Chapter 44

 FORTY-FOUR

The world spun around in slow motion Trigger as fought with the stick in vain as he could feel the wing and tail tear off from the airframe plummeting towards the Jungle below. The cockpit glass had been blown out, filling Trigger’s ears with an awful roar. Trigger could only guess at his remaining few seconds as the cockpit display had flashed in solid colors before failing under the damage. He closed his eyes as the Earth came to greet him suddenly.

 

He was on a grassy hillside. For as far as he could see, there was rolling hills covered in a brilliant green, and the deepest blue sky he had ever seen. Far off in the distance was a jagged granite mountain face, the peaks in an eternal shroud of snow and ice. He looked himself over, he was still in his flight suit, covered in tears, burns and blood, though despite the wear of his clothes, he physically felt and appeared fine.

“You need to stop coming here friend.” A voice spoke behind Trigger. He turned slowly to be greeted by a man, for some reason he struck Trigger as familiar.

“Have we met?” Trigger asked.

The stranger shook his head and ran his hand through his blond hair. “Oui, or at least something like that.”

“So, what are you, my guardian angel? Am I dead or something?” Trigger asked.

“Well, you didn’t eject, did you?” the man asked rhetorically.

 

Trigger sighed. “So, I guess that’s it then. Damn.” He said shrugging his shoulders as he took a seat in the grass.

The Stranger walked up and took a seat next to him. “Non-Non, I didn’t say that. Your just as dense as last time I see.”

Trigger shot the man a glance “so we have met!” he said pointing. The Stranger rolled his eyes and shook his head disappointedly. “I’m just a friendly face, nothing more, nothing less.” The Stranger reiterated. “Well, that’s no fun at all.” Trigger said, turning his attention back over the rolling landscape before him.

 

“So, what can you tell me?” Trigger asked.

“Nothing you don’t already know.”

“Ah, my own Jiminy Cricket then. Sweet.”

“Merde, I’m insulted you’d compare me to a lowly cricket.” The Stranger spat.

“Jeeze, sorry.” Trigger apologized. “But if you’re not my subconscious, who are you?” Trigger asked again.

“Just a friendly-“ the Stranger started before being cut off. “-Just a friendly face, got it.” Trigger said quickly finish the sentence for the man.

 

The Stranger sighed “The rules here aren’t as straight forward as out there. If you want to think of this as anything, think of it as a holding pattern.” He explained.

“Ah, I believe the term is limbo.” Trigger interjected.

“I see you are full of surprises. I didn’t take you for an educated man.” The Stranger jabbed.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I went to college.” Trigger shot back.

“Oui, well, you could have fooled me.”

“Wow you’re such a dick.” Trigger shot back causing the stranger to chuckle.

“So, if you’re just a friendly face, where’s this?” Trigger asked gesturing towards the landscape.

The stranger thought for a moment. “Don’t know.”

“How long have you been here?”

The man thought again, for longer this time. “Don’t know.”

“Wow, not only are you the world’s worst imaginary friend, you’re also the world’s worst magic eight ball.” Trigger replied sullenly.

The Stranger clapped his hands and turned to Trigger “Bien, I think it’s my turn to ask questions now, no?”

“I didn’t know we were playing twenty questions, if so, I think I still have a few more to go.” Trigger quipped.

The man ignored the comment and continued. “For a man who is so convinced of his mortality, you seem awfully content with all of this. Nothing like last time.” He asked.

 

Trigger took notice of his words. Nothing like last time. That means I have been here before.

Trigger shrugged “would it help If I panicked and was combative?”

“No, but it would at least fit the part with a man who has died as, sans grâce, err, ungracefully as you probably have.”

Trigger gave a slight smirk at the comment, picking up a small stone he threw it down the hill “What can I say though. It was a rocket pass, then I busted my ass.” Trigger sang, humming the rest of the tune.

“Rather unbecoming for a pilot of your ability.” The Stranger remarked.

Trigger stared at him “And what ability is that? Flying? Well look where that’s gotten me.”

The Stranger shook his head, the look on his face was more akin to a pitiful parent than that of disappointment. “Troi Grèves, you clearly have lost perspective on your situation.”

“Care to enlighten me then?” Trigger shot back, he could feel himself getting flush and progressively angrier.

“Well considering you are a bit of a gros con, I have to.” The Stranger replied quickly, taking a breath to compose himself. “Someone I used to know coined the term. Spiritus. That gives you your edge over just any other pilot. But that’s not all that makes you who you are either.”

“Oh, then what is?”

“Your tenacity.” The Stranger said, jabbing a finger into Trigger’s arm for emphasis. “How many times did you get kicked down, sometimes quite literally? And yet you kept going back up in that jet to try again and again.”

Trigger shot the man a confused glance “Like when I was a Spare? It’s not like I had much choice in the matter.”

