"And so, Annie," he went on. "By any chance do you know someone called the Mad Russian?"
"Like, who doesn't?" she shot back playfully.
Hunter became excited again. "Do you know where he is? How I can find him?"
She thought a moment, then said slowly, "No, but maybe we can find someone who does."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Well, we can give it a try!" She laughed.
With that, she dragged him even farther away from the crowd to an isolated section of the airfield. Here sat a lone twin-wing airplane.
She spun around with a very devilish look in her eye, pointed to the aircraft, and asked him, "Can you fly this thing?"
They were taxiing toward the runway a few minutes later.
The airplane was an old Curtis Jenny, this according to the name on the side of its fuselage. Annie was sitting in the passenger seat, which was located in the front of the plane. Hunter was squeezed into the pilot's compartment right behind her.
He found the controls of the gangly aircraft to be very simple — maybe even too simple. He was presented with a stick, rudder pedals, and a lever that served as a throttle. No lights. No bells. No whistles. No puppet strings. Even the spacecraft back in Adventure Land was more elaborate than this.
Once he'd finally got the engine going — it was a wooden propeller, of course — it took some finesse to wrangle all the levers and pedals and get the plane to move. Hunter was a quick study, though. He'd grasped the concept in just a few seconds, and now he was ready to go.
Annie let her hat fly as Hunter pushed the air buggy on to the runway and up to its takeoff speed. He pulled back on the stick, and slowly, almost painfully, the aircraft left the ground. A zing of exhilaration ran through him. What a sweet sensation! It was familiar, yet new to him, too. Sometimes he really did feel like he was born to do nothing else but fly.
Annie was enjoying it as well, laughing deliriously as they rose above the field, above the crowd, above the buildings of this strange, out-of-time Gotham City. She was directing him as best she could, using hand signals to turn him left or right. They headed out over the harbor, it being smoky with the exhausts from many boats churning its ways. Ahead she pointed out a large green statue — a woman in robes with a crown, a torch, and a book in her hands. Statue of Liberty… The words popped into Hunter's head very easily.
Yes, he'd seen her before. More than once, in fact.
Annie had him turn again. Now they were heading toward two enormous buildings located on a spit of land near where the Statue of Liberty was erected. These twin buildings could only be described as super-skyscrapers. They were identical in size and girth, perfectly square, and at least 100 stories high. Hunter suddenly felt a twinge in his chest. His eyes began to water. He began to choke up.
The World Trade Center Towers…
They were still here.
They flew on for what seemed like hours.
Hunter had turned west, following Annie's directions, knowing this was the best thing to do. He couldn't think of better company to have, here in Dreamland. He had to wonder though. Did she really know someone who might know where the Mad Russian was? Or was she just up here skylarking? Strangely, Hunter didn't care, not at the moment anyway. He was with her again. And that's all that mattered. By now, she was deep inside him.
They passed over high mountains, lush valleys, emerald forests, wide rivers. No surprise, the terrain reminded Hunter of Planet America, the world located out beyond the Galaxy's fringe that was liberated from the Fourth Empire, with Hunter's help.
A sharp turn north brought them to a particularly immense valley that was surrounded by miles of forest. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, Hunter spotted a huge crowd of people below. It was hard to estimate just how many, but he guessed there had to be at least 100,000 down there, maybe more. They were lining the valley's hills and were especially crowded into a natural grass bowl that dominated the center. A huge stage was set up at the northern end of this indentation. It was surrounded by scaffolding and tall metal towers holding giant lamps and monstrous public-address speakers.
Annie was extremely animated now, yelling things back to Hunter that he couldn't understand. Strictly by hand signals he got her message that he should fly lower. He turned the Jenny over, and down they went to just 500 feet. Leveling off, he buzzed the length of the crowd, much to the delight of those below. What little glimpses he could get, he saw that most of the people were kids, teenagers, with colorful outfits and long hair. They were singing, dancing, frolicking. A musical group was playing onstage. Hunter could hear snippets of their songs even at 500 feet above. A very sweet scent was in the air, rising up as a curious fog. The action of the propeller served to blow it back into his face. What is that smell?
All this delighted Annie to no end. She was singing, too, as if she could hear all the music coming from below. Hunter circled the crowd again; now many were cheering them as they flew over. Annie started gesturing again. Up and over the next hill was a field large enough for them to set down. She turned and smiled and indicated that Hunter should land. He pulled the throttle back and started his descent.
The curious sweet fog got thicker as they went down. The field below opened up nicely, and the landing was picture perfect. They'd set down next to one of the roads leading into the grass bowl; it was filled with more kids. They were fascinated by the old Jenny biplane. Many ran over just as Hunter was killing the engine. They all had very long hair; a few had beards. One kid looked up at Hunter, laughing good-naturedly at his strange clothes, even though he himself was wearing a multicolored shirt and dirty jeans. He started yelling something, but the engine was still turning, and it was impossible for Hunter to hear.
Finally, though, the propeller fluttered to a stop. Hunter yelled down to him, "What did you say?"
To that, the kid yelled back, "I said: 'Hey man, the New York Thruway is closed!' "
Hunter secured the plane as best he could. Then he and Annie walked down the road toward the music stage.
The entrance to the grass bowl was crowded with hundreds of kids, all in brightly colored clothes, happily dancing and singing. Suddenly Hunter's long hair was very fashionable, as were his retro Carnaby Street clothes. What's more, Annie had taken off her heavy, long dress. Now her slip was a miniskirt, and her vest was her top. Her hair was let down, cascading into millions of curls. She was barefoot. Hunter's heart started pounding. In a sea of beautiful girls, she stood out.
She seemed to know exactly where she was going, too. Hunter followed her to a gate near the rear of the music stage. There were several huge individuals stationed here who looked to be all business as opposed to peace and love.
Annie called them bouncers. She turned on her considerable charm with them, and soon enough Hunter had a huge yellow badge hanging by a string around his neck. She had one, too. This allowed them into the backstage area.
They found a small army of musicians back here. Some were tuning instruments, some were sleeping, some appeared passed out from drinking alcohol. Hunter smelled that curious sweet fog again. It was far from an unpleasant scent, and anywhere it was thick, everyone seemed extraordinarily happy. The vibe back here was one of was happiness and excitement. There was a musical group onstage churning out some tunes. But from overhearing some of the conversations around him, Hunter learned that the real stars of the show had yet to come on.
He followed Annie through the area reserved for dressing rooms. They passed rings of security people, each one waving them through after checking their yellow passes.