Blue Ice Dying In The Rain

by Jim Craig

  My mind did go somewhere else. I sailed away to a place that was warm and quiet. The swaying motion of the raft on the ocean took me to a hammock gently rocking in a tropical breeze. A sunset sky spread out in front of me, and a sweating cool bottle stood nearby with a slice of lime poking from its spout. The scent of warm salty sand and lilacs wafted past on the air.

  Laying on my back in a hammock in paradise. What could be better than that? Then I noticed a bare knee on either side of me. Matching knees actually. I wasn’t alone. A tender hand was stroking my hair, smoothing my face, touching my eyes.

  I wanted to turn to see who was there, but I didn’t dare. If it was the wrong eyes, if it was those eyes, I knew I’d never wake up. Instead I tried to soak up all the pleasure I could while ignoring the nagging sense of danger. Like we do in life. But a distant buzzing from the far reaches of my mind wouldn’t be ignored.

  The sound grew louder. Then something landed on my face and started to walk across one eyelid. I wanted to swipe it away, but my arms wouldn’t move. Like an evil blue fly it took off again with a loud buzz but relanded two seconds later. My eyes fluttered and fought but the strange droning grew louder and louder. It was relentless and came at me again and again.

  Leave me alone. Can’t you leave a man in peace? This is no time for reality.

  Then a cold blast of wet wind slapped my face and a thundering roar swept over me. My eyes snapped open to see an airplane flying away from us in the dark less than ten feet above the water. Streams of mist flowed over its wings and the prop blast rocked the big raft.

  The kid woke up too and was struggling weakly against me. I strained to lift my head enough to see over the side of the raft and watched as the seaplane turned, slowed and flew back directly toward us. Double beamed landing lights in its wings glowed against the fog during the turn and burned into my eyes as it came back.

  I heard the engine change pitch and it slowed and landed. Ocean water sprayed up and into the swirling propeller as the airplane's big floats cut into the surface of the calm sea. The pilot cut the engine and the big prop stuttered to a halt. The plane continued to drift toward us, clicking and snapping as its hot metal cooled. I watched as a dark stocky figure clambered out of the cockpit to stand on one float.

  “Anybody still alive in there?” a voice called out. It was Willie.

  I tried to speak, but no words would come out. When one of his floats bumped into us, Willie tied a rope and then stepped from the plane into the raft. The rubber floor under us convulsed and heaved with his weight like a honeymoon water bed. He fought for balance, his arms and legs bouncing wildly until he finally fell to his knees beside us.

  The kid woke up then and fought to get his head clear of the survival suit. The mass of curly red hair thrashed in my face. He blinked and gawked at Willie, and Willie stared back in disbelief. His stubby white mustache twitched up and down as he sat back and gaped at us.

  “What the hell …?” He must have thought he was watching an alien being hatch from my chest.

  I finally got my mouth to work. “Hi, Willie. Anything dangerous to do around here?"

  Willie was speechless, his eyes flicked back and forth between me and the kid trying to make sense of us.

  "Oh, meet Mad Dog,” I said realizing his confusion. Willie pulled off his cap and rubbed his head and eyes with both hands. When he got his hat back on and rearranged again, he quit staring, closed his mouth and got down to business.

  “Uh, say fellas, I hate to interrupt your little picnic out here, but I need to get this plane back before the owner finds it missing. Let's go, okay?”

  I couldn’t move, but the kid started scrambling to get free of the suit. Willie realized then that I needed help. He hauled on the big zipper and pulled my arms and legs free.

  He stood up unsteadily and helped the kid climb up into the airplane. When he was bundled in a blanket and belted into a seat, Willie came back for me. He pulled me to a sitting position in the bottom of the raft and looked into my face.

  “Here, take some of this.” He held a metal flask to my lips. The liquid burned its way down my throat. I would have thrown it back up in his face if I’d had any strength. Licking the bitter liquor off my lips, I choked and spit.

  “Damn, Willie, that’s foul. What are you doing out here anyway? Where’s the ferry?”

  “Aw, they had engine problems or something. I’ve been monitoring the Coast Guard radio transmissions. When I heard what happened and the chopper couldn’t get under the fog, I thought I’d come out and take a look.”

  “Holy crap, man, you are crazy.” The liquor was starting to glow in my belly, and I could feel its warmth beginning to radiate.

  “C’mon, get in the plane. It’s past my bedtime.”

  I struggled to get up. As he helped me to the float for a short climb up a small ladder into the plane, I stopped and looked around. Darkness and thick fog still spread in all directions.

  “What’s the matter? Keep going,” he grunted pushing at me.

  I pulled away from him. “I don’t know about this. I’m not sure you’re a safe pilot.”

  He threw his head back in a silent laugh and pushed me toward the ladder. I managed to get into the plane and checked on the kid. He was wrapped in a blanket staring into space.

  I ruffled his hair. “Hey Mad Dog! Whattaya know? We’re not dead.”

  He gave me a sad half smile and laid his head on my leg when I sat down beside him. I combed red hair out of his eyes with my fingers and leaned over to whisper.

  “Hey, Mad Dog, whatever happens, just remember one thing. Okay?”

  “What?”

  “You saved my butt out there, and I’ll never forget it.”

  He nodded as Willie fired up the engine and pointed us for Seward.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN