“Steve, have you heard if November 2-0-7 Lima-Tango has landed here yet? I don’t see it on the computer. It should have been in hours ago.”
“Hold on. I’ll connect you.” The phone went to soft music for a few seconds.
“Hello. This is Steve. You’re looking for November 2-0-7 Lima Tango? I’m sorry, that plane has not landed here as of this time. Have you tried Ted Stevens International?”
“I’m sure she’s not there. She never lands with all the big commercial jets. She should be at Merrill.”
“Would you like me to connect you to Search and Rescue?”
Auntie hesitated for a moment. “I guess so. I’ve called everyone I know now and she is very late.”
“If you talk to Search and Rescue, they can do a quick check via computer of all the airports in the area and if it turns out that a wider search is necessary will be able to get it organized immediately. It’s the wise thing to do in a case like this. Do you have all the particulars on the plane?”
“Yes. I even know all the passengers. They are Team Pebble Lake from Alaska Special Olympics. There are five of them along with the pilot, who is also their coach.”
“Okay, I’m connecting you now. Good luck to you all.”
While she was waiting for the connection, she heard the public television aviation weather report on the TV. There was a huge low pressure blasting its way up the Aleutians, headed toward Kodiak Island and on to lower Cook Inlet. Predicted wind speed was over eighty miles per hour with estimated seas of twenty-five feet around Kodiak Island. She knew Kodiak Island protected Shelikof Strait a little, but still the place was known to be really windy, just like the Aleutians.
“Helen, I hope you’re not down somewhere. If you are, take care, honey.”
A voice came on line. “This is Search and Rescue on Elmendorf Air Force Base.”
“I’d like to report an overdue plane from Pebble Lake.”
“Just a moment . . . Okay, I’m ready. I’ll need all the particulars. I’ll record what you say on the computer and then send it out.”
The questions began.
Auntie wanted to cry, but kept herself under control. She could cry later. Now she had to remember everything to help not just her two nieces but four other people as well. After all the information was in the computer, she hung up the phone and slumped down on the couch.
“Oh my God, if Helen’s plane has gone down, she’s out there somewhere with a planeload of helpless people, every single one with disabilities. None of them will be able to do anything to help her!” Tears flowed down her face from the realization of the challenges her niece might be facing at that very moment.
Chapter 7
Cruise Terminal
“I’m exhausted, Danielle,” Irene moaned.
The two were on their way. After getting through the arduous security at San Diego International Airport, Irene had shuffled slowly on board the Boeing 737, headed for Seattle/Tacoma. They were fairly comfortable riding first class except Irene’s legs were so short they hung from the seat. Next they took an airport limo north to the cruise ship terminal in Bremerton, Washington. There, it seemed as if they had been standing for hours, trying to board the ship of her dreams. Irene used her cane to stand upright in the line near the gangplank to the ship. There were so many forms to fill out and tags to put on things; not only for their suitcases, but name tags for themselves. Would they ever get through it all so she could settle in?
The edge of a big storm had come in during the night. It stretched from the Aleutians all the way to northern Washington, but it didn’t dampen Irene’s enthusiasm for the trip they were about to take. What was a little rain? Being from San Diego, she loved a little precipitation once in a while.
“Grandma, it won’t be long before we’ll be onboard. I’ll get you an Alaska newspaper and you can take it to your bed and relax.”
“You’re so good to me, Danielle. I’m glad you wanted to come on this trip. Maybe you’ll meet a handsome young man while we’re traveling. This is the Love Boat. Remember that TV show?
“No, I don’t think I ever saw it.”
“Oh, maybe you’re too young.”
The line moved slowly forward, and soon they were on board in search of their deck and room number.
When they found the room, they were amazed at how large it was. It had two twin beds, two dressers, a closet for clothes, their own bathroom with a shower, toilet, and sink. But the best part of all: they had their own balcony. Danielle left for a few minutes and returned with an Anchorage Daily News. Irene was propped up in her bed, shoes off and feet up. Her circulation wasn’t as good as it used to be, and her legs hurt a lot.
