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No True Pair Sept. 21 - Biggles & Raymond
Okay, this one's a bit (actually a lot) early, but I'm on a Raymond kick now.
September Twenty-one - Biggles & Raymond - lightning & thunder
"So," Raymond said wryly, "this is your life, is it, Bigglesworth?"
They were slogging through the woods in pouring rain, lit by an occasional lightning flash. The flight, ferrying the Air Commodore to the site of the newly declassified wartime-era facility in the mountains, should have been simple and routine. Biggles, at the last minute, had decided not to bring Algy as a copilot since he was needed elsewhere.
Now here they were, stranded, the aircraft ditched in the river that was still purling along beside them at flood height, the backup pickup site miles away and probably inaccessible until morning if the weather continued on its current dismal trend. The Air Commodore was limping, and Biggles felt a hot stabbing in his side whenever he moved, where the control stick had caught him in the smash, as well as sundry other bruises. Most of their gear was gone in the river.
"Yes, I'd say this tracks," Biggles said.
From the rain-soaked twilight beside him came something like a laugh. "It's interesting to experience it for myself, after reading the reports about it so often. I will have a whole new appreciation of the context now."
"I prefer to write my reports from the comfort of my desk," Biggles said ruefully. "No reason they can't be read and appreciated from the same vantage—"
In the half-blind moment after a flash of lightning, he stumbled on a root and had to catch himself on the nearest tree trunk, hissing in pain. He was both gratified and slightly embarrassed when the man he most respected and admired took his arm carefully and assisted him over the rough tangle of exposed roots and rocks. By the time they reached the trees on the far side, Biggles had got his balance back, if not his breath.
"If you don't mind indulging an old man," Raymond said, letting him go, "I wouldn't mind taking a rest here."
Biggles snorted at the transparent fiction, but they both found places to sit under the spreading branches of a pine tree. Below them, the waters of the river thrashed in the near-dark.
"They'll find us," Biggles said after a few moments, with confidence that he didn't have to feign. Algy was out there. Bertie and Ginger. Erich, now. All they had to do was hold on until the retrieval party got here. He pressed the heel of his hand to his aching side.
"I have every confidence," Raymond said, and he sounded like he meant it.
Ficlet master list in this post
September Twenty-one - Biggles & Raymond - lightning & thunder
"So," Raymond said wryly, "this is your life, is it, Bigglesworth?"
They were slogging through the woods in pouring rain, lit by an occasional lightning flash. The flight, ferrying the Air Commodore to the site of the newly declassified wartime-era facility in the mountains, should have been simple and routine. Biggles, at the last minute, had decided not to bring Algy as a copilot since he was needed elsewhere.
Now here they were, stranded, the aircraft ditched in the river that was still purling along beside them at flood height, the backup pickup site miles away and probably inaccessible until morning if the weather continued on its current dismal trend. The Air Commodore was limping, and Biggles felt a hot stabbing in his side whenever he moved, where the control stick had caught him in the smash, as well as sundry other bruises. Most of their gear was gone in the river.
"Yes, I'd say this tracks," Biggles said.
From the rain-soaked twilight beside him came something like a laugh. "It's interesting to experience it for myself, after reading the reports about it so often. I will have a whole new appreciation of the context now."
"I prefer to write my reports from the comfort of my desk," Biggles said ruefully. "No reason they can't be read and appreciated from the same vantage—"
In the half-blind moment after a flash of lightning, he stumbled on a root and had to catch himself on the nearest tree trunk, hissing in pain. He was both gratified and slightly embarrassed when the man he most respected and admired took his arm carefully and assisted him over the rough tangle of exposed roots and rocks. By the time they reached the trees on the far side, Biggles had got his balance back, if not his breath.
"If you don't mind indulging an old man," Raymond said, letting him go, "I wouldn't mind taking a rest here."
Biggles snorted at the transparent fiction, but they both found places to sit under the spreading branches of a pine tree. Below them, the waters of the river thrashed in the near-dark.
"They'll find us," Biggles said after a few moments, with confidence that he didn't have to feign. Algy was out there. Bertie and Ginger. Erich, now. All they had to do was hold on until the retrieval party got here. He pressed the heel of his hand to his aching side.
"I have every confidence," Raymond said, and he sounded like he meant it.
Ficlet master list in this post
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