Chris nearly cried out Dan’s name. A sudden surge of emotion nearly overwhelmed her. Blindly Chris groped to clear her eyes, trying desperately to read the altimeter and check the horizon indicator to see if she was flying toward the ground or climbing away from it. Wind buffeted her mercilessly. Her head was pinned against the seat, and she was unable to move it in either direction. Her mouth was sticky with the metallic taste of blood that had somehow leaked beneath the tightly fitting mask on her face.
“Cobra Two—Oh, hell... Raven? Do you read me? It’s Dan.”
Her eyes were tearing badly from the lashing of wind across the open cockpit. Chris thumbed the intercom. “Dan...I’m in trouble. I can’t see. Blood keeps blurring my vision, and I can’t open my eyes because of the wind. Tell me if I’m level.”
Dan forced his voice to remain neutral. “Your wings are level. You’re at five thousand.” His heart surged with emotion as he heard Chris’s calmness. She had more courage than he had ever expected under the circumstances.
“Rondo, let’s fly about a hundred feet off her starboard wing. You fly, I’ll talk her in,” he ordered tightly.
“Roger. God, look at that,” Rondo whispered, pointing at the injured Phantom.
Dan’s eyes narrowed, quickly evaluating the damage to the jet. After Brodie had ejected, there was nothing but a gaping black hole where the seat had once been. Both canopies were missing. His heart hammered painfully in his chest as he assessed Chris. They had heard the entire sequence between her and Brodie. Dan had ordered Rondo to turn immediately, flying to where her jet was in trouble. They had seen Brodie punch out, the chute opening and safely taking him earthward. Dan had watched in silent anguish as Chris had fought for control of the spirited Phantom and almost cried out, thinking she would crash. Now he shoved all those thoughts away, concentrating on the present.
“She’s blind,” Rondo said, his voice drained of emotion. “Even from here I can see blood on her face. God, how is she flying that bird?”
Dan swallowed hard. “With her heart,” he answered grimly.
He hit the button on the stick, which would link him with her aircraft. He knew the whole base was probably listening by now, but he no longer cared. “Raven, your wings are level and you’re holding your altitude.” He glanced at the speed gauge. “You’re at two hundred fifty knots. You can ease back the throttles gradually so there’s less wind resistance on you. Do you copy?”
“Yes....”
He hesitated. Chris was blind. Only fifty percent of the pilots forced to fly blind were able to land the aircraft. The others died in a fiery crash trying.
“I think we’d better get the bird enough altitude so you can eject,” he said.
“No!”
Dan’s eyes narrowed, feeling the authority of Chris’s voice.
“For your own safety,” he argued.
“I’m not losing this bird, dammit! I can fly it. I know I can.”
Dan put a clamp on his fear for her life. “You can’t see!”
“I’m AC,” she snapped back. “It’s my final decision whether I leave or stay.”
Dan felt an incredible surge of pride in his chest for Chris. The lady was made of the right stuff. She wasn’t going to throw away a multimillion-dollar aircraft, but had opted instead to utilize her full range of skills to bring it safely in. The only question was: Could she survive? Who could land a jet blind on feel alone and voice instruction? Some deep gut answer said: Chris can. Dan’s mouth thinned with tension as he hit the intercom button.
“Okay, Raven, I’ll go along with your decision. I’ll talk you down.”
Relief was apparent in her voice. “Just keep talking to me, Dan. I’ll bring her in. Talk to me, Dan....”
He nodded, his narrowed, intense eyes never leaving her. “Don’t worry, honey, you’ll get sick of hearing my voice before this is all over.”
Chris made a small, choked sound. Every time there was silence, panic ate at her. “Never. What can we do, Dan? Where can I sit this bird down?”
“We’re fifteen miles out from the lake-bed landing area,” Rondo interrupted.
“Raven, we’re fifteen miles from Edwards. The only way I can get you down is to land with you.”
“I know.”
“You’re flying at one hundred sixty knots now. Drop the nose slightly. Good girl. Looking good,” he reassured her.
Dan switched to inter-cabin. “Rondo, raise Tower. Tell them we’re coming in on the lake bed. I need wind-direction information.”
