Duxford Airfield The Band Pt 09

DUXFORD AIRFIELD (the band) Pt. 09

Love and mystery

____________(9)____________

CASTLE OF WEEDS:

...Removing my gloves, I slowly tilted my head, first one way, and then the other, as I took out the ear plugs from beneath my aviator's helmet. I then unzipped my thick leather coat, letting the rays of the desert sun warm me now. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back as my body drank in the sun's euphoric warmth. It felt good to be standing on the ground again.

...I was so very tired.

After several long seconds, I opened my eyes again and slowly glanced all around me at the wide expanse of the desert. Geographically, I had no idea where I currently was, but I was in the right place, that much I did know.

Using my right hand as a sun visor, I scanned far off into the distance; but saw no one.

I would wait...

Stretching my arms, I pushed my back against the leading edge of a metal wing and then glanced up at the exotic profile of the machine. There were many machines within the world but seldom was one as exceptional as this one. With my eyes transfixed, I felt a warm glow steal over my heart of hearts now, as if seeing her for the very first time, ever.

The last hour had been spent at twenty-thousand feet, chasing the morning sun within an atmosphere of brutal cold. Yet, as always, the old warbird had given her heart to me and we'd flown gloriously through the heavens together...

...With eyes closed again, I stood listening to the exhaust manifolds ticking as the Merlin Rolls-Royce engine cooled.

The familiar smells of aviation grease and aging aluminum were also present as I leaned against the starboard wing. Content, I stood still, just breathing in the machine's aroma, much the same way that I would the exotic perfume of a beautiful British woman...

A gust of desert wind blew warm air into my face.

My God, I just wanted to lay down and sleep.

I was so tired.

...The late model Spitfires, with their Griffon engine, were better, everyone believed that. Yet, somehow, none of the newer Spit's had ever seemed to fit me quite like the Mark IX. None of the others had ever quite put the same sense of ecstasy deep in the pit of my guts, the way the Mark IX did.

- Once, during a routine inspection of the R.A.F., it had been rumored that Mister Churchill himself had privately confessed an overwhelming compulsion to climb into a Spitfire IX and leave the dismal world of politics behind him, for an afternoon...

"A thoroughbred," the man had apparently said in admiration of her...

...I briefly opened my eyes again and glanced at the machine's shadow, on the ground. The Spitfire, within the shadow, seemed to have an even longer nose than the actual machine itself did.

Even her shadow was majestic...

The Spitfire's long nose, and the angle at which the machine sat on the ground, required a man to peer outside the open canopy and look around the side of the long nose during taxi. By doing so, he was subjected to the massive prop wash and the Merlin's hot exhaust.

The noise from the seventeen-hundred horsepower Merlin engine was unbelievably loud, making it necessary for a man to wear earplugs beneath his leather helmet. However, this minor necessity was all part of the mystique in flying the Spitfire. The earplugs were a small inconvenience that most men only wished they had to endure...

...The sheer exhilaration of slowly walking the throttle forward and feeling the Merlin respond was indescribable. A man could feel every single one of the twelve cylinders firing, deep within the pit of his stomach, and the Merlin's sound itself; was a symphony of steel. Once the throttle was opened slightly and the Spitfire did begin to roll down a long grassy fairway, the sensation was almost erotic...

A man would never be the same, ever again, once he had experienced the thrill of fighting against the Merlin's massive torque and then felt a Spitfire lift freely from the earth, as both man and machine climbed toward the heavens and into destiny together, as one.

...Now, within my mind, my eyes slowly went over every inch of her sleek profile again.

- Few things within this life were ever genuine, but the Vickers Supermarine Spitfire, Mark IX, was one thing that was completely authentic. She was beautiful, she was exotic, and also dangerous, like a woman...

Was I in love with her?

...I smiled, a tired smile, in answer to this.

Opening my eyes, I slowly reached up and took down my canteen of water. Unscrewing its cap, I peered off into the desert again. Shimmering heat waves danced lazily in the far distance as several small geckos darted to and fro, directly in front of me. I watched the small creatures for several seconds before upending the canteen of water, drinking deeply.

The water was fabulous...

Lowering the canteen again, I looked far off into the distance yet again; but saw nothing. - The girl would be here, not early, not late, but right on time.

