Cults, Coffee and Close Encounters the new novel by author Aaron Lamb launches on Oct 12th. Logan Fury is one of the main protagonists. A man wrecked with guilt over his past who has given up on himself and life. He finds himself stranded at an airport when aliens land on Earth. Here is his introduction in the book:
The sky above the Highstreet was the colour of a cracked phone screen. Swift white clouds raced, branches danced, and the edge of the storm had arrived. “Run, bloody run,” Logan Fury jogged along, sweat trickling down his temples, veins pulsing, the throb of his blood pumping hard. He missed being able to run like he used to. Ten years of sitting down will do that to a person. He avoided his reflection in the shop window as he slowly passed an old woman with a cane. She reminded him how slow he’d become; she put up a good race.
He had to catch the bus on time to catch the train, to catch a second bus that took him to the airport. If he missed the bus, the next would be in thirty minutes, and he would miss his flight three hours later.
His phone rumbled in his pocket. Clara was calling. He smiled. Everyone has that one friend who remembers birthdays and anniversaries and is generally the best. Clara was that friend. Everyone knew he was going away and why, but only Clara remembered the actual day.
“Hey, I’m running.”
“Why?” she asked softly.
“PlayStation.”
“Mate, it’s not the end of the world to turn that thing off, you know? You are forty-five years old. Be on time for things, like your own holiday.”
“Thank you.”
“But seriously, good luck. I know it’s a hard day, and you’ve got to deal with it, but you will feel so good after a holiday. I promise.”
“I bloody hope so.”
“See you on the other side, sauerkraut,” she chirped.
“Bye,”
Two weeks ago, Clara had travelled from one end of the state to the other to make sure he booked a flight and had a holiday. And now he was running late at the mercy of public transport with a long path before him to get to the airport. He checked the time on his phone again, and that’s when he caught a fast-moving object to his left. Things slowed down, almost as though he was gifted with superpowers. A parked car door opened, and a cyclist dodged, lost control, skidded across oncoming traffic, and crashed into the curb in front of Logan. Today of all days.
Fury immediately dropped to his knees and gently touched the cyclist’s shoulder. Their face was pale, their eyes wide. “Are you okay?” asked Fury. Such a dumb question. Of course, they weren’t. Fury couldn’t think straight. The practical questions that could help escaped him; memories of his own road accident threatened to overwhelm him. He gulped them down.
“My ankle.” The cyclist lifted their head, a man in his fifties with tufts of thick white hair poking out of his helmet.
“Can you move? I can get the bike off you if that helps?” asked Fury.
The man nodded. Fury lifted the bike and propped it against the lamppost. By now, a little crowd of early morning walkers had assembled, takeaway coffees in hand, dogs on leashes, kids in school clothes. He felt something heavy swoosh by. He glanced to watch the inevitable, the bus cruised past.
The man sat up, holding his ankle. His face contorted with pain.
“Do you need an ambulance, mate?” asked Fury.
The man took a deep breath and wiggled his foot. “I think it’s just a sprain. I’ll get a taxi and get it checked out,” he looked up at Logan. “Thanks for stopping. I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Fury stared as the bus rolled away and took the third exit at the roundabout.
If he caught the next one and everything worked perfectly, he could still, by the thinnest margin, make it. He jogged off. Miraculously, the following bus dodged every red light, and Fury squeezed onto the train with mere seconds to spare. The sweat trickled down his face no matter how often he dabbed it away with the cuff of his hoodie. The train was mercifully delay-free.
Finally, he reached the real test. The Skybus—his first return to the airport in a decade, and he’d have to pass intersection 17, the scene of a car crash that replayed in his mind every day: glass shattering, fibreglass crumpling, the pop of the airbag and his best friend, Jaz, struggling to breathe.
He’d prepared for this nightmare. He sank into his seat, pulled his hoodie tight over his head, adjusted his over-ear headphones, and lost himself in a game on his phone, a digital shield against the ghosts of the freeway.
With a deep breath of relief, the SkyBus pulled up at the airport. Fury was the first off, navigating security with surprising speed. Last call for his flight announced, and the gate was five to ten minutes away. He engaged his pathetic sprint. Dodged meandering families and bored tourists staring at the departure screen. He reached the gate just in time to be greeted by the attendant’s smile. “It’s your lucky day,” she announced.
Fury laughed and paused for a breath.
“You had about one minute left before I closed for good,” she held out her hand. “Boarding pass?”
“What can I say? I’ve got immaculate timing,” Fury chuckled.
He pulled his phone out from his pocket, but it slipped from his sweaty palms. The phone flew away from him like he was a repulsive magnet, and it crashed on the polished hard floor. He jumped forward and slid on his knees to try and save it, but he was far too late. The screen cracked beyond repair. He stared into the eternal darkness of his dead phone. “Just like my life,” he said to himself.
“It’s okay,” said the check-in lady. “What’s your name? I’ll print you one. Bless you, it looks like you’ve had quite the day.”
He hung his head. “I’m Logan Fury, and yeah, it’s been something.”
“Fury?! Great name.”
He smiled.
“Work or pleasure?” she asked.
“Escaping an anniversary, I don’t want to think about.”
“Ouch. Yeah, I’ve got a few of them too.”
They politely smiled at each other.
The check-in desk phone rang, and she picked up. Her kind smile slid off, replaced with confusion, then resignation and finally annoyance.
“Sorry, Mr. Fury. It might not be your lucky day after all. Or mine. This flight just got cancelled.”
Aaron Lamb 