Mike v2.0 (A Firesetter Short Story) Read online

  Steve’s spaceplane was parked behind the lot in a grassy field that was newly mowed. I could tell by both the fragrant scent and when he set me down, clippings stuck to my bare feet.

  “What’s the matter, partner?” my grandfather asked, extending the boarding ladder and placing my hand upon a rung. “Why are you frowning? Are you feeling sick?”

  I wasn’t felling all that bad, but now that I realized he was actually going to take me to space, my head began to pound and my stomach roiled.

  “Yes,” I must have said, a tear trickling down my cheek. “And, I’ve changed my mind, Steve. I don’t want to go to Planet Rozari after all. I want to go home.”

  “Kari-fa! Don’t tell me that! After all the trouble I went through to get my spaceplane here. I spent half the night just trying to get the engines started. We’ll be damn lucky if they turnover again. Climb up that ladder, junior, and buckle yourself in. We’ve got a mission to complete in the deep dark recesses of outer space.”

  Although I wanted to protest, although I wanted to beg him to let me go back to bed, or if not, back home to the palace and my room. But, I didn’t. I climbed the ladder, angry at Steve and even more so at myself. What kind of King would I be, when even a crazy old man could push me around?

  “Take a seat anywhere, Mikey,” Steve said, following me into the belly of the plane. His voice echoed off the walls just as a dusty, musty scent assaulted my nose. “Kari-fa!”

  “What?” I screamed, my own voice bouncing back at me.

  “Ach, Steve,” the other Mike sighed, that faint burning smell now mixing with the dust. “You’re frightening him. Clearly, he doesn't wish to come. He’s just a kid. What is he, five or six years old?”

  “Eight!” I snapped, suddenly filled with righteous indignation. How dare this stranger accuse me of being a child?

  “You stay out of this,” Steve snapped, either at Mike, or me, or both, while shoving me into a seat and slipping a safety belt around my waist. “In fact, I don’t even know why you’re here. Get out. Go away. I’ve got this handled and I certainly don’t need your help. Now, if I could only remember where I set the keys. No worries. I can alway hotwire the ignition if I have to. You stay right there, Mikey. I’ll be right back.” My grandfather wandered off, and it sounded as if he bumped into a few doors and walls himself.

  “We’ll never get to Rozari,” I mumbled, convinced that we’d explode in space instead.

  “Actually, we won’t,” Mike said. “But, neither will we arrive at Rozari.” He sat down next to me, that faint scent of fire washing over my face.

  “How do you know?”

  “Oh, he thinks he knows everything,” Steve scoffed, returning with a set of keys jingling in his hand. “He always did.”

  “That’s because I always do,” Mike replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Steve, the cockpit is over there.”

  “Right, right. I knew that. Thank you very much. You’ve done your good deed for the day, so now, you can leave.”

  “I want Mike to stay,” I decided, raising my chin and using my most royal tone. To this day, I don’t know why I said this, other than I figured it would be worse to be left alone.

  Steve snorted, a huffing, chuffing, long exhalation of breath. “His name is Mike? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

  “It’s correct,” Mike said. “More or less.”

  “Trust me, junior. He’s no friend of yours,” my grandfather’s voice turned back to me. “Trust me, you don’t want him around. Ever. No way, no how.”

  “Yes, I do,” I declared, asserting my Royal Privilege, while at the same time, realizing I might have just made a friend. Here he was, right next to me, something I had never had before, a boy like me, and from the sounds of it, of a similar age. “We’re both Mikes. That makes us a team. I might just declare him my Royal Squire.”

  “Give me a break,” Steve sighed. “Kari-fa. You’re already corrupting him.”

  “I have done no such thing,” the other Mike replied. “Why do you always think the worst of me?”

  “Experience. Go back to hell. I’m going to start this plane.”

  Steve shuffled away, and a moment later, a door swished shut behind him. This was followed by the sound of the ancient engines attempting to start. Several times, Steve cranked them, and several times they coughed and belched acrid smoke. Finally, when I was nearly certain this bad dream was about to end, the engines settled into a soft rumbling rhythm, only occasionally punctuated by some squeaks.

