[Contest Entry 2011] The Wings of Ether

No family. No friends. No trumpets or Revelators. Just a man he hated and a nuclear bomb.

This is the way the world ends.

Snowflakes buffeted the viewport of Adam Hargraves' B-2 Spirit as it rumbled over the Bering Strait. The radio fizzled and popped as NORAD became a patch of ionized metal, but just as it was agreed, there was no change in heading. Not so much as a word was exchanged in the cramped cabin. The gloved hand of Adam's co-pilot James shifted slightly and flicked the radio off the channel. A knot formed in Adam's stomach now that they were finally and totally alone. He checked his watch--still thirty minutes out. Adam couldn't dredge any importance from the time, though. Just another thirty minutes. The fact that they were the last thirty made little difference. (This sentence is a fragment. Could be intentional, thought I'd point it out anyway.)

"Listen, Adam, I--"

"Arm the warhead, we're entering Russian airspace." Adam cut off James. He couldn't stand to hear the man's voice. Then again it was James who made this whole thing easier. If it weren't for him, Adam would still have a family to worry about, or a home to go back to. Ending the world isn't so bad when it's already gone.. (Random second period)

James hesitated for a second before arming the cruise missile in the B-2's bay. Adam pushed the throttle and the bomber lurched forward, burning the little fuel that was left in the tank. The silence returned to its former rule in the cabin as they flew away from the bleak December sunrise.

"Uhh, anyone in range? This is Colonel Whitten. Payload just went off. Tank's empty. If there's anyone out there, Merry Christmas. It's a brand new day." A weary voice buzzed through the silence ten minutes later. The aged man chuckled at his own humor, and then another pop. Adam's stomach did gymnastics. Did the old bastard really have to say that? He glanced over to James, who was already staring at him. The two locked eyes, and Adam looked away. Twenty minutes. Adam again pushed on the throttle.

The next fifteen minutes were punctuated by other pilots and their co-pilots saying their goodbyes, each vanishing seconds later in the same fizzle and pop. By Adam's count, that was it. No one else was up there with him anymore.

"I've fucked up. I've fucked up a lot. It never got any easier to deal with, and it never got any harder to avoid. I've killed people. Ruined lives. Now I'm all that's left, and my fucking legacy is going to be a crater." A heavy voice on the edge of tears came from Adam's right,. Iits clarity un-marred by the crackling of the radio. "I'm going to disappear and the one man who can help me won't because of what I've done. Maybe that's all I deserve;. Tthe contempt of my friend, and a crater (random space)--the monument to all of my sins." James choked out the last sentence before firing the missile. The B-2 shifted slightly as the weight dropped from it, and Adam watched the trail of orange light streak off into the darkness.

"Steady as she goes," he murmured, looking to the man who shook as he fought tears.

"Adam?"

Adam inhaled deeply and tried to shove the hatred he still held as far down as he could manage. "Yeah?"

"I never meant to hit Julia and the kids."

"I know, James."

"And I don't care if your son's into that Fakku shit."

"I never did."

"Then why won't you say something?!"

A massive flash of daylight beamed through the darkened cabin and the whole bomber shook in turbulence. Adam looked from James to the viewport and smiled.

"There's nothing to be said. There never was. I'll never forgive you, James, so I hope you can forgive me. In the meantime, you'll get exactly what you deserve."

Adam closed his eyes and let the wings of ether lift him up. To the wife that was taken. To the family that was gone. Adam Hargraves saw them all, and he smiled. He had never been so happy to be wrong. Floating weightless with those he loved. This is the way the world ends.