It was a scene like he saw so many times as a child passing by a bad car wreck. The mangled car, the yellow sheet, nobody had to say that it was a scene of death, you just knew it.
Mike came sloshing up, “Bob are you alright the chopper has been trying to get a hold of you?”
“I’m fine I dropped my radio in the swamp as soon as I got here,” Bob said watching Ryan, who was staring at the raincoat covered fuselage.
“I need you to call the chopper Mike and tell them we won’t be in need of the paramedics,” Bob said looking at Ryan.
“Oh God no, please no!” Ryan cried out as he sank to his knees.
“You said you could hold out dad! You said you would!”
“The old boy just couldn’t hang on,” Mike said with a whisper.
“No! That’s not it at all Mike,” Bob said still watching Ryan.
“We don’t need a paramedic because we don’t have a pilot,” Bob said kind of matter-of-factly.
“What did you say?” Mike asked.
“You heard me!”
“Bob are you sure. Ryan did say that Rob was pinned in so bad that—”
“Shut up! Do you take me for a dang fool?”
“Well, no sir but Ryan’s no pilot and—”
“No kidding Mike! Why do you think this airplane is down here in the swamp! There is no way and I do mean no way that anybody could have survived that mangled up cockpit on that side of the airplane. No Sir, No way! But Ryan’s side—the copilot side—well it’s just fine, because that’s where he flew the plane from. It’s the only thing that makes any sense Mike! Believe me I thought long and hard about it before you arrived.”
Bob walked straight over to Ryan who was down on his knees in the swamp in total disbelief at what he was hearing. Bob leaned over and got right in Ryan’s face and said, “No-sir the only pilot we have here is down on his knees in this swamp.” Then Bob stood up and put his hand on his hips and said, “Cuff him Mike, we got us a thief out for a joy ride!”
Chapter Twenty Nine
POW!
Ryan socked Bob right in the groin, and when he doubled over.
POW! Ryan socked him hard on the chin. He fell over statue-like face first into the swamp where he bubbled out a low moan. Mike made a charge for Ryan but Ryan snatched up Bob’s sidearm and drew-down on Mike. Ryan crossed over into territory he thought he’d never ventured into.
“Stop right there Mike,” commanded Ryan.
“Ryan you don’t want to do this. It’s stupid we’ll work this out.”
“Shut-Up and roll him over now!”
Mike rolled over a coughing and gurgling Bob Mallory.
“I’ll kill him, just let me get my hands on him, where is he?” said a coughing Mallory.
“I’m right here Bob!” Ryan said as Bob cleared the water from his face and saw Ryan holding the gun.
“You thought you would get away with it didn’t you Bob?”
“Ryan put that gun down, you’re only making things worse for yourself,” Bob choked out.
“Where is my father? What did you do with him Mallory? Answer me now!”
“Chopper to Mike what’s going on down there?”
“Answer the radio Mike,” Ryan said, “and tell them we will get back to him,” Mike balked, “Do it now!” screamed Ryan.
Mike did as he was told.
“Good old Bob Mallory, first on the scene, all alone, and my father turns up missing! Oh how convenient. Everybody knows about you and your feelings for my mother Mallory. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you Mallory? Do you think I’m a fool?” Ryan said, waving the gun in a threatening manner.
With no immediate answer Bob Mallory—with Mike’s help—stood up from the swamp and started to brush off his clothing, then he paused and stood still. After a brief moment he jerked his head around and gazed off into the direction of the ranger station. He did this as if he heard something. But of course he could not have heard anything above the sound of the chopper. Besides the ranger station is miles away! He remembered something. Something Ryan had told him back at the cabin. With a furrowed brow and with his chin cocked to the side he turned around to face Ryan.
“You’re serious aren’t you Ryan, I mean—” Bob said looking at the gun, “you’re dead serious, you think that l—” Bob paused and looked over at the plane. Then he looked back at Ryan and when he did a smile spread across his face.
