Unbound

Chapter 17

Seated in the Jet, Jesus carefully closed the laptop.

He knew the world had become a dangerous place—knew that from watching nineteen hundred years of it pass him by. However, the last one-hundred years, those years seemed to have gone mad. Wars covering the entire world. Weapons so powerful that they levelled whole cities. Millions of his own people slaughtered by a lunatic.

"It's all shit, ain't it?" Pastor Tim said from a seat across the aisle. Several empty bottles littered the seat beside him, and his words were slightly slurred. "The whole world, just gone to poo in a poo basket. Ain't it?"

Jesus stared at the man for a long moment. "It's bad." That didn't quite fit what he'd seen on the computer though. It was much worse than he could ever have imagined. It made his chest hurt, knowing all the death that could have possibly been avoided. Though, could he have made any difference if he had been sleeping, waiting to be reborn?

Tim barked a short laugh, slouching in his blue cushioned seat. "Understatement of the day there, my Lord."

Sighing, Jesus set the laptop aside and stood. He told himself to ignore the man. Besides that, Simon had warned him of putting holes in the airplane while it was still in the air. Thinking of Simon, he made his way to the cockpit where the other man sat. Large windows showed a sea of stars and clouds, with multi-colored lights reflecting from the objects in front of Simon's seat.

"He is drunk," Jesus said as he leaned on the back of the chair and stared out into the darkness.

"Not possible, there's no alcohol on this plane." said Simon.

"There are bottles littering his seat."

"No," Simon glanced back to where the pastor sat. "Those are water bottles."

From the cabin came Pastor Tim's slurred speech. "Someone could've turned it to wine..."

Jesus squeezed the back of Simon's chair. He would not go back there. He would not squeeze the man's neck until his head popped off. Something in the chair cracked and he let go, breathing deep.

"We're almost over Wichita," Simon said, nodding toward the scene outside the glass.

The land below them was no longer dark, but marked by lights here and there. The largest source of light, the city of Wichita he presumed, flickered and undulated.

"Is that normal?" Jesus asked, squinting

"{FLIGHTINFORMATIONTHING} to tower, come in," Simon said. He waited a few seconds but no one responded, which is what Jesus assumed he was waiting for. He repeated his query, but received only noise in reply.

"What does this mean?" Jesus asked, though judging by what appeared to be fires in the city—large enough to be seen at this distance—it wasn't good.

"Either communications are down, or there's no one there. Both are bad."

"What does this mean for us?"

'We'll make a flyby of the airport to see what we can see, then double back if it looks like we can land."

Jesus nodded, not sure of the words, but catching the meaning. They would not be landing yet. He would like to land. In fact, landing would be one of the best things that could possibly happen right now.

Instead, he watched as the airport passed below them. One of the fires came from here, sprouting out of the remains of another airplane, much larger than theirs. It only took seconds to pass completely over, and a line of cars heading out of the city soon replaced the airport. At least, they appeared to be heading out of the city. Some were on fire, and only a few appeared to be moving.