flashing lights at the peace camp. Looks like they’re being evicted.”

After taxi, Millie let Steve Bright open the hatch and attach the ladder. He followed him out, holding onto his flight case, replete with his haul of fresh reels.

As he walked into TFU, it was clear something was up. Loud laughter emanated from corners of the room. Broad smiles on faces.

Millie walked straight to his locker. First things first.

The pile of reels was getting large, but there was nothing he could do about it for now.

He closed the locker just as Speedy Johnson walked past him toward the equipment hatch.

“What’s going on? Do you know?”

“Apparently Red and Rob accidentally gassed the hippies.”

“What?”

Speedy continued to the hatch as Rob walked back into the main planning room. One of the pilots slapped Red on the back, laughing.

Millie walked over to Rob. “What happened?”

“Silly old Nigel Woodward removed all the safety pins from the spare bomb, just before we flew over the camp, and it rolled out.”

“How exactly did it roll out? Did he launch it?”

“Red may have performed a rather steep pull-up, you know, just to wake them up. Unfortunate timing.”

“I see. Was anyone hurt?”

“Apparently not. But the gas escaped and set off a bit of coughing.”

Millie looked around at the pilots hugging the tea bar. A few more slaps on Red’s back.

“And this is apparently a cause for celebration? You could have killed someone.”

“Steady on, Millie. It was an accident. No-one was hurt. Well, not seriously.”

Millie was still in full flying gear, holding his helmet and oxygen mask. It was too warm in the room and he headed off to the equipment hatch.

Jock was there when he arrived.

“Heard the news?” Jock asked.

“Yes. Not sure I can join the celebrations though. Unprofessional, if you ask me.”