Synopsis
Hig somehow survived the flu pandemic that killed everyone he knows. Now his wife is gone, his friends are dead, and he lives in the hangar of a small abandoned airport with his dog, Jasper, and a mercurial, gun-toting misanthrope named Bangley.
But when a random transmission beams through the radio of his 1956 Cessna, the voice ignites a hope deep inside him that a better life exists outside their tightly controlled perimeter. Risking everything, he flies past his point of no return and follows its static-broken trail, only to find something that is both better and worse than anything he could ever hope for.
Review
Do not let the ultra-terse tone put you off this book as it almost did me. The economy of words and fractured sentences tell a mesmerizing tale all their own. Perhaps more so in that this book, although published in 2012, is almost (and darkly) prophetic of our present fractured, pandemic-soaked times.
The narrator, Hig, is an unlikely survivor of the pandemic apocalypse. He hates killing things (unless it’s for food) and finds happiness tending his garden, sleeping under the stars with his beloved dog, Jasper, and taking to the skies in his aged Cessna. In sharp contrast, his sole human companion, the aptly named Bangley, communicates far better with guns and mortars than he does with words and firmly believes in shooting first and asking questions later–or, preferably, never. Their togetherness is an uneasy one. Yet, over nine years they have forged a strangely symbiotic relationship, each more dependent on the other for survival than they realize.
But all that changes when a new grievous loss makes Hig desperate for the companionship of someone–anyone–who isn’t so likely to kill him in a friendly fire incident. Haunted by a voice he heard on his radio years ago, he dares to fly past the point of no return with no guarantee that he will find anyone alive–or even just fuel to get him back if he doesn’t.
What follows is a tale as chilling as it is moving, both shocking and delightful, a brave against-all-odds testament to hope and the resilience of life. Heller manages to expertly walk the fine line between morbid horrors and sweet sentimentality without descending into either extreme. Plus, frequent touches of humor lend even the most gruesome action an edge of relatable humanity.