The Last Flight

by Liefer, Gregory P. ; Liefer, G P;

  “Power is thirty-seven, Gil. You’re still good on my side. Ten feet of clearance below the blades.”

  Connor didn’t answer. Thompson glanced sideways at him. He felt more than noticed the change in demeanor. His mentor’s jaw was rigid and the eyes determined, but there was an aura of doubt he had never sensed in him before. He knew the increased stress of flying in these conditions must be taking a heavy toll and kept his hands and feet within easy reach of the controls, just in case.

  The landing area was almost triangular, surrounded by obstacles of varying heights as much as six feet tall. Large boulders and smaller granite deposits formed a barrier on each side. A large gap opened to the rear before falling into the void below the ridge. A narrower cut was visible to the front, barely wide enough for a person to walk through.

  Connor could judge the skid height above the ground as easily as Bril or Thompson, but he needed their help in avoiding the obstructions to the sides and rear. Without their directions, he knew landing in so tight an area would be impossible with the wind. Inch by inch, he lowered the helicopter to the ground. In spite of his pain, he never allowed the tail to shift position more than a foot. Each time he caught the movement before Bril could announce a correction.

  “Three feet now. Two feet … one foot. Toes are on the ground, sir. You’ve still got a foot and a half below the back of the skids. The tail looks good.”

  The ground sloped downward toward the rear, causing the helicopter to touch on the toes of the skids. Connor slowly decreased power, feeling for a solid footing as the nose pitched higher.

  They began sliding backward. The angle was too great. The helicopter couldn’t maintain a safe attitude, and he was forced to increase power to hold position.

  With only the toes of the skids resting on the slope, the position acted as a pivot point, making the helicopter more susceptible to the effect of the wind. Balancing the weight and shifting center of gravity was a struggle. Powerful gusts made the corrections even harder. Constant control changes were necessary, requiring Connor’s full attention.

  “What’s our clearance on the sides?”

  “Rotor blades are four feet above the rocks on the right.” Thompson had his torso turned toward the window so he could see farther back toward the tail.

  “About the same on this side, sir.” Bril pulled himself back into the doorway so only his head was outside. “You’ve got about six feet of clearance on either side of the tail boom.”

  “I’ll have to have to hold the front of the skids on the slope until the helicopter’s loaded. There’s too much of a slope to set completely down.” Connor’s voice sounded strained for the first time.

  “Let me take the controls for a while, Gil. I can hold us in position while you take a break.”

  Connor’s legs were aching even more than his back from the repeated pedal inputs. He worried his legs would start cramping or, worse, the back would spasm again, but he knew what he had to do. Judging by the level of the clouds, they only had a short time before being engulfed in the dark mass.

  “As much as I’d like that, we don’t have time. Steiner needs you both to help carry the injured. Get going before this damn ceiling drops any lower. And step lightly getting in and out. I don’t want any unexpected movement.”

  There was no argument from Thompson. He knew Connor was right. Bril was already outside the helicopter and moving toward the break in the rock formation. “I’m unplugging. I’ll turn my survival radio on so we can talk.”

  A head nod was Connor’s only reply. He watched Thompson step down and glance up at the spinning rotor blades above him. He turned and made eye contact before hurrying after Bril. In a second he was gone, out of sight behind the maze of rocks surrounding the helicopter.

  “Medic One, we’re on the ground. Bril and the copilot are heading your way.”

  Steiner’s strong voice answered immediately. “Roger eight-three-zero. I see them. We’ll bring out the litter patients first. The youngsters and women next, over.”

  Connor didn’t care who was first as long as the loading was done quickly. “Your call, Medic One. I figure about ten minutes before the clouds obscure the ridge.”

  “Roger that, sir. Standby.”

  Shultz monitored the conversation between Steiner and Connor. He pressed his transmit button when there was a pause on the radio, wanting to verify they could still receive him from the ridge. Ferguson and Lieutenant Hovan were staring at the console, listening intently.

  “Eight-three-zero? This is one-one-four. I copied your transmission with Medic One. How do you hear, Gil?”

  “You’re weak but readable. The weather isn’t getting any better. We picked up some light drizzle on the way in. The ceiling is only a hundred feet above us now. How does the weather look from your position?”

  “Not good, Gil. The broken layer over the valley has turned into a solid overcast. There are also some lower clouds building further south. They’re broken, but getting thicker every minute. I figured you were busy enough with the landing or I would have notified you earlier.”

  A series of blows rattled the helicopter as repeated gusts swirled over the ridge in rapid succession. Connor fought the movement with a series of corrections, letting the wind subside to a constant velocity before he dared respond to the radio. The fuselage was almost pushed backward, forcing him to pull in full power with the collective. He could feel sweat building under his armpits and the first drops of moisture starting to slide down his brow.

  Shultz tried again when Connor didn’t answer. “You copy, Gil?”

  “I read you, Joe. I was a little busy for a second. I’m light on the skids with only the toes on the ground. Too much slope for the helicopter to set down completely.”