The headline read, “Special Olympics Team Missing.”
“A team is missing?” said Irene. She immediately read every word of the article and wanted to know more. Who were these athletes? What kind of plane was a Cessna 207? Where were they from? What kind of rescue effort was under way? The words on the page were fascinating, but her eyes were trying to close on their own, and the words kept getting blurry. “I’ll have to look into this,” she mumbled as she dozed off. The day had been arduous and stressful for her. It was time for an afternoon nap.
Chapter 8
The Storm
The storm hit as hard as expected in the early morning hours. It was a good thing they had put rocks down on the edges of the shelter because everything was blowing around in sudden gusts that must have been eighty knots or more.
“Lillian, move closer so you can stay dry,” said Marie.
The two young ladies cuddled in closer to Helen, who was still sound asleep. The tarp flapped hard in the wind. Their feet kept one end in place, but the other end of the tarp whipped around like a flag in a violent, constantly changing wind. The girls curled up into fetal positions. They put their arms over their heads so when the irksome tarp flapped hard, it wouldn’t hit their ears.
“Excuse me, Helen, excuse me, when is this storm going to end?” asked Nicholi.
“Helen’s asleep again,” said Patrick. “She hasn’t moved all night that I know of.”
“Is she dead?”
“No, she’s snoring lightly and’s warm. She’s okay.”
“So when’s it gonna end?” he asked again.
“No idea. Guess we’ll just stay in the shelter until it does,” said Patrick. “In the meantime, it’s too early to get up, so go back to sleep.”
“I’ll try,” said Nicholi. He too curled up into a fetal position and put a shirt on his head to dampen the noise of the flapping tarp, which kept hitting him.
Patrick tried to do the same. It took a bit of trial and error, but he eventually got a pair of jeans to stay on his head.
Ten hours later it was about lunchtime, and the tarp was still flapping. Everyone was getting stiff and sore from the hard ground. They hadn’t bothered to get out from under the tarp because of the heavy rain.
“I’m hungry.” Nicholi crawled out of the flapping shelter a bit and studied the small tarp over their things. The branches were holding it steady, but he could see the edge of the orange bag peeking out. He crawled out into the pouring rain, reached under the branches, and grasped the bright bag. He pulled and pulled until it was free of the pile and then hurried back under the tarp. The tarp kept flapping on his head, irritating him.
“Stop it, I say!” He hit the tarp with his fist to no avail. “Stop it!” he screamed. “I want to go home! I hate this place. Stop it!” He stood up and hit the tent over and over with such force that he jolted Lillian and Sam. Water was spraying on everyone.
“Nicholi, Nicholi, calm down! No matter how hard you hit it, the wind isn’t going to stop. You have to fix it if you want it to stop hitting your head. Do you see a long, straight pole? Maybe that one over there in the pile would do. It’s pretty smooth. Go back out and get it.” Patrick couldn’t get his hands to cooperate quickly to point at it, so he nodded in the direction of the pile.
“Stop
it!” Nicholi yelled and kicked the tarp while lying on his back. “Stop it now!”’
Marie was watching. “I see the pole. I’ll get it.” She climbed out from under the irritating, ever-undulating tarp and out into the rain, grasped the stick Patrick was suggesting, and quickly scrambled back under. She positioned one end of the five-foot pole on the floor and raised the other end to make a central tent pole that lifted the top tarp up off them. With a bit of fiddling, she figured out the best position for it to control the flapping. She had to hold it, but everyone was relieved not to be constantly hit in the head.
“Haah!” yelled Nicholi in relief. He immediately unzipped the orange bag that held all the food and survival gear and dug out the protein bars. He tore one open and devoured it.
Everyone watched in hunger. After his little temper tantrum, they were all a little intimidated by him. Patrick and Lillian were the most physically fragile athletes. Sam wasn’t fragile, but he was scared. Helen was asleep, so it had to be Marie that dealt with him.
“Nicholi, why don’t you share and give everyone one to eat?” she said with a strong, bossy tone.
He looked at everyone with a scrunched-up, mean, angry face like they were all against him. “NO, MINE! I’m hungry!”
Sam firmly said, “Urs” (Ours). He held out his friendly, loving hand as if waiting for the dinner plate to be passed during an elegant gourmet meal.
Nicholi’s angry look slowly melted. “Oh, okay.” He tossed the bag to Sam, who passed it down the line. Soon everyone except Helen was munching and savoring every bite. Lillian confiscated one and hid it for the coach.
“We need to find out exactly what’s in that survival bag,” said Patrick. “Now is as good a time as any. Marie, since you’re up, why don’t you pull out everything and tell me what the labels say?”
She handed the tent pole to Nicholi, who was busy devouring another protein bar.
“I hate to read,” she said.
“Maybe, but you do it so nicely,” said Patrick. “Go ahead and show us how good you are at it.”
“Maybe put all the food in one pile and everything else in another one and show me one thing at a time,” she suggested.
While Sam, Nicholi and Lillian watched intently, Marie and Patrick went down the items together. “First there is the can of bear spray, two boxes of waterproof matches, a sharp knife with a pretty wood handle, and a knife with lots of tools with it. Here are some candles, a whistle, and another one of those space blankets.”
“Did they go up in space with the astronauts?” asked Nicholi. “Did they go up in the space shuttle?” He took one of the flat, thin packages and examined the outside just like Marie was doing.
“What do you think, Patrick?” asked Marie.
“I doubt it, but it might have been designed for trips up there. When we get home, you can look it up on the Internet and see.”
“Here’s an ax, a skinny shovel, and a first aid kit. Hey, we can clean up Helen’s head and put a Band-Aid on it or something when she wakes up next time.”
“Bunch of head nets, but the bugs aren’t as bad as at home, maybe because of the wind or that we’re on a beach. Might come in handy though.”
“Hey, a little shovel. Not sure what we need that for,” said Marie.
Lillian was very interested in it. She studied it and rubbed her hands over the smooth wooden handle and the metal scoop as if it were something valuable. She said something quietly to Nicholi as she smiled at the shovel.
“Lillian said she knows what to do with it,” said Nicholi. “But, she didn’t tell me what.”
She spotted something else of interest to her, a bag of fishing gear. She came to life, crawled forward, and grasped it. She took all the hooks, lines, sinkers, etc., out and inspected all the contents carefully.
“This thing says it’s a Mag…nes…ium Fire Start…er. How does it work?” said Marie.
“Let me see the directions. Boy, a lot of writing, but there are pictures too. Together we can figure it out,” said Patrick. “Right now we don’t have firewood anyway, so no point in reading it till we have to, and besides, the matches work.”
“There are also two little cooking pots, a big bag of tea bags, a small fishnet, and one set of dinnerware. If we cook, guess we’ll be sharing a couple of plates, spoons, and forks.”
Patrick thought for a minute about all the items and then said, “I think we should put everything back in the bag except the bear spray and the food. The bear spray we need to keep out where we can get to it fast if one comes visiting.”
“There’re three large bags of granola bars and chocolate. How long will they last?” asked Marie.
No one answered.
“We also need to get the food away from the shelter and high up in a tree in case a bear comes visiting,” said Patrick.
“Nicholi,” Marie stated hotly, “that’s your third granola bar this morning. What about us? We only had one. Is that fair?”
“But I’m hungry!” he yelled.
“So are we,” Patrick said patiently. “You need to learn that we all have to eat and we’ll have to work together.”
“Ah-choo!” Helen sneezed.
“Helen, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” said Marie as Helen stirred but didn’t speak. “We found the first aid box. Would you like me to put a Band-Aid on your head?”
“Ah, sure,” she said groggily.
“Marie, you’ll need to wash it a bit first,” said Patrick. “There’s some spray disinfectant. Helen, she’ll put that on before she bandages you to avoid infection.”
“I’m thirsty,” she said weakly.
Marie picked up Helen’s head with one hand and poured water slowly from her water bottle down her parched throat. She then worked on cleaning up her sister’s head under the direction of Patrick. Then they all lay around listening to the rain and wind. Marie chattered on about how hard it was to sleep in the flapping shelter.
“How long have I been asleep?” Helen eventually asked.
Patrick told her the news: “We’ve been here about a day now and no one has come. This big storm hit, and I think it’s too wild out there for anyone to look for us. We’ve been hearing trees fall all night but none on us yet, thank goodness. We went through the survival bag and found lots of useful things. Lillian likes your little shovel and Nicholi loves the mirror.”
Helen was more awake by this time and not so groggy. “Oh, good. You both have something you’ll enjoy. Lillian, are you going to feed us with it?”
Lillian smiled and watched Helen but said nothing.
“I bet you will.”
“What’s she going to feed us besides granola bars and chocolate?” asked Nicholi.
Smiling, Lillian looked at Nicholi, but said nothing.
“Your plane’s gone, Helen,” said Nicholi.
“Gone! When did you notice?” asked Patrick.
“When it first got light this morning.”
“I had no idea, Helen. I’ve not left the shelter, like you. Sorry.”
“This storm must have been something last night then . . . plus the currents at high tide,” said Helen.
“Where did it go?” asked Marie.
“Guess the Inlet took it away somewhere. It was nice to have . . . while I did,” she said sadly. She tried to pick up her head and look out of the tent, but her world was still spinning. “Oh, gosh, that again.”
“What?” asked Marie.
“My head is still spinning.”
“Doesn’t look like it’s spinning to me. It’s still on your shoulders and not moving at all,” said Nicholi.
“It is inside.”
Nicholi thought about that for a minute. “But if it’s spinning inside, wouldn’t your eyes get disconnected or something? How can that be? How can Helen’s head be spinning inside?” he said, looking at Patrick. “Do you have another head inside your head?” he said, turning again to Helen.
“No, Nicholi, it’s an expression for how it f
eels to me. It’s not spinning— just feels like it is.”
“Is it going to stop feeling like it’s spinning?” asked Marie. Her face was creased with worry lines.
“I hope so, honey. I sure hope so. In the meantime, I have to eat, drink, and somehow go to the latrine. Have you guys figured that out yet?”
“No, and I need to go,” said Patrick. “Let’s think about this. Have any of you seen a place close by that’s private and has a barkless log crossing over another log? It would be better to sit on a log without bark or sap. I’ll need to sit for a while when I go, and someone will need to help me get there and hold me so I don’t fall over. It’s not raining as hard right now. Would you go look for a spot, Marie?”
“I haven’t seen any place like that, but I really need to go now. I’ll take a silver blanket for a raincoat, go take care of business, and look for a good log crossing,” said Marie.
“Eee oou” (Me too), said Sam.
“You go that way,” said Marie as she pointed east.
The two covered themselves with blankets and went out in the rain. Sam went one way and Marie went the other. About three minutes later Sam returned, but he didn’t say anything about finding a good spot for a latrine. He climbed under the tarp and dropped the blanket carelessly. He had forgotten.
Lillian got up, shook it out, and folded it up neatly.
Nicholi was busy looking at his mirror again. He made no noise as he contorted his face and moved his mouth, looking at himself from different directions.
Marie could be heard thrashing around the edge of camp after a few minutes. “I found a spot, and it isn’t too far to move Patrick or Helen,” she called.
Lillian took the wet blanket, put it over her head, and walked out in the direction of Marie’s voice. She found Marie in a dense thicket, sitting on a log that had fallen on top of two other logs. The bark on the top log was gone, and there were two large, forked, leafless branches sticking up like handrails on both sides of where she was sitting. She had taken the space blanket and hooked it on the branches over the new toilet seat like a roof. Maybe it would be a little drier underneath.
Let Us Be Brave Page 6