Ticking Time Bomb

Lark Sanders was always fearless. At age twelve he started skydiving. His father was a pilot at a skydiving company. It was actually illegal to skydive at twelve, but it didn't stop him from learning. He had always been an adrenaline junkie.

Lark, now twenty-six, had been flying planes for the government for a few years now. He loved his job and was very passionate about it. He loved to travel and fly planes. Today he was taking the president of the United States to Russia.

“About ten minutes until landing, Mr. President.” Lark said, his deep voice over the intercom. Landing was the hard part when visiting foreign countries. He was never sure of how their landing zones would be. The landing was surprisingly smooth and all went well.

Lark never knew what the president was doing in all of these countries, but he didn't bother to ask. Lark mostly kept to himself. He had always lived his life by two different phrases, “Ignorance is bliss,” and “Live free or die hard.” Lark did what he normally did when visiting other countries, he walked around and then went to a local bar.

Moscow was a beautiful city, and the architecture was stunning. He was happy he was here for two days. He could drink tonight, and sleep the day away tomorrow. He never drank to the point where he got completely trashed. There was no thrill in that for him after his twenty-first birthday. It took a lot of alcohol for him because he was such a big guy. He was about six foot four and was all muscle. He was always sober for twenty-four hours before he flew. His dad always told him that rule and Lark always followed it. It was one thing to be fearless, another to be stupid.

The days came and went and eventually it was time to get back to his plane. Lark was set to leave at seven in the morning and he waited on the plan for the president to enter. The president never talked to Lark when he got on the plane. He would either punch in a code that he was ready for take off or would talk over the intercom.

“All set, Lark.” The president’s voice came over the intercom. His voice sounded strange,  but Lark figured he had been either in a yelling fight with Russia’s president and his throat was bothering him.

“Take off in two minutes, Mr. President.” Take off was Lark’s specialty. He could get a plane into the air smoother than any pilot the government had ever had according to the reviews his superiors told him he received.

Take off was easy, as usual. It was great flying weather. They had been in the air for about three hours and Lark needed a coffee. He never had a co captain because the president actually preferred not to, which Lark found strange. He turned on autopilot and left the pit. He walked to the back of the plane where the bathroom and kitchenette was. He noticed he hadn’t seen the president at all. Lark heard a rustling noise on the other side of the door leading to a small conference room.  He heard deep Russian voices and the president. Lark pushed the door open and three Russian men, two carrying guns were on the other side. The president was tied up to a chair, looking terrified, but unable to speak.

Before the men had time to respond, Lark had broken the glass on an emergency gun and shot the men with guns dead and pointed the gun at the other man.

“Kill me.” He said, his voice thick with a Russian accent. “It does not matter. The plane is a ticking time bomb.” Those were his last words as Lark shot him dead.

Lark rushed over and untied the president. “Where are the bombs?” He asked fervently.

“They’re set to go off when we land. It’s inevitable.”

“Mr. President, we need to get you off this plane. I’m going to fly us over a safe area in England where you can take the parachute and land alone on the ground. It’s not hard, I’ll show you how to do that later. Call the Royal Family and let them know you’re paying a visit. Give them approximately the coordinates you’ll be landing”

“What about the you and the bombs?”

“Don’t worry about it. I've got a plan. Call back home and let them know you’ll be jumping in about a half an hour.”

Once Lark knew the area he lowered the plane as low as he could and suited the president up. With a goodbye handshake Lark told the president to jump and the president was gone. Lark watched the black parachute float to the ground. He returned to the pit and managed to turn the plane around towards Russia. He called his father from the air and left him a voice mail. He said he would see him again someday and that he loved him and hung up. He was over the mountains of Russia, where no one lived. That is where where he landed the plane. The explosions started in the back and got closer and closer to the pit, each going off like a firework finale. The final explosion occurred and there was no longer a Lark Sanders.