  Shultz exchanged looks with his copilot and Hovan, noticing their mixed expressions of skepticism and wonder. He was more worried about Connor’s physical stamina than any concern over his flying ability. “How you holding up?”

  “So far, so good.” Connor’s voice didn’t mirror the optimistic answer. “I guess I still have some energy left in these old muscles. Even the doctors would be impressed.”

  Shultz could hear the strain in his voice and knew the situation was anything but good. He could only listen and provide encouragement. “Never a doubt from this end. We’re standing by.”

  Lieutenant Hovan was amazed Connor still maintained a sense of humor. The doctors might indeed be impressed but more likely would be furious he was flying at all, much less rescuing survivors off a mountain. Connor’s condition could deteriorate at any second and put everyone at risk. Hovan was past second-guessing the flight. Now all he could do was hope the rescue succeeded.

  “I’m stepping out for a minute,” Shultz announced to no one in particular. “I want to see how the foothills look behind us.”

  He kept his helmet plugged in as he stepped down and scanned the northern horizon. The clouds overhead stretched for several miles in the distance, well into the lower Tanana Valley. They seemed to be holding their height above the terrain, but patches of lower mist were developing around the hills in the river basin. The worsening weather was another problem they didn’t need.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Bril was the first to make contact with the survivors. The plane’s injured captain met him near the helicopter, obviously relieved to see them. Talking over the wind and the noise of the helicopter’s loud turbine engine was impossible without shouting. They nodded at each other and continued to the wreckage. Thompson joined them a moment later.

  As they approached the broken fuselage, four young girls, a dog, and two adults could be seen huddling near a pile of rock, watching them intently. They seemed uncomfortable in the cold weather with only blankets and light coats for warmth but managed weak smiles.

  A pile of twisted seats and luggage was visible near the rear cargo door. The forward entrance was open and two more survivors stood in the doorway. One, an attractive middle-aged woman and
the other a lean, middle-aged man wearing a worn cap, greeted them. Both looked tired from their ordeal.

  Thompson and Bril raised the visors of their helmets and unhooked the chin straps so they could hear better before entering. They were shocked by the conditions. Even though the exterior damage was obvious, they innocently expected a more serene setting inside. Most of the seats had been removed and the floor space was occupied by the rest of the survivors. Two of the injured lay on litters in the rear of the cabin and another two on litters in front. The few seats were occupied and the rest of the individuals were standing or sitting where they could. The smell of dried blood and sweat hung in the air.

  The two adults from outside followed them to the wreckage. They remained near the door so they could hear what was going on. A look of concern etched on their faces as if they thought they might be left behind.

  Steiner and an auburn-haired woman were kneeling over one of the litters in back. Bril and Thompson made eye contact, signaling Steiner to join them. He hurriedly maneuvered between the survivors, taking a deep breath before explaining the plan.

  The unconscious first officer and a woman with a dislocated hip would be carried first to free more room near the door. The man with the puncture wound would go next. The four young girls and the dazed older woman would follow. The overweight man would go ahead of the remaining survivors, who would in turn be added one at a time, depending on the weight the helicopter could still carry.

  “Time is critical,” Thompson explained. “The weather is closing fast.”

  “We’re ready.” Steiner pointed to where the first officer lay. “Bril? You take the front and Bidwell will take the rear. Once the litter is clear of the doorway, Mister Thompson and Captain Sanders can grab a corner. Myself, Kwapich, and Simms will follow you to the helicopter with the second litter.”

  Each of them nodded in understanding.

  “We need to be careful,” Steiner added. “Watch your step and don’t let go of the litter. If you need to stop and rest, say so immediately. These people have severe injuries. More trauma could be fatal.”

  Steiner let his explanation sink in before continuing. “Any questions? Good, let’s go.”

  The space was tight, but with only one man on each end, they quickly got the front of the litter through the hatch. Bril stepped out first, tripping backward slightly before regaining his footing.

  “Easy now! Slow and easy until you get turned around.” Steiner’s stern voice cut the cold air, making Bril slow his movements.

  Thompson quickly positioned himself in front, joining Bril so they faced the direction of travel. Several careful steps later, Bidwell was clear of the fuselage with his end. They stopped so Sanders could help carry a corner and then proceeded toward the helicopter at a moderate pace over the rough ground.

  Steiner and Simms lifted the second patient once the first was through the door. Kwapich waited outside and helped ease the weight past the opening before changing position.

  The litter bumped against the doorframe as Steiner stepped and twisted sideways. The weight wasn’t a factor as much as the awkward position. He easily supported the load and quickly regained his balance.

  A low moan escaped from the woman. Even with the strong medication, she felt a stab of pain in her hip. Clenching her teeth, she breathed in sharply from the shock, exhaling slowly.

  “Sorry about the nudge. You’re clear of the plane now.” A quick apology was all Steiner could offer. He didn’t want to tell her the helicopter ride would be worse.

  “We’ll be back in a minute,” Steiner yelled over the wind at the group nearby. Their expression immediately changed to anticipation.

