Jenny in the Sky

Fire and Vomit

A group of pilots stood in a fumbled line outside, each the proud owner of a second hand uniform and a space for medals yet to come.

"Gentlemen, today you embark on your way to defending our country. Today is the day when we sort out the boys from the men."  Wilson stood, chest puffed with importance, in front of the new recruits. 

"Some of you signed up. Some were enlisted. Some of you may even be transfers from other divisions. Right now, all that doesn't matter. In my eyes, you are all equals until  you prove yourself. I don't care how wealthy or established your family is, where your from, or any of that nonsense. All I care is how many enemy planes you can shoot down."

The men muttered among themselves. One tentatively raised his hand.

"Sir," he asked "how long will our training last?"

"You will start tomorrow."

They looked at each other questioningly. The man spoke again.

"Why arn't we training today?"

"You are," answered Wilson, "I mean you start work tomorrow, fighting the enemy. Ten hours training is the norm."

The group seemed to have become very silent.

"Now, if your done with the questions, Jenny will show you how to start the plane."

Jenny felt her head slide into her lap. She was so bored. Two weeks she'd been helping train and not once had she been allowed into the air. No, it was all take off theory, and which gears which and all the boring stuff.

"Jenny!" snapped Wilson. She looked at him blearily.

"Start the plane up," he ordered. Some of the pilots snickered.

"Righty ho," said Jenny monotonously, stretching her arms out and pointing to the controls. "First you have to put the plane in gear and then-"

This continued for quite a while. After the demonstration, she had to stand back and watch with envy as the pilots flew off and into the air. They had to circle round before touchdown. I could do that in my sleep though Jenny, silently sending Wilson mental death threats. 

There came a stuttering noise from above. Jenny looked up. One of the planes seemed to be having trouble. It was stopping and starting across the sky, narrowly missing the other aircraft.

"Buffering engine," whispered Jenny, staring fixated at the plane.

All of a sudden there was a loud blast, and the plane was covered in a swirling inferno. Jenny ran forwards in alarm, but it was too late. The plane span towards the ground, tail wing accentuated with fire, before letting out a final shriek of engine oil and crashing into the tarmac.

Flames danced around the wreckage, laughing at the disaster. Men ran forward, sloshing buckets of water over, but it was too late for the pilot. Jenny caught one look at his charred, lifeless body  before clutching at her mouth in repulse. Half of him was blackened with ash and charcoal, with large chunks taken from various parts, a ghost of a scream still etched on his face. The other half was covered in a steady flow of blood and flakes of skin.

A small groan came from her left. Phyllis was crouched to the ground, rocking on her feet and quietly sobbing. Jenny reached down and grasped her hand.

"How can you bare it?" Phyllis whispered "how can you stand there and bare it?"

Jenny stroked the weeping girl's hair softly and stayed silent. There was a time for words, and now wasn't it.

"Here, I'll take her in." The steady hand of Roman reached down and lifted Phyllis up. Jenny nodded gratefully at him, as she turned around to join the hordes of men surrounding the scene. A few of the new recruits stood to the side, their faces pale and shaky. Jenny went over and quietly motioned for them to follow her.

"Is it always like this?" one of them asked as they left the scene and walked towards the building. Jenny didn't reply. Her brow was furrowed, and she thought what would happen if she'd know the unfortunate pilot before he died. Perhaps Phyllis's reaction was what would be expected of her; she wasn't exactly acting how a girl in her position would.

A group of pilots sat clustered in one of the rooms. Nemo jumped up as Jenny entered.

"What happened?" he asked "we heard an explosion."

"One of the planes blew up during training," said Jenny as she slid into an armchair.

"Who was in it?" asked one of the other men, urgently.

She sighed. "I don't know."

The man got up and left the room hurriedly, a nervous look flickering across his face. The others looked around, silently taking in everyone's expressions.

He returned soon, hurrying past the door without looking in. Jenny just caught sight of his tear stricken face before he ran off, gasping out sobs. Roman followed him, and looked at us, pained.

"It was his brother that died," he said, simply.

Jenny's head throbbed. She grappled to her feet, muttered about feeling sick, and tumbled into the bathroom. Locking the door with shaking fingers, she leaned against the wall and tumbled to her knees.

He was his brother. He was his brother, and I watched him burn.

Black fished swam across her view. Her ears thumped into her head, pounding onto the walls of her skull.

I watched him burn...I watched him burn...

Her eyes lit up with the raging fire. The plane was plummeting towards the ground, spitting embers rocketing out.

"Jenny!"

Dancing inferno swallowed her body, shooting out from her fingerprints, pouring from her mouth.

"Jenny, open up!"

Jenny stared at the white washed ceiling in surprise, as the world crashed back. She lifted her head up groggily and blinked at the halo of vomit surrounding her hair.

"Jenny, if you don't open this door in three, I swear I will-"

"A moment please!" she cried. The banging stopped.

She slowly sat up, grabbing her forehead as she did so.

I'm a mess, she thought. A burning sensation scorched her throat from the acid of the vomit.

Water, just get water.

She gave herself the count of three and heaved her body over to the sink. Cold water splashed over her face, running into her mouth as she gasped and spluttered. Pausing for a moment to stop the headache, she turned around to look at the pool of sick at her feet.

"Jenny, can you open the door?"

"Just give me time!"

There was a pause.

"Jenny, just open it."

Stepping over the puddle, she grappled at the lock, and staggered back as he tumbled in. Nemo took one look at the pool of sick and the dishevelled Jenny, before plugging the sink, and running some water.

"Wash your face," he said "I'll get a mop."

He came back with a bucket, and promptly began cleaning the floor. Jenny sat on the toilet seat and watched him.

"Nemo?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you called Nemo?"

"Really Jenny, is this the time?" he exclaimed, turning away.

"Why?"

Nemo sighed. "You should go," he said "Wilson's looking for you."

Jenny stood up. "You wont tell anyone about this, will you?"

"Of course not," he replied, smiling slightly. 

Jenny left, her nose screwed in concentration.

 Why didn't he say? Why Nemo?