Carter jumped out of the pilot’s side of the cockpit as he glanced up at the airfield’s ancient control tower, made visible in the darkness only by a weak light. He then turned to the other members of his crew as they leapt out the side of the old bomber.
They appeared tired, but only Carter seemed exhausted.
“Let’s get those repairs done immediately,” he said. “Joe, you and the guys talk with the airfield’s manager and make sure we stay off their tower logs.”
Joe nodded as he and four others hurried off across the airfield. Their mechanic, Jeff, was already under the plane with a wrench in hand, tinkering with one of the bomber’s engines.
Carter turned back towards the pilot’s cockpit door and sighed. The gentle rain camouflaged the tears trickling down his cheeks, but neither it nor the night itself could conceal the terror conveyed in his moist eyes.
Months of planning and work. Weeks of preparation. He had examined and scrutinized every aspect of their escape plan. All contingencies accounted for—the perfect plan.
But Murphy’s Law was still in force.
Wiping his face, Carter regained his composure as he stepped around the decommissioned bomber and watched Jeff continue his work. Others observed in quiet admiration.
One of them looked a lot like Benny, Carter’s older brother.
He closed his eyes as he tried to push the thought out of his mind. He should have been there too, rather than trapped in a world where Carter was desperate to leave forever.
He couldn’t quite explain to himself, or others, what compelled him to go. It was like trying to point to a single raindrop in front of him to prove it was raining. On the surface, everything seemed fine. Infrastructure held up. Technology was still progressing. But humanity itself seemed gutted of its soul.
He had started to notice the problems as a teenager. Now twenty-five years old, he had seen enough. It wasn’t a handful of people. Everyone he encountered everywhere resembled nothing more than catatonic zombies.
Carter was determined to be different, only to find all his friends, family, and acquaintances equally determined to keep him thoroughly under their thumb until he complied with society’s unspoken marching orders. The more he refused, the more he suffered. His life was marked by one act of sabotage after another. He concluded that he lived in a democratic dictatorship where everyone was controlled, yet they also controlled someone else. His freedom came at the cost of liberty.
Carter glanced over at Jeff, whose gloved hands were now coated in oil. He was younger than Carter, as were all the others. Some were scarcely men. They had their own stories about why they were running away from everything, from society. From civilization itself.
But their reasons were at a lower level of the stratosphere compared to Carter. They had been pushed, but not over the edge. They were broke, but not brokenhearted. They were down on their luck, but not persecuted. They had nothing to lose, but nothing had been lost.
For them, Skyhaven was a place to take what was theirs. For Carter, it was to regain what had been taken from him.
Their restored bomber, Providence, was the means of getting there.
Joe and the crew accompanying him were tiny silhouettes as they left the traffic control tower and returned to the plane. Flashlights revealed content smiles on their faces.
“We won’t have any problems,” he told Carter.
“Good. Let’s get the plane refueled and ready to go.”
Several of them retrieved the fuel truck and drove it over to Providence, connecting the gas hose as one of them checked the fuel gauge in the cockpit.
Now back in the pilot’s seat, Carter pulled a fragile typed document from the inside of his leather jacket and tore the wet gloves off his hands as he unfolded it.
Finding it amongst his grandfather’s old belongings had been almost providential, and inadvertently the inspiration for the bomber’s new name. That day, Carter had nearly reached a breaking point after losing his job due to a backstabbing colleague. Instead, he had come across the handwritten document behind a portrait of his grandfather, a bush pilot, describing a place he had come across high in the clouds known as Skyhaven.
His grandfather’s description, complete with the exact coordinates, was fantastical: a massive, perpetually floating airfield where men of adventure could go. The men running it had offered his grandfather to join them.
He had turned them down. He had a girl back down on the ground, wanting to marry him. Carter’s grandmother had died before he was born, but having read his grandfather’s diary entries, he understood why he had come back for her.
Nothing kept Carter grounded. If the choice was fight or flight, he chose the latter.
All he needed was a plane.
Once more, the circumstances by which he discovered the bomber plane had been nothing less than providential. A chance encounter had led him to befriend Jeff, who worked at a junkyard where the aircraft had been left to rot. He had long wished to restore it but lacked the money.
Carter had emptied his life savings to make that dream a reality. Surveying the fully refurbished cockpit, he believed it had been worth every penny.
A muffled cry came from outside.
Carter dropped down and rushed over to find Jeff crawling up from beneath the plane, pointing off into the distance where a mixture of flashing car headlights and sirens greeted them. Jeff held his wrench as if prepared to fend them off with it.
“We good to go?” Joe asked.
“We’re taking our chances in the air,” Jeff said.
Joe signaled to the others, and they began climbing into the side of the plane as Carter and Jeff climbed back into the cockpit.
