by S A Ison
“I am Yuma Moto. Do you know what happen? Is my wife here?” Yuma asked, looking around.
“No Yuma. I’m sorry. She didn’t live. I’m very sorry.” Phoenix said, seeing the pain and grief in the man’s brown eyes. Yuma’s mouth trembled a bit and his eyes filled with tears, but Yuma only nodded and said nothing.
“Me and Lydia are going to go look in the cargo hold. See if we can find more winter gear. You guys are gonna freeze to death if we can’t find something more to bundle you up.” Phoenix announce and stood. He was starting to feel the cold seep into his bones, but he couldn’t take his coat from Taya, who was beneath it.
“Yeah, I’m starting to feel it, now that the shock of everything is starting to wear off.” Julian announced, as he pulled out a sweater from one of the carry-ons and handed it to Taya, who pulled it over her head. Phoenix was glad that at least Taya had boots on. He didn’t think they were water proof, but they did look like good quality boots. Lydia had pulled on the coat that Phoenix had found earlier. He could feel the drop in temperature. He looked up at the sky, it was getting late. They would have to make some kind of shelter. Build a fire and find some food.
“Julian, if you and Taya are up to it, can you start looking for branches and such. I think we’re going to need a fire. I don’t know how long it will take rescuers to find us, but I think it’s going to snow and it is getting late. Hopefully someone will see our fire and come to us faster.” Phoenix said.
“Sure thing. You think you can stand okay Taya?” Julian walked over and stretched out a hand to the teen. She girl nodded and Julian helped her up. Phoenix turned to Lydia and nodded toward the trees. They walked around and went to the back of the wreckage. Phoenix had the home-made rope and placed a hand on the side of the plane.
“I can hoist you onto my shoulders, so you can look in. See if there is anything to stand on, inside.” Phoenix said, looking at the large opening. It was just over his head, and he could climb up, but didn’t know how jagged the metal was and didn’t want to injure himself. If Lydia could look through the serrated opening, he could get a better idea of how to proceed. Nodding, Lydia walked up to him, as he squatted down. He took one of her hands as she swung a leg over his shoulder. She wasn’t heavy, but there was pulling and pressure on his neck and shoulders. It didn’t help the pain that was radiating down his back.
He grunted as he stood.
“Sorry I’m so heavy.” Lydia called down, her hands on either side of his head.
“It isn’t you, you’re pretty light. I think I wrenched my neck and back from the crash. Tugging and climbing hasn’t done it any good. I’m going to see about taking some pain reliever when I find some.” He smiled when he felt her pat his head. He walked to the side of the plane and felt Lydia lean forward.
“Okay, there’s a bracket right here, hand me the rope and I’ll tie it to the bracket. That way, you can climb up and over the opening. There is a bunch of luggage against a large wall. There are also some large crates here too. Maybe we can find food or something here. There are also some tarps as well and cargo netting. That would be good to maybe make a tent or shelter for us.” She said, grunting as she took the rope from him. He felt her body wiggle as she tied the rope.
“That would be great. I can’t imagine anyone coming super quick and it’s going to start snowing in the next few hours.” He said and felt her lift off his shoulders. He looked up and saw her looking down at him. Phoenix tugged on the rope and made a loop three feet from the ground. He put his foot into the loop and lifted himself by using the loop as a ledge. One hand held the rope and the other tried to feel for a place to grasp. Lydia’s hand guided him to a smooth surface and he was able to hoist himself up and over the lip of the opening.
She was carefully duck walking toward the luggage, which had been thrown like blocks, during the crash. There were cargo nets with boxes and smaller crates that hung onto metal framework. He joined Lydia and began to grab the suitcases and take them to the opening. He tossed them over the lip and went back for more. Some of the suitcases were heavy and it was an effort to hoist them up and out of the cargo hold. Their breathing echoed eerily off the walls of the wreckage.
“This is a lot of damned luggage. I’m afraid to leave any behind, we might need whatever we can find.” Lydia puffed, winded from the heavy lifting.
