by Lynne King
“All right, but straight down to Manston, no deviation.” Danny’s voice was still full of doubt.
“Of course,” she replied sweetly, all the while thinking, like hell she would. Once in that plane she would make the most of the exhilarating experience, spend hours up there. No harm would be done since Danny would be none the wiser.
****
The following day, Chantelle rose early. She had told Steve not to expect her until midday, thus allowing several hours of flying. Before getting into her car, she glanced up at the sky. The weather report hadn’t been very encouraging, but at the moment it was fair weather. Cumulus, puffy white clouds floated across a clear azure sky. She couldn’t ask for better this time of year.
There was only one small thing marring her enthusiasm and that was the thought of running into David. It was highly unlikely, since she and Danny had kept their planes at the private airstrip for nearly a year now and only twice had their paths crossed with David. She really couldn’t understand how she had allowed one man to get to her like this.
Thankfully, David’s car wasn’t in the car parking area and Chantelle strolled ahead to the prefabricated building.
The young girl seated behind the desk beamed a smile at her. “Hi. Tony, my boss, tells me you are not renewing your lease. Have you found somewhere else or are you selling your plane?”
Chantelle didn’t take offence at the girl’s questioning. She was always this friendly and seemed to take a great interest in the display team, asking questions about how she’d started out and what it was like. “I’m going to live in France for a while and no, I won’t ever sell my plane. She’s coming with me.” She thought of the girl’s interest and added, “Julie, isn’t it?”
The girl nodded.
“I’m leaving the display team, so if you’re interested, I’ll put a word in for you. No promises. Don, the team leader, will want to interview you.”
“That would be great.” Enthusiasm lit up her face.
Chantelle smiled. At least it would make breaking the news to Don a little easier if she could suggest someone to take her place when she left at the end of the month.
As she was turning to leave, the door opened and in stepped David. Avoiding eye contact, Chantelle nodded a curt, “Hi”. She tried to walk past, but David’s arm reached out across the doorframe, preventing her exit. Pausing, she looked at the arm and then up into his face, shooting him a glare like he had just assaulted her.
Quickly removing the arm, he muttered, “I’m sorry.”
She expected him to follow it up with some kind of explanation, but instead he glanced pointedly over at Julie. The girl took the hint and said she had to go into Tony’s office to do some filing.
As the door closed behind her, David turned back to Chantelle. “Chantelle, we need to talk. I don’t like it ending the way it did. That’s why I turned up at your flat, only we weren’t alone and what I need to tell you is private.”
“David, there was nothing to end. But next time, try mentioning the girlfriend first. At least then I’ll know exactly what you mean by no strings.” She glanced at her watch. “Look, David, I’m in a hurry to be airborne before that bad weather front comes. I’m leaving for France permanently at the end of the month, so let’s say goodbye and leave it at that.”
Before he could reply, the door opened again and in stepped Tony with several others. The interruption was a relief. As Chantelle hurried out of the building, a glance over her shoulder confirmed David hadn’t followed.
Chantelle rushed through the necessary external checks before climbing in to do the internal ones. She was surprised to find Danny had left her with over half a tank of fuel. Plenty of air time to forget David and lose herself up in the clouds.
She radioed through to Julie and the transmission was clear, confirming what Danny had told her about it being farther from the control towers that the radio transmission broke up. Then, she was up in the air.
Piloting a biplane was as close as one could get to being naked like a bird. The wind whipping against her cheeks, the air fresh, no hint of exhaust fumes or pollution. Slipping through large gaps in the candyfloss clouds, she marveled at how autumn with its changing colors could bring such enchantment. Spread below her was an array of golden brown leaves, their last defiant show before the wind whipped them from the branches, leaving barrenness until spring.
It wasn’t the clearest of days, but all around her, everything was so real. There were no windows, no roof, just her safety harness preventing her from plummeting to the ground. Smiling at her own romanticism of what could be either an enemy or a friend, she checked the time. The morning had flashed by, so enraptured had she been with the ride.
Realizing Steve would be expecting her, she banked the plane bringing it along the Hastings coastline. Then, she spotted the swell of cumulonimbus, anvil-shaped clouds gathering on the horizon. The storm was quite a way out to sea, but the foretaste could be hitting the Dover coastline at about the same time she did.
Every experienced pilot knew never to enter deteriorating weather if it could be avoided. Being in a biplane gave no protection if the heavens opened up, but the leather helmet and goggles being her only covering was not what worried her. It was the lack of visibility.
Deciding to head inland and hopefully beat the storm, she tried at the same time to get a weather update on the radio. There was nothing but crackling as she twisted the tuner frantically. It was a race against nature as she tried to spot recognizable landmarks below without allowing the plane to drop. The steeple of Canterbury Cathedral told her she was heading in the right direction.
The plane started rocking as the wind direction changed and darkness enveloped her from behind, turning a beautiful skyline into dark, consuming boulders that raced in front of her and threatened to suck her into their depths. She felt the drop in temperature and knew any moment now those clouds were going to burst.