  Then, the plane began to vibrate. The landing legs retracted, followed by the ship rising like a very fast elevator into space.

  “Is he going to kill us?” I murmured aloud, as my breath caught in my throat and for a few moments, it felt like my heart had ceased to beat.

  “No,” Mike replied, as casually as if we were out taking a stroll. “But not from lack of trying.”

  Actually, as the spaceplane accelerated, I felt as if my lungs were being squished in a vise, while my stomach was crawling laboriously up my throat. I decided that if I were to survive this, I would never ever go to space again. I would be perfectly content to spend everyday from hence forth on the ground.

  “Yee haw!” Steve yelled from the cockpit. “I love flying!”

  “So do I,” Mike remarked. “But not in a spaceplane.”

  A short time later, I started to relax. We were no longer traveling vertically, but instead, sailing as swiftly and smoothly as if floating on a cloud. Space travel wasn’t so bad, I decided. Steve was an Imperial SpaceNavy pilot, after all. Even though that was something like seventy years ago, clearly he hadn’t forgotten everything.

  That was until a horrific clanging noise echoed throughout the ship, which was followed by the engines going silent.

  “Kari-fa!” Steve yelled from the cockpit. “What the fuck is happening now?”

  “Kari-fa, indeed.” Mike sighed heavily, and unbuckling his belt, he rose to his feet.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, not wanting to be left alone.

  “I’m going to help him. Steve needs all the help he can get.” Then, he chuckled as if this whole situation was not terrifying but funny.

  “What about me?”

  “What about you?” Mike repeated.

  “I’m scared.”

  “Then, you must think of a way to help.”

  “Help?” I gasped. “I know nothing about spaceplanes, and furthermore, I am blind. Not to mention, I am the—”

  “Yes, I know. You’re the Crown Prince. I heard all that before. However, that doesn’t mean that you should sit here on your ass.”

  “But!”

  “Ach crap!” Steve yelled again, as the clanging sound grew louder.

  “If you are useful, you will forget your fear,” Mike said. “Once we are on our way again, I shall teach you how to play chess. It is a good skill for a man who wishes to be a king.”

  “Chess?” I cried, thinking Mike was as crazy as Steve. “I told you, I can’t see anything.”

  “You shan’t need to. You shall learn to memorize the board, to know each figure in your mind. This way, you shall stay ten steps ahead of your opponent. ‘Twas a pity Steve was never very good at that. I suppose he has other redeeming qualities, although I haven’t yet discovered what they might be.”

  This was followed by Mike’s light footsteps as he hurried toward the cockpit. I was left alone in the dark and once again terrified out of my wits. I tried not to cry. I tried to think of myself as the future king dealing with all the stress and problems of my realm.

  Surely, every day would require more fortitude than this. Surely, this was only a tiny bump in a road that would forever be filled with rocks. Straightening my spine, I raised my nose, visualizing myself issuing orders and royal proclamations. My mother always said that if my posture was that of a king, so would be my mind.

  It didn’t work. I felt like a stupid, useless, blind little kid, who was already a complete failure at th
is life. Someday I might be King Mikal, but I’d probably end up a failure at that too, and neither baseball nor chess was going to change that.

  The cockpit door swished open again, followed by Steve shuffling across the floor. “Are you coming?” he barked. “Or, do you expect me to do this all myself.”

  “Me?” I began to say, but was interrupted by Mike.

  “I thought I wasn’t welcome,” he replied. “You did ask me to leave, did you not?”

  “Did I?”

  “Several times,” I told him. “I heard you. You were quite adamant, in fact.”

  “Well, I take that back,” Steve snapped. “Get down below and figure out what’s gone wrong.”

  “It’s the transmission. You have a leak in a hydraulic cable.”

  “No, I fixed it.”

  “No, you did not. Not recently, in any case. It is old and quite worn, and dripping in several spots.”

  “Yeah, well so am I.”

