He reached the top of the hill. Through streaming eyes, he saw that the forest had been wiped away. A foggy bowl of dirt remained. There was an ordinariness about the thin layer of debris. It might have been a steaming rubbish dump. Tolsdorf struggled to understand. How could this have been an aircraft? What could have happened to the mass of it? He could see part of one engine. On the far lip of the depression, almost one-hundred metres distant, was a tyre, still inflated. It was certainly an aircraft tyre. Nearer, he saw a paperback novel. He surprised himself by recognising the cream-and-blue cover. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. Frau Waellnitz had wanted to read it to him months ago but Tolsdorf had dismissed the idea with a grunt, playing fully on her expectations of this backward woodsman. Then, as though the paperback unlocked his perception, he saw the scattered, broken pieces of people. His eyes faltered in the toxic air and the heat. He squeezed them shut and knelt fully, coughing.
Not so old to be useless, Tolsdorf. Move.
‘On three,’ he growled. ‘Three.’
He rose, settled the blanket around his shoulders, and walked into the debris. The surface was hot through his boots but the fires had shrunk to flickering islands. Now the ash fell upwards as well as down. He picked a route that took him from one ruined stump of tree to another, and he sometimes crouched, gasping, waiting for the next roll of smoke to pass, praying he would not collapse. His eyes felt ruined. He wanted to be sick but his retches produced only spit. He did not know what to do. There was no-one alive here. Beneath his boots were plastic cups, seat cushions, wiring, and things he would not name.
He focused on the mechanics of the crash. What would it take for someone to survive this?
It happens. Sometimes it happens.
Ten metres away, beyond an upturned tree, was a long sheet of fuselage. It was sooty and mangled but its windows were intact. For someone to survive, Tolsdorf thought, they would need the protection of a strong structure. They would need a space. Tolsdorf hauled himself towards it. He stepped on one of the windows and scraped away the soot with his heel. It revealed something bright beneath the shed skin of the aircraft. Tolsdorf dropped his first-aid kit and blanket. The renewed heat assaulted his body but, with the last of the fires going out, he felt he could work. His head was clearer. He took wood-chopping gloves from the long pockets of his trousers—they had Kevlar pads, what he needed—and thought about the best way to lever up the fuselage. Then he crouched by the edge that looked thinnest, said, ‘On three,’ and felt his muscles gorge on the sorry old blood. The metal began to lift.
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About the Author
During his fifteen-year writing career, Ian Hocking’s fiction has been published extensively, both online and in print. He graduated with a degree in experimental psychology from the University of Exeter and now lectures in psycholinguistics, philosophy and research methods at Canterbury Christ Church University and the Open University.
‘A new voice in Brit SF that we should all be taking an interest in.’
‘Larger publishers take note.’
Reviews
‘Handled with casual panache. It’s gripping, fascinating, and powerful, and really well written, with wonderful pace.’
‘You’ve never read anything like this before.’
‘A crisply-written, fast-paced thriller that makes assured use of cutting-edge science fiction ideas.’
‘[Hocking’s] layering of the narrative is thoughtful and the way he makes events from different decades mirror each other shows quiet skill. This is a small-press publication; as such, it probably won’t get the exposure it deserves. Larger publishers may want to take note.’
‘A multi-threaded, thought-provoking sci-fi thriller. It is always a nice surprise to see a debut novel such as Déjà Vu. Thoroughly recommended.’
‘Excellent… crisp and professional. This book bodes well for the future.’
‘Get ready to have a mind-blowing experience.’
Also by Ian Hocking
Flashback (Book 2)
The Amber Rooms (Book 3)
Proper Job: A Romantic Comedy
A Moment in Berlin and Other Stories
Copyright
Copyright © 2011 by Ian Hocking
http://twitter.com/ian_hocking
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.
Ian Hocking has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
First published January 2005 by the UKA Press. Originally edited by Aliya Whiteley.
Published by Writer as a Stranger
Version 192862