“Roger.”
Dan switched back to Chris. “Okay, Raven, let’s drop the landing gear. Can you feel for the handle?”
“Yeah...there. Let me know when it’s down, Dan.”
He watched as the tricycle landing gear slowly lowered. “It’s down. Can you see anything?” he urged, hoping she might see the light indicator that would confirm the gear was down and locked.
The shearing wind slapped at her exposed face and she cringed, trying to ignore the pain. N-no... blind... damn, the blood... nothing, I can’t see anything anymore....”
Dan fought down his rising panic. “It’s okay,” he crooned. “Your nose is level. You’ve got what it takes to get the bird down. Let’s lower slats and flaps now. Speed is the same. You’re holding nicely.”
The Phantom’s flaps slowly lowered, pulling up the nose. Chris automatically made the correction using her incredible sensory perceptions as never before. Her eyesight was gone; she was no longer able to steal momentary glances at the needles and gauges. She could feel the bird trembling around her, hear the huge engines just this side of stall speed, feel the buffeting as the plane hit the up and down drafts that plagued the desert region. Dan’s calming voice washed over her and Chris steadied herself, listening because her life depended upon it.
“Okay, Raven, roll into a left bank...stop...roll right...stop. Good. Bring the nose down just a hair. Great. You’re now right on the button for the landing strip.”
Chris grimaced, needing the comfort of his husky voice.
“How are you doing?” Dan asked, some of the official tone leaving his voice.
“I’m afraid to answer that one right now,” she returned. “Tough keeping my head from getting banged around by the wind gusts.”
Dan’s mouth tightened, his eyes never leaving her. “You’re doing great, honey. Just hang in there. We’ll get you down. Bump in a bit of trim, and it will help keep the jet level. I’ll slow you down to landing speed in about a minute.”
“Ten miles out,” Rondo said tensely, carefully watching the distance between the two fighters as they stayed in tight formation.
“Roger,” Dan murmured.
“Ten miles, Raven. Put the nose down slightly, and we’ll start down to the lake bed. Good. Okay, the bird’s drifting slightly to the right. Roll left now...okay, stop...good.”
Her pulse pounded without relief in her dry, constricted throat. Chris gulped oxygen, her breathing erratic, the adrenaline surging through her tense, bruised body. A mile to go...half a mile.... Her fingers became a living extension of the metal of the jet around her. She felt each air pocket, each imperceptible move of the jet, anticipating, correcting, listening to Dan’s welcoming voice guiding her down...ever closer to a lake bed she could not see through the red haze.
Rondo played his jet carefully, his mouth set in a grim line. “Landing both Phantoms wing tip to wing tip in bumpy air like this is dangerous even when both pilots have good vision,” he told Dan.
“I know,” Dan responded. He frowned. Could Rondo hold their bird steady enough? What if Chris’s plane sheared right or left at the last seconds above the runway? Dan felt the cold drench of sweat wash over his body. They’d all die in the crash. Somehow, her courage under the circumstances minimized the fear in him. Chris was holding the jet steady as a rock, taking each updraft and ironing the plane out levelly as if nothing had happened. Rondo broke into his thoughts.
“I’m more worried about m
y ability rather than Chris’s.” And then Rondo grinned, thumbing the button. “Damned if I don’t feel like we’re the Thunderbirds.”
The momentary joke broke the silent strain between the three of them. The Thunderbirds were the Air Force’s precision flight team who did aerobatic tricks such as this with skill.
“We’re approaching the end of the lake-bed runway, Raven,” Dan told her quietly. “You’re on glide path, one hundred sixty knots, looking good. Don’t worry about flare...we’ll drive it on in. We’re fifty feet off your starboard wing tip. When I tell you to sit it down, do it. The instant you feel the wheels touch, drop the nose and pop the drag chute. I’ll tell you whether you’re going to the right or left as we go down the runway.”
“Roger,” she answered hoarsely, her voice scratchy, her breathing chaotic.
To the firefighters who manned the large lime green trucks speeding to assigned positions on the lake-bed surface, the two Phantoms looked like a mirage appearing out of the wavering curtains of heat rising off the parched earth.