  “You should have checked before you left, Steve.”

  “Kari-fa!” my grandfather swore. “Can you repair it? Maybe, you can patch it until we get somewhere. Weld it together. You know, with that finger thing.”

  “I suppose I could,” Mike demurred. “Although, you are also completely out of fluid. Did you happen to bring any spare?”

  “I didn’t have any,” Steve snapped again.

  “Of course not.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, it’s not like in the old days. There’s been a huge recession or depression or whatever. Spare parts and transmission fluids just aren’t around. It would probably take me a year of searching junk yards for a part, and I didn’t have time. The kid needs medical care.”

  Mike made a snorting sound, as if he didn’t believe Steve’s excuse.

  “Come on, dude,” Steve begged. “Please help us out. Just this once? That’s my grandkid over there. We’ve got to get him fixed up. Hey! You could cure him, while you’re at it!”

  Now, Mike made a humming sound, and his weight shifted on the floor. “Yes, I could do that as well, but then, you would owe me. Actually, you already owe me quite a lot.”

  “Uh oh.”

  Mike snickered. “I would have to collect.”

  Steve gasped as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. “Not the kid. Come on, dude. Please tell me not the kid.”

  Mike shook his head, his hair rustling softly as it rubbed against his shoulders. It sounded long, much longer than mine.

  “Me, then. It’s me. That’s why you’re here.”

  “Indeed. I must be paid.”

  “Kari-fa.” Steve exhaled the word along with his breath. “You’ve been waiting to do this, haven’t you? You’re probably enjoying this.”

  “Not really. You think too highly of yourself.” A whiff of fire crackled, followed by the scent of fresh tobacco turning to ash. Mike was smoking a cigarette.

  “Give me one of those,” Steve coughed, and a second cig was lit. I could hear him inhale deeply, before hacking a few more times.

  “That’s what did you in, you know,” Mike said, conversationally. “Smoking. Lung cancer and all that.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Come on. Let’s get below.”

  Steve and Mike headed down the hallway, where they released a latch that opened a hatch in the floor. From there, Mike scaled a ladder to the plane’s lower bay, followed by Steve, who began to cough at every step.

  “Wait!” I cried, fumbling to unbuckle the safety belt. I didn’t want to stay up there all by myself. “Wait for me, Steve! I’m coming, too.”

  “What for? There’s nothing you can do here.” His voice echoed up the ladder well, bouncing off the spaceplane’s narrow, metal walls. “Go back and sit down, junior. Remember, you’re ill.”

  “No. I want to help.” Whether it was the fear of being left alone, or Mike’s lesson had sunk in, I realized I wanted, and I needed to be useful. “Please, isn’t there something I can do?”

  “Go to the galley and get some water bottles,” Mike ordered. “Find the coffee pot and some straws. Bring them to me.”

  “Coffee?” Steve scoffed. “It’s hardly time for breakfast. Cut the kid some slack and let him sit. He just got out of the hospital a few minutes ago.” Now, Steve began to cough. “Kari-fa! What have you done to me? I can hardly breathe!”

  “I didn’t do anything. I told you, you did it all yourself.”

  “I was fine until you showed up.”

  “Actually, you weren’t. Go on, Mike. We have only a little time.”

  “Okay, Mike,” I replied, and quickly rose to my feet, almost immediately tripping and falling on my face.

  “Use your other senses, Mike. There is more to sight than what you see before your eyes.”

  “How?”

  No one answered as something in the engine room began to buzz. So, I fumbled my way forward to where I guessed the galley would be, stretching my hands out in front of me to keep from colliding with the walls. Finding the cockpit door straight ahead, and the forward boarding ladder just to the right. On the left, I discovered a counter with a small fridge beneath it.

  I was proud of myself for having done this, and also from having recalled the layout from an old picture book my mother read to me when I was younger. It was called, Flying to Space with Fanny, or something like that, and it featured an elephant who was also a pilot in the once great Imperial SpaceNavy.