  Donna Regan shivered with concern. On the verge of hysteria following the crash, she had managed to calm down after reassurances from Susan. Once the second helicopter arrived, her fears returned. What if there wasn’t enough room for them all? She didn’t think she could handle a night on the mountain under these terrible conditions.

  On the positive side, the four young girls seemed calm. Two of them were in tears during the emergency and the others held hands across the aisle, but all quickly recovered their emotions following the crash. Only Lisa seemed unfazed by the event.

  Since then, they had been sticking close together and helping with whatever was asked. Watching over the two dogs was a good distraction. As long as they held their emotions and didn’t panic, Donna thought she could do the same.

  Connor began wondering what was taking so long when he saw movement through the opening in the rocks. He needed desperately to get out of the helicopter and relax his aching muscles but knew he had to hang on for a few more minutes.

  A tight, burning sensation was building from the exertion on his legs and his back felt as if the muscles had been pummeled with a baseball bat. He could only grit his teeth in response.

  Thompson and the others squinted against the swirling downwash as they approached. They carried the litter to the right side, where there was more room between the cargo door and rock wall. Stopping short, Bril used one hand to pull the door open before setting the litter on the metal floor. He carefully repositioned inside and helped the others slide the patient further through the doorway.

  A quick assessment of the interior made him realize the litter would occupy a large portion of the floor. The patients would have to be positioned on the side, parallel to the doors. The uninjured passengers could then be seated in the middle against the rear bulkhead.

  Connor felt a shift in weight but couldn’t risk turning to look. He could hear a voice without being able to distinguish the words. There was movement behind his right shoulder and a slight change in the attitude of the helicopter.

  He compensated with cyclic control to adjust for the weight. Each increase caused a change in the center of gravity, altering the stability of the helicopter. He anticipated the movements to minimize the corrections, taxing his overburdened muscles. Keeping the helicopter balanced without losing control was becoming more and more of a challenge.

  “Push the litter all the way across the floor,” Bril yelled over the engine. Thompson hurried around the front of the helicopter to the opposite door, helping align the patient in the corner.

  Connor watched a second litter emerge through the gap in front of the helicopter. They stopped, waiting on the others, then moved in position on the same side. As the first group left, Thompson looked back at Connor and pointed to his ear, indicating he intended to call on the radio. A moment later he turned and disappeared.

  Bril remained by the helicopter to assist the second group. He removed both rear facing crew seats, allowing more space toward the front where they could slide the patient in a perpendicular position across the floor.

  “I figure a third litter can be placed beside this one.” Bril had to shout near Steiner’s ear. “We’ll place the last one inside the right door.”

  Steiner nodded in agreement. The space was tight, but the configuration was the only way there would be enough room for the other passengers. The two litters in the middle would have to be pushed forward against the console.

  “Help me move this one in position. Be careful, she has an injured hip. Turn the litter so her head is facing the right side. I don’t want anyone bumping into her while getting into the helicopter.”

  They worked quickly. The petite woman didn’t utter a sound except to take in a sharp breath. Her eyes were partially shut as if expecting a flash of pain any moment. Once the litter was in place, she managed a weak reply. Her voice was too slurred with medication to be understood, but her gratitude was evident.

  Kwapich and Simms were impressed with the crew’s professionalism. They were careful to keep their feet away from the skids. “Nice job,” Kwapich shouted. “We’re ready for a second load.”

  “Eight-three-zero? Gil, can you hear me?” Thompson’s voice squawked through the emergency frequency.

  “Go ahead.” Are you kidding me? I’m only fifty feet away. Of cour
se I can hear you. He caught himself before making a sarcastic reply. The stress was getting to him.

  “I’ll spell you on the controls once we get the next two loaded,” Thompson continued. “We need six men to move the heavy guy. How you holding up?”

  Barely, he wanted to say but instead lied. “I can manage.” The strain in his voice told a different story.

  Thompson didn’t like the weak response. Connor must be struggling. He thought about going back to the helicopter before deciding to continue. The others needed help with the overweight man. Without assistance they would take more time. Time they didn’t have.

  “We’re going as fast as we can, Gil. A few more minutes. How much more weight can you carry?”

  “Standby.”

  He had watched the torque gauge increase during the loading but waited until Steiner and his group were clear before making a determination. By the indication on the gauge, he estimated they could carry another six or seven survivors, depending on the weight. Probably six with the heavy man included. Plus there was Thompson, Bril, Steiner, and himself. Almost half their fuel was gone. They would have just enough to make the trip home.

  “Twelve hundred pounds, I think. Probably six or seven additional passengers. After the next litter give me an estimated weight on who’s left.”

  “Roger, will do.”

  “No extra baggage. Everything stays except what’s absolutely necessary.”

  “Understand, Gil. The next one is on the way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Thompson placed the hand-held radio back in his vest while Sanders and Bidwell tried moving the obese man closer to the plane’s rear cargo door. He was lying on a thin but sturdy backboard, barely able to fit on the litter.