6 Miles With Courage

by LaCorte, Thomas

“It is,” Bob said, and after a firm hand shake they both removed their hats in a mutual jester of southern respect. They both turned to look at the truck as Bob continued, “You said you heard cell phones ringing in the glove box is that correct?”

  “Yes sir, if you listen, you can hear them now.”

  They stood still over by the passenger side window and sure enough every so often you could hear the message-alerts on Rob and Ryan’s cell phones. Bob put his hands on his hips and stood motionless staring at the door.

  “Something wrong Sherriff?” Wilson asked.

  “Frankly I’m a little concerned about their safety. You see this fellow has a reputation for getting into trouble in the wilderness and now he has his son with him.” Bob turned towards Mr. Wilson, “Did you notice anything peculiar when they left yesterday morning?”

  “No sir, they fueled up and then I remember the older fella ran back to his truck and grabbed a duffel bag. They ran down their checklist and then took off down the runway. They headed due north I believe.”

  “I believe they headed north too and they did not file a flight plan.” Bob said.

  “One thing that is peculiar,” added Wilson.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well maybe it’s nothing but most pilots when they leave for a cross country flight or if they stay somewhere overnight tend to leave their vehicles in the hanger rather than leave them outside. It’s just a thought,” said Wilson.

  “What hanger was Rob’s plane in?” Bob asked.

  “The last one on the left,” Wilson pointed to the closest hanger to Rob’s truck.

  “Well Mr. Wilson I’m going to pop the lock on Rob’s truck and then I’m going to have a look around that hanger if you don’t mind. Maybe I can figure out what Rob had on his mind when he left out of here. Does that sound alright to you?”

  “Sounds ok to me,” Wilson said, “when you go into the hanger please don’t touch any of the tools on the bench. Our mechanic knows when people have touched his tools and it makes him very upset. I stay out of his hanger at all cost!”

  “So, is that Robs hanger or—”

  “No sir, actually that’s the mechanics hanger. He was doing some checks on Rob’s plane early yesterday morning and then he flew out of here. I don’t think he will be back for at least a few days.”

  “So then, which hanger is Rob’s hanger?”

  “It’s actually the hanger right next to the mechanics,” Wilson said.

  “I’ll have a look around both hangers if you don’t mind of course?” Bob said.

  “Not at all sheriff, take your time and I sure hope everything is alright,” Wilson said as he replaced his hat and turned to get back on his tractor. “Just flag me down if there is anything else I can do for you. I have to get back to mowing.” Wilson gave a short wave and hopped up on his tractor and headed back to the airstrip. Bob returned a good-bye wave and walked over to his police cruiser to retrieve his Slim-Jim.

  The Slim-Jim is a device for popping locks on car doors. Most policemen carry one for helping motorists who lock their keys in their car. It is a long, flat, thin piece of metal that you slide down between a rolled up car window and the weather stripping at the top of the car door. Once down inside the door you feel for the locking mechanism. A good thief (or policeman) can pop a door open in seconds. That’s all it took Sheriff Bob Mallory, just a matter of seconds and he had the passenger door open on Rob’s truck. The first order of business was to get the cell phones out of the glove box—play the messages—and listen for any clues as to their whereabouts.

  Getting into the glove box was a bit trickier than opening the truck door but he managed. Now with a cell phone in each hand, and not knowing which one belonged to Rob and which one was Ryan’s, he picked one and started to play the messages. It was Ryan’s phone.

  “Hi Ryan honey, its mom, Brent called and wanted to know what time you’re coming home I told him that you were out scouting a job.” Bob moved on to the previous message.

  “Hey Rye-Rye, its Brent, man you missed an awesome civil war reenactment today, it was crazy good! It felt as if you were really there! And yesterday the American Indian war reenactments were just as good! Anyway hope you get back soon.” Bob put the phone down.

  There were no more messages on Ryan’s phone, he moved on to Rob’s.