“You’re missing my point Trigger. You could have just rolled over and died dozens of times prior. Why is this the hill you choose to die on?”

Trigger for once was at a loss for an answer.

“Trigger, you have shown your capable of getting back up again no matter the odds, why not this time.” The Stranger asked bluntly.

 

Trigger stared at his boots for what felt like an eternity. “I have lost everything that was important to me. My friends think I’m a traitor, I lost the love of my life and now she’s with someone else. Why should I even try if it just ends up like this every time?”

The Stranger squinted, studying Trigger. “If that’s really how you feel.”

The world went dark.

 

Trigger was lying in bed; he could feel the cool sheets on his skin as he stretched out across the mattress. Yawning he blearily opened his eyes. He was in a bedroom, it looked no different than any regular master bedroom one could find in a suburban home, there walls were painted a deep shade of navy blue with a deep red wainscoting aligning it. He could see adorning the walls were various pictures of a couple. Candid photos from what appeared to be a vacation, a wedding photo, a small family portrait.

 

Trigger sat up uneasily in the bed, still unsure of where he was, he continued looking around for a moment until a young woman walked into the room and interrupted him. Her blond hair was in a long braid that stretched to almost the small of her back, her porcelain skin was immaculate, despite her demure attire she took Trigger’s breath away.

 

“Honey, its time to wake up.” She spoke softly.

 

Trigger was dumbfounded “Cossette?” he asked.

She smiled and laughed softly “Of course, who else would I be?”

“But I don’t understand, You, the war, that other guy.” Trigger trailed off; Cossette put her hand on his forehead with a worried look. “Honey, what are you talking about? What war?” she asked concerned.

Trigger shook his head and embraced her in a hug, Cossette was taken aback for a moment, but slowly embraced him, brushing his hair with her hand. “It doesn’t really matter; it was only just a dream.” Trigger said, muffled as he buried his face against her.

She patted him on the back rapidly “Come on, you need to get out of bed.” She said authoritatively, wriggling from Trigger’s arms. Trigger got out of the large bed and instinctively walked to a dresser and put on clothes as Cossette walked into their closet.

“Robin’s already left you know.” She said to him as he pulled a white t-shirt over his head, she walked out a second later with a polo shirt, giving Trigger a confused look at his attire.

“You’re going to work in that?” She asked pointedly.

Trigger glanced down to himself and shrugged “Should I not?”

 

Cossette looked at him with more scrutiny “Are you sure you’re OK? Maybe you should take the day off.” She offered “You know what, I’ll go make the call now.” She said rushing out of the room.

“Do I really look that bad?” Trigger asked himself as he continued getting dressed.

 

Still unsure of the homes layout, he carefully poked his head out of the door. Directly across from his and Cossette’s room was a door, painted pink with a wood sign that read ROBIN in flowery lettering. Cautiously Trigger turned the nob into the room. Locked.

“You know she hates you snooping around in there.” Cossette said with a hint of disapproval, “Girls her age like their secrets.” She added.

“Yeah, guess I should have figured that.” Trigger said, chuckling to himself.

“I already called the Office to tell them you’ll be out today, how about you come downstairs for some breakfast.” Cossette offered, though the tone of her voice Trigger could tell he wasn’t in any position to argue with her over it.

Taking a seat at the table, she poured him a cup of coffee “So, do you want to tell me about you’re dream? It seems to have you thrown off today.” She asked, still visibly concerned.

 

Trigger sighed and started to share his story, abridging some parts, particularly with his involvements during the war and trying to give as much detail as possible as he could about his relationship that he could remember.

 

Cossette listened intently as she sat a plate of food before him as he finished. The couple sat in silence for a moment.

 

“Well, that’s certainly a story dear-” Cossette finally spoke up. “-But that would make sense, it was just a dream.” She finished. 

“Yeah, but it felt so real.” Trigger replied. “All of it, flying those jets, shooting those guns. You and me. I don’t get it.”

She gently grabbed Trigger’s hand “It sometimes happens, But you’re back in the real world. I never left you, you’re not a pilot and, as far as I know, there was no war over a, what do you call it, space elevator?” she said reassuringly.

“I know your right.” Trigger replied, turning his attention back to his breakfast.

Cossette watched him for a few minutes before getting up and turning on the news in the other room.

 

The news anchor was reporting about a large military exercise that some country Trigger had never heard of was conducting.

“This will be something of a repeat of Zapad-81, but in some senses even bigger,” One man with a Yuktobanian accent explained. Other diplomats aired their concerns about the nature of the drills and the footage the news had played was piquing Trigger’s interest.

Huh, an air force made of entirely Flankers and Fulcrums. Weird. Trigger thought to himself as he watched.

