The Flight

Escape From Refuse City

Ti-ti-ti-ti-tick, ti-ti-ti-ti-tick, ti-ti-ti-ti-tick. Pulling the wrench free, Jason felt at the last bolt he had tightened, securing the front wheel to the handlebar assembly. It was tight, but as he spun the wheel, it turned freely. 'Perfect,' he thought to himself. The bearing he had been able to scrounge was able to function as expected.

As he was standing, the old fluorescent light above his workbench went dark. 'Perfect,' he thought to himself again, rolling his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to visualize his shop, which he could no longer see, in his mind. Fortunately, as he was preparing to make the crossing, the light blinked back on, though it now flickered mockingly at him.

Jason crossed the small room he considered his workshop, weaving around projects of various sizes and states of completeness. He stopped at his workbench on one wall, hanging his wrench back onto the peg where it belonged. Despite the otherwise chaotic look of the room Jason preferred to keep his tools where they belonged.

He took a moment to frown at the empty peg where a 13mm wrench should be. Jason had inherited this small workshop from his father, along with all the tools. He had added to the collection, but despite the time spent looking he had never located a 13mm. He had heard rumors that thirteen was considered to be an unlucky number, so Jason was never sure whether it was a good sign, or a bad one that he was missing that one in particular.

Turning from his tools, Jason eyed his light, which was still flickering. 'I really should have a replacement for this already. It is dangerous to let it go so long.'

'Well, it shouldn't matter. If all goes well I should be out of the city this time tomorrow. If not, well...' Jason cut off that line of thought, turning to look again at his newly completed project. It was a motorcycle, based off of an old design his father had found while scrounging the heaps. Jason and his father — back when his father was still alive — had modified the design, adding wings to it that should allow it to fly.

Unfortunetly, the first model had led the to death of Jason's father. He had taken it out first, for a test flight, before trusting it to carry his young son. The flight itself had worked perfectly, and Jason was graced with a full minute of joy, watching his father soring in the skies above Refuse City's trash heaps.

It was then that tragedy struck. The Junkers, a gang of violent thugs used by those in power to keep those of Refuse City in Refuse City, attacked. They had brought out a great ballista built of old and rust spotted steel, and fired a bolt as big around as Jason's arm. Jason's father had tried to maneuver around the projectile, but it was then that their original design's fatal flaw showed. While the motorcycle could turn, it did so in wide, sweeping loops. It was all too easy to track, even when trying to be evasive. And, whether the Junkers had great predictive ability, or just plain luck, they had guessed correctly on the direction of the turn, and the first bolt they fired pierced right through the motorcycle and into Jason's father.

Jason shook his head, pulling himself back into the present. 'No use worrying about what happened in the past,' he thought. 'I’ve corrected for the steering issue, and improved a few parts of the design at the same time. I am as prepared as it is possible to be.'

Jason walked to the exterior wall and peeked outside through the blinds that mostly covered the grimy piece of glass in their door. He and his father had considered attempting their escape at night, but it was common knowledge that not even the Junkers would go out at night. Whatever beast prowled the Refuse City darkness was too much even for the thugs of the town. Jason shuddered as he heard a high pitched screech from somewhere far off.

He let the blind drop and crossed the room again, this time to his small cot in one corner. He lay down and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, not ready to turn the light off just yet. As he was looking, he noticed some mold had begun to creep its way into the corner above his cot. He frowned at the black and green spots. 'That is going to be a pain to clean,' he thought. 'Or, wait, I suppose it isn't my problem. Right, this time tomorrow, I will either be out of Refuse City or...'

He slapped the switch on the wall beside his cot in a sudden burst of motion, trying to force the thought from his head. But, unbidden, his mind finished the thought for him. 'Or I’ll be dead...'

He pulled the tattered sheet, which was his only cover, up over himself glad that it was at least warm this time of year. Jason tried, and failed, to banish the images that were now flooding his mind. All the various ways he could fail and die were playing out, one after another.

This wasn't good. The moment was now upon him, and he couldn't even sleep. If he was not rested before tomorrow, there was no way he would be successful. 'And, if I delay, I'll have to find another light,' Jason thought. 'Oh, and figure out how to deal with that mold before it becomes a real problem. Wait a second, am I really comparing the possibility of death to the pain of cleaning a mold spot?'

The thought almost made him laugh, and although the images of painful deaths did not retreat, their impact did lesson. After all, nobody wants to have to clean up mold.

Jason woke with a start, looking around his shop, eyes bleary. He scratched at his hair, wondering exactly when he had fallen asleep. All he could remember from the night before was his mind feeding him image after gruesome image of his own death.

Though some light was shining in through the gaps in his window shade, Jason still flipped the switch to his light, fingers crossed that it would hold out for the short amount of time he would need to prepare for his flight. The light flickered on, and, amazingly, shone steadily.

