Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet)

by Ashby, Heather

  The three crewmembers aft unstrapped and one by one leapt into the water, now churned by squall-fed winds, sheets of rain, and sandblasting rotorwash. The Coasties went first, followed by Petty Officer Quinn and the raft bag, containing the five individual rafts and basic survival supplies. Sky knew their training would kick in and they’d inflate their life vests right after water impact.

  But he worried that if he set the helo down too soon, the debris from departing pieces of the aircraft might strike the three crewmen now bobbing on the surface. To prevent that, he made Little Girl crawl even further away, unsure of how far he and Mikey traveled in the blinding rain. In addition to the rapidly dissolving transmission, landing an eleven-ton helicopter on the water in the middle of a tropical storm scared the bejeezus out of him.

  “Jettison your window, Mikey! I’m getting rid of mine too.” With two additional portals now missing, the noise in the cockpit made communication difficult. The sound triggered Sky’s memories from his previous ditching experience. Daniel’s face invaded his brain again and again and guilt chewed him up and swallowed him whole. “Jump, Mikey! You go with them! Now!”

  “No way, Sky! I’m staying with you! We can take her down together!”

  “I said, jump, asshole, jump!” Sky transferred the cyclic to his left hand so he could reach with his right to unbuckle Mikey’s harness.

  But Mike shoved his hand away. “For Christ sake, Sky, my job is to stay here with you and bring this baby down! We can do it! Together!”

  Tears flooded from nowhere. Sky tried to blink them away. What the fuck was he doing crying at a time like this? He instinctively tried to wipe away the tears, but only managed to smear his gloved hand across the visor.

  “If anything happens to you, Nick will never forgive me! And neither will I!” He reached for Mike’s harness again. “Mikey, please, save yourself! Jump!”

  And with that, the transmission seized and Little Girl spun wildly. Instinctively, Mikey grabbed for the controls and mistakenly pulled up on the collective, causing the helo to climb away from the water as she swapped ends.

  “Noooooo, Mikey, don’t pull!” The spinning increased and Little Girl bucked wildly as Sky attempted to wrestle the controls away from Mike and get her back into position to ditch safely. “Stand by to secure the engines!”

  But by now they were spinning to the left so hard and fast that Mike’s right shoulder had slammed against the door and he was now pinned by centrifugal force so he couldn’t reach for the Power Control Levers to pull them off. Sky realized if he ever got the helo under control, he’d have to let go of the cyclic long enough to pull the PCLs off himself.

  Sky ignored his desire to stay clear of the water and slowly eased Little Girl closer and closer to the surface. He threw body and soul into steadying her in an attempt to stop the helo from pitching up and down as their world continued to spin round and round. They were drifting very fast in some direction, which he thought was to his left, but he wasn’t certain of anything at this point. Glancing at the altimeter and seeing what looked like something between ten and twenty feet, he shifted his left hand from the collective to the cyclic, while snaking his right up to pull the PCLs to the Off position.

  But before he could congratulate himself for managing this trick by himself, Sky realized they were descending too fast. He reset his hands on the controls and pulled up on the collective. Without the torque of the two jet engines, the power pull stopped the spin and Little Girl straightened as she settled. In horror, Sky realized they were still screaming sideways over the water, much too fast for a safe landing.

  Daniel’s face appeared again, but quickly changed into Daisy’s. Her bluey-green eyes twinkled at him. And then, like striking concrete, the helo slammed onto the water’s surface. Seawater poured in through the open cabin door and windows and Little Girl began the slow descent to her watery grave.

  Chapter 29

  “Please pass the mashed potatoes, Dad.” Daisy helped herself, then turned to her mother. “And, no, Mom, I’m not seeing that guy anymore, but thanks for inviting him.”

  “Now, Daisy,” her grandmother said from across the Thanksgiving table. “You sounded like you were crazy about this young man just a week ago. What happened?”