  “Hello Mr. Sykes, you made reservations with us for dinner, however you failed to mention the number in your party.” Bob moved on through several insignificant messages until he finally reached the last message. It came thirty minutes after he and Ryan departed from the airport.

  “Rob this is Phil, the mechanic out at the air strip. Listen I know you wanted to take your plane out today, but I felt a strange shudder when I ran it up to full power so I’m asking you to leave it in my hanger until I get back sometime around mid-week OK? I put a note on the pilot seat as well. Have a nice day and I’ll see you when I get back, bye-bye then.” Then Phil hung up. Bob was speechless.

  Bob played the message back again and again, but it never changed, and Bob was left to face the reality that something got lost in the lines of communications. He put the cell phones back in the glove box and stood there looking at the hangers trying to put the facts together.

  Rob missed the mechanics call by thirty minutes. The mechanic thought he gave Rob plenty of notice having placed the call and by leaving a note. But what happened to that note on the pilot seat? Did Rob ignore it, or did he not find it? Bob headed over to the mechanics hanger to see if he could find out.

  It did not take long for Bob to find it. Right there, smack in the middle of the hanger floor was the note.

  “Rob, do not fly this plane, until I return—Phillip.”

  Did it just blow out of the plane unseen on the crisp breeze of the late morning air? Or did Rob see it and ignore it? Did Ryan see it and ignore it? It really did not matter. Bob folded the note and put it in his shirt pocket and walked out of the hanger with a renewed sense of urgency. He simply could not and would not tell Judy that Rob flew away in anything but an airworthy plane.

  With his heart pounding Bob sat in his cruiser examining the aerial photo he took from Rob’s office. He was looking for a place, any place that someone could put an airplane down between here and the job that Rob went to scout. There was hardly a place at all except for the two grass strips that Bob had seen previously. The same ones he pointed out to Judy when he first found the map in Rob’s office. Everything in between was just wilderness.

  Bob put the map away and slowly left the airstrip and headed-out down the long gravel driveway. He did not leave in a hurry. He did not want to raise any suspicion that something could be wrong just in case Judy was to call the airstrip looking for him. But down in his gut he never felt this scared about losing his buddy Rob, and now his son too.

  Once Bob hit the hard road and was out of sight of the people at the airstrip he put his flashing lights on and ran silently at a high rate of speed. He headed North up Highway 19 towards the new jobsite and to one of the grass airstrips where Rob may have landed. It was a long shot, but right now the only thing Bob had to go on was a long shot.

  As he passed by Forest Road 77 he had no idea that if Rob was going to be saved, Ryan would have to be standing at that intersection in a scant four hours ready to wave down the forest ranger. Just a few moments later as he passed the boat ramp and crossed over the Oklawaha River, he again had no way of knowing that it would be at that very boat ramp the rescue party would have to launch from. Two miles and two minutes later Sheriff Mallory had no clue that out there to the east, out of the passenger side window of his cruiser. His friend lies in a comma in the broken wreckage of the very airplane he was searching for.

  For now however Bob had to act on what he did know and that was that there is a remote possibility that Rob had safely landed on a grass air strip to the north.

  As the police cruiser’s antennas whistled in the wind Bob continued up Highway 19 until he found the turn
off leading back to one of the grass airstrips. Bob took the turnoff. Behind him down the long ribbon of highway the sky was turning dark. The warm front was coming up from the south as the weatherman predicted. Soon the grey drizzle would be upon him.

  The cruiser creaked and moaned with every bump and pothole on the long gravel road leading back to the first of the two grass airstrips. Bob stopped and looked at the aerial photo again. Yes, he was heading in the right direction and soon he should come upon the wide open expanse of the airstrip. It should be just a little farther down the road. Bob put the aerial down and slung some gravel as he stepped on the accelerator in anticipation of finding the field.

  He broke out of the woods at a high rate of speed not even realizing he was into the grass airstrip. Things look different on an aerial photo than they do on the ground. Seeing that he had come to a wide open clearing he hit the brakes hard. Sliding sideways across the gravel he came to a stop looking down the long and narrow airstrip. It was then that he realized that he had found it.

