Flying Home

by Mary Anne Wilson

  She opened her eyes to bleak light and windows blurred by ice sheeting them on the outside. The world beyond was distorted in smears of grays and whites with shadows here and there. She jerked up, startled by movement over her. It was Gage, he was reaching for something beyond her.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped, peering up into his face above her.

  “Just making sure you were as warm as possible,” he said and she realized he was kneeling on the bottom of her seat, his legs against hers, stretching over her. “After all, you did it for me last night even when you were furious with me.” He actually smiled down at her, exposing his dimple.

  She looked away. “Thanks, but I’m getting up,” she said, and he moved back as she tried to sit up. “What are you doing up, anyway, and what about your ribs and head?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, but he moved stiffly as he drew back and sat leaning against the screen. “And it’s morning.”

  That single word propelled her to sit up farther. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Gage said.

  “Fires, smoke, whatever it takes to get noticed out there by the rescue team,” she said, pushing at the blankets to get free of them. Everything else was of no importance, not even the conversation about the casino development, the worry and dread for her kids and for them. Today was their chance to get out of here, and she was ready.

  “Let’s get going, then,” he said.

  “What do we need to do?” It seemed she was always asking him that question in one context or another, but this time it seemed gravely important.

  “Bundle up, and then make our way to safety,” he said, turning away from her to reach down in front of the seat.

  She barely bit back a gasp when she saw him double over in pain, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he pulled up his duffel bag, tossed it on the pilot’s seat and rummaged through it.

  “Did you take more medication?” she asked.

  He nodded without looking at her.

  She tugged on her suede jacket and gloves, then tied the scarf at her neck, leaving it loose enough to pull up over her face if she needed to do that once she was outside.

  Gage looked at her. “Okay?” he asked.

  “How about you?”

  “Freezing to death,” he muttered, as he tried to right himself by the door. Then he added something that made her almost smile. “I should have gotten a bigger plane while I had the chance.”

  “Can we turn on the heater soon?” Her face was already getting uncomfortable with the frigid air in the cabin.

  He adjusted the control for the emergency heat, and then told her, “It’s on. We’ll need it when we get back in here.”

  “How long can we leave it going?”

  “We’ll figure that out as we go along,” Gage said and lifted his leg to get closer to the door.

  A glimpse of his boot showed it still darkened and misshapen from the snow from the night before, and she had no doubt they were still damp and cold. “Don’t you have another pair of boots?” she asked.

  “Yes, I do, but didn’t want to crawl all over you while you were sleeping to get to them,” he replied. “Do you have a more colorful jacket with you?”

  “No, I only brought the one.”

  He flicked his eyes over her medium brown jacket and white gloves, hat and scarf that all blended with her jacket.

  She understood. “How about you? Anything that will make a color splash against the snow?”

  “Yeah, I do. There’s a surveying jacket that’s really bright orange.” He snapped his fingers. “And I think there’s some watch caps, too, in ugly dayglow yellow.”

  She turned and moved the seats to gain access to the back storage area, the way she’d done the night before. “Where are they?” she asked.

  “Near the back. Get the jacket, the boots and the hats should be with them. Also a pair of work gloves, leather, paint spattered.”

  She began to feel around, got the jacket and passed it onto him. Then she found the hats, two of them, the ugly dayglow yellow Gage had said they were. She saw Gage grab the jacket before she turned back to the storage area. When she offered the dry boots, with heavy lug soles, he had the jacket on, its brilliant orange almost painful to the eyes.

  “Great,” he said, taking the boots from her. “See if you can find a shovel. There’s one with a collapsible handle in there somewhere.”

  She had a harder time finding the shovel, but finally located it, and a hammer and what looked like a tire iron of all things. She showed them to Gage, who was just finishing putting on his last boot. “I’ll need the shovel and hammer, but put back the crow bar.”

  She pushed the seat back in place, and then turned to Gage. He had on the yellow cap now, and it almost covered the wound on his forehead. Despite the garish attire, his looks still made her pause. He tossed her a second hat, and she took off her light covering to replace it with the yellow wool cap. “These can’t be missed by anyone looking for us,” she quipped.

  “Exactly,” Gage said, in his bright orange and yellow ensemble. He moved around to grip the door handle. “Stay back when I open this. If there’s snow against it, we’re going to get some tumbling into the cabin. Bring the shovel with you.”

  She got the shovel before scooting along the reclining seat, and stopping right behind Gage. She waited as the lock clicked and the door began to swing up. She felt the frigid air, so cold it immediately made her face ache, invade the cabin. She tugged the scarf up over her mouth and nose and watched Gage move with painfully slow movements as he eased the door up, inch by inch.

  It seemed like forever before the door was completely open to the world outside, but luckily only a minimal amount of snow came inside the cabin. Gage ducked out onto the wing and Merry was right behind him. Even so, she could feel the ice on the metal of the wing, and she grabbed the door frame to hold her footing.