  Daisy glanced around the table and found every pair of eyes on her: parents, brother, sister-in-law, grandmother, even her two-year-old nephew waited for her answer. Most of the time she was glad she’d moved back to Florida after Jack’s death, but other times…

  “Is my love life everybody’s business?”

  Her family exchanged looks, then all agreed. “Yes,” they said.

  “Look, sweetheart,” her dad began, causing a ping in her heart when she thought of how many times Sky had called her that. “You know we just want you to be happy. It was wonderful to see you smiling and to know you were having fun again. What happened?”

  Daisy rolled her eyes and reached for the gravy. “Not that it’s anybody’s business, but it just didn’t work out. First of all, he’s a Navy pilot. A helicopter pilot.” Sounds of sympathy were mumbled around the table. “And yes, I did try to avoid him for that very reason. But he was a very persistent guy. I actually was able to move past that pilot thing because I really liked him a lot.” She couldn’t help smiling uncontrollably. She had liked him a lot. She’d come to love him. Then the reality of the situation slammed her and she sobered. “But apparently he has some of the same issues Jack had, and I just couldn’t go there again.”

  “Like what, darling?” Her grandmother asked, serving herself cranberry sauce. “I wasn’t aware Jack had issues. I mean we all have issues of one kind or another, but…what?” Granny looked up to find Daisy’s parents chastising her with the look. “Am I not supposed to ask about these issues? Seems to me the only way to take care of issues is to air them out and put them to rest.”

  “Grandma, Jack had issues from combat. From his first tour. He just wasn’t the same when he returned from Iraq. He probably shouldn’t have even gone to Afghanistan, but he did.”

  “Oh,” her grandmother said. “PTSD.”

  “Yes,” Daisy replied. “I don’t feel comfortable going into it here, but he changed and…” Daisy glanced between her parents before sharing what she had to say. “We came close to separating.”

  “What?” her mother cried.

  Her dad’s mouth dropped open. He set down his fork. “Daisy, honey. I’m so sorry to hear that. We didn’t know. I thought you loved Jack. We never suspected things had gotten that out of hand.”

  Grandma reached for the butter. “Well, Steve, if Jack changed that much, then maybe Daisy had every reason to consider separating.”

  “You know what I think?” Daisy’s brother took his son’s spoon away. The one he was banging on the high chair tray. “I don’t think this is any of our business.”

  God, she loved her brother. “Thanks, Grant. But it’s okay. You knew how happy I was with this new guy lately, so now you’ll understand why I broke things off. I discovered that he, too, has some unresolved problems with PTSD.”

  “Is there something in the water lately?” Grandma asked. “PTSD is all I hear about these days.”

  “Hush, Mom,” Daisy’s dad said. “There’s a war on. PTSD is a very real issue. We need to be sensitive to it.”

  “Anyway,” Daisy added, “Sky’s on a mission now, so he couldn’t have joined us anyway.”

  “I thought you said his name was Brian. I can’t keep it straight,” her mother said.

  “Sky’s his call sign and everybody calls him that.”

  Daisy’s heart rate ratcheted up a notch. We spent the night together so I guess that makes us friends, Sky. Dammit, she missed him. “Anyway, that’s that. We’re not together anymore.” She turned to her sister-in-law. “So, Sarah, how is school going and how does Tyler like his new pr
e-school?”

  Sarah Schneider smiled at her and took the hint that Daisy was done talking about her young man. She went on to regale the table with stories from her kindergarten class and the latest antics of her son, who was now smearing sweet potatoes in his hair.

  Daisy slipped her phone from her pocket and glanced down. Nope. No messages from Sky. He was probably too far away to respond to the text she’d sent before dinner. While all the women had been in the kitchen putting the last minute touches on the meal, Daisy had felt suddenly chilled. She’d shivered. Grandma used to call it “walking over somebody’s grave.” The chill was strange since the kitchen was overheated from the turkey roasting all day and three women bustling around preparing hot foods.

