Airborne

Pintu sat at the deserted turnout of the sleepy airport, quickly but thoroughly running through his run-up checklist. The only sound was the deafening drum of his small engine. With his head buried in the checklist and vibrating dials, something off his left wing caught his eye. It was a fire truck half engulfed in flames with lights blazing and swerving down the dirt airport road. Pintu throw the list over his shoulder, gunned the engine and was soon airborne, just as the cacophony died in a cloud of smoke mid runway, and Brigg yelling in rage from the ground.