“I agree. If I wasn’t so afraid of leaving something important in here, I’d say leave it. But, if we do it all now, we don’t need to come back into this place.”
There had been about three hundred people on the flight, Phoenix figured. Three hundred souls and only five alive, as far as he knew. He was sure this was only a fraction of the luggage; much having been lost in mid crash. He hoped that some of this would hold warm clothing, they were all going to need bundling up.
It took nearly an hour, but they got all the luggage out of the cargo hold. He walked to the tarps and cut them loose, as well as some of the netting. He and Lydia folded them and tossed them out of the opening. The crates were too big to move. He used the flashlight and looked at the documents attached. Bills of lading indicated that there were machine parts or plastic and other useless items.
“I don’t think any of this contains food.” He grouched, shining the light on each of the boxes.
“Maybe some of the luggage does. You know how people pack.” Lydia shrugged and began moving toward the opening. Phoenix followed behind.
“Let me go down first and then I’ll help you down.” He suggested. At her nod, he carefully climbed up onto the bracket and grabbed the rope. Cautiously swinging a long leg over the side, he eased himself with the aid of the rope, to the ground. He reached up and helped Lydia down to the ground. They looked at all the luggage.
“It’s going to take some time to go through all this.” Lydia sighed, rubbing her nose with a gloved hand.
“Yeah, tell you what, let’s take the tarps over and see if we can’t fix up some kind of shelter. Get a fire going and then maybe drag over some of the suitcases and go through them?”
“That’s a damned fine idea.” Lydia smiled up at Phoenix, her smile somewhat lopsided due to the swelling on her mouth. They grabbed the tarps and wound the ropes that were attached to the metal grommets and dragged them around the trees. Julian and Taya had gathered a lot of branches and had piled them high. Julian came over to help drag the tarps to their space. Looking around, Phoenix wanted to move a little farther from the wreckage, he also wanted some bushes and trees spaced far enough apart to hang the tarps, in a tent-like fashion. He saw a likely spot about twenty feet farther away and nodded toward it.
“Let’s set up a camp over there, just in case the rest of that plane wants to tumble down. With the snow heading our way, I don’t know what the weight of it will do to the plane.” Phoenix said.
“Crap, I didn’t think of that. Sorry man, I come from Hawaii, we only have snow on the big island.” Julian smile, then shrugged, then winced. Phoenix could see the man was in pain, there was dried blood on his face and in his hair, as well as all down his shirt. It appeared that he too suffered from whiplash. Maybe they could find something warmer and cleaner for him to wear? Yuma had his eyes closed and was rocking slightly. Phoenix hoped the man would be okay and he also hoped there were no internal injuries.
Twenty minutes later, Phoenix stood back and surveyed the results. He had to admit that it wasn’t a bad effort. The tarps had been stretched and secured between two trees. The tarps were large enough that everyone could sit comfortably beneath. One tarp had been laid on the ground, after Lydia and Taya had cleared rocks and branches, there was enough of an overhang, that they’d all be sheltered from the snow. They had hung part of the tarp so that it would hang loosely, and covered three sides of the shelter.
“I’m going to dig a pit and start a fire if possible. We’ll want to store some of that wood inside the shelter, so it can dry off. We can use paper and maybe clothing to get the fire going. Once it starts, it should dry th
e wood out. That will throw heat into the shelter.” Phoenix said, looking at his companions.
“Makes sense to me.” Julian said and sank to his knees. Phoenix joined him and both took heavy sticks to dig and move earth and snow. It was difficult, the ground wasn’t frozen solid, but it was hard packed dirt. Lydia and Taya began to shuttle branches back to the new camp. On a trip back, she handed Phoenix a metal rod.
“That should be better for digging.” She grinned down at him.
“Thanks, you’re right.” He smiled and took the rod. Phoenix noted that Yuma had gotten up and began to help as well. Good, the man needed to move. Needed to act. The thought of his parents flitted into his mind and Phoenix felt his heart flip flop. By now, he knew his parents would have gotten the word that the plane had gone missing or had crashed. He knew his mother would take it hard.