A man will spend most of his life, waiting on a woman...

Glancing at my watch, I was startled to see that the timepiece was now running backward. The hands on the dial were moving as fast as the blades of an electric fan, only in reverse. Confused, I stared at the face of the watch for several seconds and tried to understand the logic behind this. However, fatigue soon washed over me again and I gave up trying to make sense of the malfunctioning timepiece.

No matter...

I drank from the canteen again and closed my eyes as the pristine water went down. Nothing ever tasted so good as cold, mountain water.

...My head drooped and I almost dozed, still standing and holding the canteen.

Shaking off the fatigue, I quickly poured some of the cold water into the palm of my hand and vigorously scrubbed my face with it, in an attempt to rejuvenate myself.

Somewhat refreshed, I stood up straight again and slung the canteen back onto the starboard wing.

...Squinting against the bright sun, I looked toward the distant horizon again. I could now, just, see the faint outline of an equestrian silhouetted against the shimmering heat waves and traveling toward me.

A mile away, not much more, I reckoned...

The rider appeared to be moving at a steady pace, neither slowly, nor in a hurry. She would be here soon, she would be here right on time.

I waited.

My subconscious mind now began to occupy itself with the previous night's journey into euphoria with a woman. Bethany; had been her name, I think. She had been wild and beautiful, yet, in the end, no different than any of the others. Bethany had still been asleep when I had left her, early this morning.

Would our paths ever cross again?

It was doubtful...

- What is it, that all of them wanted from me? What was it, that all of them were seeking?

"...I don't know" I wearily answered aloud as I shook my head, in the negative.

Bethany's face now briefly floated through my mind.

With the exuberance of youth, we had laughed gregariously and danced until nine o'clock, before slipping away from the others.

Closing my eyes, I could seemingly still smell her perfume and feel her hot breath upon my neck as she had moaned into my ear...

Maybe it had been pure and simple spiritual refuge from an entire world gone mad, that had motivated her advances toward me that evening. Maybe it had been nothing more than the release from boredom and a daily existence filled with the mundane that had spurred her on.

I opened my eyes again.

...Bethany's brother had flown Spitfires, she'd explained. The key word in this instance, of course, was "had"...

Maybe Bethany had simply used me last night, the same way I'd used her.

I shrugged my shoulder, indifferently.

Each of us dealt with sorrow and loss in our own way...

- My mind abruptly snapped alert now and came back to the present as I focused my eyes against the sun's glare and watched the stranger approach.

...It was nigh on to noon.

The rider was wearing a long grey trench coat and wide-brimmed top hat, she was closer to me now and traveling at a steady trot. Puffs of dust could be seen coming up from each of the horse's hoofbeats and a faint jingle could be heard from the mount's rigging. Both; horse, and rider, were covered with several days' worth of dried sweat and trail dust.

Coming within twenty feet of me, she abruptly halted the steed and deliberately faced me with her left side, the right gun hand intentionally placed out of my view.

I could clearly see her face now.

...The stranger wore an array of guns. Two guns were tied low upon each side of her chaps and another two were arranged in shoulder holsters, with a gun barrel beneath each breast, in a cross draw. The walnut grips of each pistol looked well worn and the leather holster straps were lined with more bullets, thirty-six caliber, it looked like...

The horse blew and shook his head, accompanied by a slight jingling sound and the stomping of his right front hoof, yet the rider remained motionless as she slowly looked me up and then down.

A strawberry blonde, her eyes were blue and she made no effort to conceal the fact that she was now evaluating me, in more ways than one...

Nudging the mount forward with her knee and edging closer to me, she glanced quickly at the Spitfire and then snorted in contempt, as if it were an adolescent toy.

Our eyes then locked and I held her gaze.

Separated only by a few yards now, we each looked deeply into the eyes of the other for several long seconds, almost as if it were a contest to see who would break first, her or me. Within this moment of time, I openly ran my own eyes over her petite frame and made no attempt to conceal that I liked what I saw...

A powerful gust of wind suddenly blew a cloud of dust between us, forcing each of us to momentarily shut our eyes. In this blink of an instant, and with lightning reflexes, she threw her right leg over the horse's head and quickly landed on her feet, directly in front of me, her spurs jingling slightly.