  Not willing to wait for the dust to settle Sergeant Mallory pulled his door handle and arose out of his cruiser to get a better look. He walked several feet away from the car to get clear of the dust and found himself staring west across the long expanse of the grassy airstrip. He strained his eyes to see an airplane in the distance but it was not to be. There were however many cows grazing in the distance and a lone oak tree near the far end of the runway, but no airplane. He quickly spun around and looked in the opposite direction hoping to see Rob’s airplane but it was not there either. More cows and some horses dotted the grassy landscape to the east as well.

  He walked back over to his cruiser and slapped the hood of his car with an open palm—right next to the radio antenna—but it was not done out of desperation, oh-no not yet anyway. It was a mere slap to remind Bob that it was, “one down, and one to go” on searching runways. He fully expected to see Rob and Ryan putting out the remnants of a campfire and getting ready to take-off by the time he got to the next airfield.

  He spun out of there quickly slinging gravel and throwing a ton of dust into the air. He was traveling too fast to safely negotiate every pothole and tree along the long gravel road to the highway. He was not in a panic, but he was very anxious to make the hard road. The darkening sky and the note he found in the hanger had him pushing the accelerator to the floor when he should have been riding his brakes.

  By the time he came off the gravel road and slid out onto the pavement his cruiser had the markings of a demolition derby car. Complete with dented fenders, front bumper hanging to one side, and covered in mud from the ruts in the gravel road.

  He again made his way north up Highway 19 at a high-rate of speed. He did leave one thing behind however. His right rear hubcap was rolling in circles in the middle of the highway in front of the gravel road. It was quickly flattened by a southbound eighteen-wheeler. Bob never knew it.

  As he raced up the highway his mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts, weird thoughts.

  What if they crashed and they both have died? What then?

  Would Judy blame me? How long will it take for her to warm up to me?

  Losing your husband and son at the same time is just too much for any woman to take. She will probably crack up and be an emotional basket case!

  No, Bob did not like where his thoughts were going so he started to think about pleasant thoughts.

  I’m sure they’re alright! Most likely they’re putting out a campfire and getting ready to take-off and beat the coming rain. I bet they had a great time bonding last night. They probably enjoyed every minute of their time together.

  Yes, Bob was reassuring himself nicely, too nicely as his mind began to drift now more towards thoughts of being with Judy.

  After Judy cooks a nice supper we sit beside each other on the couch. She puts on one of her favorite movies. I can see by the look in her eye, she wants to kiss me. Slowly we come together. I turn my head sideways as I prepare for my lips to touch her..........................cattle gates? In front of the dirt road that I was supposed to turn down! SCREEEEEEEECCCCHHHHHH!!

  Bob locked up the brakes on his cruiser and slid down Highway 19 sideways for thirty feet before he snapped out of it and came to his senses. As fast as the silly thoughts entered his head they were gone. He pulled off the highway and onto the dirt road coming to a stop in front of the gates. He got out and checked to see if they were locked. He was in luck they were not.

  Bob checked the aerial photo one more time to make sure he had the right road. He did but with the darkening sky the tree-covered road looked more like a tunnel than anything else. Starting to drive down it cautiously he feels his tires sinking into the mud, loosing traction he steps on the accelerator once more.

  He drove fast and hard towards the light at the end of the tunnel. He knew from the aerial photo that the brightness ahead was the second airstrip in the area. Slinging mud and banging off of small trees he pressed on with only one thought in mind. He was hoping that he would be greeting Rob and Ryan any minute. He drove on with a smile on his face.

  This time when Bob broke out of the dark and muddy trail and onto the airstrip there was no dust to wait on settling before he could see, but the windshield was covered in mud. He pressed the washer button and patiently waited for his vision to clear as the fluid and wipers did their job. Slowly everything came into view and slowly the smile had left his face. For one thing became perfectly clear. There was not an airplane anywhere insight.