Gunshots rang out from the cop cars, slapping against the plane’s thick exterior. Jeff yanked out a handgun and fired back, a desperate look in his eye. The cops were there for him, and him alone. The plane technically belonged to the junkyard. But for Jeff, the aircraft was now theirs. Carter’s money had bought the parts, and Jeff’s secret nighttime efforts had brought Providence back from the dead.
The propellers spun until they were invisible, even with the navigation lights on, as Carter steered the plane around to face a long strip of runway. He displayed more confidence in his flying abilities than he had. His grandfather’s old pilot manuals had been helpful, but reading about it couldn’t compare to doing it.
The cop cars hovered around the plane as if waiting for a wounded prey to succumb before devouring it. Carter was tempted to steer the aircraft their way and force them off the runway, but it wasn’t worth the risk. The cops could afford to make mistakes. If they slipped up, everything they had worked for would be lost.
They tried to keep up, but once Providence gained speed, they pulled back and drove toward one of the hangars near the traffic control tower.
“You think they’ll pursue?” Jeff asked as Carter brought the control yoke towards his chest and the bomber plane lifted off the ground. He didn’t answer until they reached the highest altitude he dared. Though they bundled up well in thick coats and gloves, the plane was still unpressurized, and Carter had run out of funds before they could buy oxygen masks.
“The cops won’t,” Carter said. “But I expect a pursuit.”
Jeff glared ahead. “Why can’t they just leave us be?”
Carter shrugged. “Because if we can do it, others can. Then the whole system falls apart.”
Jeff put away his handgun and studied the instrument panel, running his finger along the gauges as the engine RPMs slightly fluctuated. Of all the men in Carter’s company, the freckle-faced redhead beside him was the one Carter understood the most. Jeff had the potential to be a great mechanic, but he had also been given a life script he refused to read.
Someone called from further down the plane.
“We got trouble on our six!”
“What?”
“Fighter planes! Coming in hot!”
Jeff’s face went pale. “The guns don’t work. Even if they did, we have no ammo.”
Carter took out the coordinates to Skyhaven and handed them to Jeff. “You’ll have to guide me. I always had a poor sense of direction.”
“What about Joe?”
Carter grabbed the antiquated headset for the intercom system. “He needs to call out the fighters.”
Jeff swallowed loudly and then studied the document as they both instinctively strapped on their parachutes —the last thing Carter had bought before running out of funds —then tightened their restraining harnesses.
The next hour was a constant state of crisis. Carter’s ears were continuously filled with warnings from Joe about a fighter on their tail, firing off a few shots to steer them off course, or instructions from Jeff on how to get back on course after he had successfully evaded one of their bogies. His hands shook as they gripped the control yoke, though the truth was his whole body trembled with the fear of failing those now entirely dependent on his ability to make the right call. He fought back hesitation each time he banked hard or climbed abruptly, keeping the fighters guessing at his next move. He knew they weren’t suicidal; they wouldn’t risk crashing into the bomber.
“How far out are we?” Carter asked Jeff.
Jeff glanced up from the coordinates. “We still have a ways to go.”
Joe called on the intercom. A fighter was closing on their six.
“He’s going to try to shoot out our rudder, so we have to land,” Jeff said.
Carter banked to the left, then to the right. The control yoke felt like it was resisting him, as if it had a mind of its own. He gazed out at the cockpit canopy, straining to see beyond the rainfall dripping down the glass.
A terrible sound pierced their ears as a fighter soared past them, then slowed down as if to taunt them.
Carter then looked in horror as bullets ripped into their left side engine. He abruptly turned to prevent further damage, sending men throughout the plane against the wall. More bullets slapped into the left wing.
Jeff got out of his seat and peered through the canopy, assessing the engine damage. Smoke visibly billowed from it, but he calmed down as he inspected the gauges.
“It’s holding,” he said. “For now.”
“At this speed, how much longer before we reach Skyhaven?” Carter asked.
“An hour.”
Carter sighed and shook his head as he grabbed his intercom headset and spoke into it firmly. “Guys, here’s the situation: If they score a hit, we have to land. If you want out, now’s the time to bail. They don’t know who is on the plane besides Jeff…but I’m only leaving this plane alive when we land at Skyhaven.”
There was a long pause, and only the soft hum of the plane’s engines could be heard.
Joe’s voice came across the intercom.
“It’s Skyhaven or bust,” he said, and a loud cheer rose from the young men around him.
Carter couldn’t help but smile as he acknowledged the response and climbed the plane higher in an act of defiance against the fighter still on their tail.
Suddenly, the control yoke lost tension as the plane began to shake violently.
“What’s going on?” Carter asked.
Jeff turned pale. “The control cables to the elevator assembly have been damaged. If we don’t fix it, we’ll have to land or else crash.”
Carter looked out his side-view window to see the modern fighter plane now parallel to them. They couldn’t see the pilot who had undoubtedly inflicted the catastrophic wound. But they could hear his arrogant voice on the radio.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you on the ground. See you soon.”
With that, the fighter swerved sharply to the left and disappeared into one of the storm clouds.