  Daisy had grabbed a glass of white wine and excused herself to the patio. Another wave of chills hit her on the unseasonably hot Thanksgiving afternoon. Was it something to do with Sky? Was something wrong?

  She was still furious at him for not telling her about his dreams. She’d told him about Jack’s PTSD weeks ago and he hadn’t said a word about suffering from it himself. And he could tell her he was fine until he was blue in the face, but she knew better. She was not going to go through that horror again with any man.

  And then her heart would ache for the pain and anguish he must have suffered losing his co-pilot and always wondering if there might have been something he could have done to save him. And she went all soft inside when she remembered his concern for Hallie McCabe when her fiancé had been wounded. Promising to take care of her if his buddy, Philip, had died. How could Daisy have criticized him for that? His heart had been in the right place all along. He was just trying to do the right thing for everyone.

  Maybe she’d think about seeing him again, but only if he got help. She’d been so upset the night she found out—so blindsided with the memories of what she’d gone through with Jack. But now that she’d had a few days to think it over, she might reconsider. Because she did miss him. His laughter, his jokes, his passionate—yet tender—lovemaking, the way he smiled with that silly—and sexy—gap in his teeth.

  The way he looked at her as if she was the most important person in the world.

  But the chills this afternoon had given her the creeps. Maybe something had happened to him. So she’d fired off a quick text—just checking that he was okay—and returned to the kitchen to help serve the Thanksgiving meal. And, no doubt, to endure the scrutiny of her parents and her grandmother.

  Daisy brought her attention back to the holiday table. The conversation had switched from kindergarten to football. Would the Jaguars finish with a winning record?

  A wave of dizziness washed over her. It felt like a minor earthquake she’d experienced on the west coast. Glad she was seated, Daisy gripped the edges of her chair. She glanced around the table to see if anyone else had felt something strange, but they just yammered on about football.

  What was going on with her today?

  While the spinning had left him disoriented, Sky’s instinctive reactions had somehow slowed the slide, ensuring Little Girl impacted the water at a survivable speed. He didn’t even remember escaping the aircraft. His first memory was finding himself bobbing on the surface, emergency flotation vest inflated, staring at his helo as she rolled upside down and started to sink below the surface. He could see the top of his co-pilot’s helmet as Little Girl turned turtle. It was then he realized Mikey’s back was turned to the front window. Sky knew immediately that something was wrong. He swam to Mike’s side of the cockpit to help.

  Sky tried to dive down and open the cockpit door, but he couldn’t get below the surface. Disregarding his own safety, he unzipped his flotation and disconnected the leg straps, then dove down, activated the emergency release handle, and pulled Mikey’s door open. But something caused him to ascend to the surface a second time. Realizing it was the air trapped in his helmet, Sky ripped the chinstrap loose and tossed the helmet aside.

  On the third dive, he found the cockpit flooded except for a tiny air pocket Mike was using to stay alive. Mikey had somehow hooked one of his own leg straps over the cyclic stick and was pinned and panicking. Sky’s lungs practically burst with the need for air and his body screamed for him to return to the surface, but before he could react, Daniel’s face flashed through his head one more time.

  Do not go back for anyone. Save yourself and only if you are safe…

  No fucking way he was leaving Mikey. Even if he had to die with him, Sky would do it. But wait. He promised Daisy he’d always come back, so he damn well better figure out how to get Mikey free.

  Sky reached for his Helo Aircrew Breathing Device, remembering too late it was floating on the surface, attached to his survival vest. Mike’s appeared to be intact though. He grabbed the mouthpiece of Mikey’s HABD and took one deep breath. To his dying day—which could still be today—he knew it would be the sweetest thing he’d ever experience. After expelling a shitload of CO2 and sucking in another lungful of precious air, Sky grabbed the edge of Mikey’s helmet and pried his head around until Mikey could see him and the HABD. Mike’s eyes were wild with panic and he resembled a puffer fish about to explode. Sky jammed the regulator into Mikey’s mouth. Mike breathed so frantically Sky could barely see through the bubbles.

