Plunge

"Walk with me," Noah intones. He wears a ragged cloak of patched animal furs and a pair of beaten leather moccasins. A pair of feathers dangles from a braid in his long black hair. The old man's flinty eyes pierce the shroud of the world, its secrets laid bare for him to see. The weathered staff he carries thumps lightly on the ground with each step he takes, leading me toward the forest.

"Easy, Warren," the captain's voice crackles from my headset. "Don't rush it."

As if that were possible in this piece of junk. Moving in the bomb suit is like wading through mud, and almost as fun. I waddle toward a solitary car on the evacuated street. The desert sun beats down onto the pavement. It's hot as the Devil's Hell in the suit. I'm practically baking inside the thing.

Other than the reddish dust blowing across the street, there is no movement here. No life. I feel like I'm walking on Mars, the world beyond the suit, some fever dream. All I can hear is my own labored breathing and the crunch of dust beneath my boots.

I lick my chapped lips. "What's the intel on this thing again?" I ask the captain.

"Unidentified explosive," his voice crackles. "Called in as an anonymous tip yesterday. The caller said it just appeared there overnight. Now we couldn't get a good look with the drone, so you'll have to visually ID it yourself. It could be anywhere in or on the vehicle."

"So I'm going in blind," I mutter. "Great..."

"Keep your head clear, Warren," the captain warns. "Just do your job and you'll make it back ok."

"Yes, sir."

The dream goes on. With every heavy footfall I come closer to the car. It's a beat up old thing, about as sinister as a kitten if you were just looking at it. But with what I know, it's become a death trap, a ticking time bomb. The Reaper howling my name.

A cold sweat breaks on my forehead and runs into my eyes, blurring my vision. I stop to rest next to the car.

Pine trees loom around me, providing welcome shade in the stifling summer heat. A stream trickles away in the distance, mingling with the songs of birds and the buzz of insects. Noah treads lightly in front of me. "

You know this place, Warren," he says to me over his shoulder. "You've been here before."

"I have..." I reply hesitantly. "But I'm still lost. Where are we?"

Noah stops and turns to me, planting his staff in the ground before him. "Tell me where we are."

"I just said I don't know-"

"You didn't listen. Tell me where we are." The shaman's gaze is intent but patient.

I look around and think. "Well, we're in the forest," I manage. "We're near some water. And we've been walking for a while, so I'd say we're a good ways in now."

Noah nods. "See? You're not so lost, are you, Warren?"

"Warren? Warren!" the captain's voice again. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just taking a breather, sir."

A sigh of frustration hisses through my headset. "We don't got all day. Get your ass in gear!"

"Yeah, er, yes, sir," I stammer. I blink away the sweat from my eyes and focus on the car once more.

With deliberate steps I circle the car to make a visual inspection. The sun blazes down on what probably used to be a shiny white paint job. Most of it has chipped off or darkened to a shade of dirty yellow by now. The metal showing underneath is rusted and warped. I'm surprised this thing can still move. It leans heavily on a flat tire. The whole machine seems to be sagging under its own weight. The windows are all broken. Inside all I see is the ripped, faded upholstery of the seats and a few crushed cans littering the floor. I lower myself down to the pavement and take a look at the undercarriage. A bunch of rusty car guts. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"No visual yet, sir," I report. "It's not anywhere on the exterior."

"Search the interior," orders the captain. "Carefully. We don't know the trigger for this thing yet."

"Yes, sir."

I go to the driver's side and ease my head through the broken window to check the inside of the door. The suit's helmet gets stuck half way, but I can see enough to tell there aren't any obvious devices attached to the door. I pull back out and grip the door handle.

Deep breath. Will this be my last...?

I lift the handle and pull back slowly. The rusty door shrieks in protest, but at least it doesn't explode.

"Entering the vehicle now," I relay.

A plume of dust flies into the air as I rest my knees on the edge of the driver's seat. The glove box hangs open crookedly, but all that's in there are some dusty papers and a few soiled napkins. I duck my head down to look under the two front seats: nothing. The back seats are clean, too. I pop the trunk and find only a spare tire. I pry the car radio from the front console, but even that's empty.

"It appears to be clean, sir," I say.

"Keep looking," he responds.

The captain always was a stubborn son of a bitch. But even he should know that tips like this are bullshit most of the time. Frustrated, hot, and tired, I plop down onto the driver's seat.

Click!

Oh fuck...

We cross the stream and Noah starts leading me up a steep, wooded incline. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, but there's still plenty of light left in the day.

After only a few minutes I'm huffing and puffing, each step a grueling challenge. The climb is so steep that sometimes I fall and slide a few feet down, but Noah is always there to help me up and keep me going. The shaman himself seems to glide up the mountain, his movements as graceful and effortless as a crane.

