Let Us Be Brave

by Linda Thompson

  “Skipper, come!” called Mark as he approached in the blinding fog. “Skipper!”

  Lillian and Sam realized they weren’t alone on the beach, but they didn’t have time to react when Mark appeared from behind a large tree-covered outcropping.

  “Why, hello. Are you the athletes from Pebble Lake?” he said softly, trying not to frighten them.

  “Ess, Ess, Ess!” said Sam with joy written all over his face. He ran up to Mark and gave him a big hug.

  Little Lillian continued to be standoffish, standing still and watching the situation. Skipper walked over to her, sat down on her foot, and leaned against her little legs. His head was above her waist, but he seemed to understand to be calm with her. He looked up adoringly at her with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth like he was smiling. She calmed down a little, released her frightened, tense arms, and reached to gently pet the dog.

  Diane and Jack had, by this time, joined the group.

  “Are there others?” asked Mark.

  Sam ran over and hugged Diane and then Jack. Pointing up the hill he said, “Ay ere” (They’re up there).

  “Well, let’s go see them!” said Mark excitedly, once he deciphered the sign language gestures.

  Sam started up the trail, leading the group. Mark and Jack were next. Diane hung back to make sure the little quiet lady wasn’t left behind. Lillian put the shovel back in its place by the tree as they passed and slowly followed them up the hill, Diane at her side. Sam was practically running, chattering unintelligibly with excitement. He had already figured out that he was going home to his mama.

  “Mama, I mm” (Mama, I’m coming), he kept repeating as he hurried.

  As they got higher on the hillside, the fog seemed to thin. They couldn’t see anything on the beach, but it did seem a little lighter. Mark wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or what. As they came around a curve in the trail, he first saw a smoking smokehouse with a little two-story cabin behind it in the fog. The woodshed and another cabin with a chimney coming out of it were to the left. Sam ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, and burst in the door, chattering away and signing unintelligible, excited words that no one understood. He was so excited he was signing the wrong words.

  “Slow down. What’s wrong, Sam? I thought you and Lillian were going clamming for our dinner,” said Helen.

  Mark reached the porch and heard her voice, and with joy and relief, he followed Sam inside.

  Helen stood, holding the chair for balance, and nearly fainted with surprise to see Mark, the only man in Homer she was the least bit interested in getting to know better. “Oh, my God! Mark, of all people.”

  “Helen, you know my name! I didn’t figure you did,” said Mark.

  “And you know mine,” said Helen. Her heart was fluttering with excitement. “Oh, I must look a mess.”

  The two stood looking at each other for a moment, and then Mark approached Helen, grasped her hand gently, and said in a deep masculine voice that would melt any female that looked into his dark blue eyes, “You look beautiful as usual, my lady. Madam, I’m here to rescue you. Would you like a lift to Homer? I have a gorgeous sailing yacht waiting in the harbor.”

  Helen squeezed his hand secretly as she looked into his eyes, letting him know how she really felt about him. There was an audience of people watching.

  Marie and Patrick’s eyes opened wide with excitement at the possible romance. They glanced at each other and grinned happily. Diane and Jack also stood smiling in the doorway with Lillian, watching the events. Sam and Nicholi were unaware of the broader meaning of the encounter.

  Diane coughed a little attention-getting noise.

  “Oh, this is Jack, my old college professor, and his wife Diane. They graciously sailed their big yacht here today and allowed me to tag along,” said Mark.

  “Let me introduce my team. This is Sam, Lillian, Nicholi, Marie, and Patrick,” said Helen.

  The first four each smiled proudly as their names were stated. Patrick, propped up in his bed, started to cough again.

  Diane, a retired nurse, immediately was at his side. She checked his vitals and noticed his purple lips and hands, so she pulled back the blanket to check his legs, which were also purple. Very calmly she said, “What’s happened to you?”

  “Ash in my lungs, we think.” Cough, cough. “I went out at first, but since this started, I don’t anymore.”

  “He doesn’t seem to be getting better as we hoped,” said Helen. “He can’t cough it out.”

