Alone Among the Clouds, By Andrew Johnston

 

Alone Among the Clouds

By

Andrew Johnston

 

            Jonah had warned everyone the world was crumbling. The world refused to believe the signs from massive earthquakes to a tsunami wiping life way from Hawaii. He gathered what remained of his fantasy book collection and slammed the airship door. Setting the books aside he made for the cloud chamber. His weather and seismology degrees were finally paying off. The pressure level in the chamber was at maximum.

          He went to the cargo bay after snatching up his books. On arrival the livestock were as ready as he was. Deep down, Jonah wished someone had believed him, not even his husband, Evan, gave his theories the time of day.

         After making a stop at the onboard library he entered the control room and began preparations for take-off. Jonah ran his fingers over the control consul, checking the cloud chamber pressure one last time. It was the only back up if the airship’s hydrogen failed. He chewed his lip at the thought of using the one gas everyone warned against. The Hindenburg was near three hundred years before his time. His professor referenced its designer frequently when every student was designing their own fuel efficient airship.

         Jonah swirled the tip of his finger on the panel. Outside his airship's the propulsion engines kicked on. A faint hiss seeped from the vents above, air began cycling as Jonah felt his ship rise from the grass below. Loud snaps and cracks came from outside as he watched the anchor cables fall swiftly from sight.

        Slipping a pen from his pocket, Jonah clicked the end. A hologram of Evan swirled into formation. "Jonah. You know your parents and I love you. We want what's best for you, but here in Maine things are safe. Your theories have evidence to back them up, sure, but that doesn't mean it'll happen to everyone. Please. I love you. Stay with us. Stay with me." He clique the pen before his own words came into play. Slipping the memory pen back in his pocket, the device would come in handy later.

    All was set to go but there was no destination worth aiming for. A flash on the control panel announced the continent of Asian was officially in ruin. Europe had gone first and was now under water. Before the tsunami, Jonah could have sworn he was watching a world war two documentary. Paris, London, and Berlin were husks of their former selves. As if mother nature had flown in with a fleet planes in the tens of thousands.

    The ship breached the clouds as Jonah set the controls for autopilot. He made for the library, finding his emotions on high. Strain ran across his chest as the screens set at short intervals along the hall revealed Australia and South America were now gone. America will be next, he thought, wipe his brow. Jonah tapped the door pad, feeling a swift, brief breeze from the door. The scent of old books rested itself within his nostrils, minimizing his nervousness to faint anxiousness.

    "God," said Jonah. "If you exist, spare America and Africa at least. Hasn't the world been punished enough?"

    He collapsed in an old armchair he'd bought at auction. The history behind it was long, ending with its final owner a president. Barack Obama. Jonah imagined the man was like the president of America today. Neither sure of the choices needing made for the challenges ahead. Except, the crumbling of continents was something a leader, a country, couldn't prevent.

    Jonah sighed, pressing his face against his knuckles, half tempted to mute the seismic alerts to come. On a small, circular table beside him rested a copy of 1984. He'd read it once in grade school but forgotten why the book had scared him. The screen above the door flashed on. Jonah's heart leapt as the rear camera views came up. Two fighter planes coasted along either side of the airship. A ping went off as he raced for the control room. Upon the hall screens a communication was trying to patch through. Jonah halted, tapping the screen.

    "You were warned not use that airship for you and you alone, Jonah Wales."

    "Secretary Ilhan," said Jonah, catching his breath. "You seem not to understand. I warned you. I warned everyone. Except, the world took one look at my wealth and decision to drop out of college and said I wasn't worth the time. They mocked me and referenced the bible because of my name. Told me to stop reading so much fantasy."

    Secretary Ilhan gave him a flat, emotionless look. "You're not a licensed airship pilot, nor in a world crisis allowed to fly solo a craft capable of holding dozens."

    Jonah scoffed. "Now, it's a crisis?"

    The secretary raised an eyebrow, shaded by her crimson hijab.

    "Land. And hand over your airship to the U.S government, Mr. Wales."

    "The only people I wanted to save refused my offer, Mrs. Secretary. I don't care about--"

    An alarm went off, turning the remaining hall screens red. When Jonah met the secretary's eye again, terror upon her face sent an icy jolt of terror down his spine. "Save whoever you can, Ilhan. I've got a family to save."

    "Good luck," she said. "And Allah be with you, Jonah. I'm sorry we--"

    The feed cut short as Jonah heard the thunder of jets through metal shell of the airship. He raced to the control as the screens to his left registered U.S.A.

    Once within the control room he set the rear thrusters to maximum. His breath was absent of his lungs as he tapped a red button. A  chair rose swiftly behind him, designed, like any other nerd chair. like the one belonging to Kirk of the Enterprise.

    "I'm going to save you, Evan," he said. "And then I'm going to tell you I told you so."