Forced Freefall

The True War Has Begun

Cliff. It was Cliff. Was he really trying to kill me? And Sadie? Was it some master plan to kill Clint? Or was it designed to make him look like a big figure, and then he would be more popular to launch his designing career? Is he really that naive?

    I don't know right now, but I knew there was something up with Cliff. Even the name seems untrustworthy. Like... Cliff will push you off a cliff. A light bulb flicked on in my head. That's a verse in the Nursery Rhyme Novelette For Young Children, published 2140. By Melonica Shrivel, an enthusiast of childish publications as she referred herself as. I remember I almost wrote a biography on her.

    I mean, I did, but I didn't publish it. I wanted a large influence before I decided to be a writer of biographies. So I told my publishers I would decline the offer of the contract. For now.

    Nonetheless, I still remember the rhyme as though I was reading it aloud at this moment:

Cliff will push you off a cliff.

So stay in valleys,

and remember to pack a parachute

whenever you leave the house,

and make sure

that any Cliffs that you see,

do not drive bulldozers!

    It is exactly what everyone likes, especially children; random, funny, and making no sense whatsoever. Something even adults can look at and giggle. That was something that went down in history through all of us, not through books. And while you may not be proclaimed and praised because you discovered something, such as someone like Chris Columbus, but you made almost every person who read your work happy. They laughed, they did not worry for the moment; as they were pryed too much by your humorous wordplay. And that momentary satisfaction was given from you, to someone you don't know at all, and for centuries after you were dead. It's not fame, but pride. Pride given to you, in exchange for an escape of the real world.

    "Cliff!" I kicked him again, from frustration. "What do you think you're doing!" He pulled out a pistol. He had never shown me that. It only further guaranteed my belief that Cliff had planned this all along. But why? Why!

    I wasn't going to kill him. I had enough on my conscience, with Sadie's death probably somehow blamed on me. "Kill me," I sobbed, hands on my head. "Do it now, while I'm in pain. Do it quick, painless. Right in the head!" I poked my skull a few times.

    The pistol was against my head, but it dropped. The nearly silent thump that it made as it landed in the small pile of fall leaves was louder than a gunshot itself, as it echoed through the silence. Something tapped my shoulder softly.

    I looked up, over my shoulder. It was Sadie. She was alive!

    My eyes widened in disbelief, and I almost forgot about everything else going on. She had somehow survived! A surge of adrenaline ran through me, and I tackled Cliff without another recognition that Sadie was there. It took him by surprise, and fortunately I was able to get his hands before he could retaliate. But Sadie kicked me in the back, and I fell back. What was happening?

    I raised my hands in surrender, and they accepted my offering. Cliff was breathing in and out really fast, but I couldn't manage a deep, soothing gasp. "Isaac," Cliff began. "It was supposed to train you to fight the enemy. I know how they treat rebels, and I needed to teach you how to react. It wasn't meant to kill anyone. Sadie and I wanted to test your strength."

    He was lucky I could barely breath. I would have already given him an injury worthy of the hospital. I repeated my thought to him, trying to make it sound threatening and humourous. He chuckled in reply, and we both managed to get up.

***

That night, we stayed in the airplane. "So, what you're saying, is there are that many bags of pecans on board?" I was in disbelief. According to Sadie, Clint had made a tradition of creating and setting world records. It was how he got discovered. There had to be an entire tonne of pecans on board. And when I found them, I didn't hold back. I just put my face in and chewed. I had so much energy that I managed to run around the plane twenty times, and then do ninety chin-ups on the wing, and then lift all our supplies back to the plane. Cliff and Sadie were digging up what they could from our previous plane. The only things they salvaged were; about fifty feet of rope, a first aid kit, a ball of lettuce (which we used to start the fire), and a few more weapons.

    Since there was still something left to burn, I practiced with my homemade weapons and the automatic machine gun that I called my own. I found out that the knife in the first aid kit was a perfect throwing knife, and I hid it in the sleeve of my leather jacket. Hugh's former jacket was very comfortable, and I have to admit that I did love it. The black suited me.

    "Before we leave, let's start a fire." I suggested to Sadie, as we sat down in the back of the plane. "I mean a big one, to engulf the island." We will have supposedly died, perfect cover up. But I took another five minutes to completely persuade Sadie. We laid out our empty bags of pecans, laid it all in olive oil, and made a trail of sticks that would ignite in a chain reaction, making the island into an at-sea inferno. After an hour, we were finally ready. I brought ten bags of pecans up to the pilot's seat, lifted up my feet, and prepared to be co-pilot with Cliff. As we started taking off, I saw the flames dance around, the smoke almost blinding Cliff. A large gust of wind, unexpected in the beautiful day, was coming into our path.

    Cliff was looking hard, his eyes narrowing so that he could see clearer a bit. But the plane could not beat the wind. It was now in our path.