  The cold air hit her even harder, its temperature surely near the zero mark. The light all around was a dull gray, clouds heavy and low in the sky. Very little of the area was flat. Trees soared all around them, their snow burdened branches oddly loaded on one side, but merely icy on the other. Then she looked down and realized the snow on the ground was probably all of a foot deep, but the drifts against the plane had climbed to cover the bright green middle stripe.

  One look at the trees in the path of their landing, and she was stunned at how impossible it seemed that they had cut through them, without the plane being destroyed. Then a glance toward the front and she knew that there was one more miracle to add to her list. The pine tree was massive, its top lost in the low clouds. And they were exactly as Gage had said, six feet from where they would have impacted with the plane. A life devoid of miracles until she’d been stranded in the airport terminal in Pueblo, had sudden become touched by so many.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “MERRY?”

  Gage’s voice jarred her out of her thoughts, and she turned to him. As if he’d read her mind, yet again, he touched her shoulders with both hands and said, “Just remember, it’s not what could have happened, but what didn’t happen.”

  He was so close she felt his breath brush her cold skin as he spoke. “Yes, you’re right,” she said, fighting the urge to let herself just fall against him for support.

  She turned as he let her go and inched toward the side of the wing. The snow wasn’t very deep there, but the distance to the ground from the wing was still about three or four feet. “How do we get down from here?” she asked.

  “I can manage it.” Gage moved around her, going closer to the tip end of the wing. “We’ll get the flares and fire material out of the safety storage, then get back inside.”

  Merry rubbed her arms briskly in an attempt to warm herself. “Okay, you’re the boss,” she said.

 
“I thought this was more of a partnership?” he retorted as he kicked at the snow on the wing. Then, in one continuous motion, he crouched, turned and lowered himself to the ground. The snow was thin in that spot and barely came halfway up his boots. He looked back up at her, and even though he didn’t show any reaction to pain, she could tell that had taken a toll on him.

  “Pass me the shovel, then come on down,” he said, holding out a hand to her.

  She lowered the shovel to him, but when he put his hand back up to help her down, Merry ignored the offer, not about to burden him with her weight when he was injured. Instead, she lowered herself to sit on the wing’s edge and regretted it immediately when the cold snow and metal jarred her through her jeans. Faster than she intended to, she slid off the wing, hitting the ground with both feet. She felt snow go up her pant legs, but she was down and standing on her own.

  “You should stay here and I’ll shovel the snow away from the storage area.” He looked around, frowning. “There has to be some level spot that’s not too small,” he muttered, more to himself than for her benefit, before he slowly walked around the side of the plane. He stopped about two feet from his goal and turned to her. “This won’t take a minute,” he said. And with those words he was shoveling, throwing snow behind him and away from the panel.

  A small door appeared in the plane’s side, then Gage froze. “Oh...keys for the storage section are in the plane somewhere.”

  “I’ll go and get them,” she offered, but he stopped her. “Never mind. This thing is ruined now, so—” He got the shovel up and pushed the tip of it into the crack that showed around the door. He pushed, burying the shovel tip a bit deeper in a growing gap, then left the shovel wedged there, lifted his booted foot and kicked at the shovel handle. There was a cracking sound when the handle broke, but at the same time, the door flew open.

  “Who needs higher education?” he joked as he moved to the door, pulled it fully back and reached into the small opening. He brought out a red box, laid it at his feet, then a second box that was larger and a brilliant orange. It almost matched the jacket Gage was wearing. He left the door ajar, bent to get the smaller box and went to where Merry was. He left the box by her. “The flares,” he said before he walked back for the larger box. When he brought it to Merry, he explained, “Fire goodies.”

  “Is that a technical term for what’s in there?” she said, her spirits buoyed just by being out there doing something.

  “You said you didn’t want that technical jargon, so I thought I’d make this easy for you.” The grin came, the dimple along with it, and Merry felt even better, despite the freezing air.

  “Thank you, boss,” she said.

  “What’s that all about?” he asked her.

  “Well, you are in charge, aren’t you?” She smiled back at him.

  “Boss...yeah, I haven’t thought much about that. I wish I could talk to my right-hand man,” he said, wistfully. “So, all we need is a few hundred feet of visibility.” He looked up into the heavily clouded sky. “And no more snow.”

  Merry swallowed hard, part of her wanting to just talk and not think about anything, but the other part pushing at her, telling her to take action and do something to facilitate a rescue. “What now?”

  He crouched down and broke the seals on the red box. “First the flares, then I need to see what’s beyond those trees.”

  “Why?”

  “In case we need to know later. I’d rather know now.”

  “That sounds vaguely like double talk, but I’ll let it pass.”

  “Thank you,” he said and handed her two of the long red flares. “Put them in your pockets, just in case we hear anything while we’re out.”

  “What about making the fire?”

  He glanced back and forth. “We can clear a spot around here, and keep an eye on it from the plane. We’ll leave the rest of this here while we look around. Or you can go back inside and stay warm.”

