There was a sound of barking outside, a child’s voice, some muffled conversation from inside the passenger cabin, and a shuffling of padded feet when he felt a bump against his leg. He turned to see one of the malamutes had joined him, content for the moment on watching the activity with an inquisitive expression. The dog’s pink tongue flicked over his sharp canines with its head titled to the side, studying him with suspicion.
“Well, hello there,” Kwapich said pleasantly. “You forget something or just want some adult company?”
The ears cocked forward before the female dog turned to look out the door, then back inside as if accepting the offer and lying on the floor near his feet.
Kwapich reached down and let the malamute sniff his hand. Kneeling, he rubbed behind her ears with his other hand, stroking the thick fur around her neck. She raised her gray muzzle, letting his fingers caress under her chin so both hands were busy providing the desired attention.
Just then, a second bundle of fur jumped through the door in a flash of energy, startling the older malamute and Kwapich. The younger of the two nudged the other playfully—curious as to why she wasn’t outside keeping him company.
“So, you miss your playmate?” Kwapich asked. He could tell the male was younger by the spirited movement and constant tail wagging. He was also smaller, but the same breed and color.
The younger dog responded by licking his hand and bowing for a friendly pat. Kwapich obliged, using a hand for each of them.
“They ran away,” a russet haired girl explained apologetically from the doorway. “They don’t listen very well. That’s Muck. He’s the youngest. And that’s Copper, his mother.” She pointed at each of the dogs.
“Oh,” Kwapich replied. “Well, they’re friendly enough. I don’t think they’ll be any trouble if you want to leave them here.”
Before she could answer, another girl called from further away. Kwapich recognized Lisa’s voice as the young male dog immediately scampered out the door. The female was more reluctant but followed a moment later with a slight limp.
Kwapich watched them go and saw the girl at the door sigh in frustration. “At least they listen to somebody.”
He was as surprised as she was. “I guess so. Problem solved.”
Kwapich refocused his attention on the pallet of mail. Each sack weighed over forty pounds, and he positioned them in a neat pile beside the kennels. The wooden slats on the pallet were nailed in place, but by using a small fire extinguisher, he managed to break them apart and split the boards down the middle. When he finished, there was an assortment of usable splints.
He then retrieved some cotton shirts from one of the suitcases and ripped them into long strips, hoping whoever they belonged to wouldn’t be upset. He tucked the bundle of splints under one arm and returned to the passenger compartment with the ribbons of cloth in his hand.
The young man, Danny Sims, was clearing the last of the debris from the aisle when he entered. Bidwell was busy dismantling a broken seat partially impaling one of the passengers while the retired nurse held the aluminum leg in place against the man’s torso. They worked slowly, careful not to push the severed shaft in deeper, finally succeeding in detaching the end from the frame without causing further injury.
Kwapich set the items he was carrying on the floor. He helped the others reposition the injured man so the nurse could bandage the wound, leaving the metal rod protruding from his side.
He was an older man of slight build and dark hair. His appearance suggested he was barely conscious. There was only a fluttering of eyelids and a soft murmur of pain.
Mildred cleaned and wrapped the man’s injury, carefully taping the obstruction in place, while the others finished clearing the aisle. What remained of the loose debris was tossed outside and stacked under the left wing. The three passengers who died in the crash were moved into the cargo compartment out of sight of the others. They were covered with a canvas tarp used for protecting the luggage.
No one noticed Susan leave amid all the activity. She tried staying busy so she wouldn’t focus on the trauma. Distributing blankets, assisting the injured, and speaking words of comfort kept her occupied. Between errands she shared bottles of water found in a storage bin and checked on the comatose first officer. She was near exhaustion and her fatigue showed. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes smudged with dirt and her makeup ruined, but she somehow maintained a reassuring poise.
“You should take a break.” Sanders noticed Susan standing beside the damaged tail section and approached her with concern.
She turned to the sound of his voice, the wind blowing wisps of hair across her face. She brushed a strand aside. “I am. I just needed a few minutes alone.”
“No, I mean take a long break and relax. We have the injured passengers and cabin organized now. You can sit with the others by the rocks. At least you’ll be out of the wind.”
Susan contemplated the suggestion for a few seconds and then shook her head no. “That would be nice, but I would rather stay busy.”
Sanders saw she was determined. “At least take a few minutes. You’ve certainly earned it.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, really, I’m fine,” Susan reiterated. “The injured man in the back of the plane reminded me of my husband. I just wanted a moment alone.”
“Of course,” replied Sanders. He waited a few seconds, embarrassed by his own callousness. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I guess I wasn’t expecting the poor man to look the way he did. His injuries brought back memories of my husband’s accident. Frank was killed in a plane crash. I saw it happen.”
Susan sighed, staring into space, recalling the tragic event. His death was hard on her and the kids. Over the years she learned to focus on the good memories and push the bad ones away. Separating the emotions gave her an inner strength, somehow, helping heal the family when they needed closure the most.
Sanders didn’t know what to say. At first he thought she might break down and cry but instead was impressed by her ability to control her emotions. She possessed a strong demeanor—a trait that reminded him of his grandmother. “I don’t think the man’s injuries are as bad as they appear. He’ll be all right.” The statement was truthful, except for Sander’s omitting the part about a recovery being dependent on getting the man to a proper medical facility as soon as possible.
“That’s good to hear,” Susan stated. She pushed a windblown curl of hair away from her eyes. “I was worried. The other injured passengers … some are even worse, aren’t they? Mildred wouldn’t say for sure.”
“I don’t know. I’ll talk to her again in a few minutes.”
“Okay. What about you?” she pointed at his arm.
“If I said it doesn’t hurt, I’d be lying. The pain comes and goes but is bearable as long as I don’t bump into anything. Then it can be rather intense but I imagine insignificant compared to what some of the others are enduring. I’ll survive.”
“Hey!” The girl’s coach, Donna Regan, announced in a frightened voice. She moved with a nervous demeanor, almost stumbling across the ground and seemed not to notice as Sanders reached out with his good arm to catch her. Before he could even ask what the problem was, she began talking rapidly.
“Is there any chance we can move inside the plane? The girls are getting chilled from the wind. They could use something to eat, too. And drink if there is more water. We aren’t going to be here much longer, are we? It’s been almost an hour. Shouldn’t someone have been here already?”
Sanders waited until she paused to take a breath before answering. “I don’t know how much longer a rescue might be. I wish I did, but without radio contact we’ll just have to wait and hope for the best.”
“But the …” the coach tried interrupting before Sanders raised his hand to silence her. Her eyes widened in protest.
“There are still seriously
injured passengers in the plane. Until their injuries are taken care of and we can make them comfortable, the others need to remain outside. I’m sorry, but there isn’t enough room inside right now. Give us another ten or fifteen minutes, okay?”
Susan gently grasped Donna’s arm, speaking softly. “We need to give the injured a few more minutes, honey, and get the plane organized so we can all fit in comfortably. You don’t want your girls seeing all the blood and the injured still traumatized in their seats, do you?”
The coach glanced from Susan to Sanders, then back again, finally shaking her head. “Well, no. I guess not, but …”
“That’s good, honey. It’s for the best. Let’s do as the captain asks and give the others a chance to get situated. Can I walk you back over to the rocks? Maybe I can fill the others in on what’s happening?”
Susan caught Sanders’ nod of thanks and smiled in reply. The coach seemed unsure of what to say with both of them coaxing her away but relented after realizing she couldn’t win the argument. She appeared frustrated, then concerned as another gust of wind caught her. She altered her balance with a pained expression.
“What if a rescue doesn’t arrive soon? What are we going to do then?”
“We’ll do the best we can. Someone will come,” Sanders replied.
The statement sounded convincing. If only the words were really true. They were all in for a long, cold, and miserable experience. Even though the temperature was moderate, somewhere in the low fifties he guessed without the wind chill, the approaching storm would change conditions dramatically.
Sanders didn’t want the panicked coach to know the extent of their situation and withdraw into a shell again. Better she maintains a positive outlook. Even though he was responsible for ensuring the safety of the survivors, without a timely rescue their safety was in serious doubt. A fact he could do little to avoid.
“There is something you can do,” Sanders said suddenly, wanting to provide the swimming coach with a positive goal to focus on. “Keep a sharp ear for the sound of an aircraft. If you hear anything, come and get me right away. We have a flare gun inside and it can be used to signal our position when one arrives in the area.”
Her eyes lit up, and she looked toward the lower valley as if expecting an aircraft at any moment. “Yes, that’s a good idea. I’ll tell the girls.”
Sanders scrutinized the surrounding terrain. He sighed and pondered what was in store for all of them. More than anything he wanted to lie down and rest but couldn’t afford the luxury. His arm and head throbbed with enough pain he doubted he could relax, and from the queasy feeling in his stomach, he was afraid he might vomit at any moment.
Sanders wanted to improve the passengers’ situation but was unsure of what else needed to be done. Almost everyone was busy. Once the injured were cared for and the cabin cleared of debris, he could gather everyone together and discuss their options.
The wreckage would provide shelter from the wind and weather. Conserving water was the immediate concern. If necessary, they could find another source nearby. Food wouldn’t be essential for the first few days, and in any case, there was nothing they could do except hoard the few candy bars and crackers the passengers brought with them. Staying warm was another matter. If the temperature dropped significantly, as it was sure to do with the coming storm, the passengers’ clothing and a few thin blankets would be the only protection from the cold.
Inside the aircraft the retired nurse was getting frustrated. She managed to move the obese man into a more comfortable position against some seat cushions on the floor. He was the last of the injured to be taken care of and made everyone within hearing distance know he was not happy about the lack of attention. He was in obvious agony from a back injury and when not groaning in pain, blamed the airline, the pilots, and other passengers for his predicament. His wife stayed by his side, trying to calm him with limited success.
Mildred wanted to slap him but was content for the moment in telling him to shut his mouth. She had remained silent long enough and was tired of his tirade. He only relented for a few seconds before accusing her of medical misconduct, threatening a lawsuit. If a strong sedative had been available, she wouldn’t have hesitated in giving him one.
