The Dark Crusader Chapter 3.

By Sopwith

Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own, any of the Biggles series characters used in this work. This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only and should not be considered part of the official storyline.

Evan’s mind went a solid blank. He had never been taught how to land a plane that no longer had a working engine. This was evidently a colossal lapse of judgment on the part of his flying instructor and the FTS, but now was hardly the time to complain to them about it.

The controls were sluggish to respond to his touch, and he had a nasty feeling that they would soon stop working altogether.

“Whoever—invented—this—stupid—machine—” panted Evan, fighting to get the plane on even keel, “Should—be—shot—oh!”

He yelped involuntarily as the FE tilted steeply and seemed to fall out of his hands.

Badger was craning his neck, staring anxiously at Evan and shouting something. What exactly he was saying Evan couldn’t actually hear, for the roaring of the wind in his ears, and the panic flooding his mind, drowned out everything else around him.

Where to land? He wondered frantically, trying to sneak a glance at the ground below. The only problem was that every time he tried to get a look at the ground, the plane would give a sudden jolt, or do something else that he hadn’t expected it to, and then he would have to look quickly back at the controls in his hands so that he could do something about it.

And then, of course, the FE fell into a spin.

The world rushed by in a blur of color and sound. There was no time to think about anything: righting the plane, finding a place to land, or even just plain holding onto the controls.

All that was left was falling.

And mixed in there somewhere was the distinctive smell of petrol.

&&&

The world split apart in an almighty crash. Something jarred Evan in the head, and everything temporarily exploded in a white burst of nothingness.

He opened his eyes to find himself dangling upside-down above a patch of mud, hanging in space, held in place by his straps.

In front of him he could hear Badger swearing to himself and struggling to get free of the machine.

“Badger?” Evan called, in a quavering voice that didn’t sound like his own.

Badger’s voice came back to him, reassuringly calm. “Hold on. I’m almost free. I’ll come and help you in a sec.”

The smell of petrol was stronger now; Evan was almost choking on the fumes. He had heard too many stories of planes bursting into flames and his heart was thudding painfully in his chest as though it were trying to get out of his body.

The FE rocked violently. Something thumped into the ground in front of him. To his relief, he saw Badger untangling himself from the mud. “Hello,” he said cheerfully, wading his way over to Evan. “Let’s get you out of this.”

“Do you smell petrol?” ventured Evan, as Badger managed to get one of his arms free of the straps.

“Yes, but don’t let that worry you. If it does all go up, you probably won’t remember it anyway. Move your head.”

It took them several nightmare minutes to get Evan free, until finally he dropped down face-first into the squishy mud below him.

The stuff smelled foul. It was like nothing he had ever smelt before. Whatever the mud had been made of, it was terrible. However, before he could do anything about it, Badger had seized hold of his collar and was dragging him away at speed.

Evan could do nothing but splutter incoherently as he hurriedly found his feet and began running of his own accord.

“Good work,” remarked Badger, panting as he ran.

“What, crashing the plane?” gasped Evan incredulously.

“No, crashing it on our side of the lines,” said Badger. “Saves us having to escape from a prison camp or something like that.”

“I didn’t actually plan to land here.”

“Who cares? We made it, didn’t we?”

“The CO isn’t going to be happy about the plane, is he?”

“He’ll be happy if we’re back in time for supper.” Badger had stopped running and was waving to something overhead. Evan glanced up and saw an FE flying past. He recognized it as Moore’s by its streamers. “There. He’ll get home and tell the old man we survived.”

“Do many pilots get shot down on their first day over?” asked Evan, a hand pressed to the stitch in his side and trying to catch his breath.

“Happens to the best of us,” Badger assured him with a grin, as a row of Tommies came hurrying to meet them, led by a burly corporal.

Go to Chapter 4. 

Go back to The Dark Crusader contents