  “We need to get this young man to the hospital ASAP.”

  Skipper, sensing the young human needed to stay calm, went over and sat on the bed next to him. Patrick reached with a weak hand and tried to pet the dog. The dog stayed and took up his post by the boy.

  “Can we radio for a helicopter?” asked Helen.

  “I’m not riding in an airplane ever again!” stated Nicholi. He held the sides of his face with his hands and had a panicked look. He started rocking rapidly forward and backward as if to escape the idea of flying. His arms went out to his sides, his hands flexing open and closed over and over.

  “Nicholi, no planes or helicopters could get in here in this heavy fog,” said Mark. “No worries, okay?”

  “NO planes! No planes . . . no planes,” he said emphatically.

  Diane interjected, “We have a boat that has to sail back to Homer, Nicholi. You can ride in it if you want.”

  With that, Lillian went to Nicholi’s side, grasped his hand, and spoke softly to him. The rocking started to slow down and he relaxed a bit.

  “I’ll go radio Search and Rescue, but first, is everyone else okay?” asked Jack.

  “Helen’s hurt,” said Marie.

  Mark looked at her with worry and concern. He hadn’t been very observant when he first walked in because he was so happy to see her. She was standing, which meant she must be okay, but why was she holding on to that chair?

  “Let me clarify. I hurt my head in the landing, but my wonderful team has taken care of me and I’m much better. I still have balance issues, but I can move around now if I have a chair to use as a crutch and to sit in if I get dizzy again.”

  Mark gently took her elbow and helped her sit in the chair.

  “So two injured, one very serious in need of immediate medical attention,” said Jack.

  “Just tell them two need immediate medical attention,” said Mark. “I doubt they can get a helicopter in here with this fog, and if I remember, the weather forecast was heavy fog for another day on Cook Inlet.”

  “Worse come to worst, we’ll sail you all back to Homer,” said Diane. “Jack, why don’t you go radio Search and Rescue, and we’ll pack up and get ready to go.”

  “Sounds like a wise idea. I’ll take the clamming buckets and stuff back to the boat while I’m at it.” He left immediately.

  “Okay, everyone, we have to pack and clean up our mess. All of us need to work so we can go home. Marie, get the wash off the line and put it in a duffel. We’ll sort it out later when we all get home. Then pack up your things as best you can.

  Lillian, you and Nicholi pack up your bags.”

  Nicholi was standing still as if in a daze. Lillian gently took his hand and pulled him toward his duffel. She whispered a few words, and he started searching for and packing up his clothes. She quietly did the same.

  Looking at Mark, Helen said, “They’ll do the best they can, but they’ll only pack up what they remember or is important to them. Ten to one they’ll leave lots behind. Would you mind helping them pick up everything? If you see something left that looks like Sam’s size, ask him to pack it. Same for Nicholi and Marie. I think Lillian will get all of her belongings. She’s more aware that way.”

  “Sam, pack up your gear,” Helen said.

  He began slowly, and soon the bag was filling. He made sure his cars and wooden toys were included first. Mark helped him find more store bought items and they stuffed them in.

  “Mark, I just hav
e one question for you,” said Helen. “Why didn’t they find us? My ELT was working when I left Pebble Lake.”

  “I don’t know, but it didn’t work like it should have when you crashed. Oh, they found your plane about five miles from here. It finally got stuck in the mud, I guess, and stopped moving. Search and Rescue got the ELT out of the tail, but I don’t know if they found out anything from it. Were you insured?”

  “Yes, at least I hope the plane is covered. How will I support Marie and me without it?”

  “Come to think about it, remember when Senator Ted Stevens’ plane crashed in the Bristol Bay area? The ELT on his plane was working, but the antenna had become disconnected somehow and so it broadcast only a short distance. Maybe your antenna was loose to start with or got damaged in the crash?”

  “I don’t know. It looked okay in Pebble Lake. I didn’t see it after the crash. My head hurt too much to go climbing in to check it. And another thing, why didn’t you hear my Mayday call? I called over and over as we went down.”

