Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet)

by Ashby, Heather

  Apparently she wasn’t fooling anybody about not being in a relationship with one of the pilots.

  If she didn’t know how valuable the Navy’s resources were, she would have felt they were humoring her. The Navy knew damn well the pilots would not likely have survived this long in the water without life rafts, if they’d managed to bail out of the helicopter before it sank.

  Daisy’s stomach felt like it was digesting itself. A lead apron of anxiety made it difficult to breathe. She forced herself to inhale positive energy and to exhale negative thoughts. But they refused to be blown away, digging their wretched little claws into her soul and hanging on for dear life. Not only was she dealing with the distinct possibility Sky was dead, but she was forced to rehash Jack’s death all over again.

  Whatever it takes, God, I’ll do whatever it takes. Just lead me to Sky.

  Daisy stroked Belle’s fur for comfort and turned to find another landmine waiting for her around the corner. Glancing forward to the pilots’ seats, she was struck by the backs of their sheepskin seat covers.

  Would she ever become immune to this?

  Yes, she would. Dammit. She willed her eyes to stay focused on the seat covers. This was the present. This was happening in the here and now. Jack and his seat covers were from her former life. She needed to bid them good-bye. It was goddamn well time that she learned to live in the present and plan for the future. They were going to find Sky and she was going to read him the riot act for making her close the clinic and come all the way to Central America to find his sorry ass, when he promised he’d always come back.

  What had he told her? Instead of focusing on what you couldn’t do, focus on what you can do.

  Daisy zeroed in on what she had some control over: Search and Rescue. She started by reviewing her proposed itinerary. When she arrived in Tocumen, Panama, a driver would take her and Belle to the closest port, where she would board a U.S. Navy frigate. The aircrewman explained the USS Villalobos was identical to the Van Den Elsen, the ship Sky had been flying from when he vanished. In fact, Villalobos was actually in the Area of Operations to take over the Counter Narco-Terrorism mission from Van Den Elsen, so Sky’s team could return home. The Villalobos was in port to obtain fuel and supplies when Sky’s helo disappeared. Their departure had been delayed a few hours in order to sail with Daisy and Belle.

  But upon landing in Tocumen, Daisy discovered the frigate had already departed and was making max speed to reach the search area before sunset. Momentarily panicked, she sighed with relief when she learned the ship had left one of its SH-60 Bravo helicopters to serve as her taxi. It did not contain the advanced avionics and communications of the Romeo, but because of its lighter weight, it could stay airborne for an hour longer, making for a good search platform.

  After climbing aboard the helicopter, the aircrewman and rescue swimmer, Petty Officer Giles, connected her headset and began to explain the emergency ditching procedures, complete with a simulated demonstration of how to open the cabin door and/or jettison the windows at all possible “egress points,” as he called them. She felt like she was on a passenger plane with the flight attendant giving emergency directions, although Delta had never strapped her to her seat with a five-point harness before.

  The aircrewman adjusted her emergency flotation and tightened the strap. “Now remember, Dr. Schneider, in the event of a crash or ditch over water, you need to wait for all violent motion to stop, then grab a reference hold before you unstrap from your seat. Otherwise you’ll probably get tossed around the cabin and become completely disoriented. Remember, even if you’re upside down: left is still left, right is still right, and bubbles travel up toward the surface. And, whatever you do, do not inflate your emergency flotation before egressing the helo or you’ll likely become trapped inside.”

  A dam burst inside her heart when it dawned on her that any of these things might have happened to Sky and Mikey. A sob escaped and she covered her face with her hands, trying to staunch the flow of tears. She attempted to rock forward and curl into a ball, but she was restrained by the harness. Although embarrassed by the meltdown, she was glad for the release of tension at the same time. Belle sensed the discord and nuzzled her knee.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” Giles glanced around the cabin nervously. “Um, can I get you a water bottle or something?

  Daisy took a deep breath and wiped her face with the scratchy sleeve of the flight suit she’d been given by the P-3 pilot before she’d boarded the patrol plane back in Jacksonville. “No, I’m all right. It’s been a long day. Couple of days. Sorry. Please, go ahead.”

  “I’m going to ask you to follow the same instructions for your dog’s egress from the aircraft, should it be necessary.”

  Daisy sniffled and looked down at Belle, sporting an emergency flotation device that would need to be activated after impact with the water. She listened as Petty Officer Giles completed his flight attendant spiel, the canine version this time.

  “Okay, ma’am, if you don’t have any more questions, just sit back and relax as best you can. And let me know if you feel nauseous at all. The helicopter is going to make a lot more noise and will bounce around more, especially if we hit rough weather. The best thing you can do is to look out the windows to keep yourself oriented. It’s why I gave you the window seat.”