  Sky could tell Little Girl was sinking as the cockpit grew darker. The pressure in his ears became unbearable. Using the same technique aircrews used when descending quickly from high altitudes, Sky pinched his nose and popped his ears. Now able to think, he frantically searched for Mikey’s survival knife to cut the leg strap so he could get him free. Sky felt around in the dark and unzipped every pouch he could find until he felt the unmistakable shape of the knife’s handle.

  Unfortunately, Mikey had another plan. He was trying to unfasten his survival vest with just his left hand, which was when Sky realized Mike’s right arm was useless. Mikey kept trying to peel off his vest and escape, but even with it unstrapped and unzipped, his right leg strap still had him tied to Little Girl. And just what the fuck would they do if they got to the surface and neither had a survival vest?

  The strap was twisted so tight, Sky could barely get the point of the knife between the strap and Mikey’s leg. As Little Girl continued to drop, it became so dark Sky had to feel his way with the knife. The last thing he wanted to do was to cut Mikey while getting him out only to see him eaten by a shark afterwards. Somehow Mike’s struggling gave Sky enough slack that he got the blade underneath the strap and pulled. It parted like a hot knife through butter and Mikey was finally free. They both took another hit of air and then Mike exited out what had been Sky’s window. Realizing it might be their only flotation source, Sky tried pulling the vest with him, but it was still tied to the cyclic by the same strap that had trapped Mikey’s leg. Praying the HABD was not yet empty, Sky sucked in one more deep breath before slicing blindly until he felt the strap break free. Then he dropped the knife and followed Mike’s path out to minimize the risk of getting separated on the surface.

  He bumped into Mikey in the darkness as they ascended. Sky found the regulator on the HABD again and jammed it into Mikey’s chest until Mike’s left hand could get it to his mouth so he could breathe his fill. Sky took the next breath and felt the unmistakable pull of the bottle running dry. Suddenly he felt Mikey tugging on his survival vest, pulling it towards him. For one split second Sky wondered if his co-pilot was being an ungrateful bastard who planned to take the vest from him and leave Sky with nothing. But before he could resist, he felt both of them racing toward the surface. Mikey had pulled each of the toggles, inflating the emergency flotation. With their lungs screaming, they popped back into the real world like a couple of oversized bobbers. Never had they appreciated oxygen as much as those first breaths, even though sheets of rain half-choked them.

  “I owe you a drink for getting me out of there, Sky,” Mikey said between ragged breaths.

/>   “More like a keg for scaring the living crap out of me, Studs. But that’s okay. All is forgiven for sharing your air. I guess we’re even.”

  “You gonna’ radio in or you want me to?”

  Sky patted down his flight suit under the water, then looked aghast at Mike. “Shit. Just plain shit. When I was looking for your knife, I must have unsheathed your radio, then while trying to cut this vest loose, I must have lopped off the cord that ties your radio to your vest.”

  “That’s okay, Sky. They’ll find us. Once this storm lifts.”

  Sky wasn’t too sure about that, but it sounded better than any other plan at the moment.

  They each put an arm through one of the shoulder straps on Mikey’s vest and a leg through the remaining leg strap in an attempt to tie themselves together. The flotation vest was more than enough to keep both of their heads above water and the squall was actually a blessing. They tilted their heads back and let their mouths fill with fresh rainwater. Mikey even filled his helmet with a goodly amount, which they gulped down long after their thirst had been satiated. Eventually the wind picked up so high, they had to keep their mouths shut or risk choking on seawater.

  But as long as they were together, and could breathe—Jesus, that had been a close call below—they felt they could float until rescued. The storm blew them wherever it wished. There was no sense in fighting it. They’d been told repeatedly since day one in Aircrew Survival Training never to expend critical energy by swimming unless there was an immediate and visible reason. And the tides and currents were in their favor.