  At least there wasn’t an airplane in the direction he was looking. So again he pulled his door handle and arose out of his cruiser to get a better look in the other direction. He walked away from the car and found himself staring west across the long expanse of the second grassy airstrip. He strained his eyes to see an airplane in the distance but again it was not to be. He walked back over to his cruiser and pounded the hood of his car with a closed fist—right next to the radio antenna—but this time it was done out of desperation.

  “Rob you darn fool! How could you be so stupid?” He fell back into the cruiser’s front seat, leaned back and pounded the steering wheel with his fist.

  “What now!” he said and looking to his right—toward the crumbled aerial photo—he suddenly saw it.

  He picked it up in disbelief. Why had he not seen it before? There it was as plain as the nose on his face and right in-the-middle of the job that Rob went to scout. There it stood a great big grassy field!

  “But of course Rob old boy, you’re not as dumb as you look!” Bob said.

  Bob began to rationalize away the reason why he did not find Rob and Ryan at either of the two established airstrips, a great big grassy field in the middle of the job. Why, could there be a better place to land, scout the job, camp and then takeoff in the morning? I should think not—Bob said to himself convincingly. And in a matter of moments he flung the aerial photo aside and took off for his new and final destination to look for Rob and Ryan.

  Joyful and full of hope he made his way out to the hard road and turned on his flashing blue lights. He drove towards the trail that would lead him to the field. He had a new smile and a new song in his heart but it was soon to be crushed. Crushed like a paper cup by the uncaring and inconsiderate— hand of fate.

  As he made his way down the trail there were many signs of land surveying activity heightening Bob’s excitement. There were newly brushed lines and lots of pink and orange survey ribbon fluttering about in tree branches. In his mind they were put there by Rob and Ryan but the markings and ribbon came from other surveyors scouting the job for their bid on the project. Fate can be extremely cruel sometimes.

  When Sergeant Bob Mallory finally drove off the trail and into the large grassy area his cruiser went fifteen feet before it came to an abrupt halt. It had quickly sunk down to its axels in mud. Bob open his door and stepped out in disbelief. The area on the photo was not a field but merely a large grassy pond. Rob would have known this from the aerial phot
o and never would have attempted to land there. Like air escaping from an untied balloon Bob’s hope and joy quickly left him.

  Realizing the truth to the current situation he sloshed over to the front fender of his sunken cruiser and grasping the antenna, he snapped it off at the base and proceeded to pound it mercilessly across the hood. He flung the antenna as far as he could out into the pond, and looking for something else to destroy he grabbed the driver’s side mirror and tried to bust it off but it wouldn’t budge. He punched the mirror. This was Bob Mallory at his lowest.

  Sloshing in the mud he backs away from his cruiser so he would not destroy it any further or hurt himself. Looking across the pond and the surrounding wilderness he suddenly feels helpless and detached from the possibility of finding his friend anytime soon. He sees a flutter of survey ribbon in the distance. He cups his hands to his mouth and bends at the knee. With all his might he gives a mighty yell in its direction.

  “ROB! RYYYAAANNN!” there is no answer but the wind. He tries again this time spinning around in a complete circle. “ROB! RYYYAAANNN!” he listens intently for a response but no response will come.

  And so it comes to an end this rescue attempt by Bob Mallory. In the end it will have to be Ryan’s courage and his courage alone to bring a rescue but Bob doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know it now, nor will this stop him from trying to find his friend and his friend’s son. Soon he will come to his senses and return to his cruiser where he will make a call on his radio to the Sheriff’s base of operations. He will have the helicopter swing by and—guided by his flashing lights—pick him up from the grassy pond as the search begins. He will have a tow truck get his cruiser while he joins the search from the air.

  For now however Bob is nothing more than Rob and Ryan are at this very moment, a speck on a vast plain of wilderness. It could be worse for Bob however. It could be raining.

  The darkened sky rolls in across the pond where Bob sits in his cruiser waiting. For a moment he thought his flashing lights had grown brighter but it was just the sky growing darker.