He figured something out, but what? Ryan sensed it—dropping his guard he lowered the gun—Mike sensed it also. Then Bob started to chuckle very faint at first but it grew louder until he broke out into a low laugh shaking his head.
“Ha-ha, oh gosh, you really thought that I—but of course,” Bob said, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. Ryan you give me the gun, and I will take you to your father,” Bob said with an outstretched hand.
Ryan paused for a moment.
“Come on Ryan give me the gun.”
The desire to see his father was a desire above all else. So much so that with reluctance he handed Bob the gun.
“Tell you what I’m going to do, since your Rob’s son. I’m not going to charge you with assault and battery of an officer,” Bob said as the three of them took the few steps that was needed to put them at the fuselage. There they stood staring at the very door that Ryan crawled out of twenty some-odd hours ago. Bob quickly pealed back one of the yellow rain coats causing Ryan and Mike to jump with apprehension. Bob put his hand on the door handle and looking at Ryan said, “Now like I said I am not going to charge you with assault and battery, but what I am going to charge you with I will tell you after you’re reunited with your father.” Then Bob turned the handle and opened the door.
“Ryan! Say hello to your father,” Bob said.
Ryan leaned into the dimly lit wreckage and saw that it looked exactly like it did when he left it. He looked up at the black hair on the back of his father’s head and said, “Dad? Can you hear me? Are you all right?” but he did not get an answer.
Bob was flipping his eyebrows up and nodding his head for Mike to watch what Ryan does next. “Go ahead Ryan, touch the back of his head and see if he is alright,” Bob said. Mike was about to give an objection but Bob gave him the hush sign. Bob was in full “cop” mode now.
Ryan reached out slowly and touched the back of his father’s head. Instantly his hand recoiled. Ryan turned his hand around to look at it. It was red!
“Felt kind of weird I bet, huh Ryan,” Bob said sarcastically, but Ryan did not answer him. He just looked at his hand, and then he closed it and brought it up to his heart. Then he looked away. His eyes had glazed-over.
“Now, I’m no chemistry major, but I would have to say that what is on your hand is not blood, no I would say that it’s red hydraulic fluid. And that patch of black hair? I would have to say that it is nothing more than a ball of black wires, and you know what Ryan? I would be right!”
Bob briskly and forcefully pulled Ryan out of the wreckage by his collar, still holding his hand to his heart.
“Close up that cockpit Mike. It’s a crime scene so make sure you cover it well,” Bob barked as he dragged Ryan away from the wreckage and around to the opposite side of the cypress tree. He shoved him down into a seated position. Ryan was too distant to resist. He just went down like a rag doll, sitting there staring into the swamp still clenching his fist to his chest.
He knew in his heart of hearts that Bob Mallory was right. What was in that airplane never was nor ever could have been—his father!
What was he to think? What was one to think when suddenly the last twenty-four hours of one’s life has been invalidated?
“I’m charging you with grand theft,” Ryan heard him, but it was just a distant voice on the edge of a faraway forest. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law,” The voice grew faint until it trailed off and then it was gone.
Ryan was technically in shock. His mind was slippin
g into a state of temporary insanity. His world had become a jigsaw puzzle consisting of only one piece and that one piece was missing, leaving nothing but a shell of a man.
This was indeed the lowest point of his life. And it was to be one of the strangest. One of the strangest, because what happens next takes the word bizarre to new heights!
Chapter Thirty
Whoosh... Whoosh... Whoosh... each single pass of the chopper-blades high above the canopy played out in Ryan’s ear. Oh, it was turning at its normal speed, and it carried its normal “staccato” of sound for Bob and Mike. For Ryan sight and sound was bent, like light passing through a prism. He is in a state-of-shock.
Ryan stared down into the swamp. His mind was out of it. If you ever wondered what it was like to be in shock this was it.
Ryan’s vision was without color except for the red stain on his hand. His mind’s eye was devoid of colors yet textures were razor sharp. He watched the jagged edges of leaves as they floated gently by in the swamp water. Each hair on an inch worms back looked like a rope. The eyes of the yellow fly were dimpled like a golf ball. The grooves in the tree bark were deep like canyons. Other sounds were equally distorted as the gently falling rain drops sounded like the beating of a bass drum.
