The Xmas Present

by William Bowden

I couldn’t believe I’d got a jetpack for Xmas. I thought the huge parcel looked promising, and I’d been hassling the folks for ages, but still ... As we strode out to the backyard, Mum in her floral frock and Dad with his dental decay, it was the happiest day of my life. I imagined myself already high above the clouds, swooping down on the neighbours or heading off to the beach. Who would be able to stop me now?

Dad was reading the instructions aloud, “Connect the fuel line B to the aft tank C, do not attempt to bend the sub-assembly inward as this may result in critical pressure loss at altitude.”

“Come on Dad hurry up!”

“Let your Father get on with it Jerry, I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea.”

And Mum was off bustling towards the kitchen, while I sat with Dad for what seemed like an eternity. Dad kept muttering to himself about the instructions, and so I just kind of drifted off, once again imagining all the flying I’d be able to do. It was only when Mum waved the tea in front of my face that I saw Dad was finally getting somewhere. The jetpack was almost ready, and Dad appeared to be pressurising the fuel canisters.

“Shit ... I mean wow Dad, it’s nearly ready isn’t it?”

“That’s right son, but I think I’d better take the first test flight just to make sure ...”

“Aw no way!”

“Jerry I think it might be safer if your father tries out the ...”

“But it’s Xmas Mum.”

I stared up into their faces, then I saw Dad grin. He was only kidding me!

“Now look son, this is a pretty serious bit of kit here. We’re going to have to go over the instructions together. I don’t want you flying off out of control.”

“Yes Dad.”

So we spent the longest half-hour of my life, going over the fuel gauges, reading the manual and checking everything at least twice. The pictures in the instructions showed a handsome pilot demonstrating anything from take-offs to flying backwards — and some of it seemed pretty complicated. Whenever I looked doubtful though, Dad was always there with a kind word like “You’ll get the hang of it,” or “You’ve gotta learn to walk before you can fly.”

And so it was that on a golden Xmas afternoon I took my first steps to being airborne. We began with a small test flight just a few feet off the ground. I wanted to go higher but Dad was very cautious. Then I flew to the roof and back which was pretty hairy — especially the landing. Finally though I began to get the hang of it, and was able to swoop past Mum as she brought out the turkey and salad. I was just about to do a serious bit of altitude when the fuel buzzer sounded.

“Alright son I think that’s enough for today. Come and get your dinner.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts son, you’re almost out of gas.”

So we sat down to Xmas dinner, though I barely tasted the food. I couldn’t stop looking at the jetpack — I couldn’t believe it was mine. All my friends would kill for a ride on it, I’d be the most popular kid in the street. Just then Dad said something interesting.

“Now Jerry, this jetpack cost a lot of money, so I don’t want you letting other kids use it. Firstly it might get damaged and secondly it might injure someone — so make sure it’s yours and yours alone ok?”

“Yes Dad.”

“Anyway it’ll take a while before you’ve got the hang of it, let’s go up to the oval tomorrow morning and you can give it a real go.”

Needless to say that night I barely slept a wink. I was far too excited. When I did nod off I dreamt that I’d met the cloud-people, who had funny faces like cream pies. They said I didn’t need the jetpack anymore and could come and live with them up in the sky. They only ate ice-cream too, but I said I had to go and have flying lessons with my Dad and so they sent me on my way with a gentle breeze.

“Jerry eat your muesli, you’re going to need all your strength today.”

“Yes Dad.”

“Milly did you pack those sandwiches?”

“Yes dear, there are two for Jerry and two for you.”

“You’re a darl. Now Jerry I’m going out to fuel her up, it should only take five minutes. Meet me at the car when you’ve finished your breakfast.”

“Sure Dad.”

“And Jerry.”

“Yes Dad.”

“This is going to be a great day.”

When we got to the oval there were kids everywhere. Lots of them had kites and frisbies, bikes and blades, but there wasn’t a single jetpack to be seen. When Dad pulled it out of the boot of the car and I began to strap myself in, I noticed quite a few onlookers. Dad had seen them too and told me that they “were in for quite a show.”

“Now Jerry you’ve got just fifteen minutes of fuel,” said Dad tapping the fuel gauge. “So don’t let it run out when you’re up high ok.”

“Yes Dad.”

“And remember, plenty of thrust on the landing, I don’t want any broken bones.”

“Sure Dad.”

“And watch out for those kites.”

“I will Dad.”

“And Jerry, I’ve got two of your mother’s famous sandwiches waiting here for you when it’s time to refuel. You wouldn’t want to miss out on those would you?”

“No Dad.”

“Right son, let her rip.”

And off I went into the sky as fast as I could go. Straight up. Full power. It’s funny that you don’t realise how high you are until you look down. After five minutes on maximum thrust I was nearing the clouds when I glanced down below. I couldn’t even see Dad, let alone the car. The oval was as small as a five-cent coin, and it was getting really cold all of a sudden. I figured that I’d better not go any higher and I checked the fuel remaining gauge. I tapped the glass and suddenly the needle moved from the ten-minute position to the three-minute warning area. Then I heard the fuel buzzer sounding. Shit, the maximum thrust must have used up more than I thought. In the guide it did say fifteen minutes average fuel usage only. I guess the needle got stuck in the cold.

I didn’t panic though, the manual talked about this exact situation. All I had to do was cut the thrust completely, free-fall for a bit, and then fire up in a big way for the landing. They said to fire back up around 300 feet from the ground. I wasn’t really sure how far three hundred feet was, cause I didn’t have the ‘optional’ altimeter, Dad had said maybe we could get it for my birthday. All I knew was that if I could see the car then I wouldn’t be far wrong. So I cut out the jets.

It was really beautiful falling in that silent sky, with only the sound of the wind in your ears. I hadn’t noticed how loud the jetpack was until I switched it off. I felt as though I was just floating rather than falling. It was only when I saw the ground rushing towards me that I knew it was time for action. I powered the jets to maximum and suddenly it felt as if I weighed a ton. I was still falling pretty fast when I saw Dad looking up from his newspaper. People were pointing at me, and for a second I thought I’d lost it — perhaps my best Xmas would be my last ... But then everything seemed to change, the ground was no longer rushing up like that, and I glided down towards the car quite slowly. About a foot off the ground the engines died and I landed with the tiniest of bumps.

“You timed that pretty well son. How about those sandwiches?”

“Sure Dad sure.”