When he could and as soon as he could, he’d call her. Once the rescuers got there, he would ask to use one of their phones. The sky was beginning to tinge a pink and lavender, and the wind was picking up. He could smell damp in the air, snow would be coming soon. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up, Lydia was holding his coat.
“You’re shivering, you need to put your coat on and warm up.” She ordered, a soft smile on her face. He smiled back and took the coat. He’d not noticed that he was shivering until she’d said something. He almost groaned when he put the heavy coat on and could feel the heat from his body being trapped within.
“Thanks Lydia. Can you find us some paper and a lighter?”
“I have a lighter.” Yuma said and dug in his pocket. He came out with a butane lighter and handed it over. Lydia turned and ran back to where the carry-on luggage was in a pile. She returned a few moments later with a spiral notebook.
“Someone’s math notebook.” She said with a hint of sadness in her voice. Phoenix nodded and took the book. He ripped out pages and wadded them up. He took the cloth rope and cut pieces of fabric and then broke up small twigs. All of these he piled on top of the wads of paper. The hole was deep enough to shelter the fledgling flame and it flickered and wavered. He added several sheets of rolled up paper logs. Then added bigger twigs. It took patience, but he got a good fire going, adding bigger branches and then a couple of thick chunks of wood.
The heat coming off the fire was welcoming and he nearly groaned as he felt it. The heat also caused the scratches on his face and hands to sting. The others drew in closer and they also groaned in satisfaction, causing him to smile.
Ω
Castle Town, MT
Miles made his way below to his living room, carrying two portable solar generators. He had five solar generators and on sunny days, brought them all up to charge. Around his neck was a small solar lantern. The Jackery solar generators worked well for him. They were small and portable and served his needs quite well. Along the stairs, there were small hooks with small solar lanterns. As he ascended the stairs, he opened them, and they were incredibly bright. As he descended the stairs, down into his home, he closed each of the solar lanterns. They kept their charge a long time and should one dim, he simply took it up topside to sit in the sunshine.
Montana was peppered with subterranean homes. During the 1950s and 1960s, bomb shelters were all the rage. Since then, there hadn’t been much use for them and most had been forgotten. He was roughly three hours or better from Helena, and he’d found this little gem years ago. He’d planned on the place being his retirement home, and of course his exit plan, should the need arise. It had. He’d been thankful for the work he’d done on the place before he’d needed it.
The living space was roughly twenty feet beneath the ground. It had been in rough shape when he’d seen it the first time, but he’d liked the location and so he’d bought it and the surrounding property, thirteen acres of forested land. The land had cost more than the small stick cabin and shelter. It had been worth the money. Over ten years of vacations, he’d done most of the work himself, living in the small cabin. He’d had to hire out some of the projects, one had been to build an outdoor wood furnace. The furnace also heated water and so he had hot water on demand, gravity fed.
The furnace was twenty feet away from the cabin and was hidden with dense vegetation. There was very little smoke that escaped. He’d gotten the smallest unit, as the spaces below held the heat easily. The small cabin topside had a small woodstove in the corner. He’d fixed the cabin up, in case his father wanted to visit. That was before his impromptu exit from New Mexico. The topside’s small cabin boasted of two bedrooms, small but they had bunk beds. It had previously been a hunting cabin, he thought. Someone had built it over the bomb shelter, twenty years before he’d bought the property.
There was a kitchen counter with a sink, but no faucet. You could heat water on the wood stove and wash things in the sink and drain it. There was no bathroom, but there was an outhouse, thirty feet from the small cabin. The outhouse was in good repair and Miles used it when he worked outside. There was a small table with two wooden chairs, a couch, that had seen better days. The cabin was livable, and Miles had spent many rainy afternoons in the cabin. Sometimes, living below was a little claustrophobic.