  “I’ve done a lot of thinking about that. You know that about fifteen minutes before every hour I have to go outside to do a visual on the weather to report to pilots. I can’t hear the radios then. And another thing, if you were in the shadow of Mount Augustine, my line of sight radio couldn’t receive your signal. As you dropped to lower and lower altitudes, even though there were no mountains to interfere with the signal, I wouldn’t be able to hear you.”

  “Well, I’m so glad you found us now,” said Helen. “Patrick really needs help and I’ve done all the nursing I know how to do.”

  “We’ll worry later about what happened two weeks ago. For now, let’s get you out of here,” said Mark.

  Helen knew she couldn’t give too many instructions at a time to her athletes. She had to use simple directions, especially with Sam. Language was the problem. She waited until he was packed before saying, “Go dump the water out of the steam bath. We don’t want to leave it in there when we go.” She glanced at Mark, sending the message that he might need help, but talked to Sam. “It might rust out the buckets. Then go put the ax and splitting maul away in the woodshed. Close and lock the doors so critters won’t get inside.”

  Sam wouldn’t understand all of that, but Mark did.

  “Lillian, when you’re finished packing, go clean out the smokehouse. You know what to do. Put the fish in a plastic bag.”

  “Your name is Patrick?” asked Diane.

  “Yes,” he answered weakly.

  “Patrick, where are your things?”

  “The green duffel is mine. It’s too hard to change my clothes, so most of them are in there. Just grab my shirt and pair of pants that are on the floor next to the bag and stuff them in.” He closed his eyes and tried to relax as his hand caressed Skipper’s fur. Patrick had a smile on his face. Finally, he was getting out of this cabin. He was excited finally to be leaving, even if it was only to go to another hospital.

  Diane looked in his duffel and found a clean shirt. “I think we need to change your shirt if we’re going to take you back to civilization. You’re a mess.”

  “Okay, I guess you’re right,” said Patrick.

  “Marie, could you pack up my bag and yours?” asked Helen.

  “Sure, Sis.” She didn’t need to be told anymore what to do. She had already finished with all the clothes from the lines outside and had her duffel in her hand ready to be carelessly stuffed.

  “So Sam needs help?” asked Mark.

  “Yeah, I doubt he’ll remember all the chores I gave him. I’d like to leave this place exactly as it was when we arrived, but that’s impossible since we’ve been eating so much of their food. There are big washtubs and buckets outside somewhere that we used to do the laundry. Sam, help Mark find them and hang them back where they were. If you two could secure all the outbuildings, I would be so grateful.”

  Everyone was moving quickly. It had been a great adventure, but it was time for it to end.

  Diane made sure Patrick was as clean and comfortable as possible, and then said, “I’ll start with the loft and try to clean it up. Then Marie and I will clean the main room. You just sit there, Helen.”

  In the loft, Diane folded all the blankets and put them away as she talked. “It was Mark that narrowed your general location to this bay. We’d already started to sail over early this morning to see if his hunch was correct. Then we heard a radio message from a pilot flying from King Salmon to Anchorage. A little girl passenger spotted an SOS on a beach in this area through the fog. He called in the approximate latitude and longitude that he read from his GPS. That sealed it for Mark. He started dancing around the boat with Skipper.”

  Helen sat still in her chair with a huge smile on her face.

  Diane stacked the foam mattresses in a pile and put a blanket over them. She picked up misplaced socks and underwear and put them in the duffel with the laundry. Once the loft was swept out and cleaned, she went downstairs with lost clothes and stuffed them in with the wet laundry. “Let’s put all the duffels on the porch so we can clean,” she said. She took Patrick’s and the laundry duffel out and started a pile. Marie carried hers and Helen’s out. Lillian and Nicholi were all packed up, so she also tossed theirs out.

  Nicholi kept stopping to rock while saying, “I won’t fly, won’t fly, won’t fly.”

  “You won’t need to, Nicholi. It’s okay. You can sail to Homer with Mark and Marie.”

