Flight To Pandemonium

by Murray, Edward

  Each choice had perils. The transmission lines had always been his preferred route – by far the shortest and most familiar, having once been his only access to the powerhouse. But the crossing would be dreadful in mid winter. The pass was a natural saddle through the range where snowfall had been unusually heavy this winter. The trail passed beneath unstable cornices, where storms could rage for days along the upper reaches. He had little confidence in his hardiness to withstand such rigor. Many an accomplished cross country skier had perished in an avalanche in those mountains. He had no skis and experience using them hailed from childhood. He reluctantly dismissed following the transmission lines.

  Two choices had a common beginning down to the Quail Creek landing strip. He would make his choice once he could assess conditions there. Thereafter, both routes had one small advantage. The snow accumulation diminished while descending the slopes. But both routes were unfamiliar… and he had never ventured into the wilderness in wintertime. Remaining at the powerhouse likely meant starvation, while departing held unpredictable winter perils. Wary and worried, he set off.

  Closing the main gate behind him, he stood gazing at the powerhouse one last time. Lingering doubts threatened his resolve. He turned facing the road.

  Pug limbered up for the hike and arched his back by way of more procrastination. He was as fit as any sixty-seven year-old could hope to be, but frustrated by indecision.

  Finally, high stepping through the snow, he set a vigorous pace down the service road. Contemplating his mid-winter trek was daunting. Just keep plugging, he resolved.

  Pug hadn’t progressed a mile when he halted, staring ahead in astonishment. A young woman dressed in a bright red ski jacket and tights, her flowing hair swishing back and forth, swiftly headed toward him on cross country skis. After watching disbelieving for many moments, he convinced himself that the specter must be real.

  She drew near, progressing with long gliding strokes against the uphill grade. He judged she was perhaps fifteen years old, breathing deeply, apparently fit and healthy.

  Pug remained silent. Halting nearby, she said, “Please mister… would you help me? My father really needs your help.”

  Pug was about to ask whether her father was sick, but what did it matter? Here was a young girl who needed help. Duty was calling, his mother would have insisted, and her memory required a worthy response. What else did he have to live for anyway? “Sure, I’ll do what I can. Where is he?”

  “Down on the Quail Creek landing strip not far ahead,” said the pleasant voice.

  “I know where that is. What’s the trouble? Anyone else there?” Pug was thinking of the bad guys from months ago.

  “I think he’s had another stroke. He can’t get up. There’s just the two of us.”

  “Miss, my plodding will just slow you down. Why don’t you lead and I’ll follow your tracks. I don’t know a thing about a stroke, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “Oh, thank you! Dad will thank you, too. He does need me, so follow me.” She was off in a flurry. Out of touch with humanity for months, Pug marveled at the unexpected presence. Perhaps he would benefit by human contact as much as her father.

  Pug noticed her tracks had earlier left the road to a nearby cabin and then returned. He wondered what might have diverted her attention. He stopped to survey her path around the building. He noticed two jeeps partially obscured in the midst of a snow drift and recognized them.

  They belonged to the four bad guys so long ago. So! They had perished as well! Justice came around after all. Bloody good thing or the attractive young woman would have faced an unpleasant ordeal. Pug resolved to help and protect her. But how had she arrived at such an improbable place in the middle of winter?

  Rounding the curve, he could see the young woman attending a prostrate man covered with blankets. They were sheltered under the wing of a brightly painted airplane mounted on skis. Pug recognized the plane as a DeHavilland Beaver, an aircraft once highly favored by bush pilots of the north. The woman vigorously waived to him as he approached. “Thank you so much!” she said shortly.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s says he’s cold. Can you help me get him back into the airplane? He’s heavy. I hope we can lift him together.”

  From the ground to the cabin door was a long reach. The man was unable to stand. They tried hoisting him under each shoulder, but the man could only grasp with one arm and his daughter couldn’t lift his dead weight.

  “This isn’t gonna work, miss. I’ve gotta get under him while you hold him steady. I won’t be able to see when I lift, so you must guide him through the door.”

  “Mister, he weighs a hundred forty pounds. Can you lift that much?”

  “Won’t know until I try. Might be better if you climb inside. Once I stand up under him, I’ll lift him on my shoulders.”

  “Okay… but if you can’t make it, please just let him down gently. I don’t want to hurt him anymore.”

  “I’ll break his fall with my body if I can’t lift him. He is cold, so let’s go.”

  Grasping the door threshold, Pug lifted and pushed until they stretched him out flat across the rear seat. Teary eyed from pain, the man feebly waived a hand in thanks and sighed deeply.

  The young woman gathered blankets off the snow, grabbed a wing strut, and leaped into the cockpit. She waived for Pug to get in beside her while she reached back to cover her father.

  “Please close the door,” she said. Pug was startled when the young woman yelled ‘clear’ and engaged the starter. The sluggish engine turned over and coughed, but failed to start. “Damn!” she said. She tried again and the engine came to life coughing into a ragged idle, then sped up and smoothed out. The cockpit shook. She put on insulated earphones and handed another set to Pug protecting him from the deafening noise. Earphones on, he could hear her say, “Lower the microphone.” She demonstrated with her own set.

  “How’s that,” said Pug loudly. The woman winced. “Just speak normally now. We can talk to each other quietly. I’m Cindy,” she said and extended her hand. He shook her firm hand and softly replied, “I’m Pug and I’ve never been introduced to a young lady quite like this.” Pug was comfortable speaking into a microphone from habit.

  “I need to get some heat in here for Dad. He’s still shivering… and, oh my, I’ve forgotten to thank you for lifting him.”

  “Hope your father will be better. Mind if I ask what happened?”

  “You know about that bat flu, don’t you?”

  “Sure… after all of that. I’ve been isolated for two months.”

  “After mom died, we flew into the bush… special place Dad knew. We’ve been there for months. One morning Dad couldn’t get out of bed. I think he had his first stroke then. At Christmas time he wasn’t better, so I decided to find medical help any way I could. I got lost in the clouds trying to fly to Anchorage. Had to land here because the wings were icing up and I got trapped in this narrow canyon. After we landed, Dad opened the door to pee and fell out. Couldn’t get him back in. So, I went to look for help even though I didn’t think I would find anyone. Found some dead people… but then I found you!”

  Puzzled, Pug asked, “You’re the pilot?”

  Surprised, Cindy said, “Who else? Dad couldn’t even stand up.”

  Pug glanced at the double cushions under her fanny, the long extensions on rubber pedals, and realized she must be the pilot. “Sorry… you just look so young, but then that’s how all young people look to me. So then I’ve got to ask… how old are you, really?”

  “Sixteen, but I’ve been flying for over a year. Dad wanted me to learn young… but VFR only. I wouldn’t know where to get down from above the clouds. Radio beacons don’t work anymore. I just don’t know what I’m going to do now; he desperately needs help.” With her last words, Cindy’s
voice was strained.

  Pug marveled that a sixteen year old could conduct herself with such maturity. Events of the past months must have matured her beyond her years. Pug asked, “Cindy, you mentioned Anchorage. Is the hospital there open again? My radio’s been out for months and I’ve heard nothing recently.”

  Cindy’s eyes opened with surprise. “Then you haven’t heard! Everyone must be dead! Nothing is on the radio anymore…and I tried calling Fairbanks flight control, then Anchorage, but no one answered! I was hoping a big city would help! Nothing I’ve tried to do for him makes any difference. I couldn’t help momma, either. We’d be out of food soon. I had to try something… or just let him die.”

  Pug said quietly, “Cindy…that explains a lot. But, I think landing here was lucky for you and your father… instead of Fairbanks… or Anchorage.”

  “How can that be? You said you couldn’t help him.”

  “When my radio quit, the cities were having riots… chaos everywhere. Young woman like you… well… you would’ve had a very unpleasant surprise all by yourself. Hard-bitten places by now, I’m thinking. We’ve got to think of somewhere else for your Dad and you need to start thinking about yourself.”

  “What else is there? I was worried about Anchorage, but if I sold the airplane…”

  “Honey…if this plane was valuable, thugs would just take it…or worse.”

  “Bikers!” she said with a vehemence that surprised Pug. “Bikers are way worse!”

  Puzzled, Pug replied, “I just meant that a big city is definitely not the place to go. There’s gotta be somewhere better where good people are left alive.” But Pug was far from convinced himself. He had already racked his brain so many times for the same answer.

  “Pug, there’s nobody on the radio and I listened for hours. I didn’t see any sign of people, except…” Cindy paused, reflecting.

  “Except?”

  “Back aways, there were a few people on the ground who seemed friendly. They waived to me. I thought of landing, but the river ice looked too rough for skis.”

  “Where?”

  “Near the Yukon River Bridge not far from here.”

  “Damned long way on foot.”

  “On foot? My father can’t walk. Aren’t you coming with us?”

  “You told me you were trapped under the clouds in this narrow canyon.”

  “But now that I’m down, I can turn around on the ground. I’ll head out low.”

  Surprised turning around on skis could be that easy, Pug said, “Why not? Better idea than mine for sure.”

  “Good! I’ll need your help with Dad. Okay?”

  “Then, one little condition. You said people at the bridge looked friendly. We should check ‘em out. Otherwise we have no idea where we should be going.”

  “Maybe… if I can land there.”

  “Gotta be easier than here.”

  “Yea, but here I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Check first and then land if you can. Okay?”

  “Let’s go there right now while we’re warmed up and there’s still flying weather.”

  “Let me get my gear.”

  “Okay, but watch the prop. I’m not going to shut down for you. Batteries are weak. Wait behind me until I turn around and get lined up. Then, I’ll waggle the rudder for you to check me.”

  Pug was doubtful, but did as she requested. When he was seated again and connected, she advanced the throttle and the plane began moving. Shocked, Pug realized that Cindy was not tall enough to see the airstrip over the instrument panel. She must be taking off blind. He could barely see ahead himself.

  “Can you see the airstrip?” he asked.

  “When the tail lifts.” She sounded unconcerned.