I now stood looking into a sunburnt face and vastly intelligent eyes as the aromas of Lilac, horse sweat, and gun oil surrounded me. Her breathtaking beauty was beyond comprehension and I felt myself quickly becoming intoxicated by her presence.

Coming closer toward me, she openly challenged me to hold her steady gaze. Without blinking, I defiantly held my ground, letting her come close, until she stopped, within inches of me. An afternoon breeze was now teasing her long dirty hair as it waved lazily under the battered grey top hat, yet neither of us spoke.

She made no effort to hide the primordial lust within and her chest was heaving slightly, yet her hands remained lowered, close to the guns of her open duster. I speculated that the stranger was most likely ambidextrous and could shoot equally well with either hand...

I was close enough to smell whiskey on her breath as we stood peering deeply into each other's eyes.

In studying her eyes, it almost seemed as if we were able to intuitively know the other's thoughts and could communicate accordingly. My hardened stare softened as I looked deeply into her soul at the heart within her. A heart that was tightly veiled.

"...Why are you afraid?" I asked gently.

The blue eyes looking back at me now balked slightly with a sudden fear which was then instantly replaced with a flash of anger and a very swift and savage slap of my face. With my own instant reflexes, I roughly pulled her against me and forced my lips upon hers, tasting her tongue in utter euphoria. Her own tongue eagerly met mine as we drank deeply from one another for a full five seconds. She then abruptly pulled her head away from me as I simultaneously heard a revolver being cocked, close to my right ear.

I gently released her, and she slowly lowered the pistol that was in her left hand.

" - Just as I suspected, another woman-child!" I scoffed, as I backed away from her.

Another flash of anger quickly filled her eyes and in a mere fraction of a second, the gun spit fire and smoke with a deafening thunder as she fanned the hammer and put six bullets into the earth in front of my boots, each round kicking up dust as she did so.

...Shocked, I looked down at my boots and then back into her eyes again as the echo of gunfire and black powder smoke faded away into the wind.

My blood was suddenly boiling and my entire body was shaking, both from fear and also anger.

"If you were a man, I'd knock you on your ass for that!" I hissed.

She rolled her eyes in response and blew a huff of air, in defiance of me.

Now, as if taunting me further, she looked directly into my eyes, and held up the revolver, crossways to me, at eye level. The girl then slowly and methodically rammed each of the empty shell casings from the pistol's cylinder, using the ejection rod.

I watched as each of the shell casings tumbled into the sand by her boots.

A slight dimpled smile suddenly appeared at the corner of her mouth as her fingers deftly turned the cylinder and began loading fresh bullets into the gun. She then quickly snapped the loading gate closed and twirled the pistol smoothly back into the holster on her left hip without ever breaking eye contact with me.

Even in this moment of anger, I couldn't help but find myself completely mesmerized by her...

A slight gust of wind waved her hair again and a dark shadow suddenly seemed to cross over her face. All the humor which had been present within her eyes a moment earlier; was now gone.

For a long moment we stood, just staring at each other and I found myself wanting to taste her lips again...

Seemingly able to read my thoughts, she made an impatient chopping motion with her hand.

"WE'RE WASTING TIME, NO MORE GAMES!!!," now seemed to echo loudly within my mind as her eyes hardened.

My temper, and thoughts of passion, both cooled slightly. Something deep within her had shifted dramatically and the blue eyes were now deadly serious.

It suddenly dawned on me that she was a messenger...

"...What do you need to say?" I finally asked, regaining some of my composure.

Nodding her head at my cooler demeanor, she quickly began making odd verbal sounds and vigorously using some sort of sign language which ended by her hooking both thumbs together and fluttering her fingers as she swept her arms in an arc, like a bird taking flight.

"Do you understand?" she motioned me.

There now seemed to be a sudden mental block between us, almost as if a glass wall stood between her and I. Maybe it was simply the age-old primordial opposition that had always stood between man and woman, or maybe each of our own egos was now standing in the way of our understanding of one another.

"Do you understand!?" she motioned me again, impatiently.

"You want to go for a ride?" I asked uncertain, nodding my head at the Spitfire.

The girl quickly flew into a frustrated rage and began shaking her head in the negative and waving her arms wildly, as if shooing away flies.