 

Gradually as time moved on, and with Cossette’s help, Trigger fell back into his daily routine. As weeks and months past, memories of the dream that had haunted the pilot slowly drifted, his sudden amnesia from waking up slowly resolving and being explained away by a litany of neurologists and doctors as a freak pharmaceutical reaction and likely would never occur again.

 

Years past as Trigger and Cossette watched their daughter grow and mature, from a rebellious teenager to a respectable young woman. Occasionally, while watching the news Trigger would get a brief memory of his dream, and often found himself wondering what a life of adventure would have been like instead of his regular career as a salaryman. His only lasting side effect, much to the teasing of his wife and daughter was a sudden interest in combat jets and flying simulators despite never showing any interest prior to his amnesia.

 

As the decades of his life moved on, Trigger found himself gradually forget about his incidents, but at his core still had a feeling he couldn’t explain, as if everything could have been torn away in an instant. He and Cossette, now well within their midlife, watched with pride as their daughter graduated from university. Tearfully he walked her down the aisle at her wedding and was joyously introduced to his grandchild some years later.

 

His memories of the amnesia and dreams would not come back to the now elderly man until his final years. It started as a headache one day, as the symptoms progressed at the insistence of his wife, Trigger was given the news. Something so minute that the doctors half a century prior had missed. It had since grown and now was in an inoperable state, by their best estimations however, he had less than a handful of months left.

 

Instead of grieving or focusing on his impending doom however, He and Cossette instead chose to spend their last few months together finishing his ‘bucket list’ items until his final expected weeks when his illness had progressed to the point where he was relegated to a hospital bed waiting for the inevitable. Cossette held his wrinkled hand and Trigger watched in pain as she tried to hold back her emotions, watching her husband slip before her.

 

The sun was just starting to peek through window, rising on a new day. Cossette had once again fallen asleep next to his bedside, holding his hand. Weakly Trigger grasped it with both of his frail hand, desperate to hold onto her for as long as he could.

 

There was a rap on the door, after a moment, it gently opened. A Blond man entered the room, in his late twenties to early thirties wearing a set of hospital scrubs. Trigger eyed him cautiously, not recognizing the man from any of the staff he had seen, but also having the instinctual feeling that he knew him. He shot Trigger a knowing smirk as he entered the Hospital room.

 

“How are you feeling?” The man asked, the accent reminded Trigger remarkably of Cossette’s own.

“I could be better.” Trigger rasped; He laughed, even though it had long since faded into a near whisper. He took a few breaths winded from the effort of defiance towards the stranger. 

 

The stranger stepped to the foot of the bed and snapped his fingers, before leaning on the railing. “Well, its good to see that your attitude transcends these things. I was almost worried that it wouldn’t.”

“If you want to do this, don’t do it in front of my wife.” Trigger replied irritated, still holding onto Cossette’s sleeping hand. The Stranger looked to her, then back to Trigger pitifully. “I wouldn’t worry too much about her. Right now, as far as the rest of this world knows, time just stopped. No one will be interrupting us for this talk either.”

 

Trigger squinted at the man, “Its you.” He finally said dumbfounded. The Stranger smiled. “I see you do remember me. So, with that out of the way, do you remember what I asked you?”

“But why would you do this? I was happy. This was what I wanted.” Trigger protested, having to take a deep breath between each word.

The Stranger shook his head disappointed. “Mieux vaut vivre un mensonge heureux qu'une vérité brutale. Better to live a happy lie than a brutal truth. So, I ask again. Have you changed your mind yet?”

Trigger was silent at the question. While he was happy and lived what his friends and family, or at least who he had thought were his friends and family, would say was a good life, he felt incomplete. Ultimately his life as a Salaryman had amounted to a modest but comfortable life, on rare occasions him and Cossette would travel to see the world, but it was rarely the sense of adventure he longed for.

 

Trigger glared at the Stranger, without saying a word the Stranger grinned faintly and Trigger was plunged into darkness and pain.

***

Trigger awoke in agony, every nerve was firing simultaneously and caused Trigger to involuntarily scream. As soon as it happened however, the sharpness of the pain subsided enough for him to start to get a baring on himself. He was back to his old life, the life had thought was a dream.

 

He could only see a blur from his left eye, he was unsure if he still had his right eye or not and was not in any mood to check. Turning his attention to his surroundings he could see he was still strapped into the Air Tractor’s cockpit, in a merciful turn of events, the airframe had come to a stop right-side-up, though Trigger could tell from how damp everything was, the plane had likely rolled some way through the jungle floor before coming to a stop. Water had rushed into the open cockpit and had flooded up to his chest, the bitter cold was starting to slowly numb anything below his waist.

The heavy scent of jet fuel filled the air, Trigger was unable to see his wings but assumed that his rear fuel tank was the culprit and leaking the combustible liquid around him. Moving on from his surroundings he went back to taking stock of himself. One arm appeared shattered, and he was unable to use it without significant pain, he had multiple deep cuts on his remaining good arm but was still able to use it.