Jeff left his seat, snatching his toolbox. “I’ve got to repair the damage. Set a timer. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, you have to land.”
“Give me your gun.”
Puzzled, Jeff nevertheless complied.
“I’ll land the plane if I have to,” Carter said.
“What’s the gun for?”
“For after I land. I’m not going back.”
Jeff nodded and then ran out of the cockpit, leaving Carter to deal with his demons alone. He set the handgun aside, fighting to keep them on a stable trajectory as he regularly checked the timer.
He wouldn’t risk it. The moment they were safely on the ground, there was no hesitation as to what must be done. The alternative was both unthinkable and predictable. He’d be arrested, only to be bailed out by high-power attorneys in his extended family on condition that he be under their legal custody. The prescription drugs to numb his sensibilities would come immediately after. Before the last vestige of his sanity was erased, he’d be set up with a job and a wife that would ensure such an escape would never happen again.
He checked the timer.
Fourteen minutes.
For the remaining time, he dreamed of Skyhaven. For all he knew, it might not even exist. But that didn’t matter; he had now tasted freedom. Skyhaven was real now, if only in his heart.
A triumphant cheer came from the fuselage as Carter regained control of the plane, wiping his face. The celebratory noise ceased as Joe entered the cockpit.
The look on his face said it all.
“Did he yank his chute?” Carter asked in a soft voice.
“I didn’t see. It happened so fast. His safety rope got caught and cut loose.”
If the plane’s bomb bay had been loaded, Carter might have turned back for revenge. But there was no time. The fighters would soon realize what had happened and come back.
He handed Joe the coordinates as he sat down in Jeff’s old seat.
“Let’s hope it was worth it,” Carter uttered.
As the flight continued, he refused to look at the fuel gauge. He resigned himself to whatever providence had planned. However, Jeff’s fate left him questioning.
They were passing through a thick cloud as the radio came alive.
“Unidentified aircraft, this is Skyhaven. Do you copy?”
Carter and Joe exchanged stunned looks as the radio repeated itself. Carter then responded.
“This is Providence requesting permission to land at Skyhaven.”
The pause before the response was as pregnant as an expecting mother.
“Roger, Providence. We’ve been expecting you. Follow my coordinates, and we’ll get you landed shortly.”
Once more, the two men in the cockpit exchanged glances, this time full of bewilderment. How could Skyhaven know they were coming? Had they been set up somehow? Impossible. His grandpa’s entries had been from decades ago, and Carter had only told the others about it right before takeoff.
Joe seemed to read Carter’s mind as he pointed at the fuel gauge. “We don’t have a choice, regardless.”
Heeding the air traffic controller's instructions, Providence soared through the black clouds with zero visibility, with nothing but a voice and numbers to guide them.
Then they saw lights appear on a runway ahead. Carter reduced speed, activating the landing wheels as they crept closer. As soon as he felt them touch the ground, he activated the wing flaps and braked firmly. It was his first landing, but he was eerily calm, as if he had done it countless times before.
A somber cheer came from the others as the plane came to a definitive halt. Turning off the plane, Carter took the coordinates document back from Joe and stuffed it in his pocket as he opened the pilot’s door.
Jumping out, he gazed up in awe as he saw thick steel cables attached to the airfield rising into the clouds. He could scarcely see them, but there was no mistaking the massive airships, devoid of gondolas, keeping them afloat.
Ahead of them, there was a series of large hangars crowded with planes, all dwarfed by a tall building behind them. From it emerged a group of men whose appearances were blurred by the night storm.
One man broke from the group and approached Carter. He was tall, dressed in a pilot’s jacket, and had a broad smile on his face, shared by those behind him.
“Welcome to Skyhaven,” he said. “I’m the airport manager, Ebenezer Sterling—but please, call me Ben.”
Trying to appear excited despite the sorrow etched on his face, Carter’s voice trembled as he spoke the man’s name and shook his hand.
“How did you know we were coming?” he asked.
Ben stepped aside to reveal a tired, but happy Jeff. He was covered in mud and still wearing his parachute gear. The crew of the Providence cried out in joy as they ran up to him, now in Carter’s embrace.
“How did you survive?” Carter asked.
“One of their planes spotted us. They saw me fall and picked me up from the ground before the cops arrived.”
“Thankfully, the area he landed on was large enough for us to take off,” Ben said.
“Come, let’s get you all settled in.”
“We appreciate the friendly welcome,” Carter said.
Ben gave him an amused grin. “It’s what my grandfather did for yours. You look just like his photo. I’m glad you took up his offer to come here.”
The two groups of men merged into one as they began shuffling across the airfield and into the main building.
Carter lingered behind for a while. The gentle rain once again camouflaged the tears on his face, though this time he made no effort to hide them. He gazed back toward Providence, then crossed the field as if walking up the path to his own home.
For the first time in his life, he knew what that felt like.
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