Above him was the black void of eternal space…peppered with glistening dots of sheer light and streaking brilliance. The clouds below, and on either side, resembled a soft blanket of wispy cotton intermittently torn and alternating with the azure blue sky below. They offered no resistance to the forward motion of the dull black object that was the aircraft, a sleek,ominous sharpened blade of super sonic Teflon ca
pable of traversing miles of airspace in literally fractions of any given second. At the helm of this technological wonder was the pilot-astronaut Black Devil. It was the military moniker of the man behind the wheel…the lone occupant of this super duper flying machine. There in the cramped quarters of the cockpit was a solitary man clad in what was humorously referred to as his Sunday go to meetin’ lunar tux…that is, his airsuit. It was a somewhat annoying collection of oxygen hoses that provided a closed system of purified air housed in the body of the craft.
The air supply connected to the suit at the lower back and also in the front on the helmet’s face shield. An instrument panel glowing a dark orange reflected onto the visor of the pilot distorting the features of the man called Black Devil.
His vehicle was one of a mere handful of similar stealth airships capable of such high speed and stellar altitudes. His current mission,Operation Moose and Squirrel, was like many of his previous missions. It involved taking pictures of locations and things that were deemed sensitive by those higher-ups in the Defense Department. In laymen’s terms he was photographer in charge of a high-tech camera taking pictures from high above the earth. The information he gathered was important, but only a privileged few ever laid eyes upon the data collected. It was to aid the decision-making, strategy-forming process that took place routinely behind closed doors in the Pentagon’s proverbial smoke-filled war room. Although the craft was a powerful weapon of its kind. It carried no offensive weaponry to inflict destruction on a specified
target, and furthermore, it possessed no defensive mechanisms. It packed no heat simply because it needed none. Nothing in the sky, jet or missile could overtake it. When in flight above the clouds, silently cruising on the edge of earth’s atmosphere, occupying that thin line between heaven and hell, the Black Devil, alone and unmatched, was his own deity. Hey,nobody up here but us gods. It was the posture he took.
Attitude…altitude…exhilaration…acceleration. Perception was the key word in this situation. In this celestial isolation, 100,000 feet, 2,000+ miles per hour,
Zooming through the ether, one perceives the world and its members, inhabitants of the clay, rock and dirt, as much smaller. They seem less significant than if one were staring across the suburban backyard of the neighbor grilling weenies and ground beef on a Sunday afternoon in the Spring. Yet that is presumably the military mission.
To preserve such traditional American freedoms. Despite the insistence that he must serve his country and subserve to the commander-in-chief or profess allegiance to the flag, that as not the actuality. His purpose was to preserve the stability that he had worked toward for his
family…for those he loved on the ground. If happiness was attainable by photographing the faceless ants on a foreign anthill, then so be it. If security could be had by shining a super keen flashlight on the other guy’s weenie roast, then warm up the hypersonic station wagon honey.
The assimiliation of the two roles of stealthmeister and good ol’ dad was at times difficult to do. What do the immortals do when God takes away the car keys? One must play ball with the movers and shakers of national security, and Black Devil knew it as well as anyone. One does not attain this kind of responsibility without demonstrating one’s allegiance to the company.
He was not without his own sin however. Black Devil was of value to the powers that be and that knowledge bestowed a sense of superiority about himself over other men. I am one of the elite. The privileged…I am possessor of Excaliber, the weapon of kings…of gods. It had the power to change the heart and mind of the occupant. It had the power to make him believe in his own immortality and to scoff at the pitiful existence of all others below. I am master of all I survey. These thoughts had crossed his mind and this assumption had never been challenged, and so it was the posture he assumed. Supreme manipulator of the Deus Ex Machina.
There were times when it seemed too easy to cheat time and space. His craft was truly a technological marvel, effectively shrinking the world and the universe. Another piece of cake, he thought as he adjusted the bright array of lights on the controls. His ascent was complete and all that was left was a silent cruise for the next hour. It would again be uneventful. It always was. Black Devil selected a tape from a small collection of classical music he kept in the cockpit. He quickly selected Tchaikowsky and inserted it into the player that fed into his head gear. No radio. No noise…save the violin concerto now beginning in his ears. Black Devil relaxed now and leaned back to rest while the stealth machine did it’s work on autopilot.
Taking it’s pictures. Protecting his country in it’s own inimitable style.