He could hear Bob and Mike conversing, echoing in some far distant canyon yet they stood just mere feet away. Ryan could not hear what they were saying but that was for the better.
They were discussing when and why he would have taken the airplane for a joyride and how Rob is most likely out at the jobsite, walking his way home, mad as a snake. Bob recanted to Mike about how Rob told him that Ryan had learned to fly an airplane on his computer. Rob had said to Bob, “Why he’s a better pilot than me.” Mike was shaking his head as he listened to what was the most likely story behind Ryan’s actions.
Bob told the chopper over Mike’s radio what he believed has happened and his reasoning for Rob not being there. He thought it was best for them to head back. After a discussion about the fuel level of the chopper they agreed.
Bob and Mike bent down and gently lifted Ryan up to a standing position. He was stiff and feeble now with his fist still clenched tight up against his heart. They had only taken a couple of steps and the chopper had just begun to move away when a strange call came over the radio.
“Chopper to Bob.”
“Bob here, go ahead.”
“Hey are both cockpit doors intact down there?”
Bob stopped and looked at Mike, “Set Ryan down a minute,” he said stepping back to the wreckage.
Bob performed a quick search. “I can’t say for sure, the pilot side is heavily damaged. It may be gone but the copilot door is here.”
“Roger that, we’re circling back. We spotted what looked like a cockpit door in the top of one of these trees,” the pilot said.
“Oh my will you look at that!” the pilot added.
“What is it?” Bob asked over the radio.
“Well, I guess you don’t have any wings down there either. We got two wings up here in the trees. We are about thirty yards to the east of you.” The pilot said. “The FAA is going to have to see this Bob. Could you guys somehow mark those trees from down there?”
“You and I have to walk under the chopper and mark that position somehow.” Bob said to Mike.
Ryan began to come around. “What’s happening, where are you are going?” he said.
“It’s ok Ryan,” Mike assured him, “just relax we have to mark some other parts of the wreckage that’s all.” After he made sure Ryan was sitting comfortably, he sloshed through the swamp to catch up with Bob who was already fifteen yards ahead of him. He looked back at Ryan whose eyes were much more alert now.
Bob and Mike stood beneath the hovering helicopter their eyes squinting in the wind-whipped drizzle. Bob pointed up at two trees. “That tree, and that tree over there,” he said to Mike. Then he got on the radio.
“This is Bob. Yes we see the wings now. They are about ten feet apart and are resting about halfway down the trees, we will mark this area,” he said as he and Mike began to grab dead branches and debris to pile up for a marker.
“Sounds good Bob, we’ll keep looking around up here for what we thought was a cabin door. Don’t have much time though, fuel is getting low,” the pilot said.
Bob and Mike were making a pile of branches to mark the trees when they stopped and huddled over the radio to listen intently as they watched the chopper return to hover over their heads.
“Well we’re going to have to get on out of here are fuel is—no wait there it is!” the pilot said.
“It’s in the top of that large cypress tree about ten feet away from the wings. Do you see the tree I’m talking about?” the pilot asked Bob.
Bob and Mike both agreed on a large cypress tree and called up to the chopper, “Yes we see the tree. Do you want us to mark that tree too?” Bob asked but he got no answer.
“The door seems to be caught up in cargo netting. For some reason there seems to be a lot of netting up here, no wait it’s not netting at all, it’s—”
“It’s vines,” a voice came from behind Bob and Mike at the same time the pilot uttered those words. Bob and Mike turned around, it was Ryan and he was standing and standing tall right in their back pocket. The chopper kept them from hearing him approach.
“It was the last thing I saw before we hit the trees,” Ryan said with an air of confidence in his voice. And he looked well, no longer sickly, and he looked taller than Bob ever remembered.
Bob raised a brow and looked at him with a wary eye as he brought the radio slowly to his mouth.