  “My dad, Steve, was once an Imperial SpaceNavy pilot,” my mother would always say, which usually made me fall over, rollicking with laughter, as I imagined my grandfather dressed in the elephant’s silly uniform, a long trunk hanging from what should have been his nose.

  Now, as I searched blindly through the galley’s cabinet drawers, I began to worry about Steve and his cough. Despite our dire situation, this was the first time, we had been together without my dad or mom around. I realized, as I put my hands on a coffee pot, I really liked Steve, and even though he was sort of crazy, and most of the time, embarrassing, I was also really proud of him.

  “Whoa Nelly, don’t you fall down that ladder,” Steve called, his strong hands surrounding my waist, lifting me to the engine room floor. He took the coffee pot and the three water bottles, as well as the handful of straws.

  “Well done, Mike,” the other Mike said, his voice sounding as if his head was inside a compartment. I could hear the faint echo as it resonated off the metal walls. I could also smell the scent of fire, an odor reminiscent of burning oil, wafting through the room.

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  I was proud of myself, too. Not only had a managed to traverse the plane entirely in the dark, but I could identify sounds and smells with a clarity I had never known before.

  There was also something else I was sensing. I had a feeling, a new empathy for my grandfather. As we stood there waiting for Mike to repair the transmission, I felt a sadness deep in my bones. Every time Steve coughed, which he was doing with increasing frequency, my heart lurched as if it were I who could not breathe.

  Without knowing why, and without a glimpse at his face, I knew that Steve was going away, and it disheartened me more so than my lack of sight.

  “Why?” I asked, reaching for my grandfather’s hand.

  “Well, you know, I’m getting up there. What am I, like a hundred or so? I can’t even remember. And, you know, time has to happen in the way it has to happen, more or less.” He squeezed my hand. “That’s what my old man used to say.”

  Mike climbed out of the compartment and proceeded to turn on the coffee pot.

  “What are you doing now?” Steve asked, as the water began to boil. I could hear the tiny air bubbles rising to the surface, bursting upward in miniature breaths of steam. “Time for a coffee break? You want I should send Mikey back upstairs to look for donuts and sweet rolls?”

  “I’m going to distill some hydraulic fluid,” Mike replied. “I shall use our engine lubricant oil, refining it until ‘tis it is light and sweet. That shall
suffice for the reminder of our journey.”

  “And, it probably tastes better than the coffee your mother makes. Right Mikey?” Steve nudged me. “Your mother may be the Empress, but her coffee tastes like shit.”

  I laughed and nudged Steve back, following which he wrapped an arm around my waist, and together we waited while Mike poured something thick and heavy into the coffee pot. Only a few moments later, I could smell the acrid stench of oil cooking, and hear the drips of the newly refined oil siphoning through the straws.

  This process seemed to take forever, and Steve began another coughing fit, after which his breath sounded hoarse and thick with phlegm.

  “Go on upstairs,” Mike suggested. “I’ll come up when I’ve made enough.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate it,” Steve replied, guiding me to the ladder. “Me and Mikey are going to sit down and rest.”

  “Well, what should we do now, buddy?” Steve asked, once we were seated in the cabin again. “I suppose were going to be waiting here for some time. We ought to make it good.”

  “Can we play chess?”

  “Chess? You’ve got to be kidding me. You can’t see a thing.”

  “Mike said I don’t need to. He said—”

  Steve drew in hoarsely. Even I could hear the rattling in his chest. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I know all about it. Alright, partner. Let’s play, but I gotta warn you, I can whoop your ass.”

  “No, you can’t.” I laughed, “Mike said you were never very good.”

  “That’s not true.” Steve started rasping, so much so he sounded as if he was choking on nothing but air. For a moment, I sat there waiting, holding my breath, willing his lungs to fill.

  “I got it. I got it.” He inhaled deeply, that rattling sound more prevalent than before. “Let me fetch the chess set. You want white or black?” He stumbled to his feet, opening a cupboard in the wall across the room.

  “Black, I guess.”

  “Yeah, of course. Mike tell you to only play black?”