Birds of a Feather

By Rick Hartford

The flame from Bingo’s Zippo lit up Lola’s face as she leaned in with her cigarette, smoke curling around her lips as she inhaled.

Bingo lit his own and leaned over the rail, looking at Miami’s lights miles far below them. Shortly those lights would disappear as the massive dirigible they were aboard sailed into the blackness of the open ocean.

Bingo was deep in thought about everything that had brought him to this place. After the war ended Bingo thought that he could fade away. But the merry pranksters from intelligence refused to relinquish their hold on him.

“One more sanction,” the man he knew only as Stone said. “We need to have Shelly erased.”

“I’m done,” Bingo said. “Retired.”

Stone looked at Bingo for a long time, a small smile playing on his lips.

“How’s Lola?” Stone finally asked.

Bingo leaned forward in his chair.

“Why do you care?”

“We care about her,” Stone said. “You know we would feel terrible if anything bad happened happen to her, Bingo.”

Bingo sprang up and knocked Stone to the floor.

It took four of Stone’s bodyguards to restrain Bingo as Stone smiled through bloody teeth, using his desk to climb back on his feet.

“You’re a dead man, Stone,” Bingo said.

“Aren’t we all,” Stone replied, holding a handkerchief to his mouth. “Make good use of your remaining time. For Lola’s sake.”

Now Bingo was on a dirigible named Paris, headed across the ocean to make sure one of the passengers disappeared before the airship landed in London.

“Don’t fly away from me, my little bird,” Lola said, bringing Bingo back to the present. They were in an open air ballroom suspended from the gigantic dirigible as it whispered through the night. Lola had on a sequin dress which looked as if had just been painted onto her body. A waiter brought their drinks and Bingo held his out to Lola, proposing a toast: “To birds of a feather,” clinking his glass against her’s. “May they fly away together,” Lola said.

Bingo smiled, but inside he was grim.

Just after Bingo sipped his drink there was a loud rustling sound from above.

Ajax, the leader of the Aviators, swooped past them to land on the deck.

“Hello you two,” Ajax said. “Did I hear somebody calling for a bird?”

Ajax closed his wings and took a chair. The waiter appeared again and Ajax asked for a bottle of bourbon and a shot glass. Once it came, Ajax offered his own toast. “To an uneventful journey, with the possible exception of you two, locked like restless tigers in your cabin.”

The Paris was one of a dozen dirigibles stretched across the sky. Ajax and other mercenaries under his command were escorting the air ships “across the pond.”

The bird men had exceptional vision and hearing and could pick up a threat all the way to the horizon, even at night. The crossing for them was effortless. With their huge wingspans they could ride the thermals effortlessly for hours.

“Weather’s good, no rain or high winds in sight and no sign of any Nasties,” Ajax said to the two as he poured himself another shot.

“Ajax, why would you say that?” Lola said. “You said they hadn’t found you.”

The Nasties and the Aviators had been in a running battle across the universe. After slipping through a worm hole into the Milky Way, the Aviators seemed to have eluded their mortal enemies when they landed on earth.

Ajax sat back and absentmindedly plucked a feather from his chest. He changed the subject.

“How long have we known each other, Bingo? Seems like forever. I must admit I find it hard to believe that you are no longer with the service.”

“Me too,” Bingo said, looking into the night.

Bingo thought about the things that had changed in his lifetime.

There was the crash of the grid that brought the world back practically to the stone ages.

Then there was World War X.

And then, of course, there was the arrival of the Aviators, who proclaimed, after they arrived, that they just wanted to be left alone.

The world was too exhausted to argue with them.

The swing band which had been playing “In the Mood” on the afterdeck had just taken a break. Lola excused herself. “Going to powder my nose,” she said, walking away as if she was on a runway. Men at their tables turned hungry eyes to look at her as she passed by.

Then all hell broke loose. The airship next to them on the starboard side erupted in a huge ball of flame. It began sinking fast, pulling down the Paris with it, since all the airships were cabled together.

The Paris lurched to one side and the tables and deck chairs began sliding. Everyone was running in every direction all at once, some of the revelers slipping on spilled drinks and hors d’oeuvres that had fallen from the waiters’ trays.

“It’s them. The Nasties have finally arrived,” Ajax said, downing his shot and hurling himself over the rail and into the air.

Bingo got to his feet and ran toward the rest rooms in search of Lola. He looked up for a moment and saw dark figures moving from the adjacent dirigible toward the Paris. Then he saw Ajax and his fighters engage with winged creatures that looked like huge vultures.

Bingo pulled out his automatic and chambered a round. Then he saw Lola. She was struggling with one of the passengers who was trying to drag her back toward a dressing room. Bingo got to them and pulled the man back by his collar. “What is wrong with you?” Bingo yelled at him, spinning him around. The man’s nose was covered in white powder. He had a feverish look in his eyes. He went to push Bingo, but got the butt of a gun to his head for his efforts. He staggered away, his hand to his bloody forehead.

Bingo grabbed Lola by the hand. “Let’s get out of here,” he yelled, pulling her along. “My purse!” she yelled, pulling herself out of his grasp. It was on the floor just outside the restroom door. She grabbed it and they started moving again.

Bingo knew that they had to try to get to the rescue gliders which would take them back to the mainland. He had no chance of finding Shelly now, and he didn’t care. He was hoping that he and Lola could get on a rescue glider and vanish in the confusion.

Despite the crew’s efforts make an orderly evacuation, the passengers were panicking, everybody fighting to get into the rescue gliders. Some Nasties were pulling people off he deck with their huge talons, eating them alive.

“Lola,” Bingo said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I need something from my purse,” she said, reaching into it.

The next moment Bingo saw that Lola was pointing a gun at his heart.

“Stone sent you,” he said.

“Actually no. Shelly did. Drop your gun and I’ll let you go.”

Bingo knew that lie. He had told it himself, on more than one occasion. They both knew what was going to happen next.

Bingo glanced up, looking for his friend, the Aviator. Wishing him a happy landing.

Then he raised his gun, his finger on the trigger. https://vocal.media/criminal/birds-of-a-feather-y8js05xe

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