“I repeat do you want us to mark that tree also?” Bob asked looking away from Ryan and back up to the chopper, but again his question drew no response.
“Wait a minute, I see something else, it’s under the door, it looks like a blue suitcase,” the pilot said. All three of them Bob, Mike and Ryan had to turn their heads momentarily from the blinding drizzle whipping off the rotor blades.
“Yes. It’s a blue suitcase with a red shirt hanging out of it,” the pilot said confidently.
Ryan stepped up now and stood directly between Bob and Mike. He put one arm over Mike’s shoulder and one arm over Bob’s shoulder. All three of them stood there gazing up at the chopper. Ryan the tallest at over six-feet, stood nearly a half a foot over the both of them. Ryan drew them in tight as he stared up at the chopper and then he whispered, “It’s not a suitcase.”
Bob and Mike slowly turned and looked at Ryan. He stood tall looking up at the chopper, rain-water running off a strange look upon his face. A look as if he was seeing something that they weren’t, a look of being divinely empowered. Bob and Mike felt a strange sense of security as Ryan’s embrace seemed to tighten. Then as though he sensed them staring at him Ryan nodded his head for them to look up at the chopper. The chopper pilot came back on the radio.
“That’s not a suitcase that’s blue jeans, that’s blue jeans and a red shirt. Make that a man wearing blue jeans and a red shirt!” The pilot exclaimed.
Nobody said a word, nobody moved on the ground. Only a few seconds past but it seemed a lot longer.
“Hey Bob, ask Ryan if his father was wearing blue jeans and a red shirt,” the pilot said.
Bob and Mike could not move at all now nor did they want to in the calmness of Ryan’s embrace. Bob turned to look at Ryan and Ryan felt his gaze. He said to Bob without looking at him. “You tell him yes! Tell him yes my father was wearing blue jeans and a red shirt!” Ryan exclaimed.
“That’s a 10-4,” Bob said, followed by a hard swallow.
“Ok I’m sending a man down in the basket to get the door off of him. There is no movement, I don’t think we have a survivor,” the pilot said in a solemn tone.
There they stood locked in Ryan’s embrace totally speechless. They looked up at the top of the tree as though they could see Rob and the cockpit door but they could not. Rob was sixty feet in the air, cradled in a netting of
vines completely hidden from their view. He had been there all along. He had been there since the moment of impact!
The three of them watched as the rescue basket descended towards the treetop. They kept watching even when it disappeared from view. Bob looked over at Mike who was looking back. They both knew what the other was thinking. Man how is this kid going to react when he finds out his father was killed on impact. Ryan sensed their worry.
“It’s ok guys, he’s going to be just fine. He told me that he could hold out for at least twenty-four hours and we got here in time,” Ryan said, never taking his eyes off the treetop. Bob again looked over at Mike with a raised eyebrow, shaking his head as if to say, “what is he talking about, first he says his father is trapped in the plane now he says he was talking to him?” Mike shook his head and looked down. He knew what Bob wanted to say, he too felt the hopelessness of the situation. He readied himself to catch Ryan in case he collapsed at the sound of bad news.
Then suddenly there was a crashing noise as something came falling through the branches. Bob and Mike buried their faces into Ryan’s shoulder. They just couldn’t bear to look.
“It’s ok it’s just the door,” Ryan said as it continued to fall—hidden from view. Bob and Mike looked up just in time to see the door burst through the vines and fall to the forest floor. They looked at each other, their mouths agape.
Then the helicopter began to rise. The basket came into view and inside of it was a man hunched over Ryan’s father whose arm swung limply out of the basket. He was moving frantically around Rob’s head and shoulders. He put his face down to Rob’s as he was checking for a breath. He felt his neck for a pulse. He rubbed his hands through his hair. He looked into his ear. He looked at the back of his neck. Bob and Mike were squinting into the blowing drizzle to see, but Ryan saw everything plain as day. Then the man in the basket raised his radio to speak as Bob raised his to listen.
6 Miles With Courage Page 17