"I'll take that as a good sign," Jason muttered to himself. He got up and crouched to look under his cot. The supply of old canned food was running quite low, but Jason snatched one anyway. No use trying to make his escape on an empty stomach.

The can he grabbed showed a faded picture of some smiling old man, probably a chef, alongside the contents, sausage chunks, noodles, and some tomato based sauce. Jason turned the can to read the date on the bottom. Three years and seven months out of date. Not a big deal. The first thing one learns in Refuse City is that you do not refuse food. That and that canned food expiration dates are always lies.

Jason shoved a partial project on his workbench to the side and opened the can into a bowl. Rather than eat at the bench though, he stood and looked carefully around the room. He didn't have enough space on the motorcycle to take everything he wanted to, so it was time to prioritize.

When he finished eating, he rinsed his bowl and utensils, packing them away first. These were followed by a couple of solid knives, then the remaining five cans of food. Jason picked over his tools, trying to decide what he would need the most. Finally settling on a handful, he packed those, along with his tattered sheet on the other side.

Looking around his shop, Jason finally decided that he had everything he would need. Turning to go open the over head door, Jason felt a sudden dampness on his cheek. Touching the droplet, he found that it was a tear. Crying? Why was Jason crying?

Turning back to look over his shop once more, he could see memories overlapping the present space. Memories of his father, and their life together.

"I'm leaving everything," Jason whispered. "I won't know anything out there. This is crazy..."

As his voice trailed off, one last memory appeared in his mind. There his father was, looking across the first flying motorcycle at a younger Jason. "We're almost there son," came his father's voice, as clear and strong as it always had been. "We'll be free of this trash heap. Then we can go wherever we want!"

"Anywhere?" young Jason asked, eyes wide.

"Haha, yes! We can see the whole world if you want to. After all, we will be free."

"Free..." Jason whispered. "I wish you were here to see this day to Father. I am going to fulfill our dream today. I hope you are watching from wherever you are now."

Turning away from his memories, Jason wiped the tears from his eyes and pressed the button to raise the overhead door. He grabbed his helmet and googles from by the door as it rattled and shook its way open.

Swinging his way onto his motorcycle, he pressed the ignition. The engine fired to life with a growl. Still in neutral, he revved the engine a couple of times, listening intently. Satisfied they were as clear as he could make them, he changed gears and roared out of his shop.

Refuse City was in a valley, and really should have been a nice city, considering its location. However, it was comprised of squat buildings and giant heaps of garbage from the city on the mountain above them. While the buildings were more or less permanent, the piles of garbage moved and changed as they were added to by the people above and taken from by the people here below, so the roads were not always consistent. Jason's target was a road a couple of streets over that had a nicely sloped hill that should aid in takeoff.

Roaring down the road, Jason saw a couple of people peeking out their windows curiously at he noise, but it seemed the Junkers were not alerted just yet. Jason saw the landmark he was watching for, an I-beam standing about twenty feet in the air with a slight bend in the direction he was going to turn, and took the turn at speed, screeching as he went.

Ahead, just before the hill, he saw, to his horror, a couple of Junkers eyeing him curiously. Apparently deciding he was doing something wrong, they pulled weapons, one a pipe wrench missing its lower jaw, the other a length of pipe that had been folded back on itself.

"Hey you!" The one with the wrench shouted. "You need to stop now. You're disturbin' the peace, see?" They moved menacingly towards him.

Jason didn't have time to worry about thugs, however, he had to reach speed to make takeoff. He reached up, pulling his goggles over his eyes, then shifted into the final gear before punching a button between the handlebars.

The motorcycle, already going a quite respectable speed, threatened to throw Jason off as it launched forward, blasting between the thugs before they could react. The motorcycle flung itself into the air as it crested the hill, and Jason could feel his stomach threatening revolt. Perhaps this would have been better on an empty stomach after all? No time for those worries though. The Junkers were alerted to his activity, and, while he was moving at speeds higher than he thought possible, it would still take time to be out of the city. He was almost certain his maneuvering would be put to the test before he could make his final escape.

He nudged the motorcycle around, and was now headed towards the wall at the edge of the city. The wall held Refuse City up in this gap between two mountain ridges in the end of the valley. From his vantage point in the air, the wall almost looked to be straining to hold back the tide of garbage, and would certainly fail someday, perhaps soon. Jason found himself wondering what the people above would do then. They used the people of Refuse City to process these mountains of waste, but if the walls could no longer hold...

Jason shook his head violently. No use thinking about that now. 'It isn’t my problem anymore. As of today I am a free man.'

He zoomed over the piles of garbage below, quickly approaching the city wall ahead. As he drew nearer, he could now see many figures upon the wall, preparing the ballista that were mounted there. These were much larger than the portable ballista that had shot down his father, and Jason could feel his mouth going dry.

