How long had he been standing there already? An hour? Two?
Moonlight had long since begun creeping into the hangar, thinning out the darkness of the night. A lot of time had definitely passed since lights out.
The rescue helicopter shifted his gaze toward the window, absentmindedly staring at the small fragment of the outside world beyond it.
Even before returning to his hangar, long before curfew, Blade had genuinely believed he would fall asleep within minutes. During dinner in the main hangar, he’d constantly felt like he was about to doze off.
But now, as if out of spite, sleep refused to come, even though he truly wanted it badly. Tomorrow he definitely wouldn’t be the most well-rested transport on the base. Though, to be fair, that wasn’t exactly rare. The difference was that those times, he and the team hadn’t been putting out fires for days straight with barely any breaks like they had lately. So now Blade had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to function tomorrow if he didn’t fall asleep within at least the next ten minutes.
The ranger sighed again, continuing to stare out the window. And that persistent feeling that someone besides him was inside the hangar wasn’t helping him sleep at all.
How much time had even passed?
There should’ve been a clock hanging on the opposite side of the hangar. Might as well look.
The firefighter shifted his gaze toward the wall, then to the clock. It seemed he still had a little time left to sleep, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t feel quite as exhausted tomorrow because of it.
That strange chill once again ran from the tip of his rotor blade all the way to his nose.
The figure in the corner nearly blended into the darkness of the hangar, becoming almost invisible. Though calling a helicopter invisible was really saying something.
This definitely wasn’t what Blade had imagined when he returned here hoping to finally get some sleep. The last thing he wanted in the middle of the night was dealing with this unreal nonsense in any way whatsoever.
This summer had been far too hot and dry, and the tourists visiting Piston Peak were clearly too careless to understand that fire safety rules weren’t a joke. So there had been more than enough work for them.
The first time he glanced at that corner one evening, he’d clearly made out someone’s silhouette. At first, Blade blamed it all on the unfortunate angle of moonlight through the window, because he distinctly remembered no one being there when he’d driven in. He clearly remembered that the doors hadn’t opened once the entire time he’d been here.
So how could someone possibly have gotten inside?
The ranger still stared stupidly at the clock without looking away. Maybe he would’ve admitted that this “thing” had terrified him the first time, but it felt ridiculous to admit even to himself. Though there was definitely plenty here to be afraid of.
— Tell me, please… how did you get in here?
The ranger couldn’t think of anything better to do than speak, finally turning his gaze toward that cursed corner and trying to make out the figure’s outline.
Truthfully… it looked horrible. Two of the four blades were bent at unnatural angles, the third was completely missing, and the fourth seemed to be holding on by sheer luck alone. The mangled fuselage wasn’t in any better shape, torn away from the skids.
The sight sent an unpleasant cold shiver across his own frame.
The only answer was the same deathly silence. It did nothing to help the situation.
Blade narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the front of the figure’s face — or at least some hint of emotion, movement, anything.
It felt as though he was monochrome. There didn’t seem to be any eyes at all: just a solid gray surface, like a statue.
What gave him away, more than anything, was probably the model itself and the old police-style visor markings, though even those had faded enough to blend into the fuselage, leaving only the patterns visible.
This was getting irritating. If he really was a ghost, then why was he here? Though Blade was already prepared to admit he was simply hallucinating from exhaustion.
Blade blinked. He hadn’t expected those words to affect anything. But at that point, that concerned him less than anything else — he just wanted to sleep.
After blinking once more and seeing the figure still standing there, the ranger finally gave up, closing his eyes and trying once again to fall asleep.
Fortunately for him, he woke only to the sound of the alarm clock nearby while the morning sunlight streamed through the window.
Glancing toward the corner of the hangar, he finally let out a breath.
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