  “Thank you, Petty Officer Giles.”

  After takeoff the aircrewman asked her if she wanted to crawl up the tunnel between the racks of avionics and take a look at the cockpit. Daisy was on a mission and therefore should apprise herself of all available information. Besides, Jack and his Cobra had been relegated to the past. She’d never actually flown in a helicopter before and after banishing the memory of making out in one, she nodded yes, she would like to see the cockpit.

  Petty Officer Giles, wearing a gunner’s belt that kept him tethered to the aircraft, slammed the cargo door closed and motioned for her to unstrap her lap belt and move forward. Crawling over a parachute bag, which he’d told her contained the rafts, she made her way up the short tunnel to peer into the cockpit.

  The pilots turned and gave her a thumbs-up, which she returned with a smile she knew did not reach her eyes. Circuit breaker panels and dozens of digital and analog instruments greeted her. Some of them were shared, and others were duplicated on the instrument panels in front of each pilot. But what truly amazed her, even more than how the horizon encircled them, was the careful orchestration of the pilot’s hands as he seemed to mindlessly maneuver the collective with his left hand and the cyclic with his right. His feet joined the dance, working the rudder pedals. Was he even conscious of how his hands and feet adhered to this perfect choreography? Was he aware of how well his four extremities worked like a well-oiled machine?

  Was it truly like riding a bicycle as Jack had said? Or like swimming? Did they really come to a point where they did not have to think about how they glided through the complicated dance moves of propelling an eleven-ton helicopter through the sky and landing it? Daisy shuddered when she remembered Navy pilots had to land it on the deck of a rolling ship. Day or night.

  Sky had told her that learning to fly the beginner level helicopters in flight school was tough, but the Romeo had so many automated flight control functions it was like steering a Cadillac with his pinky. She could see it wasn’t quite that easy, plus she knew when those automated functions failed, the skill required to fly—and land—increased exponentially.

  She just prayed Sky had known what to do.

  Sky.

  Where are you, Sky?

  My lost Romeo.

  Chapter 31

  “Okay, ma’am. Are you sure you’re up for this?” the co-pilot called back to her.

  “Ready when you are.”

  With Belle tethered, the crew chief unplugged Daisy’s communications cord and signaled her to move to a sitting position next
to Petty Officer Giles. The aircrewman was seated on the cabin floor, his legs dangling outside the open door as the helo hovered over a scrap of beach on a deserted island. As soon as she sat, he placed a Quick Strop harness around her chest, under her breasts, and over her arms. Having her arms pinned to her sides made Daisy feel immediately claustrophobic.

  Petty Officer Giles, sensing her panic, shouted over the deafening noise of the blades. “Don’t worry. You’re attached to me. And I’m attached to the rescue hoist cable. This harness will keep you safe as you are lowered or raised. I’m gonna wrap my legs around you to keep you from spinning. As soon as your feet touch the ground, I’ll release you and return for your dog.”

  If Daisy thought she was freaked out, she couldn’t imagine how frightened Belle must be. At least Daisy knew what was going on. Belle had only blind faith in her master to ease her panic. Fortunately, they had stuffed Belle’s ears with foam rubber cones to deaden the noise, because that plus the rotorwash would be enough to frighten any animal. But the thought of Belle dangling in the air...

  “When I come back with her, I’ll be holding her to keep the pressure off her chest from the safety strap. Be ready to take her from me so I can detach her without dropping her. While you’re waiting for her to come down, do not remove your cranial or goggles, ’cuz the blowing sand is going to pepper you until the helo departs.”

  The crew chief tapped Giles on the chest and he removed his gunner’s belt and motioned for her to do the same. The chief then grabbed the back of the aircrewman’s harness as the slack in the rescue hoist cable began to pull tight. While she could see the two of them were about to be pulled out the open cargo door, the visualization did not prepare her for the utter horror that washed over her when she was suddenly jerked out the door, arms pinned to her sides, as she and the aircrewman dangled sixty feet above the beach below. She swallowed her fear and renewed her resolve, reminding herself that once she got her hands on Sky Crawford, she was going to whale the living tar out of him for breaking his promise.

  I’ll always come back, Daisy.

  There. That gave her the strength to do what she had to do. The adrenaline rush continued as the crew chief began lowering the two downward at what seemed like a very high rate of speed. It was then she noticed Petty Officer Giles had wrapped his legs around her and for some reason that calmed her. But a moment later she was jerked back to high alert when blowing sand began to sting her cheeks. She instinctively shut her eyes. Thank God they’d made her wear safety goggles. It seemed the operation was taking forever as they went down, down, down.

