“I can help myself somewhat with my arms. Just get my arms up there first.”
They helped him get his stiff body to bend into a sitting position and slowly helped him bend his arms to the armrests. He had no sense of balance and no coördination to stay upright. “Marie, you grab one arm and Sam you grab my other – not my wrist, Sam, my upper arm, by my armpit – good. Nicholi, you grab my belt—good. Now on the count of three, pick me up and turn me around so I can sit. One, two, three.”
The three athletes lifted him up, dragging and scraping his back over the metal footplates and braces until his buttocks were in the chair, crooked, but in.
“Don’t let go yet! I still need a little more help. You need to turn me more. Pick me up and push my rear back.” Patrick pushed up on his armrests, and his friends turned his body the rest of the way and pushed his back against the back of the chair. His body was in a sitting position with his feet sticking straight out in the air. “Put my feet on the footrests and belt them down.”
Marie gently pushed his feet down so he was in a chair-shaped position. After they had his feet secured and strapped in, Patrick leaned forward and pushed his footplate with his feet, and when he relaxed, his rear settled perfectly into the molded seat. He was set—scraped up a bit, but set. His face was on his knees, though, and he couldn’t move. “Marie, please push me up. I’m stuck.”
She did as he asked.
“Now all I need is my waist belt snapped,” directed Patrick.
Marie and Sam looked for the straps and found them tangled in the muddy wheels. Marie hooked them together.
“Great,” said Patrick. “Now we’re in business.”
Patrick was right in picking the rock location. He could see both the beach and the wooded area. The trees were tight and dense, but there seemed to be a nice little clearing behind some old logs that had washed up in the past. Soon he had a plan for camp.
“We need to move all the bags and stuff into the woods now. Tide’s coming in and we don’t want to lose anything. Put it all, ah—over there.” He pointed toward the desired location. “Lillian, take the little tarp and put it down first on a smooth place. Sam, Marie and Nicholi, put the bags next to it.”
“What about Helen? Shouldn’t we wake her?” asked Marie.
“Not yet. She needs her rest. Let’s get everything moved first.”
All the young adults picked up the precious paraphernalia and started moving it slowly up the embankment, making several trips until Helen was the last thing on the beach. Her body was in the same slumped-over position.
“The water is starting to reach Helen’s plane. Will it be okay?” asked Nicholi.
“I’ve no idea, but I doubt it will ever fly again,” said Patrick. “Okay, Marie, see if you can wake up Helen. She’s sleeping really hard.”
Marie gently shook her sister. “Helen, you have to wake up now. Tide’s coming in. Helen, come on. Wake up.”
Helen didn’t stir or bat an eyelash.
“Helen, Helen, wake up,” called Patrick. “Guess you’ll have to move her just like you did me.”
Marie walked up, grabbed the tarp and net, and returned to her sister’s side. Lillian helped her lay them out next to Helen. Sam and Nicholi stood around watching as the two girls tipped Helen over, straightened out her legs, and rolled her onto the tarp.
“Nicholi, Sam, help us move Helen,” said Marie.
“But I’m a swimmer, not a weightlifter like Sam,” said Nicholi.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Patrick. “You still need to help her.”
Nicholi stood still and stared stubbornly.
“She helped you in swimming; now you help her. Come on,” said Patrick.
Everyone watched Nicholi as he rocked and talked to himself as if having a discussion with someone else about the subject.
He finally said, “Okay, Okay, Okay, I’ll help you guys. Are you mad at me?” He continued to rock a bit more slowly as he thought about the situation. “Are you mad at me?”
“No,” said Patrick, “no one is mad. We just need you to help.”
“Are you mad at me. I said, are you mad at me?”
“No!” said Marie. “We just need your help.”
He thought about it again. “Okay.” Nicholi picked up the net, and they all started to drag Helen up the sloping beach, managing to lift her only slightly.
“Be careful of her head!” worried Patrick. “Don’t bump her on the rocks at the top! Watch the branches. Stop now.”
She was right beside the rock where Patrick was sitting.