  Lillian eventually was able to get him to go out to the smokehouse to work with her. The next time Helen looked out the window, Lillian was holding a plastic bucket and Nicholi was reaching into the building, removing the stiff dried and smoked fish and putting it in the bucket. Lillian was squatting alongside with a sharp knife, chopping the fish up and putting it in zippered bags. It took about twenty minutes, but soon the two were finished and all the fish was packaged. Lillian stirred the smoking coals and then slowly closed and carefully latched the door.

  Sam and Mark went into the steam bath. They hauled all the water buckets outside and dumped them carefully into the bright yellow and orange calendulas that surrounded the building. After the buckets were back inside, upside down in the cool room, they secured the door.

  “Anything else out here we need to do?” asked Mark.

  “Od ed” (Woodshed), said Sam.

  Mark didn’t understand, but soon figured it out when Sam led them to the woodshed. They picked up any half-split wood, stacked it neatly, and hung the ax and splitting maul up inside before latching that door.

  As they walked by the smokehouse, Mark unlatched it and looked inside. The fish was all gone, but the smoke was still going. He took a stick and stirred it up, trying to put it out. “This is probably fine, but let’s put a little water on it and stir it some more,” said Mark.

  About that time, Nicholi came up from the creek with half a bucket of water. Lillian was behind him. She filled a cup and poured the water on the fire slowly as Nicholi, following her direction, stirred it more. Eventually the only thing rising was steam off the cooling coals.

  “Looks good to me,” said Mark.

  Lillian closed the door and secured it again. The four walked back up to the house, and Mark did a final onceover. All the outbuildings looked as he imagined they should.

  Walking up to the porch, he saw a pile of duffel bags carelessly thrown out of the house. Marie and Diane were making lunch of smoked salmon and crackers from a tin. Helen, Skipper, and Patrick were trying to stay out of the way. The cabin was almost organized; just Patrick’s bed parts needed to be put back, and the floor needed to be swept and possibly mopped before they left.

  “I wonder how Jack is doing with Search and Rescue,” said Mark. “I don’t think anyone can get in here. It’s too dangerous to fly in fog this thick.”

  “He’ll be back soon, I’m sure,” said Diane.

  Chapter 45

  Radio

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is Acapella III in Iniskin Bay. Do you read me?”
called Jack.

  “This is Search and Rescue in Kodiak. Please state your emergency traffic.”

  “Roger, Coast Guard. My location is north fifty-nine point seven three degrees latitude and west one hundred fifty-three degrees longitude. We’re anchored in Iniskin Bay on the west side of Cook Inlet north of Augustine Island. We’ve found six survivors of the plane crash two weeks ago. All are accounted for. They’re the Special Olympics team from Pebble Lake. We have assessed the situation and it appears that two people need hospital care. One is having trouble breathing, possibly due to volcanic ash inhalation. One is recovering from a head injury from the crash landing.

  “What is your weather at this time? Over.”

  “Heavy fog with zero visibility. Can’t get much worse.”

  “How is the wind?” asked the Coast Guard.

  “The wind is calm, but with this dense fog and minimal visibility, I doubt if an aircraft could find our location.” Jack sat there, wondering exactly what to do next.

  “Our rescue helicopters are both presently out, one on its way to Dutch Harbor and the other picking up an accident victim near Cordova, but we can arrange a pick-up from Air National Guard out of Anchorage. Over.”

  “Besides the two needing hospital care, there’s also a large athlete with behavior issues, who seems to have been traumatized by the crash and says emphatically he will not fly anywhere again. He looks like he could become violent if pressured. We could sit here and wait for it to clear, but isn’t the forecast for another twenty-four to forty-eight hours of fog? Over.”

  “Yes, that is the forecast at this time.”

  “We’re concerned about waiting that long for the individual with breathing problems. My wife is a retired nurse, and I have nose tubes and a bottle of oxygen on board. I suppose she could set it up for him. We want to get the pilot with the head injury to a hospital for evaluation, even though she says she’s improving daily. All things considered, I think we should go ahead and sail the entire team to Homer immediately instead of waiting for the weather. Our boat is big enough to take them all safely. I have both radar and GPS. We’ll go slow. Over.”