Can one drown in a biplane? She smiled to herself in an attempt to fend off her anxiety. Not far now. Steve would put her up for the night if the weather didn’t improve.
Suddenly, without warning, the engine died. For a brief second, she couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Everything she had been taught raced through her mind without clarity, a jumbled assortment with no direction.
Grabbing the microphone, she gave the distress call, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday; transmitting blind.” Adding her call sign, she then stated her position details from what she could tell by the dials and that she was making a forced landing. She was greeted by crackling and then deadly silence.
Throwing the microphone down, she scanned the instruments. The fuel gage read a quarter of a tank. Chantelle’s gaze then locked onto the airspeed. She knew what had to be done. Whatever happened, she had to fly the plane. If she allowed the airspeed to decrease, she would drop from the sky like a stone. So, she had to turn the plane into a glider.
Switching everything off, she searched frantically the path ahead, filled with houses and roads full of cars; it was an impossible terrain to land in. She would end up killing not only herself, but innocent people as well. Perspiration had broken out on her forehead, fear of panic taking hold as she tried to think. There was no time to think about dying, it would be true enough if she didn’t hold it together.
Ripping the goggles away, she saw a miracle stretched out in front of her. Arable land, fields of it and not a house or car in sight. There was one huge problem that became apparent as she began to descend, using the flaps to control the glide. The boundary of trees, their thick branches swaying menacingly with the wind, were too close. Any time now, they would be ripping into her face and arms, tearing her to shreds. But it was too late to change her mind.
The force of the landing jolted her forward. The seat belt whipped across her middle, her body like a rag doll as the plane careered over the coarse, churned up field left in preparation for plowing next year’s crop. Her eyes widened in terror as the trees rushed for her,
the scream frozen in her throat as the plane at last began losing its speed.
Violently, her head flung forward as the nose of the plane dipped down into a gully and struck the mound of earth. Then everything went dark.
****
David was standing by Julie’s desk chatting with Tony when the call came through from Manston.
“Yes, that’s right,” Julie said. “Chantelle Duvall. She left at least three hours ago. No, I haven’t heard anything.”
David snatched the receiver from her. “Who’s this speaking and what’s the problem?” He felt his face pale, the muscles in his cheeks tense. He ignored the concerned look Tony and Julie exchanged at the erupting fury in his voice.
“You mean to say she’s over an hour late and no one has been sent up to look for her? What on earth was she doing flying that death trap in the first place, especially with a faulty radio?” Anger and fear gripped him simultaneously. “I don’t care if there’s a bloody storm where you are.” Placing his hand over the receiver, he barked at Julie to use the other phone and ring any other private airfields in the area, as well as police and hospitals to find out whether a plane had gone down.
Julie looked at Tony, her eyes wide with apprehension.
“It’s all right, love, I’ll help you compile a list of who to contact and you can start ringing them in the order I give you,” Tony said calmly.
“Don’t you think she would have contacted you by now if she had been forced to make a landing elsewhere? She’s no novice. She knows the importance given when a pilot fails to arrive at the destination, especially since you told her the time you needed the plane by.” David felt his frustration growing with every word. “Give me that pilot’s position when he last saw the biplane; there can’t be any others matching that description.” Grabbing a pen and paper, he scribbled down the numbers. “Yes, of course I’m bloody going up, someone has to!” He slammed down the phone and looked up to see Tony’s disapproving look.
“You came on a bit strong to that poor guy. After all, he’s obviously just as concerned as you.”
David was about to retort that he didn’t care about hurting some guy’s feelings when he noticed that even Julie was looking at him warily.
“The other airfields haven’t heard anything,” she hurried to tell him.
His voice softened. “Well, keep trying, Julie, please.” He laced his hands together on the desk as he tried to figure out what to do.
“Still no word.” Tony’s voice broke into his despair. “Look, I don’t know what happened between the two of you.” He placed a hand on David’s shoulder. “You’re not the only brilliant pilot around here. I’ve seen her fly, she’s no novice. Probably she’s made a forced landing somewhere and will be making contact anytime now.”
David’s troubled eyes met Tony’s. “I can’t wait around, hoping. Manston can’t send a search plane for another hour because of the storm and low visibility, the RAF Sea King has been sent to a trawler in trouble off the south coast, so it just leaves us.” He looked questioningly at Tony.
Tony nodded. They spread out maps in front of them and with the help of the latest weather report, charted the storm’s progress. It was calculated that hopefully they would only meet up with the tail end of it as the Westerlies wind system pushed the storm back out to sea. They would circle around and come in from behind. It was a long shot, but knowing of her destination, David guessed she would have come down somewhere between her last sighting and Manston. What he couldn’t understand was why there were no reports of a plane coming down. The area wasn’t exactly uninhabited.
They went up in one of Tony’s planes. Tony flew while David, binoculars resting in his lap, sat anxiously in the copilot’s seat, his lips compressed. They were banking in a southeasterly direction now and meeting up with some turbulence left in the storm’s wake. The plane rocked from side to side, the sleeting rain lashing against the windows. Tony didn’t have to voice his thoughts, his brow creased as the visibility worsened.