He looked at her. “Marie, give me her hand.” Patrick leaned over and slowly grasped her hand and tried to find a pulse on her wrist. “She seems good,” he announced, careful to appear confident on the outside for the group. “Marie, push me back up.”
Marie firmly grasped his shoulder and pulled his torso back upright.
“We’ll need to keep her warm, and when she wakes up, we need to have water ready to give her. For now, I’m thinking we should put her on the tarp by the gear. Okay. Everyone try really hard now to pick her up all the way off the ground and carry her to the tarp.” He looked at them one by one. When they each gave him a look of understanding, he was sure they understood. “Remember; pick her up high this time. No dragging. Ready, go!”
The four, including tiny Lillian, strained to pick up as much weight as they could and slowly progressed toward the tarp, grunting and groaning.
Straining to talk, Marie said, “We’re almost there. Okay, let’s put her down gently.”
They accidently dumped her.
Marie reached quickly to protect her sister’s head from impact with the sand. “I think she packed a sweatshirt. I could cover her with that.” She immediately went looking for Helen’s duffel. Finding it among those in the pile, she unzipped it, looking for warm clothing. After covering her sister with the shirt, she put some other clothes under her head to act as a pillow.
The group sat around Helen and watched her sleep. They were all silent. Nicholi rocked silently and mumbled to himself. Lillian looked in Helen’s bag, pulled out a windbreaker, and covered Helen’s legs. Patrick watched the thick grey water slowly rise around the plane. It was getting late by this time. The sun was still up, but hidden by the hills to the northwest. The temperature dropped slightly.
“It seems that we’re gonna spend the night here, gang,” said Patrick.
Whines and groans came from the group. They had looked forward with excitement to going to the big indoor water park in Anchorage that night, but now they had to camp out.
“You know, we’re actually pretty lucky. Only one of us was hurt and the rest of us are okay. We could all be trapped in that plane or already dead. We have a lot to be grateful for.”
“I’m not grateful my sister’s hurt,” said Marie.
“None of us are grateful for that. We can be grateful that we can take care of her, though. We need to get some water for her. Do any of you have any water bottles in your bags? I have one,” said Patrick. “All of you get yours out and go fill them up. Marie, could you find mine and fill it for me? I’m thirsty.”
“Sure.” Marie found her own bag, pulled out her plastic bottle, and then dug out Patrick’s.
Nicholi was still rocking, so Lillian gently grasped his shoulder and stopped him. She whispered to him, and together they found their bags and pulled out their Special Olympics water bottles.
“Sam, look in your bag and see if you have yours,” said Marie.
He just stared at her with a vacant look, unmoving, which meant he didn’t understand her. She rummaged through his bag and soon found his bottle. “Let’s go fill them up.”
“I’ll stay with Helen; you all go find water. Stick together and come back as soon as you find some,” said Patrick.
The four of them set off down the beach with the blue, green, gold, and red bottles swinging from their hands while Patrick watched. Nicholi flew along with his arms out again lik
e an eagle. Lillian focused downward on her own careful steps. Marie and Sam both trudged along, looking ahead.
Patrick stopped watching his friends and turned his head back to look at the campsite. We need to set up the tarp for a tent. If a storm’s gonna hit, we need to be ready. He studied the rock and decided that if he turned his chair around, he might be able to drive slowly off and toward Helen. The ground cover was hard and firm. His wheels might not get stuck. It was laborious, but he managed to get his stiff arms to straighten out and his crooked fingers to grasp the wheels. He pushed as best he could, and the chair slowly inched off in the right direction. Once he was on the ground, he slowly progressed in the desired direction with occasional swerves off to the side. Fifteen minutes later, the group returned and found him only five feet from Helen, pride in his accomplishment on his face. He was a master driver in his power wheelchair, but a manual was a huge challenge.
“We need to see if we have any rope to tie the tarp down. Did anyone bring any?” asked Patrick.
“None that I’ve seen,” replied Marie. She walked around and glanced in all the open bags to double check. “There’s an orange bag from the plane. Probably Helen’s.”
