The Final Flight by James Blatch (fastest ebook reader .TXT) 📕

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He could shut down the broken engines, but that would take time and wouldn’t achieve anything.

They needed to roll upright.

He snapped the braking parachute handle to STREAM.

There was a jolt, and the rolling seemed to slow.

“Damn!” He switched the lever to RELEASE, praying the roll rate would pick up again.

The green grass and rocks grew larger as the Vulcan hurtled downwards.

The stick still moved in his hands, but had no noticeable effect on the aircraft.

THINK!

He stabbed the ABANDON AIRCRAFT button to light up the notice in the back for Bright and Millie.

“GET OUT! GET OUT!” he shouted over the intercom.

An enormous bang.

Light filled the cockpit.

It took Rob a beat to register what had happened.

The canopy was gone.

“Speedy! No!” he shouted, but it was too late.

He shielded his face against a burst of orange flame as Speedy’s seat fired out of the aircraft.

The roll rate had increased.

Finally, they were coming through ninety degrees back to upright.

It was his only chance to live: to eject while the aircraft was the correct way up.

He wrenched his head around and looked back.

“GET OUT! GET OUT!” he screamed again.

Steve Bright stood over the hatch, but Millie was on the ground, trying to get back up.

Rob glanced forward. He estimated they were at six hundred feet.

This was it.

A terrible, awful dread filled him.

There was nothing he could do, unless he chose to die with them.

It was an option.

He looked back a final time.

“Get up, Millie!”

Rob’s voice was weak and broken.

They were now too low.

Millie stared at him, terrified eyes wide above his oxygen mask.

Blood leaked from a gash on his forehead.

“Please, Millie.” His voice croaked. “Please get out. Please.”

He broke eye contact, turned around, and saw the last two seconds of his life as a collection of grey rocks and yellow flowers raced towards them.

Yellow life amid grey death.

I have to live.

His hand went down to the ejection handle.

Did he even have the strength to pull it?

He felt the kick as the seat erupted upwards.

He blacked out.

Emily Triggs tapped a pencil on the desk and considered her options.

She cross-checked the flying programme.

Evergreen-four-two was now twenty-five minutes overdue.

Up in the glass-house at the top of the control tower, she had an unobstructed view of the airfield and a few miles around. She scanned the skies, but there was no white Vulcan.

She reported it to the senior air traffic controller, who reached for his binoculars and confirmed they were not in sight.

The SATCO leaned over her shoulder to check the record of aircraft movements.

“It definitely took off, sir. I remember it. Vulcan XH441, four persons on board.”

“It may have diverted, can you call TFU, see if they’ve heard anything from the crew? It would, of course, be typical of them to keep us in the dark.”

She picked up one of three telephones and dialled the operations desk at the Test Flying Unit.

A flapping noise, like sheets being shaken out of a bedroom window.

Rob was on a hard surface, his eyes closed.

Birdsong. Cheery whistles filled the air, along with the strange flapping.

An orange glow formed through his eyelids. He tried to open them, but the sunlight was too much.

His head was heavy. He reached up, and with his eyes still shut, pulled his flying helmet off.

Rolling onto his side, he felt a sharp pain in his lower back.

He inched open his eyes, allowing his pupils to adjust.

His head pounded.

He had no idea how much time had passed.

The flapping sound came from above. He craned his head to see his parachute rippling in the breeze.

The straps tugged at him. He rolled onto his back and fumbled with the five-point harness, twisting until it released with a clunk. The pressure on his legs disappeared.

He lay still, facing up, watching the thin clouds gently rove across the sky.

Images formed in his mind. Unwanted, intrusive images.

The final few seconds of the flight.

Chaotic and violent.

He shut his eyes tight and waited for the moment to pass.

To distract him from the visions, he focused on practicalities.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows.

He was in a relatively flat field on the bottom of a slope. There was no sign of the jet or Speedy Johnson.

Twisting around, he saw a plume of black smoke rising beyond the hill.

Another image entered his mind.

Millie, wide-eyed, staring at him.

He searched the memory for a sign of forgiveness in those brown eyes. But he saw only terror.

An abject, appalling terror; the type only a condemned man knows.

He lay back down, not wanting to leave this place, not wanting to face reality.

The parachute continued to flap, drifting across the craggy land.

The birds continued their song.

Eventually, the sound of a vehicle engine carried across the field.

Reality was coming for him.

The vehicle stopped. A door slammed. A dog barked.

Rob remained on the ground. A black-and-white collie appeared over him and licked his face.

“Meg!” a voice said.

A man leaned over him.

“You’re alive then?”

Rob stared at him.

“Broken anything?”

“I don’t know.”

He propped himself up and again felt a pain in his lower back. He brought his knees up.

Both legs appeared to be in one piece.

His ribs ached, but nothing felt broken. With help from the farmer, he got up.

“Luckier than your friend, I’m afraid.” The farmer put an arm around Rob and walked him toward the Land Rover.

“I’m sorry?” Rob asked weakly.

“He’s over yonder.” The farmer pointed to the winding narrow road that ran along the bottom of the hill. “Still in his seat. Not a pretty sight, I’m afraid. All bent up. Hit the ground hard. Very nasty.”

“He’s dead?” Rob asked weakly.

“’fraid so.”

They got to the vehicle and Rob climbed in gingerly.

Meg jumped up and sat next to him. Rob put his hand on her neck. Soft and warm. She looked up at him, panting, with her tongue hanging out. It looked like she was smiling.

He gently stroked her, as she curled up on the bench seat.

The farmer drove slowly down the hill, speeding up when they got to a Tarmac road.

As they rounded the bend at the end of the