Flying Home

The window was open just enough to let in the smell of gasoline. That in of itself wasn’t enough to wake Flynn up, who’d spent the entire day driving up and down town, completing errands and generally trying to get the house ready. No, what made him bolt upright in his and Hollyn’s bed was the sound of an incoming plane.

“Hell?” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and glanced over at the digital clock on Hollyn’s dresser. Quarter till four. He lay back down and waited for the plane to finish flying overhead. The bed was covered in rose petals and there was a white chocolate cake in the fridge. Hollyn’s favorite. Flynn had to be at the airport in a few hours to pick her up. He was hoping to get lucky. After nearly a year of having the bed to himself, Flynn needed to get lucky.

He waited and waited while staring at the ceiling. Yet the plane’s engine kept on blaring through the sky. If anything it sounded closer now.

“You can’t be serious!”

Cursing under his breath, Flynn swung his feet over onto the floor and stood up. He went over to the window, forced it all the way open, and popped his head outside. He and Hollyn lived in a small house in a cul-de-sac. She had inherited it from her grandmother (out of respect to her they had left her collection of garden dwarves on the front lawn). Flynn looked back and forth. None of their neighbors had their lights on. Other than a pair of lampposts on either side of the cul-de-sac, it was a dark night. No moon, and too many clouds for stars.

Flynn looked straight up just in time to see a jet plane flying overhead. It sailed over the house and soared straight up into the sky. It performed a few spirals and loop de loops before turning back around. Flynn watched with his mouth partly open as the plane’s landing gear extended outward and it made its way down the street. It came to a halt in the middle of the cul-de-sac.

Flynn stared at it, and then looked around again. He was fully expecting the dogs to start acting up and people to star rushing out of their front doors. Yet no one came out, and after the pilot killed the plane’s engine, the night was dead silent.

Flynn ducked back inside, forced his shoes on, and ran through the house. He practically jumped out the front door and across the front steps. He’d fully expected the plane to disappear by the time he got outside. Yet it was still here. Practically on his front lawn.

Wait ‘till I tell, Holly! he thought giddily.

“Hey!” he called out, as the pilot pushed open the glass cockpit. “That was amazing!”

They dropped down onto the pavement and then patted the plane affectionately as one might a loyal pet. They wore a baggy, green jumpsuit underneath a bulky jacket, and a white helmet with a tinted visor and the bottom half of their face concealed by an oxygen mask. Singed patches adorned their shoulders, with the rest of their uniform looking similarly frayed. Again, the smell of gasoline filled the air and this time Flynn noticed.

It made him stop mid-step on his way over to the plane and its pilot and think: Something bad’s about to happen.

The pilot reached up and began undoing the straps of their oxygen mask. It took them a few tries, their hands seemed to be trembling, yet the mask finally came off. For a fraction of a second Flynn saw only white bone and teeth beneath the helmet, but then he blinked and they were replaced by full lips and a dimpled chin.

“H-how?” he whispered as the pilot slid off their helmet.

Her reddish-brown hair was done up in a bun, revealing large blue eyes and a thin face covered in a constellation of freckles. Strands of hair clung to her sweaty brow, and she was paler than she had been during her last visit home, but Flynn was still left awestruck.

And then Hollyn smiled and a dimple appeared on each cheek. Along with the one on her chin, Flynn called them the Bermuda Triangle; they made it impossible to not get lost in her smile. 

Flynn didn’t remember moving. Only reaching her, grabbing her, and crashing his lips across hers. She tossed the helmet away and the visor shattered when it struck the road. She cupped Flynn’s face with gloved hands and returned the kissed hungrily, desperately, until Flynn was pressing her against the side of the plane. Only then did she pull back and dip her head. Even then he peppered her forehead with kisses.

“You’re here,” he laughed between each kiss. “You’re really here!” Kiss. “How?!”