“Open it and see what’s inside. Maybe there’s survival gear and some sort of rope,” said Patrick.
While Lillian checked on Helen and found nothing had changed, Marie opened the orange bag and began tossing things out. Curious, Nicholi was immediately at her side. His eyes grew large when he spotted the granola bars, chocolate bars, protein bars, and tea bags.
“Don’t eat anything yet, Nicholi,” said Patrick. “We need to find out exactly what’s in there. We might need to ration it out.”
All five watched as Marie emptied the treasure chest.
“Looks like it’s survival gear. We don’t want to lose anything. Marie and Lillian, see if you can find something like a blanket that we can spread out and empty the bag onto.”
They both dug down and found some thin plastic packages with “blanket” printed on the outside.
“If this is a blanket, I’ll be cold tonight. It’s thin,” said Marie. She tore open the package and found that it was shiny, like aluminum foil. The two young ladies unfolded it and laid it out on the ground. Then they took more items out of the bag and looked at them as the others watched.
“Are there any water tablets?” asked Patrick.
“V ater” (Have water), said Sam.
“Yes, we do, but we need to boil it or purify it somehow,” said Patrick. “Oh, there. See that bag?” he said, pointing to a bag of tablets. “Hand it to me.”
Patrick looked at the package, but he couldn’t read the label. Reading was a problem for him. “Shoot. Can’t tell.”
“I’ll try,” said Marie. She slowly sounded out the big words, “Dis–sol–vee one tab–let in a gal–lon of water to pu–ri–fy it.” She stopped and looked blankly.
“Great job reading, Marie. Wish I could read like that,” Patrick said. “Now I get it—one per gallon. Take that white collapsible water bag and put one tablet in it.”
Marie looked at all the things in the pile, not knowing what “collapsible” meant. She picked up various mystery packages and . . . .
“That’s it, Marie. The container in your hand. It’s for water,” Patrick said happily.
She unscrewed the cap and looked inside. “It’s smashed.”
“It should open up. Just pull it apart.”
“Oh, I see,” she said as she inflated the container with air.
Soon they all poured in the contents of their water bottles and added the pill to it.
“I want to shake it,” said Nicholi. He took it, made sure the lid was on tight, and started shaking it like he was a percussionist in a band and making some kind of odd music while dancing around the group. His legs kicked out wildly.
“When the tablet is all dissolved, we can pour it back in the water bottles to drink. We won’t get sick from bad water if we do that,” Patrick said.
When it was all dissolved, Lillian gave Patrick a long-awaited drink. She spilled it down the front of him, but he didn’t care. He was parched.
“There’s the rope. We need to tie the tarp to make a tent. We’ll have to . . . .”
“Food! I want granola bars,” said Nicholi. He sat on the ground, protectively holding the large bag of granola bars to his chest, his big arms surrounding the package. “I’m not moving until I get something to eat; I’m dying here.”
“Me ’oo,” said Sam.
“And me,” said Marie. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Maybe we should all have one bar. We don’t know how long we’ll be here, so we can’t eat them all up right now.” Patrick stared out at the water. “Then we should make a shelter. The clouds are getting darker and lower.” As he spoke, the trees started to sway, squeaking from the strain of flexing. “Wind’s picking up too. Nicholi, hand everyone a bar.”
“I want um all,” he said stubbornly.
“We all do, but you need to share,” said Marie.
Nicholi stood, stubbornly looking at everyone. “I want um all but I’ll share,” he finally said begrudgingly. He went around the group and handed out the bars.
Marie devoured hers immediately, as did Sam and Nicholi. Lillian opened hers up slowly and picked at it, nibbling up little bits at a time like she didn’t really want to eat it, but she would because she should. Patrick struggled to get the wrapper off. His hands wouldn’t cooperate, so Marie opened it for him. Patrick grasped it with his uncoordinated hands and aimed for his mouth, bending over, trying to get it in. He chomped down on it and a third fell on his lap. He chewed carefully, enjoying every morsel. When his hands mangled the remains, he asked, “Lillian, could you help me?”