Sanders entered the access door at the rear of the plane. He could hear the obnoxious passenger berating Mildred. She and the man’s wife stood over him with looks of disgust, unsure of what to do. For the moment Sanders ignored them and glanced around the interior.
Four of the undamaged seats were left in place over the wings. The rest had been dismantled and carried outside after the cushions were removed. Four of the injured were sitting against the walls or lying on cushions near the front, including the first officer and the man with two broken legs. Three others were in similar positions in the back.
Two fresh stains were noticeable on the floor where blood had soaked through the carpet—one in front and the other in back. Another area on the wall was smeared where a stain had been wiped with a rag. Otherwise, the interior was much cleaner than he hoped. Sanders made a mental note to have the blood spots covered before the youngsters were allowed back inside.
Kwapich was taking a break in one of the over-wing seats. His attempts to silence the overbearing passenger had fared no better than Mildred or the other occupants. Short of knocking him unconscious, which was becoming more of a possibility, there was little he could do. For the moment he was content staying in his seat.
Sanders noticed Bidwell and Sims weren’t inside and assumed they were with the others by the rocks, staying out of the wind. They had been a welcome presence following the crash. Without them the situation would still be in turmoil. He would thank them later.
Mildred noticed Sanders near the door and approached him, a strong look of resignation on her face. She gestured outside where they could talk without being overheard.
Their precarious location on the high ridge and the extensive damage to the aircraft surprised her. She looked around the surrounding area with wide eyes. This was her first time outside since the crash. She was amazed at how isolated they were among the towering mountains.
Mildred was sweating from the activity of tending the injured. The outside air, chilled by the wind off the icy peaks, cut through her summer weight pantsuit like a knife. She zipped the thin jacket closed and began speaking over the wind in a low enough voice so only Sanders could hear.
“The bandages are used up and there’s only a half bottle of aspirin left. There isn’t much else I can do except keep an eye on the injured.”
“Thank you, Mildred,” Sanders answered. “I don’t know what we would have done without you. There’s probably more clothing we can use for bandages in the luggage.”
“White cotton would be helpful.” She glanced toward the cargo compartment where the bodies were stored. “We were lucky no one else was killed, weren’t we?”
“Yeah, we were. Very lucky. I only hope we don’t lose anyone else. How bad are the injured?”
Mildred shook her head sadly. “Two are in critical condition. As you know, the first officer is unconscious from a head injury. There could be neck or spinal damage, so we were careful moving him. He has a punctured lung from a broken rib, which is causing the shallow breathing and a buildup of pressure in the lung. The pressure needs to be equalized, but I don’t have the right tools.”
Sanders rubbed his forehead. “Are there any options?”
She gave him a stern look. “Very few. Other than a pair of scissors from the first aid kit and a pocketknife from one of the passengers, there’s nothing else available. I don’t want to risk trying anything unless we absolutely have to. Bottom line, he needs to be transported to a hospital as quick as possible.”
Sanders could only nod his head as Mildred continued.
“The man who was impaled on the seat has been in and out of consciousness, but nothing vital was hit as far as I can tell. There’s some bleeding, but I’ve left the rod in place and bandaged
the wound the best I can. Until he gets to a medical facility, I don’t want the object removed. The rod helps plug the wound and suppress the bleeding. I’m more concerned about his head injury. He took a terrible beating when his chair broke loose during the crash.”
“I see,” said Sanders. He wanted to reassure her they would be fine but knew she would see right through him.
“My husband is a strong man. He hasn’t complained in spite of his fractured legs and they have to be hurting terribly. He has a compound fracture of his left tibia. The lower right is also broken but not near as serious. I’ve immobilized them with wooden splints and wrapped them in cloth, but they’ll need to be reset. I’m afraid he’ll need surgery.”
She paused and took a deep breath, holding back her emotion. “Gangrene is another concern.”
Sanders shifted his gaze for a moment, thinking about what she said before refocusing on her stern expression. “And the rest of the injured, how are they?”
Mildred searched his eyes, noticing a compassion she hadn’t expected. She wrapped her arms together against the wind.
“Better than I anticipated, except for the one named Connover. He’s the obese man with the bad attitude. He has a spinal injury, probably a herniated disc or pinched nerve causing a lot of pain. We had a hard time moving him on the floor, and I don’t want to chance moving him again without a spine board. At least he’s not paralyzed. He has full motion in his legs. If we can just get him to shut up and relax, it would be much better for all of us.”
“I’ll talk to him. Maybe my presence and some of your aspirin can calm him down.”
Mildred smiled for the first time since the accident. “I think we would all appreciate that.”
She paused, looking back at the wrecked fuselage before continuing. “One of the women, Mrs. Delucci, has a dislocated hip. I stabilized the injury for now. She’s in terrible pain though. Her husband is the man with the severe puncture wound. He was sitting directly across from her.”
“I see,” Sanders said with sad eyes. He was concerned, but there was little he could do.
The Last Flight Page 15