It was like having two homes in one. The cabin was only about four hundred square feet, but it suited his purposes. He did store some food in the cabin, on the off chance someone stumbled on it. It would give them something to steal instead of ransacking the place. He had never been bothered, however, in the last fifteen years, but for the two jackasses that he’d chased off. His property also boasted of several storage sheds, hidden on the property. His property was remote, nestled near the Lewis and Clark National Forest.
The land had been grandfathered, and no new homes could be built in the area, but his could be modified or improved. He had an escrow account that took care of all property taxes, it was under his alias, Mike Dunn. Dunn was his mother’s maiden name.
Albert reached the bottom of the stairs and looked over his shoulder at Miles.
“I know, I know, you’re hungry. Let me set these generators down and I’ll fix you right up.” Miles laughed at the stubby tail, it wagged with understanding. Albert was a good companion. Miles took off his shoes at the bottom of the stairs. The floor was warm, he had radiant heating below the ceramic tile. The furnace had been well worth the money and the work had been well worth the trouble. Beside the outdoor furnace was a cistern that fed the unit water. The cistern was heated by the furnace’s proximity and so any snow that fell into the cistern was melted quickly and fed to a holding tank. His home was at a constant seventy degrees in the winter and hovered in the mid-sixties in the summer.
The furnaced burned wood efficiently, and the water was split, some going into the floors, and the rest into a waiting tank underground. He was able to control the volume and flow. It was a complicated design, and had been expensive, but it had been well worth it. He’d helped the agent and contractor with the instillation, since it wasn’t a normal configuration. He didn’t think the tech truly understood, but when it worked, the contractor had grinned and scratched his head.
“Still don’t understand how that thing works, but it sure does. Maybe you should come work for our company.” The man had grinned. Miles had laughed.
Miles flexed his feet and took off his coat and hung it on the coat tree by the entrance. Albert preceded into the living room. Miles set the two small generators down. Along the walls were numerous hooks that solar lanterns could be hung, but there were lamps by the couch and lounger as well. There were energy efficient LED light bulbs. Miles hadn’t stinted on the six hundred square foot space. He had a small bedroom with a twin bed, three drawer dresser and small closet. The room was painted a snowy white, reflecting light about the room. He also had a wall mounted flat screen TV, hooked up to a small DVD player. He dedicated one of the solar generators for his bedroom.
The bathroom had a cabinet with sink, a toilet and spacious shower. He had hot and cold running water. To one side, Miles had installed a
deep sink, with dual tubs, that had a roller system attached. He could wash his clothing, rinse them, and then put them through the rollers, squeezing excess water out. There was a drain in the middle of the floor, in case of overflow. He had a clothes line up topside, but in the winter, he hung his clothing on a portable clothesline.
The kitchen was large and had a small solar run refrigerator. One of the solar generators was plugged into that. He had a large panty filled with dried foods, canned foods, and homemade canned foods. Keeping a low profile meant that Miles had to source his food from many different places. He tried not to go to Helena very often, as they had street cameras and he was sure that there were facial recognition programs out there and he was damned sure that the government hadn’t given up on locating him.
During the summer, he made a point to visit roadside stands that offered home canned products, meats, fruits and vegetables. He had a small patch of ground that he grew his own garden, but it wasn’t huge. Opening the pantry, he retrieved the container that held Albert’s food. He grinned down at the dog, who waited patiently. His mind went to the poor souls in that falling plane. If there were any survivors, he hoped that someone found them fast. It was going to be a cold night.
THREE
Palma de Mallorca, Spain
Dr. Reece Torch sipped his drink, a derisive smile creased his lips. His information had been acted upon, if the news reports that were flashing across the TV screen, were any indication. He’d been paid handsomely for his knowledge, and it was a just betrayal to his country. His country, his government had betrayed him, fifteen years ago. All because of that maniac, O’Connor. Hack. That little nobody had cost him everything. Dr. Torch had become a pariah in the eyes of the United States government and scientific community. Though the project had been a black one, the people in the know had the power to destroy him and destroy him they did.