“Flynn,” Hollyn said, her voice heavy. “Flynn, stop, please-”

“I was supposed to pick you up in the morning,” Flynn inquired. He gave her left temple another kiss and then looked up at the plane with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Since when does the air force let you borrow toys?” He reached up and touched the plane’s side. The night was crisp, yet the metal was warm against his open palm. “Did you fly all the way here from Afghanistan?”

“No,” Hollyn said and then shook her head. “Kind of.”

“THIS IS AWESOME!” Flynn laughed like a little kid. “Holly…” He shook his head and smiled down at his girlfriend. “You’re awesome.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. “I missed you.”

A small, pained sound escaped Hollyn’s lips.

“Flynn, I need to tell you something,” she said, her bottom lips quivering.

“Oh, you mean that I’m dreaming?” Flynn guessed. He shrugged. “Kind of guessed as much. I mean, I’m not stupid. With gas prices the way they are now, there’s no way you could afford to fly this thing here.”

Hollyn smiled despite herself.

“You’re an idiot,” she sighed prettily. “And you’re not having a dream.”

“Ah,” Flynn said. “Nightmare then?”

Hollyn didn’t answer. Instead she gently pushed the both of them off the plane and took Flynn’s hand. She led him towards the house and smiled at her grandmother’s garden dwarves. “Hey, Doc,” she said with a lopsided smile as they crossed the yard. “Dopey, Bashful-”

“Hey, what about the freaking plane?” Flynn asked, glancing over his shoulder at it.

“It’s not leaving without me,” Hollyn answered coolly.

They reached the house. Flynn had left the front door open. Hollyn stepped inside and flipped the nearby switch on the wall, causing the light bulb of the ceiling fan to flicker on. While they had left most of the house’s exterior the same as Hollyn’s grandmother had left it, they had nearly completely renovated the interior. A musty couch had been replaced by a pair of lazy chairs in the middle of the living room, facing a large television. A large bookcase containing Flynn’s ample collection of movies, games, and novels was against one wall, while a small shrine of academic and sports trophies from Hollyn’s high school years leaned against the other. There were also framed medals and pictures of her in uniform adorning the walls.

Hollyn stopped, peeked into the spotless kitchen, and then sniffed the air.

“Smells like at least…five different kinds of air fresheners. Let me guess,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Flynn. “You spent all of the last two days scrubbing this place up and down hoping I wouldn’t figure out you’d turned it into your multi-room man cave the whole time I’ve been deployed.”

Flynn bit his lower lip.

“…No.”

Hollyn raised an eyebrow.

He pointed towards the kitchen.

“I got cake,” he tried.

“White chocolate?” Hollyn asked. Flynn nodded. She chuckled and sat down in the nearest lazy chair. Flynn looked at her, chanced another glance at the plane still outside, and then sat next to her in the other chair. Hollyn reached up and undid her bun, allowing her red hair to fall across her shoulders as she leaned back. “I wouldn’t mind dying here,” she said sleepily and then yawned.

“I’m confused,” Flynn said, reaching over and taking her hand.

She smiled sideways at him. “Gee, what a shocker,” she laughed gently. Her smile died and she squeezed his hand tightly. “Flynn, I…I lost. I lost the big game. And now you’re gonna have to go on playing without me.”

Flynn frowned at her.

“You’re not making any sense, Holly.”

Hollyn exhaled deeply. “Flynn, in a few hours a man is gonna stop by. He’s gonna have a letter. He’s gonna pretend to be sorry, even though he never knew me. Or how much I loved you. He’s going to tell you things that are going to break your heart, maybe even destroy you. And then he’s gonna walk away and leave you alone in this house. Alone, without anybody to stop you from…”

Hollyn sat forward and turned in the chair so that she was directly facing Flynn. She reached out and took his other hand in hers.

“But that’s why I’m here,” she whispered. “Because maybe if I’m the one to tell you, there’s a chance you’ll be okay. That you won’t do anything stupid.”

