by thedoctor, Grimm, GoozX and Sonhaven
Above the Caribbean Sea:
One of the engines sputtered as the old plane crossed the vast, blue sea. The occupants -- Grimm, Dirk Bell, Tayden, and Priest -- sat in the relic aircraft. The occasional jolt shook them. "This just doesn't make any sense," Grimm muttered out loud. "Just two days ago, we were flying on commercial flights. Today, we're in a box with wings."
"What's the matter? You scared?" Priest said, grinning. Grimm really wished that he could scowl.
"Kit said that he was having to cut corners to save money," Tayden chimed in, trying to get the conversation back on track. "Apparently, the rebuilding is costing more than we originally thought. Isn't that right, Dirk?"
The group looked over to where Dirk had sat. He was laying down on the bench seat with his hat covering his face. "Is he asleep?" Tayden asked.
The plane jolted again. "How can he sleep through this?"
"Because you're a bunch of boring fuckers," Dirk's muffled voice responded.
"We're almost there!" the pilot said while sticking his head through the curtain from the cockpit. He was an old man with a bald head and a cigarette hanging from his lips.
"What?!" Grimm exclaimed. "We haven't had time to get to Pennsylvania yet. We're still over the ocean."
"Pennsylvania?!" the pilot yelled back. "Nobody said nothin' about Pennsylvania. Ain't no way Bertha here can git ya to Pennsylvania. We'll be lucky to make it to the mainland."
"Then why did you take off in the first place, if you knew we wouldn't make it to land?"
"Gotta give Bertha here a proper send off. It don't seem right to let her rot in some plane graveyard after serving her country like she did. Besides, even if we got to the coast, we couldn't land. Her landing gear ain't acted right since that run-in with those Nazi bastards back in Dubbya-Dubbya Two."
"Real Grade-A outfit we've got here," Dirk's muffled voice said.
Priest began to pull some items out of his backpack and fiddle with them with a small device that resembled a wrench but wasn't.
Grimm watched the man and remembered back to earlier this morning. He had been going over the mission with Kit Piper, Danny Hearn, and Chance. He reflected on what had happened earlier that day. Finally, words that were a long time coming were spoken.
"I figured you could handle being around Bell better than the others," Kit began. "Plus, his military experience will be helpful to your team."
"True," Grimm replied, "and Tayden's knowledge of the arcane will be a big help when we search for the book, but... Priest?" he said as a large shadow covered him from behind.
"What about Priest?"
Danny stepped behind Chance as Grimm turned to look the newcomer right in the face.
"I'm more qualified than most to be here, but I don't see you objecting to anyone else..." said Priest. "So what's your problem, big man?"
"You're the only person here who tried to kill a member of the team the first time we saw you. That's reason enough for you NOT to be here," the undead biker answered.
"You keep on and on about that," Priest answered, "but I've been here for months now, and have had plenty of opportunities to finish the job if I wanted to. Montag trusts me, as do Phil and Kit here."
"But I don't."
"I think I know what your problem is," said Priest. "It's not me. It's not about Danny. It's because I kicked your ass the first time I showed up. You've got all those muscles and that unnatural strength. You're supposed to be the strong man, but you finally ran into something you couldn't punch your way out of, and it pisses you off." Priest's expression stayed static, his eyes stern, cold and sure.
Grimm stepped toward Priest, his equal in height, his build slightly lesser than the African-American man that stood only an arm's reach away. "You would think that. Everyone has their weaknesses, and don't think for a second that I haven't found yours."
"Big words for a dead man," retorted Priest.
"Guys, enough," Kit interrupted, a little on edge. "The teams have been assigned. This might give you two a little chance to bond."
"Kit..."
"You are both a part of this team. Now act like it."
Grimm moved his line of vision from Priest and toward the window. He wouldn't soon forget Kit's words. The little weasel was going on a power trip.
"Grimm." The words came from Priest. Tayden turned. Dirk tilted his hat up a bit.
"What?"
"If you could go back in time and kill Hitler, would you?"
The mainland was in sight, and ol' Bertha was floundering. The starboard engine cut out about twenty minutes ago, and the port propeller had been stopping and starting for the past ten.
"We ought to start thinking about some sort of emergency procedure. I don't think the plane has much air time left," Priest announced.
"Well, I sure am glad we brought a genius along," Dirk remarked as he lit a Lucky Strike he procured from the pilot.
Grimm placed his hand on the pilot's shoulder. "Did you have some sort of plan in mind?"
"Yeah... I figured I'd try ta find somewhere away from trees or obstacles -- if we make it that far -- and then attempt to land without killing us."
Grimm stared at the man, as well as anyone without eyes could, and said, "Yeah..."
Just then, the other engine sputtered and stopped. Only the sound of the wind remained. Everyone looked at each other.
The pilot flicked some switches, took off his headset -- which, to the surprise of the group, instead of being a communications uplink, was playing "Rock Me Like a Hurricane" -- and turned toward the attentive passengers.
"Gentlemen... we are now gliding," the man behind the wheel said as he put his headphones back on and returned his hands to the controls. "Let's see if I can get us back down. Come on, baby... rock me like a hurricane!"
"This is not exactly the flying I'm used to," Tayden said with a grimace.
"Look on the bright side," Dirk replied with a smile. "You'll be back home before ya know it..."
CRASH!
"I swear to God, it was the strangest thing I've ever seen," would have been the reaction of anyone who witnessed the crash landing of one decommissioned World War II transport plane named Bertha. But there was no one to witness it. So no one did.
The pilot had known what he was doing to some extent. As the plane began to descend over the vast blue ocean, he pulled the nose up a little and began to sing:
"O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!"
The hull of the plane smacked onto the water. The passengers were tossed about as the pilot kept singing while being jerked about in his chair, restrained only by his seat belt.
"America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good
With brotherhood,
From sea to shining sea!"
The plane miraculously skipped like a flat stone in a pond across the waves. Grimm was thrown to the back of the plane. Priest flipped head over heels and back down to the floor. Dirk bounced up, hit the roof against his back, and was harshly greeted by the floor below. Tayden had gotten tangled up in some mesh netting that seemed to serve no purpose at all but to keep him from harm. And still the pilot sang on.
"O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine ev'ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul
In self-control,
Thy liberty in law!"
A hard thud slowed the plane incredibly and launched Grimm, Priest, and Dirk forward. The plane was finally at rest. The pilot undid his seat belt, picked up a small pack and a rifle from the floor of the co-pilot area, and headed outside still singing.
"O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success
In nobleness,
And ev'ry gain divine!"
"How many lines does this song have?" Grimm asked as everyone regained their composure, exited the plane and stepped onto a patch of soft ground a few feet from the beach.
Once again, had anyone see it, they would have said, "When it got to the beach, it just bounced in the air like a friggin' frog! It had to have gone thirty feet before it hit!" Once again, there was no one to do that.
The pilot adorned the plane with memorabilia from its days in serve. Helmets from Nazis stormtroopers to pictures of her old crew now sat across her wrecked body. And still he sang.
"O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good
With brotherhood
From sea to SHINING SEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAA! "
The pilot then saluted the plane, aimed his rifle in the air, and gave Bertha a twenty-one gun salute (minus twenty guns).
"Someone up there still likes you," Dirk said to Tayden as he popped his neck.
"Yeah," he responded. "I know."