A Day in the Cornfield

by Glenn Gray

part 12

One day, Karl and Stew discover strange “turd”-like things appearing in their cornfield. The things have a strange power of mimicry, and their intentions are far from clear. Karl and Stew elicit the help of Sheriff Maynard and his daughter Roxy. Consternation ensues, and the once quiet farm becomes the epicenter of national attention.

Pilot Marty Quinn had been flying the Clear Skies Airlines for over twenty years. He loved his job and he particularly loved this flight, New York to Dallas, which was just the perfect length of flying time he enjoyed. He liked the few hours’ layover in New York; it gave him time to hang out, relax. Sometimes he even got to spend the night in Manhattan before he headed back to Dallas, where he lived.

He was at a comfortable altitude, cruising now, and he checked the controls and monitors. He was satisfied. His co-pilot, Andy Vogel, had just nodded off.

Quinn felt bad for the young pilot, recently diagnosed with lymphoma; he had infant twins at home. He had just finished his chemo and had clearance to fly again. Lucky for him his disease was low-grade and he responded really well to the treatments. Quinn told the kid to take it easy this flight and let him handle things.

Quinn reflected on his own life. All forty-eight years of it. Never had kids. His wife had just left him after nineteen years of marriage. Something about wanting more of something. Of what, he couldn’t figure out. Whatever.

And, yeah, he was hitting the bottle a bit too much lately. Figured it was all the stress.

There was a soft knock behind him. He knew who it was.

He leaned back, reached, and swung the door open. Quinn smiled at Sandy Matthews, the lead flight attendant.

Sandy slithered in, smiled. She could see Vogel was napping. She furtively passed Marty a plastic cup of ice and a miniature single-shot bottle of whiskey. She winked, saying nothing, and slipped out.

Quinn winked back, watched her leave and then quickly screwed the top off the little bottle, emptied it into the cup, ice crackling. He pushed the empty bottle into the bottom of the nearby trash bin.

He raised the plastic cup to his lips, drew in a long sip, savored the dull burn. He looked up and that was when he saw it.

At first it looked like a weird black cloud. He squinted and got a better view. Nope, not a cloud. It was a giant winged creature of some sort. A bird? So big? At this altitude? The wings were flapping in great wide arcs and it was sailing along just above the plane to the left, directly parallel, keeping the same speed.

Quinn tried to focus, set the drink on a small tray. He rubbed his eyes.

No way.

He craned his neck, moved his face closer to the glass, twisted his head so he could see its belly.

This crazy flying thing was wearing a t-shirt, a shirt that said, “Born to Ride.”

Whaaaat?

Absolutely no way. The head turned, and the massive face of an old woman smiled down at Quinn, her gray hair whipping in the wind. A huge old-lady grin. Then he saw the arms, the hands, curled down in front. One grasped a gun, more like a huge black cannon. The other, he couldn’t tell, kind of looked like a... wait... a person?

He heard himself scream, a high-pitched wail, and he knocked the plastic cup to the floor with a splash. He leaned over to Andy, frantically tugging at his shirt.

Andy stirred. “Huh?”

“You see that?” Quinn’s voice squeaked, and he sounded, for that brief moment, like a little boy.

“What?”

“Up there.” Quinn jabbed his finger at the glass.

Andy looked up.

Nothing.

“Where?”

Quinn went to the glass. “It was right there! Flying!”

“What?”

“An old lady! With wings! Flying!”

“Marty? The heck you sayin?”

“And a t-shirt!”

“Maarrrty?”

“Said, ‘Born to ride’!”

“You better sit down.” Andy grabbed Quinn’s shoulders, twisted him into his seat.

Quinn relented and sat, trembling, looking up, then down, back out the window, knuckles pressed to eyes.

Andy lifted the headset from around his neck, placed earphones to ears, and clicked on the radio transmitter.

To be continued...