Ignore this Title

Chernobyl, Russia
April 26, 1986

Yuri pulled himself up from bed. His chest pained him. He muttered about his bad heart and peered at the digital alarm clock. The red numbers flashed 1:22 AM. The old man glared at the alarm clock and got up. His striped pajamas slid off the bed without a sound.Once in the kitchen, he grabbed a glass from the cabinet and began filling it with water. Yuri leaned against the stove, yawning, and fiddled with a hole in his pajama pocket. He turned off the sink and held the glass up to his mouth, noticing something unusual outside. His dark brown eyes widened. The cup shuddered in his hand, slopping water everywhere. He trembled so violently that it slipped from his fingers and fell the floor. Shards of glass reflected the horror displayed on his face.
A large neon green cloud floated over Chernobyl nuclear power plant. In the distance Yuri could hear the crumbling of the structure as well as the muted screams of people noticing the danger before them. If he didn’t run the radiation would surely affect him. He glanced in the bedroom at his wife, Anya. She lay there peacefully, unaware of the constantly growing threat. He mourned for her as he darted out the door. It was too late.
Instantly his breathing became a struggle. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he stumbled forward, his vision growing darker. The last sensation he was aware of was of excruciating pain throughout his body. Yuri collapsed and saw no more.

Somewhere over Ukraine and Russia
24 years later

The Flight of Dreams proppeled itself below the clouds, like a small fish beneath a frothing white sea. The sun flickered dimly in the distance, vanishing behind the small farming villages 8000 feet below. A light breeze whistled through the weeds, curling around the cement structure encasing the old nuclear power plant.
Brett sank into one of many velvet chairs in acre-long lounge, wheezing. After running the length of a football field, even he, the high school’s track star, needed to catch a breath. Since there were only three weeks left until regionals, he was forced to practice while suspended over some of the “world’s greatest sights” his parents had paid to see over the course of two weeks. Like some stupid power plant was interesting. It doesn’t even work, he thought, running his fingers through his mane of brown hair.
The recording crackled to life. “The interesting sight below us is the wreckage of the Soviet Union’s old power plant, based in Chernobyl.” There were murmurs of acknowledgement between the older passengers while the younger ones pressed their faces to the glass, anxious to view the rubble. “The folks in that area believe it to have strange effects on the surrounding landscape, but of course it’s nonsense. Studies have shown, however, that most of the places near the powerplant were contaminated with nuclear material. The history. The enormous task of building this nuclear energy plant began in the 1970s…..”
Brett walked over to one of the massive windows of the blimp, tuning out the sound in the background. If he had been listening, he would have known something was wrong by the recording playing one word over and over in the same choppy voice.
The dirigible suddenly careened wildly to the left, sending the furniture and the occupants smashing through the windows. In the same jerky motion it surged upward, above the clouds. It seemed the blimp had a mind of its own.
Brett hurtled toward the back of the blimp as the sheer force pushed him downward. It wasn’t designed to fly above the clouds, so all the passengers began gasping at their lack of air as they slid toward the broken back window. This is like the Titanic, but at least there were survivors, he thought fleetingly. Brett scrabbled at the wall as he plummeted out, out, out…..

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