Black Devil smiled and closed his eyes and mused to himself look ma, no hands. He just slightly noticed the discomfort in his belly and blamed the snack he had before takeoff for the pain. He listened for a few minutes and again noticed that the feeling had not subsided. A momentary panic struck him as he reminded himself how embarrassing it would be for the stealth lord Black Devil
to return to base with soiled underpants. He was trying earnestly to wipe the thought out of his mind when it suddenly happened. Within the confines of his airsuit and not heard by another living soul, Black Devil cut one. A bonafide storyteller might refer to it as a real trouser flapper. He passed gas with a loud resounding razz. The sound was only surpassed by the accompanying rank odor escaping from himself into his airsuit and helmet. He probably would have expressed a sigh of relief had he still been conscious, but his eyes shut tighter and he began to drift into unconsciousness. His head was swimming as a result of the release of the noxious gas from his own body. As he went under he heard the violin fade out and then there was nothing.
#
The moment arrived when Black Devil finally awoke. He quickly opened his eyes to gather information about what had actually happened, and a flash of remembrance as to where he was penetrated the fog in his brain. What had happened? What foolish nonsense had transpired? Questions quick fired in his mind, but also the realization of something very wrong. What was missing?… he thought. And then it hit him as to what it was. The constant hum of his dual turbojets was gone, and along with it, the forward motion that defined the power of his craft. Black Devil surveyed his surroundings…soft,billowy cloud formations as thick as pea soup fog. And in the midst of it, his craft held…seemingly suspended in the clouds…absolutely motionless. His eyes skimmed over his instrument panel checking the airspeed altimeter, his gyro-pilot.tachometer.compass. All were dead. What in the hell?, he thought. He collected his thoughts and reasoned that he at least was alive and so far in no danger of falling out of the sky. As crazy as it seemed, he and his wondrous craft were hanging in thin air with no visible means od support. Could this be some cruel joke?, he thought. But there was no laughing. No wizard behind the curtain exposing the charade. No candid camera. No comrades in the closet waiting to pop out and yell surprise. What could he do? There was nothing to do but sit and hope. One thing was sure. There was no need to open up the cockpit and stick out his thumb.
His confusion turned to concern when all at once, in the distance, he heard a loud thunderous thud followed by another that echoed in the clouds. It sent a shudder through the Black Devil. He felt his aircraft move as if nudged by something unknown and he became nervous.
He could not radio for help. Even if he could what would he tell them? I’m just stuck in the sky here. The thunderous quakeing in the air persisted in jarring the plane like a continuous tide against a nearby shore. Still the craft sprung back like a puppet awaiting further instructions – trapped and held in the grasp of thin air. He rationalized that some foreign power could be behind it. Perhaps some top top secret defense weapon –counter espionage, anti-stealth…some kind of giant fly swatter. His thoughts were racing. What to do? Ejection? Was that in the manual? Maybe if he knew where he was but unfortunately…location unknown. Altitude unknown. Stay put… he thought…for the time being. Suddenly there was a calm. The rocking blows ceased and he thought that perhaps the worst was over. He momentarily mused that he wished he could disconnect his airsuit, open the hatch and climb out on the hood to see what the hold up was. In every horror movie he’d ever seen looking for trouble was never a good idea. But this was no horror movie. This was Black Devil of the United States Air Force. There was no fear, however there was no reason to invite danger. What if this was some screwball UFO abduction? That possibility was not very inviting, only if he made it home later. Poke me with your probes…just when you’re finished drop me off at the nearest all-night grocery with a quarter to phone home. What a joke he thought. That would be some kind of de-briefing session. He could live out his days selling his story to the tabloids and lecturing at every UFO convention in the country.
From out of the silence, barely discernible, he swore he could hear something again. A creaking noise outside.
No, not a creaking or a squeaking… it was a scratching…a gentle scratching from behind on his plane. There was no way to see. His vision was limited to straight ahead out his cockpit window. In his confinement there was nothing to do. The scratching grew more pronounced as if some long, jagged fingernails were digging into the hull of his craft.
More like claws though as in predator. The possibilities were, at this point, endless. His imagination took over. Reality was breaking down. He compared his predicament with that of the great adventurers of myth. Is this what happened when Jason went looking for the Golden Fleece? Unimaginable creatures rising up out of nowhere to foil his mission. Damn! Pilots see things all the time. They bring back wild stories about things in the sky. What was the tall tale during World War I? Gremlins…evil little creatures attaching themselves to wings… fouling up engines...terrorizing pilots with impish glee.