"How... do you... do that?" I ask between breaths as we rest.

"Do what?"

"Climb... like that... it's like... you're not even... trying." I wipe the sweat from my forehead and peer up at him.

"I do not fight the mountain," he says simply. "You, Warren, you fight the mountain. You struggle with it, teeth bared like a rabid dog. That is not the way. You must go with the mountain, not against it."

I don't know what the hell that means, and I don't have time to think about it because we're off again.

An eternity later, the trees fade away, the sky opens up, and we're standing on the edge of a sheer cliff facing west. The sun blazes on the horizon, painting cloud and rock alike a deep crimson. At the foot of the cliff lies a lake sparkling in the fading light. A hawk flies past and cries out, soaring toward the sun.

"Woah," I breath.

"Report," the captain's voice says. I thought Heaven was supposed to be paradise. Since when did Saint Peter let overbearing officer's throughthe Pearly Gates? Maybe I'm in Hell. But didn't I sacrifice my life for the greater good? Serving the country and all that? Not that getting blown up by some anonymous terrorist's bomb is particularly heroic, but shouldn't it count for something?

"Warren, report!"

I open my eyes.

I'm still in the car in the desert.

Oh. So I didn't die.

"I think I've engaged the bomb, sir," I say shakily. "I sat down in the driver's seat and heard a click. Probably a pressure mechanism in the seat itself."

A hiss of static comes from the headset. A cold pit of dread settles in my stomach.

"What are my orders, captain?" "You're going to have to get out of this one yourself, Warren," the captain states.

"Can't you send another guy in?" I ask frantically. The fear rises from my stomach into my heart, a jackhammer pounding in my chest. "This thing will explode if I move!"

"We don't know that," the captain says. "Plus, I can't risk another one of my men on this op. You're on your own. If you're fast enough you'll be able to get out of the blast radius."

How encouraging. "Yes, sir."

The fear has taken hold of my mind now, raised to a fever pitch of hysteria. Am I going to die? My breathing is so fast and hard now that it clouds the faceplate of the helmet. All I can see is a red haze. I'm rooted to the spot, paralyzed. I'm going to die here, in this fucking desert, because of some stubborn fucker who can't lead worth two shits. What happened to no man left behind? I'm going to die. A goddamn monkey would make a better officer.

But the monkey's not in charge, is he?

I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die...

Noah smiles at me and walks to the edge of the cliff. "Come," he beckons, his hand outstretched. As I walk to the edge, he puts his arm over my shoulder and points down toward the water. "That is your destination."

"But we just climbed all the way up here!" I protest. "My knees would probably give out on the way down. I need to rest first."

"That is the long way," he says. "There is an easier path."

I look at him incredulously. "You mean... Jumping?"

The shaman shakes his head. "Flying."

"You can't be serious," I chuckle. But when Noah fixes me with his piercing gaze, I know he's not joking. I wrench free from his grasp and step away from the cliff. "No," I say. "I can't fly. I don't know how!"

"You do."

"No, I don't" I argue. "I don't have wings, for Christ's sake!" "It is your spirit that must fly, not your body."

"Oh, this is fucking wonderful," I mutter. "I can't get away from this bullshit, not even in my daydreams! Fly...Yeah right. How the hell am I supposed to fly?"

"Only you can answer that question," Noah says. He waits by the cliff while I stomp around and curse. After a few minutes I sit down on a rock, defeated.

"I can't do it," I insist.

"So says every bird before its first flight. Yet every fledgling takes the plunge all the same. They jump with no hope of flight, but fly they do. They conquer their fear and soar."

"So... I just have to jump?"

Noah shrugs. "You could try. But you better hurry. The sun is setting."

He's right. The light fades from the land. The first stars wink into the night sky. I stand up and walk slowly to the edge of the cliff, peering over the edge. My heart races at the sight. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

This is crazy. I can't do this, can I? Throw myself off the edge? But is there any other way? Noah seems to believe in me. Maybe that's enough. Maybe it's like he said: conquer my fear.

All I have to do is jump...

"All you have to do is jump, Warren," I say to myself in the car, heart pounding. "All you have to do is jump. All you have to do is jump. All you have to do is jump!"

I roll to my left and push off the car with my hands and feet as hard as I can, landing face-first on the sidewalk.

Click!

Hellfire engulfs me, the deafening explosion ringing in my ears. A shower of debris pelts my back and legs, puncturing the suit and my skin ina few places. A jet of flame shoots above me. Thick, black smoke follows.

But I'm alive!

I roll over onto my back and watch the flaming husk of the car belch smoke into the air. I think of Noah's smile.

"That's how you fly," he whispers.