"LOVER, PAY ATTENTION!!!" her voice echoed loudly within my mind again.

She then went through the whole sign language sequence again, ending with the bird taking flight.

"...I don't understand," I said quietly, closing my eyes in frustration.

With a deep sigh, the girl squeezed the bridge of her nose for several long seconds, deep in thought.

"Guhh" she suddenly grunted, as an idea seemed to form in her mind.

Roughly pulling me toward her, she shoved a book into my hands and motioned for me to look at it. The book was entitled "The Gentle Giant." The girl then motioned me further and I opened the book, but all the pages were blank. There was no writing anywhere within the book.

Looking up at her again, I shrugged my shoulder, asking "What does this mean?"

In reply, she quietly slipped out a chained pocket watch from her vest and flipped open the case. Holding up the timepiece at face level, I saw the photograph of a Uniformed soldier, I then noticed that all of the watch's hands were rapidly running backward. The girl stared intently at me and then slowly tapped the face of the dial three times with the index fingernail of her left hand. Keeping eye contact with me, she then vigorously shook the watch for emphasis.

I nodded my head slightly in affirmation, yet I was still unsure of what her implications were...

Looking up at the watch again, I quietly studied the photograph of the young man in Military Uniform, but the girl quickly snapped the watch case closed.

She then slowly shook her head in disappointment of me, as if I'd disrespected her.

Obviously, by studying the photograph, I had been invading her privacy.

"...I didn't mean to be rude," I said quietly.

I briefly glanced at the book in my hands again, but when I looked up, the girl was gone...

Feeling a sudden sense of urgency now, I intuitively turned toward the Spitfire again; but was instead greeted with a long darkened tunnel. Natural instinct told me to run toward the light at the end, and I did so. I ran as hard and as fast as I could but was soon engulfed within a cold darkness and swiftly swept away...

- With a huge exhale of breath, I now bolted upright in bed, next to Andrea. After a brief moment, I re-orientating myself and realized that we were still in the hotel room's bed. We had been inside Prominent House, only hours before.

I swung my feet over to the floor and sat with my head in my hands as my heart pounded wildly. I was covered in a cold sweat and physically shaking from the strange dream.

"...Baby, you OK?" Andrea mumbled, staring up at me sleepily.

Making no reply, I just sat, panting in deep breaths.

"What, baby?" Andrea asked, slowly sitting up beside me and rubbing my back now.

"...The Countess, I saw her, Andrea. I saw her in some sort of crazy dream," I said, still panting.

"What happened, honey? Did she say anything?" Andrea asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Not in words, no" I replied.

...I suddenly felt extremely guilty for having kissed the Countess and for also having slept with Bethany, within the dream. I wisely decided to omit these two details from Andrea...

"...Tell me about it, honey," Andrea said, leaning against me.

"...I flew a Spitfire into the desert and landed. All the clocks were running backward in some sort of weird time warp. The Countess was there and we met." I said.

"Sounds pretty wild," Andrea said quietly.

"Andrea, it was wild. Where does all this stuff come from, anyway?" I asked, in reference to my dream, while rubbing my forehead with my palms.

"The mind is an amazing mechanism, Tim, and sometimes strange things happen in dreams, especially when we're tired. - Was there any indication why you went there and met with her, in the first place?" Andrea asked, curiously.

I pulled my wife closer to me; and pondered her question for several moments.

"...The Countess seemed to be warning me of something but I couldn't understand what it was. None of it made any sense, Andrea,".

I paused for several more seconds before continuing.

" - See, I was this ace pilot, and I'd flown a Spitfire into the desert to meet with her. I go there and wait, and she shows up on a horse and she's wearing all these guns; like she's some outlaw gunslinger; or something. - It's like, nineteen-forty-five, for me, and, eighteen-eighty-five, for her. We seemed to have had a prearranged meeting there in the desert, and we're in this crazy time warp where our two worlds seemed to meet.

She goes through some sort of sign language routine, trying to tell me something, but I didn't understand any of it. Then she hands me a book with no writing in it, and then she just disappears into thin air. None of it made any sense. At the end of the dream, I was running down a long tunnel but I got swallowed up in a cold darkness, - that's when I woke up" I said, with a deep sigh.