As he was watching The Junkers preparing to stop him, all of a sudden a bolt appeared in his vision. Jason took a sharp breath in, but the bolt passed harmlessly below him. Or, well, Jason hoped nobody below would be hurt.

Scanning the wall, Jason spotted the crew that had fired. He guessed they were likely trying to gauge their shots, and sure enough, as he came to that conclusion, a dozen more shots were in the air before him. The bolts were spread such that whatever direction he attempted to evade, another bolt would be in his path.

Working quickly, Jason let off the throttle, and opened his coat behind him, a makeshift parachute. It worked well, slowing him enough that all but one bolt was now aimed below him. He grabbed at the handlebars again, veering to the east, and the bolt passed just over his shoulder.

Letting out the breath he did not realize he had been holding, Jason decided he would continue on his path towards the south-eastern portion of the wall. While it would bring the weapons on that portion of the wall closer, hopefully the weapons on the western end of the wall would be completely out of range.

Jason pulled his coat back around him, and began to push the motorcycle again, hoping to be back up to speed before The Junkers were able to reload and shoot again. As the second volley fired upon him, Jason was glad to note that his new path, taking him to the east, did indeed limit the number of ballista able to reach him, as several of those from the far wester side had no chance to reach him whatsoever. This time The Junkers had aimed high in an attempt to counter his deceleration maneuver from earlier, but Jason merely took his motorcycle into a dive passing under the volley completely.

By now, Jason was near enough to the wall to see the faces of individual Junkers. He could see that the nearest ballista was reloaded, and assumed the others must be as well. Before they could fire, however, Jason pulled his secret move, one he had been saving for when he was close to the wall. He leaned forward onto his motorcycle as he pressed the button between the handlebars again.

With a roar, the motorcycle tried once again to buck him off into the wind, but Jason was low enough to the body of the bike that he was able to hold on. Faintly, over the wind, he could hear the nearest ballista firing as his sudden acceleration spooked the Junkers nearest him.

Unable to maintain the extreme speed in the face of drag, the motorcycle gradually decelerated back down from its extreme speeds to merely fast, but by this time he was already a good distance from the wall. Looking behind him, Jason could see that most of the crews that had not misfired hastily turned and fired their ballista. Their shots were all wild, however, unable to account for Jason's sudden burst of speed.

Jason let out a whoop of glee. He was free. He was free!

No longer needing to focus on the wall as he was effectively out of the Junker's range, Jason was now able to focus on the view before him. A river flowed lazily out of Refuse City, shockingly clean, given the state of the city itself. The valley opened before him, the clearest and most beautiful shade of green he had ever seen. Jason decided in that moment that green was his new favorite color. The valley narrowed again, far to the south, ending where the mountain ridges came back together.

Now that he wasn't attempting to dodge thugs attempting to shoot him out of the air, Jason made quick time soaring through the air. As he passed over the end of the valley he could see the river cascaded down a series of sharp cliffs in a stunning set of waterfalls that Jason could hear even as high in the air as he was.

Jason spared a glance back further, looking upon the city on the mountain above Refuse City. It was clearly well constructed, all of a gleaming white marble, but Jason's eye was drawn back to the city below. Refuse City was inextricably linked, and no matter how beautiful the city above, the city below remained as a stain, impossible to miss.

Jason sighed and spoke a prayer that someday the people of that horrid place might be able to find freedom as he had.

Turning forward again, Jason brought his motorcycle down, following the waterfalls. He found at their base, a large mountain lake, as blue as the grasses around it were green. Considering the sight, Jason was no longer sure that green was his absolute favorite color, as the blue of the lake was gorgeous as well.

Humming in thought over the conundrum, Jason brought his motorcycle to a stop on the shores of the lake. Jason looked around taking in everything around him. He breathed deeply, and found that the air was so clean, something he hadn't known was possible, given its constant state of general pollution in Refuse City.

Jason knelt down, tasting the water. He was amazed at how clean it tasted. They had purifiers back in the city, but they just made the water taste sterile. It wasn't the same. Satisfied, he sat back on the grass, running his hands through it, and finding it soft and, strangely enough, clean as well. Now curious, he tried picking up a handful of dirt. Despite the fact that dirt was quite literally the opposite of clean, this too felt clean, and Jason finally realized what was different. Back in Refuse City, there was a constant slimy film on everything, completely gross to the touch. Out here everything felt so real.

Jason looked around again. Where was he to go next? He didn't even know what was out there. Considering for a moment, Jason decided it didn't matter. He would go anywhere. He would go everywhere. “After all,” Jason whispered, “I'm free. You can see me, right father? I did it. I made our dreams true. I'm free.”