She picked up the crumbs that were on his lap and stuffed them in his mouth as the other three stood around them like vultures, hoping they could eat the crumbs. The meal was stupendous.
They all heard a weak, “Hi, team,” and turned to see Helen’s open eyes.
“You woke up!” said Marie excitedly.
“Can’t keep a good woman down. Things have sure changed around here. How long have I been asleep?” Her teeth started chattering and she was shivering.
Lillian reached in the survival pack, pulled out another “blanket,” and unwrapped it. She put the thin crinkly material over Helen and tucked it in on one side. Marie took care of the other side.
Helen lay there shivering for several minutes and then seemed to relax. “Patrick, we need a shelter.”
“I know. I was thinking we should put the big tarp down and sleep on it, then pull the rest over us like we’re in a taco shell. If we sleep together, we should be warm tonight. We could tie it down on the bottom, and then the roof we could tie to those trees.” He pointed to where it should be tied. I think it would be best if we put our feet to the east. The storm’s an east wind, right?”
“Yes, sounds good. May I have a drink?”
Marie and Lillian were immediately at her side with her water bottle. Marie held her sister’s head and shoulders up off the clothes pillow, and Lillian carefully poured the nectar from heaven.
She drank the liquid slowly but steadily. When finished she said, “I’m hungry.”
Nicholi opened up a granola bar and handed it to Lillian. Lillian broke off bits and put them in Helen’s mouth. Helen chewed, but she was so tired that she only ate half. Lillian looked up at Nicholi and whispered something with a stern look.
Nicholi cowered. “I won’t touch it.”
“Did she tell you not to eat Helen’s bar?” asked Patrick.
“Yeah . . . she’s like Yoda in Star Wars, small but a mighty force to reckon with,” he said in a very deep voice like Darth Vader. His nose scrunched up and his bottom lip came out, making him look well disciplined.
He looked down at the tarp covered in survival stuff. “Mine!” he called as he reached down and grasped the signal mirror from the bag. He immediately dr
opped the granola bars he had been hanging on to and focused his attention on his image. He made contorted faces at himself and talked to the mirror.
“We might need that, Nicholi.”
“Mine.” He took his shoestring out of his shoe, tied it to one hole in the mirror, and slung it around his neck. Then he attached the other end to the hole on the other side, making a necklace. “Mine. I want it.”
“Just don’t lose it, okay?” said Patrick. “We might really need it.”
Chapter 4
Waiting
Auntie had been waiting at Merrill Field in Anchorage now for five hours. Hundreds of small planes had come and gone during the period and the excitement of watching them was long ago over.
“Where is that girl?” she said with frustration. The weather’s good. There’s no excuse for this. If I know Helen, she’s probably in Homer, shopping on the Spit or something, while I sit here wasting my day.
Auntie had taken several trips to the bathroom while she waited. She really wanted to get going. She needed to get home to her husband, Harvey, and cook dinner for the family. She had left her cell phone at home. She finally decided to give up on her niece and leave the airport.
“When you get here, girl, you can just call me. I’m tired of this game you’re playing.” She started up her car and headed home to Mountain View.
The phone was ringing when she walked into her home. She ran to answer it.
“Hi, my name is Sally. I’m a volunteer with Special Olympics Alaska. I was told to call you and find out if you know whether the team from Pebble Lake is coming in today as planned. We’re holding dinner and three hotel rooms for them.”
“As far as I know they are. I just got home from waiting for them at Merrill Field for five hours, but they never arrived. They might have stopped at Homer. My niece Helen is flying them, and sometimes she stops off there to bring me fresh seafood.”
“If you hear from them, could you please give us a call? My number is 555-2351.”
Once Auntie hung up the phone, her anger turned to worry. Helen was an excellent pilot, not the least bit careless. She had never worried, but maybe this was the time she needed to. What should she do? Call the airport, 911, police? She had no idea. Were they just messing around in Homer or—she could hardly stand to let the thought enter her mind—had the plane gone down with all six people on board?
Let Us Be Brave Page 4