David could see the storm far off in the distance. Continuous flashes of bright light backlit huge white thunderheads, shafts of black rain descending from them. The mass of devil’s own clouds, cumulonimbus was like a giant mountain threatening to crush everything in its path. Manston was right, it was one hell of a storm and they were only seeing its tail end. Anyone caught up in it would need guts and a lifetime of experience and even then, there were no guarantees. The crushing thoughts overwhelmed David.
Tony veered the plane through a gap in the clouds, enabling them to stay below and see the ground more clearly. As his friend leveled the plane at a safe height of one thousand feet, David scanned the area below. The binoculars banged against his cheekbones as he tried to steady them.
It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Rain smeared the windows along with a fine mist that caused the terrain to take on an eerie, uninhabited feeling. Towns and built-up areas were out, so at least that narrowed it down; that was if the plane’s last reported sighting was right. After circling several miles of the same area, David looked at Tony and knew they shared the same despondent thoughts, though neither was prepared to admit it.
Radioing through to Manston, they checked whether any news had been received. The line crackled and broke up. Finally, David got through, but there was no news. No one had heard from Chantelle.
They were flying over some more arable farmland when through the fine mist; David suddenly caught sight of it. “Circle around again,” he snapped. “And this time, follow the line of those trees.”
Tony did as asked, flying adjacent to the line of trees or as close as he could get without putting them in danger.
David drew in a sharp intake of breath. His eyes strained to see past the biplane’s vertical fuselage below and into the cockpit. Twisting his neck back as their plane flew past, his glasses locked onto the nose of the plane crunched up against the bank’s wall.
“Get us down.” David pressed his eyes tightly shut for a second, his body rigid as he said a silent prayer.
The plane bumped and rocked on the sodden ground as Tony struggled to bring it to a standstill.
David threw open the copilot’s door and leapt out.
“You bloody impatient fool,” Tony cursed.
His running slowed as he approached the cockpit fearfully. Relief was instantaneous. The nose had taken most of the damage, the empty pilot’s seat answering his prayer.
Calling out her name, he headed for the trees. He sank ankle deep in mud and rotting leaves as he pushed his way through the thicket. His voice was growing hoarse from shouting when finally he heard a weak voice calling out to him. He spun around and there she was, huddled beneath a large oak, her appearance startling. She was hardly recognizable, her face smeared with mud, just the whites of her eyes showing. The leather jacket she wore was also caked in mud with foliage sticking to it as if she had been buried in the undergrowth. Sodden jeans were ripped at the knees, the skin beneath a dark reddish color.
He knelt down in front of her, his hands gently cupping her face. “Am I glad to see you…” He stopped mid-sentence, his fingers lightly touching her forehead. Closer inspection revealed the dark red discoloration was a mixture of dried blood and mud.
David could only guess what she must have gone through. It looked as if she had dragged herself from the plane over rocks and thick undergrowth to reach some cover. Under a tree in a storm was not an ideal refuge, but it looked as if she’d had little choice. The self-assured woman had been replaced by a vulnerable, wide-eyed, frightened girl. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and hold her close to him; relief had him almost doing just that. His training to never let emotions overcome rational thought stopped him.
A weak smile tilted Chantelle’s lips. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I got in this state falling head first out of the cockpit and then getting from the plane over to here in the storm.”
“Can you stand?”
“Nope, that’s what I m
ean. I think my ankle is twisted. I can’t put any weight on it.”
“Wait here where there’s shelter. I’ll fetch some blankets.” He glanced up at the thick covering of branches, the autumn leaves not yet ready to abandon their life source as they waved precariously in the wind.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She gave another weak smile, causing his expression to lighten, his lips curving at the edges.
“I thought …” He hesitated as his eyes locked onto hers, the back of his fingers lightly stroking her cheek. The rustling of leaves and heavy footsteps made him turn away from her as Tony came into view.
“Thank goodness.” Tony breathed a huge sigh of relief, but his smile faded slightly as his gaze swept over her injuries. Luckily, he had brought a couple of blankets and the first aid box.
Seeing this, David swiftly pulled down the zipper of her badly soiled jacket, gently pushing it off her shoulders, then down off her arms. The dampness had seeped through to her jumper beneath, and exposure to the air caused her to shiver violently. Stripping off his sheepskin lined leather jacket, he helped her put it on and zipped it up to her neck. “Do you hurt anywhere else?” he asked as he dabbed at her forehead, wetting a handkerchief with his saliva to clean away the mud.
“No, just my head and neck ache slightly,” she murmured. Her gaze lowered from the closeness of his face.
“Did you lose consciousness at all?” he asked like a doctor examining a patient.
“Yes, for a short while, I think. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The storm has passed by, hasn’t it?”
“Yes. How many fingers do I have up?” He held three fingers up in line with her vision, intense eyes watching her reaction.