  The airplane rotated, quickly gathered speed downhill and lifted ever so gently… an expert beginning. As they climbed rapidly traveling north, Pug wondered how long slogging through snow would have brought him as far as Cindy had in just minutes. Just who was rescuing whom?

  In half an hour, all the while comfortably seated and warm, they approached the river and spotted the Yukon Bridge to the east. As they passed low, two people waived the distinct American flag with enthusiasm. The action had to intend a welcome. Everything everywhere appeared calm. How lucky, thought Pug! Such an unmerited reward in spite of his months of indecision!

  51

  Yukon River Bridge, December 28th. This time, Christie and Piquk were prepared when they heard an airplane. Together, they waived the short flagpole slowly displaying its message. The bush plane displayed the same colors and appearance from the morning, flying upriver from the west. The ladies were disappointed as the craft passed overhead and continued east nearly out of sight. But then the plane banked and returned, settling lower over the river. The slower sound of the engine suggested that this time it was coming in for a landing on the ice.

  The aircraft settled, touched on its skis, bounced slightly, and then glided unevenly, slowing until solidly purchased. The engine revved and the plane taxied slowly toward the bridge in mid river. Christie and Piquk rushed to the river’s edge still flourishing the flag. Shortly, the plane turned near shore in front of them and shut down. When the cabin door opened they watched a short, thick set, sixtyish looking man step down carrying a rifle.

  Christie warily evaluated him as a potential threat which was quickly dispelled when a young woman followed, smiling. The man laid the rifle down on the ice and the two hugged while slapping each other’s back exuberantly.

  “You did it!” said the man. “Piece a cake!”

  At that moment, Lazlo and Ernie drove up beside them on their snowmobile towing a mound of firewood. The six stood warily appraising one another. The young woman dispelled all anxiety by saying enthusiastically, “Living people! I’m just so happy to find you!”

  Tentatively, Christie moved closer to her and said, “Welcome, I’m Christie.” Exchanging names with broad smiles, followed by hugs and laughter among the women, Christie said, “It’s nearly lunchtime. Please join us. You must be hungry.”

  “Oh, wait!” said Cindy. “Please… help me with Will, my father. He’s lying in the back seat.”

  “Trouble?” asked Christie.

  “He can’t walk. I think he’s had a stroke.”

  “Cindy, would you allow me to examine him before we move him? I’m a nurse.”

  “Would you? Oh my God, I can’t believe it!” The two climbed into the aircraft and Christie examined Will.

  Glancing up at Cindy, she asked, “Please help me unfasten his coat and shirt.” Christie then put her ear to his bare chest and listened, then turned and put her head to his face and listened again. She picked up Will’s wrist and felt with two fingers, moving them slightly about. Then she held his other wrist against her face, listening. All the while, Will was silent and unmoving.

  Christie looked up into Cindy’s sad blue eyes and said softly, “Cindy, I’m so sorry to tell you… your father has passed away… he’s gone.”

  Cindy looked stunned, tears welling in her eyes. “Then Christie, please leave him be with me for awhile.”

  Christie climbed out on the ice and beckoned Lazlo. “Laz, please find my medical bag as quickly as you can. I need to get my stethoscope to listen to Will and be certain of what I’ve just told Cindy.”

  Ernie, Piquk, and Pug stood listening; Christie said, “Will has passed away.”

  Lazlo finally returned and opened the bag. Christie grabbed her stethoscope just as Cindy climbed out of the Beaver.

  Red eyed, Cindy said, “Christie, Daddy smells way bad. Would you check him?”

  Christie climbed inside with her scope but wasn’t long examining Will and returned to the ice. “Cindy… more sad news, I’m afraid; your father evacuated his bowels after he died. Let’s both
walk to shore where we can talk.”

  Lazlo said, “Pug, we should be welcoming you with lunch at the cabin but as you can see, things seem a bit delicate. Did you know Cindy’s father?”

  “Not a bit or Cindy either. We met by chance an hour ago. I helped lift Will into that airplane and maybe we hurt him doing it, I’m thinking,” replied Pug. “Be a bummer if we killed him trying to help him. Shouldn’t we be trying to move his body somehow?”

  “I think Christie and Cindy are talking about what to do. We should wait a few.” “What’ll we do after that, I’m wondering?” said Ernie. “About a grave, I mean.”

  Christie hailed and beckoned Lazlo to shore where she explained, “Cindy doesn’t want the last memory of her father to be offensive to anyone else. She wants him buried, right now in fact. Why don’t the three of you figure it out? Leave us out of it and decide what’s best. That’s what she wants. Piquk and I will walk her back to the cabin with Puppy for a little sympathy over tea and lunch on the porch.”

  “I’ve never been a part of anything like this,” said Lazlo. “You sure this is right?”

  “Laz, she asked us, so I can’t object. Interring him immediately makes sense, considering. Just do the best you can.”

  When Lazlo returned to the airplane, Ernie said, “Pug and I have an idea. Moving Will’s body out of the airplane could get a little untidy if you know what I mean. Let’s grab a military sleeping bag and a tarp. Wrap him up inside the plane and lower him onto the sled. Hopefully that will keep things copasetic.”