She brought his hands up to her lips and kissed them, peppering Flynn’s knuckles with tears. “Flynn, my plane was gunned down yesterday. My parachute malfunctioned. I’m dead, baby. I’m dead.”

Her words crashed down upon Flynn’s soul, like a guillotine. His brain screamed that she was lying. She was here! He was looking at her, touching her! They were both sitting together in the living room, the same way they always had, sometimes watching cheesy reality shows or playing games together, or cuddling in the dark, loving one another. Loving one another until the day-

“You died,” Flynn said numbly.

Hollyn looked up and Flynn finally saw what his brain had refused to acknowledge.

It was Hollyn. His Hollyn. But there was another Hollyn nested underneath. Through her freckled cheeks, nose, and lips, he could see her skull. At first it was only yellowed-white, but the longer Flynn looked, the more charred and blackened the bone became. The collar of her jacket was torn to shreds while her suit was little more than charred fabric clinging to a broiled skeleton. The smell and taste of gasoline filled Flynn’s nose and mouth. His eyes began to water as he struggled not to gag.

And still he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her ruined mouth.

He felt warm, soft flesh that tasted like strawberries. The foul smell went away letting Flynn breathe. He opened his eyes. Hollyn, whole and pretty and crying, had climbed over onto his lap. “Flynn,” she breathed, eyes half-closed, “I have to go now.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I’m not supposed to be here in the first place,” she murmured. “But…but I couldn’t go on without flying home and saying goodbye.”

“I’ll go with you,” Flynn said.

“No.” Hollyn’s voice was a deep, guttural growl. For a moment the blackened skull returned with billowing smoke for hair. But then Hollyn took a deep breath and became herself again. “No,” she said more calmly. “We’ll do it the other way around. I’ll wait for you, dummy. Live for both of us until then.”

She slid off his lap and back onto her feet. She then jogged into the kitchen, opened and closed the fridge, and came back with the cake. “You mind?” she asked, flashing the Bermuda Triangle.

“Can you even eat it?” Flynn asked without thinking.

Hollyn shrugged.

“For sentimental value if I can’t.”

“Can I…?” Flynn swallowed hard. “Should I tell people about this?”

“Nope,” Hollyn said. “People will think you’re crazy. Can’t really live life for us if you’re in the crazy house.” Before he could respond she grabbed him by the arm and tugged him up onto his feet. “Come on. See me out.”

Flynn allowed himself to be pulled over to the door and across the threshold.

The fire show outside was just getting good. The fire had spread across the plane’s cockpit and ballooned upwards, covering its wings and nose in flames. The wings squealed as they buckled under the heat. And then the engine exploded, sending smoking pieces of shrapnel through the air and into the surrounding lawns. Like a desperate beast the fire reached up into the starless sky with orange hands.

“Hollyn,” Flynn said, “You’re not getting back into that thing-”

She kissed him.

And then walked away, towards her burning plane.

“Hollyn!” Flynn cried. He desperately reached out to try and take her back but this time his hand went right through. “Please don’t leave me!”

“Don’t think of it as leaving,” she said, looking over her shoulder and winking at him. “I’m just going on an extended flight.”

Flynn collapsed to his knees and watched her go. Watched her first go over and retrieve her helmet. The visor’s pieces came together as she slipped the helmet back on. Hollyn then went over and hauled herself back onto her plane. Its flames didn’t touch her or the cake, even as she jumped into the cockpit. For a short piece of eternity, she stood there, staring up into the sky, a green silhouette against the hungry light.

And then Hollyn yanked the dome back down and settled into the cockpit. The plane shuddered violently as, against all odds, its engine wheezed back to life. Flynn watched her plane circle around the cul-de-sac, pick up speed, and finally ascend upwards, where it became the one and only star he could see…

“Sir?”

Flynn blinked repeatedly and looked around. He’d been sleeping against the front door, hugging himself. The light of dawn filled the sky and curled around a stern-faced man in an air force uniform. His hat was tucked under one arm.

He was holding a letter.