 

“Is this any better?” the Strangers voice asked from behind Trigger. Startled, the pilot grasped furiously for his handgun, dismayed to find the torn fabric on his vest where his holster and Kahr handgun had been secured.

 

Trigger could feel his heartbeat accelerate as he could hear sloshing come towards the front of the cockpit. Trigger could barely see him through his fading vision, instead of the more formal attire he had been wearing, it looked to Trigger as if the Stranger was now in an olive drab flight suit and a leather jacket.

 

“So, this is real life then.” Trigger asked in an attempt at defiance.

 The Stranger shrugged “Look at what you went through as a gift.”

Trigger chuckled bitterly, resting back in his seat, he wasn’t in the mood to go out fighting anyways. Probably better this way he thought to himself. “A Gift, now that’s a hoot. You wanted to just dangle something I could never have just to mock me? That’s some gift.”

“Actually no, that was all you.” The Stranger corrected. “All I did was allow you to see the world that you wanted. My only manipulation was to bring you back here so we could have this talk.”

“You know what? Fuck you.” Trigger spat. “if that’s true, why not let me live that lie? Let me die in peace.”

“Because that’s unbecoming of you and you know it!” the Stranger shot back heated. “You, don’t just roll over like a dog and wait to die. You are that impossible bastard to kill, That is what you are.” The Stranger said closing the distance. “But no, you much rather just die here as a pitiful mess instead. Why?”

 

Trigger knew he was avoiding the actual question. It was nearly five months since his life went entirely off the rails, but even before hand Trigger in his darkest corners of his mind had been secretly hoping for this to happen. It was partially what seemed to make him a better than average combat pilot, He simply did not have anything to lose once he joined Spare Squadron, and even after that, His life only revolved around the impossible missions the LRSSG had been issued.

 

“I guess im tired of those around me suffering” Trigger finally admitted.

“Explain?”

“You’re in my head aren’t you, shouldn’t you know?” Trigger shot back.

“Humor me.”

Trigger took a deep breath “Back when I was at my first squadron, we were over this very spot, someone relied on me, and I failed her. My very next mission, I failed a lot more people than that” Trigger explained. The Stranger listening intently, found a Root and sat down, just out of the range that Trigger’s eyes could reliably focus on.

“Then what happened?” the Stranger asked

“Then I got sent to the Spare Squadron, and there, I guess I just didn’t care. Turns out I was pretty good at what I was doing, but even then, everyone else who was with me would get dragged down and killed” Trigger said bitterly.

“From there, I guess I impressed enough people, and was sent to the LRSSG, and there when the seemly one guy who believed in me was counting on me, I let him down” Trigger said, he swallowed trying to maintain his composure.

“And finally, just when I think things are finally going well for me, I meet this girl, and she doesn’t care about who I was or what I did, she just loved me for me, and I let her down. That is why I am here. That is why I gave up. Everyone around me either is hurt or let down by me.” Trigger said, he had started crying. Over a year and a half of disappointments and resentments were coming out of the pilot.

He hated it all, he was ready for it to be over. The figure listened intently before walking over to the twisted cockpit.

 

The Stranger looked down at Trigger with a look of disappointment. “So that’s why you chose to make this a suicide mission?” he asked directly.

“The man who shot down not one, but two weapons of mass destruction. The Man who shot down one of the most lethal pilots in history. And the man who stole the heart of a princess, just gives up because of one more bump in his road? That doesn’t sound like a man who lets people down. Not by a long shot.” The Stranger replied leaning on the bent frame of the cockpit.

 

“I don’t know” Trigger responded dejected.

 

“Well come on now, that’s no way to think. Deep down, you know you want to get back to her. Hell you already probably have a plan. So, let’s see here… I always hated these ELTs, damn things never work when you need them” The Stranger leaned into the cabin and started fumbling through the shattered dashboard searching for a switch in particular.

“Aha! Found it!” The Stranger shouted in triumph, flipping a switch. Somewhere in the jungle, Trigger could hear his handheld survival radio roar to life with the wail of the emergency locator beacon.

 

The Stranger clapped his hands satisfied and took a step back from the cockpit.

“Now what?” Trigger asked, starting to feel himself drift off again.

“Now? Now you get your girl.” The Stranger said turning and starting to slosh through the water away from the crash site.

 

“Hey, Wait up a minute” Trigger shouted weakly.

The Stranger stopped

“Thanks for everything”

“Don’t mention it Trigger.”

“ce n'est rie” The Stranger said as Trigger slumped forward in his seat, slowly losing consciousness between the blood loss and shock.

 

Right before he finally drifted off, he could hear the frantic sounds of sloshing as someone cut him free from his harness and pulled him from the cockpit.