  “No. I’m coming.”

  “All right,” he said and shoved two flares in his own jacket pockets.

  “If we hear anything, don’t we need matches for the flares?”

  “No. I’ll show you how to do that with the cap in a bit.”

  She felt the weight of the flares in her pocket as Gage pointed toward the trees to the west. Drifts went halfway up the tree trunks, but the rest on the ground looked to be as thin as the snow by the plane.

  “That way.” He started off with Merry following in his tracks, literally, and into the trees.

  The snow was even more sparse over there, but the branches looked weighted down on the edges. A short time later, they broke out of the trees and onto a long, narrow clearing.

  Rimmed on three sides with massive trees, the clearing seemed to go off into nothingness on the last side facing west. With the clouds so low and the light so gray, she couldn’t see very far, but she guessed if she could have, she would have been looking across a deep void to more mountains, more trees and snow.

  “This could work for the rescue,” he announced and crossed to the drop off. “There’s enough clearance for a helicopter.” He stared straight up into the clouds. “It could work.” Then he started stomping around the clearing, making a large circle with the trampled snow. “What are you doing?” Merry called to him.

  “Clearing this a bit, so we can make some sort of SOS on the ground. Rocks, branches, anything. An arrow’s a good sign. Even just the arrow head could do it, pointed back in our direction.”

  “How could they see anything like that?” she asked.

  “Helicopters get low, and anything could help.” Merry hurried over and started stomping herself. While she beat down the snow, Gage added, “I’ll look for anything we can use,” and then he walked out of the circle and toward the trees again.

  When he disappeared into the trees, Merry began to panic from the intense isolation. Without a second thought, she called out, “I’ll help!” and plunged into the trees after him.

  He turned as she hustled toward him, ducking the low branches. When she got to him, her first thought was the darn yellow hat actually looked good on the man. Dark eyes, dark hair. She thought he’d tell her to go back and finish what she was doing, but he just held out his hand to her and said, “Come on. Let’s look around.”

  She put her hand in his, felt his fingers curl around hers through her wool gloves. Side by side they slowly scanned the area. After only a few minutes, Merry could feel Gage was slowing down and he was fighting pain again. She stopped and as he let go of her hand. “You know, we don’t need to do this now. We should just go back and take care of the most important things—the flares and the fire—then do a search for rocks or whatever later.”

  He looked at her, and she knew that he knew that she knew about his condition. She almost laughed at that reasoning, but she was right. She knew it. He hesitated, then with a bare nod, he turned and started back the way they’d come.

  She followed, with no hand offered to her this time. Keeping her eyes on his back under the brilliant orange material of his jacket, she watched in case he faltered, but he didn’t. Then they were back at the plane, their boxes left where they’d been set. Gage crossed to them, started to bend, but stopped himself.

  He pointed to the large box. “I should have thought of this before. Look in there. It should have fuel and things we can use.”

  Merry went around Gage and squatted by the box. She snapped the bail ties up and opened the lid. She saw an odd arrangement inside. Pieces of wood, maybe six inches long, bundled together on one side, white boxes about the size of what could hold a baseball divided the box in half, stacked three deep. A serrated knife, about the size of a butcher’s knife, was sheathed in a plastic holder. Two lighters, fuel for them and a plastic bag of what looked like black rocks, rounded out the inventory.

 
“What do I do first?” she asked, and didn’t miss the way he was leaning back against the wing for support.

  “Clear a space about eight feet across.” He looked to the south and pointed to an area where the trees were thin and there was enough space for the clearing. “Stomp it down to level the area.”

  She walked in a circle, then began stamping the snow down. Glancing over at Gage, she saw him pick up the saw, take off the plastic and head for the trees. “Where are you going?” she yelled.

  “Be right back,” he said, ducking into the press of branches. “I want to try this.” He held up the saw as he disappeared into the forest.

  She tried to tamp down her rising panic by listening to the sounds of his movement just beyond her sight. When the snow was pressed flat to the ground, she stopped and heard a cracking sound, then the whoosh of something falling. “Gage!”

  She took off at a dead run, hoping nothing bad had happened to him.

  When she found him, he was standing by a large pine and an iced branch was laying at his feet. He turned when he heard her, a questioning look in his eyes. “Did you hear a plane or someone?” he asked, crossing over to her immediately.

  “Yes, uh, no, just thought something fell and I was...worried.” She bit her lip to stop anymore babbling.

  “Oh. The noise was just a branch I had to get some cuttings, we’ll need to use them for the fire. The greener the better for smoke.”

  “Right. Sure, of course...green branches, smoke makers,” she mumbled and grabbed the branch before he could bend to get it, then dragged it back to where she’d made the circle He caught up to her as she dropped the branch by the crushed snow and said, “I’ll cut it up.”

  She noted how pale he looked. She didn’t bother trying to finesse anything. “No, you won’t. You’re in pain again.”

  “Moving around will help loosen my sore muscles,” he countered.