The Pilot's Redemption

The Pilot's Redemption Part 2

Chapter 2

*4 Months Ago*

   Charles looked on as his once best friend and boss made sure everyone else was safe. He wanted to assist but knew he caused enough damage. His head hung low and he wasted no time in trying to leave the city. A couple of weeks went by and Charles made his way to a bar. The place was mostly empty except for a couple of men in the corner slumped over and a woman in the corner murmuring to herself. "Jim Beam. Straight." The bartender washed the glass and stared at Charles. He fixed the drink and held the glass in his hand as he leaned forward. "You know, you look an awful lot like that guy a couple weeks ago who endangered all those people." Charles sighed and put his hands on the bar. "Hey, I just want a drink. That's-" he was interrupted by whiskey splashed all over his face and shirt. "My sister was on that plane you asshole! Get the FUCK out of my bar! You're not welcomed!"

   This had become routine for Charles as more and more people recognized him the further he had to go to get some peace. He left his hometown of Milwaukee and spent the next month trying to hide from what he had done. Sleep did not come to Charles too often. His mind filled with thoughts of his betrayal of his best friend and putting all those lives in danger. He now resides in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Somewhere quiet and almost no one knows him. That wasn't enough. Charles used what little money he had left to dye his blonde hair jet black and started wearing green contacts. Lastly, he trimmed his beard that was starting to grow. He dyed that as well. "Look at yourself Charles. You don't even know who you are, do you?"

   His thoughts came to a halt when he heard a knock on his door. It startled him a little bit. He shook his head and grabbed a black T-shirt with an owl on the front of it. He held it up for a moment. Admiring the bird and thinking about his best friend. He didn't dwell too long so he put on the shirt and went to his door. As Charles opened the door he was greeted by a woman with a curly dark afro and light brown eyes that made Charles hesitant. After a few awkward seconds of silence she spoke and extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Robyn, with a 'y' Green." Charles reached his hand out and shook hers. "Like the author?" Robyn smiled and nodded. "Yeah. My mom was a huge fan. Says her books helped her raise me. You're the new guy right? What's your name?" Charles realized she didn't know who he was and this was a chance for him to start over. So he took it. "Um I am Chance…no 'y' just Chance. No last name. Parents wanted me to be famous. Guess I'm a disappointment."

  The two chuckled before more silence. "Oh sorry, I wanted to ask if you could help. I'm moving and it gets tiresome lugging all this stuff up stairs. The exercise is great though." "Not that you need it." Charles said out loud before quickly covering up his mouth. "I did not mean to say that out loud." Robyn raised her eyebrow. "I'll take it as a compliment Mr. No Last Name. Now will you help me?" Charles shook off his embarrassment and picked up the box she had on the ground. "So what made you pick me?" Robyn grabbed a box and replied "Well, you're the only person that answered." The two continued to move boxes and furniture back and forth until everything was set. Charles leaned against the entryway to Robyn's apartment. "Here, have some water." Charles chugged it down and barely formed the words "thank you" as he stood up straight to catch his breath.

   "So, thanks again for the help. You're a good guy Chance." Charles forced a smile as he remembered he didn't tell her his real name. "Hey, Robyn…." Charles hesitated to ask for her number. Mostly out of fear she'll find out who he really is. "You're welcome. I'm down the hall if you need me." With that, he gave a wave and went back into his apartment. He slid his back down the door once he was inside. "Dammit Charles! Chance? That's a stupid name. You're not cool enough to be Chance. Maybe Derrick or…Steve." He sighed and placed his hands on his face. Just then there was another knock at his door. "I guess you did need something after all Ro-" this time there was a man in a black suit and a cigar in his mouth.  He spoke in a strong deep voice with a Spanish accent, "Mr. Martin. You are a hard man to reach."

   The man let himself in. He looked around before removing his cigar to blow a cloud of smoke in the air. "This is a good place to hide from the world. But we need you to come out of hiding Mr. Martin. May I?" The man gestured towards the maroon colored couch in the living room. Charles sat across from him on the black recliner. "Who is we and why do you need me? Who are you for that matter?" The man took off his sunglasses and folded them the slid them into his upper jacket pocket. "Let's just say Mr. Martin, I represent a certain company that wants you to once again live in the skies or whatever it is you pilots say about loving the sky and clouds. Look we know about the Asheville Incident. It's kind of hard not to know. You're lucky it hasn't gotten out here yet. Though your appearance could throw off the casual person if you look  hard enough, they'll see through you."

   "Why do you want to help me or care that I fly again?" Much as he tried to act tough about the situation, he really did want to fly and wanted to do anything to get back in the air. He didn't want that desperation to show so he hid it.

   "Mr. Martin, let me say, you have an unique skill set when it comes to flying. You have had the fortune of being next to the hero pilot Carol Scott and you are also wanting to get back into the air." The man stood up looked at Charles as if staring a hole through him. "Let me make this clear, this is not a 'will you, won't you' type of situation. It is a 'you will and when can you start' type of situation. The job is a simple one. Fly some cargo from point A to point B. The job pays $1000 upon successful delivery. We provide the plane, you fly. Simple." The man turned towards the door. "Oh and I almost forgot, you can call me Anthony. Be at this address tomorrow morning 6:00. One second late and the job is off and you can say bye to any chance of you flying again. Good day Mr. Martin."