John Frum The Reluctant Messiah

We Need A Plan

Aiden raised his boot and kicked the stick shift forward, grinding it into third. At the same time John aimed the can of starter fluid and sprayed the liquid horsepower directly into the open carburetor causing the fully taxed engine to suddenly howl with renewed life and the Jeep flew forward.

The defeated giant filled Em's side mirror, standing upright in the middle of the trail having finally given up the race. He was at least twelve feet tall. 

"Where had he come from?" she thought. 

Up until now, the only twelve footers were the ancient dead ones found in her archaeological digs. This was new. This was troubling. They were running out of time.

The rest of the journey was spent not speaking. Everyone was in some sort of post prize fight daze, trying to process the events of the last few days. So, little of it was...normal. The sneaking suspicion was that abnormality was about to become the norm and no one was keen on embracing it. 

The Jeep squealed to a halt on the dusty airstrip just yards from the rusting hanger. In it was Aiden's little Back Country Super Cub, a bush plane replete with those funny looking fat balloon tires for landing pretty much anywhere. It always made John smile when he saw it because to him it looked like one of those Pixar cartoon characters, like a little kid wearing dad's big shoes. It was mustard yellow with red markings and had the look of something salvaged from a defunct McDonalds franchise. Its beauty was in its simplicity which consequently was the reason for its reliability. There just weren't enough extra bells and whistles to break down and go wrong. An engine, a wing, a seat, and a stick to steer it. What else did one need?

John helped Aiden load the plane with supplies- enough to carry him for a few days. 

"Aiden, I'm going to need you to pick up Ethan and the guys. Oh man! Wait wait, that's a nasty cut above your eye!" 

John reached out and cradled his head to get a better look. Aiden pushed him away.

"It's just a bloody scratch! That's the problem- you're too soft. You've led a comfy life. A little scuffle every now and then would've been good for you."

"Well, I'm making up for it now, aren't I?"

"Yeah," he had to admit, "and the one comin' is nothin' to sneeze at."

"And by that you mean the little scuffle that, in all likelihood, will alter the course of human history and determine the future of all mankind, right?"

"Something like that, yeah."

John fished around in the beat up first aid kit he'd pulled from the Super Cub and came up with a half-opened butterfly bandage. He continued to look for something a tad cleaner.

"So, you're gonna go to Vanuatu and pick the guys up. Jay's dad has a plane just sitting there- a real plane. You know, one that can fit more than just one ornery old Brit and his fifth of Jack?"

"I had a real plane. Then some wet-behind-the-ears hooligan parked it upside down atop a tree. Atop a tree... who does that!? Can you believe that?" Aiden said with a scowl. 

John immediately returned fire.

"Oh go, go ahead. Go with Satan's little midget pilot, it'll be fun he said,"

"Touché'," Aiden said matter of factly. "And what if they don't want to leave?"

"You mean the guys? Just tell them that the viral video is back on and that the throngs of naked island girls can't wait to meet them. Just keep your ears on, I've got the two-way hand-held."

He grabbed Aiden by the back of his neck, pulled him in and began blotting the blood from his forehead with his own sleeve. He tore open the butterfly with his teeth and stretched it across Aiden's formidable gash.

"So... all that talk over the years about that one special girl, the one and only you ever truly loved...the one who held the keys to your heart that no other could unlock- was literally a little girl."

Aiden nodded and smiled. "She's the only reason I got left." 

His eyes pooled, drifting off to the side. They returned to look directly into John's. 

"I'd crawl through crushed glass for little Em, mate. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" John asked.

"There were a lot of things I didn't tell you. The less you knew the less danger you'd be in."

Em suddenly walked in.

"There!" John announced, quickly returning to dressing Aiden's wound, " and perfectly sanitary."

"So, Em, I'm going to need you to convince the villagers to do some gardening- a really, really deep garden at the edge of the clearing."

Em's face was a question mark. 

"Can you do that?" 

He walked over to a workbench and cleared several greasy tools. 

"Here, I'll do a quick sketch of what I'm talking about," John told her. 

He set about drawing out a rough plan on the back of an old calendar. Professor Wharton had joined them in the hangar.

"Do I smell a plan?"

"Yep. C'mon, I'll explain on the way."

They gathered up their things, bid Aiden goodbye, loaded up the Jeep and the three of them headed for the village center.