“Over runway,” Dan reported, his voice devoid of emotion. “One hundred sixty knots, Raven. Ease the nose up a little more....” His breath jammed in his throat. If she hit a thermal—He watched the wheels lightly kiss the lake bed. “You’re down! Drop the nose! Throttles idle! Pop the chute!”
At the same instant Rondo touched down. Both Phantoms roared down the lake bed; the earth kicked up behind them in billowing, yellow clouds. Dan sucked in air between his teeth, watching Chris’s Phantom slow, drifting out again to the left.
“Right rudder, you’re drifting left!” he snapped. “Chris!”
Chris sobbed, fighting a losing battle against the pain she felt in her face, pressing her booted foot against the right rudder. Her sense of equilibrium was off due to not being able to see. She felt the tremor of the jet’s tires on the lake bed, the roar of the engines behind her as she held the throttles to idle.
“Okay, you’re fine, now,” Dan reported, an edge of terror leaking through his voice. “One hundred knots...fifty...apply more brake...a little left rudder...fine, fine...we made it, Raven. You did it. God, I love you. You’re going to be all right. Shut down. Shut the engines down, and just sit there until I can get to you. There’re fire trucks coming from all directions, but it’s okay. Your bird’s not on fire. Just sit there....”
Weakly, Chris did as she was instructed, allowing her tired, aching arms to drop from the throttle and stick. The jet was oddly quiet, and all she could hear was a roar in her ears. Suddenly the entire dangerous episode overwhelmed her. She tried to lift her hand to halt the pain lancing like shards of glass into the region of her eyes, but she was too exhausted, unable to see anything except a cottony color. She wanted to pull the oxygen mask off, but she was in shock and going deeper every moment. She just didn’t have the strength. Instead, Chris dropped her head forward, allowing the blackness to finally claim her.
Dan threw off the confining harness, climbing out of the seat. He dropped his helmet into the cockpit and leaped the last six feet to the lake bed. His hair was wet, gleaming darkly in the hot sun overhead. He loped across the desert, his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes narrowed without display of emotion. He raced around the front of the aircraft, jerking his head up to catch sight of her.
“Chris!” he shouted. Fire trucks and an ambulance were screaming, coming toward them at high speed, their red lights flashing. Dan swore softly, unable to see anything except the top of her camouflaged helmet as he hitched his foot up into the first instep on the jet fuselage. “Chris!” His heart rate soared with fear as he grabbed the handhold, hoisting himself upward. One more step and he would be there....
Dan froze momentarily at the top of the cockpit. Blood was splattered everywhere. For one horrible, annihilating second, scenes of Vietnam flashed vividly before him. She was slumped forward in the harness, unconscious. “Chris...” he whispered harshly, leaning over, gently pulling her back against the seat. His heart plummeted. Dan felt as if someone had struck him in the chest. “Oh, God, no....”He reached forward, unsnapping the oxygen mask and allowing it to drop to the floor of the cockpit. He rapidly examined her. Anguish rose with bile, a bitter taste coating his mouth as he surveyed her injuries. The visors had split and shattered, making several small but bloody lacerations on her temple and forehead. Dan gently loosened the harness, keeping one arm around her to prevent Chris from falling forward. His heart hammered in his chest as he again looked at her face. Her eyes were swollen closed, bruises beginning to discolor her skin due to the ferocity of the wind across the open cockpit.
The first fire truck pulled to a halt. Dan looked up. “Get the flight surgeon!” he yelled hoarsely. “Hurry up, damn it!”
He worked like a madman to unsnap all the confining buckles on the harness, his hands trembling badly. Dan became aware of someone climbing up on the other side of the fuselage. It was Rondo.
“You looked like you needed help,” he said, panting as he came up the final step. Rondo’s eyes widened and he stared at her. “Oh, God...” he muttered. “Is she—”
“I don’t know,” Dan snapped. “Get down on the other side. I’ll lift her free and lower her to you.”
Rondo nodded, heeding his directions immediately. He ran under the Phantom, stopping at the foothold, arms held upward. “I’m ready,” he called. Several firefighters joined Rondo below.
