Flying to live.

 

We had driven a long way since our last stop, almost out of water in fact when we hit the town. It was a "no great shakes" country place, borderline desert, population around five hundred I guess. Just the sort of place we do well at. The journey here had been hard, we travelled mainly by night to avoid the heat of the day, obvious of course, but it still took its toll. I was feeling a bit ill and flat and lifeless when we got there. Never mind, a good days takings tomorrow will have me back on my feet in no time.





Sorry, should’ve introduced us shouldn’t I?





I’m Vaclav Gregorius, my two companions are Audronė Rėksnys, and Arūnas Yatvingians. Audronė is the young lady, for those of you not familiar with Czech names. We came over from the Czech Republic, as it is now known, some time back. We’d grown up together there, just outside Cesky Krumlov. We’d shared childhoods, gone to lessons together, and learned to fly there together. But as we got older and a bit wilder we’d made it a bit uncomfortable for us to stay. Arūnas especially; he had had the whole town after him, he’s a bit reckless at times. I still miss the old place, I’m sure the others do too. But from what I’ve heard Cesky Krumlov’s become a bit of a tourist trap now, with people queuing up for the music festival and to see the old buildings.





So we came here, "down under", not to seek fame and fortune, just to get by and have some fun. We wanted to shake off the old country, revitalise ourselves. We’d got the idea for our latest venture while watching some guys do winch towing down near Sydney. It looked a doddle compared to the sort of flying we did back home. If they could do it, we bloody well surely can. We’re all great flyers; Audronė could be the best female in the world if she had ambition. So we “acquired” a winch, got the dual gliders, and all the trimmings, and set ourselves up in business.





We now travel from small town to small town, mainly here in the outback. We don’t like the big cities, to many authorities and people who want to put a stop to you. We’re reasonably legit, but lets just say we don’t overburden the taxman, and we avoid getting ourselves into conflict with the law as best we can.





This place looked perfect, so we set up the tent, got in and slept till about three p.m. the next day. We always avoid the heat of midday. We’ve got barrier creams and sunblock that we use, but our skin will not tolerate the harsh Ozzie midday sun. We’ve got better at being out in the sun, we are meticulous in putting our creams and covering up, and so it’s not the problem it once was.





We set the winch up just outside town on an unfenced bit of scrub. Almost the perfect spot, close enough to town, but also far enough out. I was going to be winchman for the first sessions. I towed the other two up. Once they were circling in some decent rising air they unfurled their banners. "Live to fly, Fly to live" was our slogan.





It didn’t take much time to draw a crowd, sod all happens in these hick towns so a novelty like us gets noticed fast. Those two waited until they saw that we had sufficient people around and came into land. I’d already been doing my sales pitch, fielding questions, answering queries and taking cash. We had a whole bunch of official looking forms for people to sign, insurance waivers and stuff. Most of it was worth the paper it was written on, but no more. It impressed the yokels though. So we took it in turns, working the winch, working the crowd, and doing flights.





We charge a hundred bucks for ten minutes flight, and two hundred for twenty-five. We get the same old crap off some people; "hundred bucks for ten minutes, more than I earn in a day!" But with a bit of sales pitch, offer to fly them over their land, offer to do some aerobatics, we get enough takers.





We all seem to attract different punters. I get the middle-aged women, they all want to mother me, at least that’s what I think they want to do. I also get a fair whack of the older guys, I guess I just look trustworthy.





Arūnas gets women, young and old. The thought of a ride with him sends them weak at the knees. He also gets a lot of cocky young men, most of them trying to prove their masculinity after watching him sweep the girls off their feet. Some get quite nasty with him, stupid thing to do to the guy who’s going to take you high in the sky? But he smiles at them; I’ve seen very big lads come close to wetting themselves at the sight Arūnas’s smile.





Audronė gets the village men, and the young kids. To the men she’s a raven-haired beauty, with deep dark gypsy eyes. Her body just makes men drool, she can have them fighting, rolling around in the dust trying to kill each other over her if she’d been so inclined. To be honest she often is so inclined; I think all the blood gets her excited. None of them get to close to her though, not unless she chooses them. To the kids, who knows what her attraction is to them? It’s just a knack that’s she’s perfected over the years, attracting kids, she’s not the maternal type.





So we took the money, and we did the flights and it was all going great guns. Arūnas went off for a while with some officious looking local busybody; he wanted to know about our airworthiness certificates. He claimed to have been a pilot himself and "knew about these things". He bitched and bickered and we even offered him a free flight, but he had the bit between his teeth, and refused to give up. So Arūnas went off to his house with him so they could talk to our licensing board on the phone. He came back looking pleased with himself.





It was starting to get darkish now. We decided to have three last flights, these are always our favourite ones each day, pack up and move on.





I had chosen a smart looking woman in her mid thirties for my last one. She told me her name was Sandra, that she was divorced and needed a thrill in her life. I promised her the thrill of a lifetime, she looked quite pleased, but she wasn’t as pleased as I was. Arūnas had chosen some flighty teenage totty, typical of him, he’s a fast food freak not a gourmet. Audrone had a short, tubby, soft looking, teenage boy following her round like a lost puppy, that would be hers then.





I went for my last flight first. I’m better organised at getting everything sorted than the other two; I’m that much older and more disciplined I suppose. So I get down fast and prepare for our move, we don’t hang around after the last flights.





I got Sandra strapped in, making sure I was able to move freely to control things. Audronė winched us, and we got set into a nice holding pattern above the fields. She whooped and hollered and shrieked for the first couple of minutes. Then I started my routine. The slow low, chat, making her strain for every word. Speaking of images, scenes, clouds, of vapour trails and winds. I talked her down into that state halfway between sleep and dreams. She was in perfect relaxation; nothing in the world was real anymore. So I bit down hard into her neck and drank.





 





Oh don’t be so shocked! The worst she’ll suffer is something that will look and feel like a couple of insect bites. I’ve known humans to laugh these off as "Dracula" marks they’ve got off insects. Uncle Vlad was never that subtle. Sandra will have been out cold for half her flight as well, do you think we should give the people on the last flight of the day a 50% refund? Seems only fair to me.





So the other two did theirs, both came down looking sated. And we packed up and pushed off into the night, looking for the next village. The things we have to do to live eh?

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