If a plane crashed back then gremlins were to blame. All of this seemed crazy until the footsteps came clunking up behind him atop the fuselage of his craft.
#
If Black Devil had expected to see a human figure peering down into his cockpit, he was most seriously disappointed. The burning red eyes that stared back at him sent a chill down his spine and put a lump in his throat the size of a tennis ball. He clamped his eyelids shut for a moment and then opened them to check his sanity. Could it be a bizarre reflection… a trick of light? Black Devil had no choice but to accept what his eyes revealed to him just a few feet away from his face separated only by the shell of his cockpit. The creature leaped from behind and landed squarely on the front of the cockpit window giving Black Devil full view of the nightmarish thing toying with his craft.
The thing was grey with scaled flesh and clawed appendages and bat-like wings stretching some thirty feet from end to end. It reminded Black Devil of a gargoyle. It was larger than any human figure he had ever seen. It peered inside and examined the figure inside the craft with a hungry curiousity. The thing stared with seeming delight at the passenger inside the cramped quarters as a cat would eye a bird in a cage. Black Devil estimated the winged creature to be fifteen to twenty feet tall with satanic reptilian features. A green oozing substance covered portions of its grey body giving it the look of something spat from hell.
It was terrifyingly clear that death was close at hand and was delayed only by the thickness of his cockpit window. Black Devil feared that the creature could, if so inclined, easily punch a hole in the window. The perspiration formed quickly on his brow. He chanted silently to himself to stay calm. He reasoned that any movement might further agitate the brutish demon. Black Devil considered the effect of his handgun on the twenty foot monster. That’s a negative…that would be like a bb gun on a grizzly bear. On the other hand his flare gun might do the trick. Black Devil could hear the raspy breath of the demon through the glass. He could hear the slow flapping of its wings. His only hope would be to remain motionless and just pray the thing would lose interest and fly away. But where would it fly to? Where was it from and as a secondary consideration what was the connection between the apparent malfunction of his craft and the full blown demon hitchhiking on its hood? Was this demon responsible for halting his plane in mid-flight? Maybe so but probably not, he thought. If it had that kind of power then its brutish strength was not the only thing to worry about. The creature, if not from hell could certainly pass for one of its residents. My, my… what a picture to bring back home. An honest-to-God demon right out of the burning pits of hell. Yeah, this is one of the very demons that Jesus warned us about so long ago. Yeah, Black Devil meets Grey Demon.
The critical moment seemed to have arrived when a decision had to be made. Black Devil slowly reached for his flare gun and wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the ejection seat release. He braced himself for the force of the ensuing thrust. Suddenly…inexplicably, the creature leapt from the craft and disappeared into the milky mist of the clouds. Black Devil was puzzled for the moment and elated at the same time. He had not expected such a hasty retreat from his attacker. He breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps the whole thing was coming to an end. His strategy had worked he thought. Just lay low and bore the thing into disinterest. Now he assumed that this was the part where his craft slowly begins to move and all instruments begin to function normally. All systems go. He released his grip on the ejector and relaxed his muscles as best he could. The adrenalin was still pumping in anticipation of the battle and he didn’t know how much more of the nightmare he could take. Somebody punch me and wake me up please. He began wishing for that fictitious flying saucer to pull up along side and wisk him away from the whole bloody mess. He missed the music from before… the soothing violin filling his headset. He mused that when he got back on the ground he would retire the name Black Devil and maybe change it to Big Daddy. Something down to earth… light and funny. The wife and the kids would love that. If he did survive this thing he vowed to make some changes. If he opened his mouth about this episode in the sky his superiors would probably make those changes for him regardless. He thought instead that he would keep it to himself and maybe get that desk job.
#
It was the distinctive moan of buckling metal and the abrupt tilt of the craft that alerted Black Devil that his demonic companion had returned to taunt him. Looking to the right he saw the winged creature plop back down on the side of his cockpit and ,with one grand swipe, dig its claws into the window just barely protecting Black Devil. To his horror he heard the crackle of glass as the windshield shattered. Adding to his disbelief to his left he saw another winged monster light onto the left wing and then still another quickly flying out of the clouds toward the nose of the craft.