Dan couldn’t stop the fear choking off his breathing as he lowered Chris to the men. She had kept saying calmly she couldn’t see...that she was blind... Were her eyes damaged? Was she truly blinded? Dan climbed down off the bird, kneeling beside Chris as they carefully eased her down to the yellow-ocher earth. Gently he worked the helmet off her head. The blackness of Chris’s hair made them all realize how pale she had become. Dan’s trembling fingers immediately went to her carotid artery at the base of her throat. Her flesh was cool and damp, a bad sign indicating severe shock. Rondo hunched over them.
“Well?”
“Her pulse is hard and erratic,” Dan replied shakily.
Rondo ran his fingers through his hair, staring down at her. “God, I don’t know how she landed that bird. She’s in bad shape.”
Dan twisted his head, glaring up at the pilot. “Shut up!”
Rondo straightened up, surprise written in his tense features. He opened his mouth to say something and then shrugged. “I’m sorry, Dan. I didn’t mean—”
Dan gripped Chris’s arm, fighting back tears that shouldn’t fall, that shouldn’t be seen by anyone else standing there. “It’s okay,” he whispered tautly. He glared up at the gathering crowd. “Where the hell is that flight surgeon!” he roared.
11
DAN ENDLESSLY PACED the long tiled halls, head sunk against his chest, hands behind his back. He glanced at his watch again for the hundredth time. It had been over an hour since they had gotten Chris to the base hospital. He had ridden over in the ambulance with her, pressing her hand tightly within his own. Alarm had given way to stark fear as he listened to the attendant and the flight surgeon as they worked over her unconscious form. As they wiped away the blood, he had seen that a small piece of plastic was deeply embedded dangerously close to her left eye. Dan tried to talk himself out of the panic he was feeling for Chris’s sake, but it was impossible.
He replayed the sequence of events in his mind one more time: the T-handle was located in Brodie’s rear cockpit. If he was going to bail out by himself, he shouldn’t have twisted that handle ninety degrees. By twisting it, he had deliberately popped Chris’s canopy against her express orders. Anger, dark and murderous, raged within Dan. If he could only know how Chris was, he could hunt down Brodie...
“Dan! Dan!”
He turned, snapping up his head. He recognized Karen Barber and Mark Hoffman rapidly approaching him. Karen began to run, and arrived breathless at Dan’s side.
“What happened? How is she?”
He patiently told them the entire story, unable
to keep the emotion out of his voice. Karen’s face went ashen.
“Brodie!” she breathed. “He said he was going to get her.” She looked up at him. “Oh, Dan! How could this happen? Who would think that Brodie really hated her enough to cause her to crash?” Karen sobbed and Mark came up, placing his arm around her.
“This isn’t the first time pilots have played tricks on one another,” Mark said. “I don’t think Brodie had planned for this to happen. Is there anything we can do?” he asked Dan.
“No...pray, maybe.” He swallowed hard, turning away so they wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “She might be blind. Nobody seems to know for sure. Blind...” he croaked.
“Where is Captain Brodie now?” Hoffman inquired coolly.
Dan shrugged. “They were sending out a rescue helicopter to pick him up. Other than that, I don’t want to know.” His voice hardened. “At least not now. I’ll deal with him later.”
“Major McCord?” Dr. Hunter asked, coming up to the three of them.
Dan turned quickly in the direction of the voice. “Yes? How is she?”
Hunter was a man in his early fifties and balding. The doctor’s lined face gave no indication of an answer. “Captain Mallory is semiconscious, and she’s asking for you, Major. If you’ll follow me....”
Dan walked quickly beside him, leaving Karen and Mark waiting in the hall. “How is she, Doctor?”
“We’ve got her on a pretty powerful tranquilizer right now and a painkiller, Major. She’s in a great deal of pain because of the damage sustained to the eyes and that region of her face,’’ he answered quietly. He glanced over at Dan. “I’m not allowing her any visitors for now. And I don’t want you or any Board of Inquiry questioning her. She’s in shock from the incident and needs to rest.”
Gripping the doctor’s arm and pulling him to halt, Dan’s face mirrored his anguish. “What about her eyes? Is she—is she blind?”
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