Superman's Mortality

21.

A small but violent thermal shakes me back. I twist left to see Jules responding calmly to the sudden blast of invisible wind. She wears a face of complete control and confidence, the exact visage of how I have long remembered her. Satisfied with the situation she turns to meet my gaze.

“We’re thirty-three minutes out, there is water under the seat and you look like you could use a nap. I’ll try to keep her steady.”

“Yeah, thanks, I guess I drifted off a little, sorry.” 

“You OK?”

“Trying, unsuccessfully for now, to connect some historical dots and come up with a solution and a win/win strategy to move forward. But yeah, I’m OK, thanks.”

“If it helps any, your reputation is legendary with the company. TOM will candidly tell anyone who asks that you are the top gun. It that is one of your dots, you should consider erasing it.”

I look at her with non-judgmental empathy and immediately lie, “For once, ego isn’t a part of it. Might actually be the opposite, a little doubt, some unfamiliar fears and an altogether new definition of purpose and meaning. Things are changing fast.”

“Are you feeling your mortality Superman?”

I look at her. She holds my eyes unblinkingly. She knows me too well to consider a bluff. I wonder if she wants to be soft and supportive or hard and professional. Completely unsure of how to respond I feel saved when a familiar voice crackles through the silence with an Alpha code transponder open. 

“Bravo Hotel Five, this is Tango Oscar Mike do you read?”

“Bravo Five, we copy Tango Mike, go ahead.”

“Please advise passenger to review operation file transmitting now.” 

“Copy Tango.”

“Tango out.”

Less than five seconds after the ‘transmitting now’ update I feel the phone vibrate in my left front pocket. The digital ETA display on the choppers dash reads 11:47:02. As much as I want to extend the conversation with Jules, perhaps even share my vulnerabilities and building insecurities, I know that this secure transmission has automatic delete encryption. From the time file is opened I have four minutes to scan, review and mentally file the communication. 

Jules begins initial descent as I note the time on my phone and open the file. I see the bold first, as intended:

IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED.

TOP PRIORITY.

COUNTER INSURGENCY. 

POC SAUNDERS. 

Julie sets the bird down with elegant grace and fluidity. We are thirty feet from the Gulfstream. It is ready for take-off. A crew member is running towards us to assist. 

I look at Julie. She is solid, staid and steady. I don’t know what to say. 

“Good luck Bogie.”

I start to stammer something but she cuts me off extending her arm for a fist bump.

“It’ll be OK.”

“Yeah.” I say, meeting her halfway.

“And Bogie.”

I tilt my head in acknowledgement.

“We all feel that way.”