Max’s eyes glanced from the sky ahead to the picture frame by the controls. The portrait showed his beloved granddaughter, CJ smiling brightly to the camera. Max’s eyes watered a little, and he cleared his throat, driving his attention back into focus.
He was delivering cargo to Giza, Egypt. Got a call about some need of supplies- shovels, pickaxes. Something about a jewel. It wasn’t Max’s deal to snoop with other people’s business. As long as he got the pay. Call, fly, pay. That’s how it worked now. Max didn’t like it, but it worked.
Checking the control panel, it looked like it would be a while before Max got anywhere. He sighed, pressing the auto-pilot button. He was about to drift off to sleep, when a deafening boom rang through the air. Max jumped, his hands accidently knocking one of the main switches. The engines began to slow down, and Max could see the storm up ahead, with threads of gold lightning. This was bad.
“I’ll be back later, boy.” The soft but scruff British voice said.
“Wait!” A little boy came running from the kitchen. He hugged his dad, and kissed his gun for good luck.
“Atta boy, lad.” the father said in approval.
The son waved in glee as the father went outside.
“Tally ho!” he said as the door closed behind him.
Thunder boomed all around Max, the darkening sky surrounding him. With a huge force, the storm slammed into the airplane head on, crashing it into the forest below.
Max, unconscious, hang from a sturdy tree branch, his backpack straps the only thing keeping him safe.
The gunshot jolted him awake. From the distance, Max could her a dull roar and a heavy thump. Then, laughter.
Max shuddered, and began to shiver. Suddenly noticing his surroundings, he saw the snow covering everything around him. He had to keep moving. Wiggling his way off the branch, he jumped down to the forest floor. Pain shot up his body from his feet to his head. He didn’t know he was so high up. Feeling a little dizzy, he grabbed his book from his backpack. Before he could read a sentence, the wind picked it up, shoving the cracked yellow pages out of the spine to scatter across the tree tops.
Fine. Max thought. I’ll figure it out myself.