Trouble on His Wings by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online Page A

Johnny.
    â€œI got five bucks.”
    â€œI got three,” said
Johnny.
    â€œYou got the company
check book.”
    â€œThink I’m a crook?”
said Johnny.
    â€œSometimes I ain’t so
sure,” said Irish.
    Johnny saw the girl in
the doorway. She was holding out two silk robes and slippers and pajamas.
    â€œThey’re free—in hope
of future trade,” she said.
    â€œHuh,” said Johnny.
“Put them on the chair and close the door.”
    â€œI’m going to my room
and bathe,” she said, hesitating. And then, “Johnny . . . do you think, maybe .
. . that I’m really a jinx?”
    â€œWell?”
    â€œIt wouldn’t be the
first time,” she said, sadly closing the door.
    A moment later there
came another knock and Johnny stepped out of the tub to string a river across
the main room. Two young men in snap-brim hats and unpressed clothes were there.
    â€œMr. Brice?” said one.
    â€œRight,” said Johnny.
    â€œI’m from Associated
Syndicate and this is my pal Tom . . . I mean this is Mr. Thorpe, of United
Service. We’re holding down the local desks. We got the idea we might fill our
wires with you. They’re through talking about the fire since this morning, and
now we’ve got to keep up the human interest. You know how it is.”
    â€œSure,” said Johnny.
“Come in.”
    They seated themselves
on the sofa and Johnny stood in the room, shedding blood from the wound on his
head and sooty water from his torn and charred coveralls. He knew what kind of
picture he made, and he didn’t even offer to go clean himself up before he
talked.
    â€œI hate to talk about
it,” said Johnny. “In all my career, I have never been so close to death. Can’t
you boys excuse me and—” he got out the bottle the boy had brought and filled
two glasses half full of Scotch, presenting them, “and just say a cameraman
crashed a couple minutes ahead of the crown fire and was lucky enough to get
out alive, even though he risked his neck to get the greatest pictures ever
filmed and they were spoiled by a falling, flaming tree which struck directly
across the camera? Haven’t any wish for publicity, gentlemen. After all, we’re
in the same racket. News is trouble and that’s all there is to it, and if us newshawks lose our lives trying to serve the headlines hot, then World News,
United Service or Associated Syndicate still goes on, regardless.”
    They drank. Simpson,
of Associated, sat very still. His face was working oddly. “Pretty damn heroic,
ain’t it, Thorpe?”
    â€œOh, nothing like
that,” said Johnny. “I was just doing my duty and I failed to get the pictures,
that’s all. It doesn’t matter how I failed. I did fail. And, boys, I don’t
really want to talk about the way the plane exploded—”
    â€œI hate to insist,”
said Thorpe, restraining his eagerness, “but couldn’t you do a fellow newsman a
favor? Just the rough details. We’ll fill them in. After all, we’ve got a wire
to fill. Human interest following this great fire, the worst in history. You
know. And you saw it right in front of you.”
    â€œBut—” protested
Johnny, dripping sooty water.
    â€œJust as a personal
favor,” said Thorpe.
    Johnny took a slow
drink and gave them another half tumbler full apiece. “Welllll, if you put it
that way, all right. We were flying just over the crown fire, well knowing our
engine might quit. It was all part of getting the pictures for World News. And
so there we were, singed by the raging heat below, not knowing if we would ever
get away alive when the engine quit! A chill raced up my spine as I realized
the horror . . .”
    They sat enraptured,
recalling themselves to their pencils only with great difficulty, and the
longer Johnny talked the louder the flames roared until the words “World News”
and