K. Weiland - Storming

Ugly and cranky? Walter craned his head to look at her again, then turned back to Hitch, eyebrows furrowed.

Hitch’s face was straight, but something in his eyes twinkled. “What—you don’t think she’s ugly?”

Walter shook his head.

“Well, you’re not so wrong. Planes are like people. If you love ’em, they’re beautiful.” He stood up. “I suppose you want a ride?”

Walter grinned and nodded.

Hitch chuckled. “I warn you, son, it’ll change your life.” His gaze got kind of far away.

Walter squeezed his penny again.

Hitch looked down. “You come on back tomorrow. My ship might be fixed up by then. And if not, somebody else around here’ll be hopping rides.”

Walter bit back the first wave of disappointment, but he nodded anyway. A ride tomorrow was better than no ride at all.

Hitch winked at him. “See you around.” He walked off, slapping his leg to his dog. “C’mon, Taos.”

He didn’t seem to notice that Taos stayed where he was, only perking his ears.

So that was that. Walter heaved a sigh and backed up a couple of steps. As Mama Nan would say, when the pie comes out of the oven, you just have to go ahead and eat it the way it is. If the pilot said leave, Walter would have to leave. But maybe if he found something to do, so he looked busy and out of the way, nobody would notice he wasn’t leaving in a hurry.

He walked away, the dog trailing him. He kept his eyes on the ground but peeked up around the corners so he wouldn’t miss anything.

A dozen yards out from the planes, a woman stood staring at the sky. She wore pants and boots, and her hair had been bobbed short, in that new style Molly wanted so bad. She held one fist at her chest and swiveled her head back and forth, slowly, as she scanned the sky.

It was the angel lady! He stopped short and looked all the way up at her.

She glanced at him. A smile bloomed on her face. “Hello. It is you, from by water this morning past?”

So she talked normal talk after all. Kind of. And even though she was wearing pants, she looked a lot more normal without her storybook dress.

He walked over. Hitch’s dog padded along at his side, tongue lolling. Walter grabbed a handful of neck fur. The dog was real, and who knew what the angel lady was, so it might be just as well to hang onto something.

“I am Jael,” she said. Her face, at least, still looked like something out of a storybook. Her eyes creased when she smiled at him.

He smiled back.

“Your name is what?” she asked.

He started to shrug, then changed his mind and squatted to finger his name in the dust.

She tilted her head to read it. “Walter.” She pronounced it Volltair . “This is good name.” She gestured to the dog. “Are you knowing this man Hitch?”

He nodded. If she knew Hitch, maybe she flew too. He pointed to the planes.

“Yes, they are very beautiful thing.”

He raised both eyebrows and tilted his head toward her. Most people understood that meant a question.

Figuring it out only took her a second. “No, they are not mine.” She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “I could be fixing them, but I could not be taking them into sky.”

He let his shoulders sag.

“But Hitch would maybe be taking you.”

He shook his head.

“You are not saying much, no?” But she didn’t look angry or even confused, like some people did. “I am not saying much too. I am not quite knowing how to say how you say things here on ground.”

She’d already said a whole lot more than he ever did. But he smiled and nodded back at her anyway. Not liking to talk wasn’t something he could share with most people.

She touched his shoulder. “Come back again after time. You should be asking again, about planes. This man Hitch—he is man who likes to be saying no first. But I have thoughts that… maybe he will be helping if he can.”

A random gust of wind hit their faces—and it smelled, strangely, just like rain.

She looked up, and she seemed almost scared.

What was there about rain to be scared of?

He followed her gaze. The sky was still blue overhead: no clouds at all. How did you get rain smell with no clouds?

He shivered.

The sparkles were gone from her eyes. Her mouth was suddenly hard. “Goodbye, Walter. Maybe you go to your home now. Maybe there is no safety now.”

That didn’t make any sense either. But that look in her eyes was real enough. He nodded slowly and backed up a few steps. When she didn’t look at him again, he patted Taos one last time and turned to go. He’d be back to ride in the plane tomorrow—rain or no rain.

THROUGHOUT THE AFTERNOON, Hitch did a good job finding reasons to stay away from Jael. But by nine o’clock, the sun had set behind the random clouds, turning the sky into a smoky haven for the rising stars—and he was starving.

He left Lilla and Rick at a neighbor’s fire and meandered back over to their own camp to see what he could find in the way of chow.

The field was dotted with twice as many campfires as last night. Planes had kept flying in all afternoon, and this was still the beginning of the week. The show itself wouldn’t start until Saturday.

Just beyond the shadow of the Jennies, Jael sat cross-legged beside a small fire, messing with one of the new spark plugs Earl had bought in town. Taos lay next to her, his chin on his crossed forelegs. Every few seconds, she’d reach over to scratch his ears.

Hitch dodged past her to Rick’s plane.

Earl looked up from wiping his hands with an oily rag. “Well, you’re sure the popular man around camp tonight, aren’t you?”

Hitch managed a noncommittal grunt and stepped onto Rick’s wing to look through the extra gear and supplies stowed in the front cockpit.

“Or could it be you’re avoiding us?” Earl asked.

“Us?”

“Yeah, me and that girl.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Maybe because you’re scared of the both of us.”

Hitch snorted a laugh and dug out some cold potatoes and cornbread left over from the night before. “Don’t flatter yourself, old buddy.” He jumped back off the wing and looked Earl in the eye. “Trust me. I am not about to lose my plane to Livingstone.”

Earl shook his head. “What about that girl? You’ve dragged her into this now too.”

“It was more or less the other way around.” He turned to watch her silhouette against the fire. “She was lost and scared. What was I supposed to do? Somebody did light her ’chute on fire last night.”

“Well, then.” Earl still didn’t sound entirely convinced on that point. “Maybe staying out here in the open like this isn’t exactly the right thing to be doing with her. Not that I’m complaining. She’s a nice little thing. Tad strange in the head maybe, but nice.”

Hitch turned back. “Wait until she wallops you in the shins a couple of times.”

“What are you going to do with her?”

“I’m not about to just throw her out, if that’s what you mean. But folks who don’t pull their weight around here don’t eat.”

“She knows what’s what with engines.” Earl nodded toward Hitch’s plane. “Don’t think she’s ever seen a Hisso before, but she picked it up quick when I showed her.”

Earl passed out compliments about as often as J.W. sent Matthew birthday presents.

Hitch stopped chewing. “Well.”

“And here’s something else.” Earl stepped nearer and dropped his voice a shade. “She was talking about seeing ‘ground people’ fighting, killing each other in holes in the earth. Thousands of them, she said.”

“The war?” Back when America had gotten into it three years ago, Hitch had given some thought to signing up as a pilot. Between experimenting with a new plane design, a fling with a girl in San Diego, and a busted arm, it hadn’t happened. But he’d seen the photographs of the wasted battlefields furrowed with trenches.