The first creature peeled back the super alloy around the broken glass, reached in and yanked him from the cockpit. As he was lifted from his seat by the powerful arm, he cradled the flare gun to his chest and seconds later heard the oxygen hoses snap in two. He screamed as the demon dangled him in the air forcing him to stare ever so deep into its evil sardonic face. He saw all hope vanish when the other two creatures together rocked the disintegrating plane back and forth like some celestial seesaw and began tearing holes in the hull as if it were tissue paper. In a last act of desperation Black Devil took aim with the flaregun and fired point blank at his would be executioner hitting it squarely in the face. The impact of the flare did nothing, barely phasing the hellish brute. This was the moment of truth and Black Devil knew what came next.
As the creature let loose with a victorious roar, Black Devil closed his eyes and in silent resignation helplessly sent a prayer out to God… The Father…The Son…The Deliverer… to whatever was out there.
The irony was not lost on Black Devil. His final breath would be drawn in uncertainty and confusion. His life would be taken cruelly by his namesake.
He waited for the creature to finish the job but to his shock he sensed that something was wrong. The two creatures on his plane ceased their rampage and looked as if they were listening for something. Black Devil saw them exchange apparent expressions of concern… worried glances.
What now, he thought. Is the granddaddy demon coming to claim the prize or what? The monster lowered its arm and looked inquisitively up above. Black Devil too searched the sky for a sign of what they were sensing.
Bolts of lightning began dancing about from cloud to cloud. He craned his neck and then looked at the demon’s face. Suddenly in a blinding flash a bolt of fire descended from above slicing through the right wing of the demon holding Black Devil. It fell away and dropped silently below in the sea of clouds. The demon roared in anguish. Nostrils flared and its eyes glowed an ominous red. The injury infuriated the monster but only for a moment. A second strike lopped off its head with startling efficiency. The two remaining monsters howled in anger. They took flight from the scene attempting to escape a similar fate. All the while Black Devil hung in the air next to his broken vessel. The winds began to swirl like some sort of heavenly tornado. The lightning increased and it seemed as if the clouds were super charged with shimmering light. Black Devil watched in astonishment as the clouds changed shape and formed what he recognized to be another immense winged creature… but of a different kind. It was ten times the size of the demon creatures and it wielded a sword of radiant light. Black Devil tried to distinguish detailed features of the being but was all but blinded by the sight of it. What he did see however was the two retreating demons stopped abruptly in flight and held in similar fashion as Black Devil and his craft. The wings of the captured creatures flapped defiantly even as the two were bathed in white light and transformed into blanched stone. The being swept them up with its “hands” and crushed them to ashen dust.
With that the wind and the clouds began to calm. He turned to see the remains of his techno-plane tumble down into the clouds ever smaller and then finally gone. Still he hung in the air himself…exhausted and unencumbered by any military means of support. His head began to swim and when he tried to keep his eyes open he could not. The violins of Tchaikowsky mysteriously again played in his head and he breathed the air from a life support system that had moments ago plummeted to the ground far below. He smiled and succumbed to the darkness once again.
#
Dozens of military personnel descended upon Black Devil and his stealth airship when they appeared out of nowhere on the base landing strip. As far as they could tell he had landed unassisted and undetected by instruments on the ground. The military welcome wagon had many questions and Black Devil knew an extensive de-briefing session would soon follow. They had their questions and he certainly had his own about the mysterious ordeal. His stealth aircraft was back, spit polished as if brand new. No evidence of any damage could be found. In the days that followed the event would be characterized as malfunctions of equipment on both ends. No other explanation made any sense and Black Devil made no other.
He longed to see his family. It was what anchored him to reality. His reality would never be the same though, not if he trusted his senses and believed the bizarre events. His universe would now include the fantastic, the monstrous and the wondrous. If it was not out there in the cosmos, it was certainly somewhere in his head. He was no longer master of all he surveyed. It was as if the creator had intended to shake him up and thump him on the head. The caretaker of the cosmos flexed its muscles that day but in a way that told Black Devil that he was significant. Why bother with the magic show if not to refresh his perspective? From 50,000 feet at mach 3 with the infinite universe above and teeming life below, one can afford to consider new possibilities in heaven and on earth. And so it was with Black Devil.
I am fading from the world