  Bam! She was unprepared for how quickly the ground had come up to meet her and instead of landing on her feet, she ended up on her butt. Glancing up she came face to face with the aircrewman’s grin. Something slammed in her chest when she realized he had a small space between his two front teeth. Was this a sign of some kind? He released her from the Quick Strop and reached down to help her to her feet, shouting, “Be right back, ma’am!”

  No sooner had he reached his perch sitting back up in the cabin door, when Daisy watched him return down the wire with Belle in his arms. She had assured them that as long as Belle’s own harness was strapped onto her, she was a working dog and would obey all commands. There would be no doggie whining or begging off the task at hand. And true to form, Belle remained far calmer than her owner, not squirming or raising a fuss. They made the wire ride down to the beach in no time. Daisy reached for Belle to reassure her with the smell of her hand and then re-tightened the green T-shirt tied around Belle’s face to protect her eyes from the blowing sand and keep her ear plugs secured in the wind.

  “Thank you!” Daisy shouted to Giles as he released Belle to her.

  “Good luck!” He offered an encouraging smile, then gave a thumbs-up signal to the crew chief and was instantly jerked into the air.

  Daisy grabbed Belle’s harness and retreated toward the scrub brush in a futile attempt to escape the painful pinpricks that stung every exposed surface of her skin. It stopped suddenly as the noise of the helicopter began to recede. Glancing up, she saw both crewmen wave to her from the open cabin door and the helo departed to resume its search of the surrounding sea.

  Daisy removed the T-shirt from Belle’s face and the foam from her ears. She stroked and kissed her head. “Good girl. Good dog. Good job, Belle.” But the dog was ready to work. With her harness on, she awaited Daisy’s instructions. This was what she’d trained for. This was Belle’s raison d’etre in life. To serve her master. And find what was lost. Daisy pulled first Sky’s T-shirt, then Mike’s from a zippered pocket in the flight suit. Maybe one of them had made it to land. Please, God.

  “Find them! Away!” Belle raised her snout in the air, then sniffed the edge of the beach absently. She wandered into the jungle, but nothing seemed to draw her attention. She returned to Daisy and sat down, looking up expectantly at her master for further directions. Daisy repeated the instructions, culminating with “Find them! Away!” This time Belle sauntered into the underbrush. Daisy knew instinctively when Belle was hot on a trail. And today, there was no trail. Sky was not here. Nor Mikey. Daisy walked the perimeter of the island. Belle would be able to sense anything in the interior, because if they’d crawled up onto this island, their scent would be somewhere above the tidal line of the beach. It was Daisy’s form of a Search and Rescue pattern. Belle sat down near Daisy’s feet. She whimpered once. She was done.

  They were not here.

  Daisy opened her backpack and removed the survival radio Petty Officer Giles had taught her to use. She pressed the power switch and adjusted the volume. “Proud Warrior Five-Seven-Niner, this is Rescue Dog One. No contact. Prepared for extraction.”

  “Roger, Rescue Dog One. Proud Warrior Five-Seven-Niner inbound. Five minutes out.”

  The scene was repeated over and over that day and the next. Venturing further and further away from the datum, Daisy’s spirits diminished along with the chances of finding them.

  At least there was some good news. The military-speak gobble-de-gook ran together after awhile, but the various crews that shuttled her around the small islands and atolls essentially told her the following: Little Girl’s Link Sixteen communications system, which would have reported the ditching site after the crew started broadcasting the emergency 7700 code, had not been functional on the day Little Girl vanished. However, the helicopter had been equipped with an Emergency Locator Transmitter, designed to automatically activate upon an impact force of five Gs. No such signal was broadcast. This meant their landing was likely intentional.

  The conclusion was that Sky and Mikey had managed to ditch the aircraft without activating the ELT, so there should be no reason they didn’t safely egress. The water temperature was not a significant factor and, as long as neither of them was bleeding, their chances of shark attack were minimal. The men had actually smiled confidently when they’d told her that, while Daisy nearly lost her lunch. “Breathe,” she had whispered to herself. “Focus. We have a job to do.” She reached out and stroked the silky fur of Belle’s forehead. To reassure Belle or herself, Daisy wasn’t certain.

  She uttered a silent prayer of thanks that Sky and Mikey had most likely escaped the helicopter. Knowing how much Sky had suffered from losing Daniel years ago, at least if they were dead, Sky could rest in peace knowing his co-pilot had not died strapped in his seat. Daisy had no doubt that Sky had done everything in his power to ensure Mikey had gotten out alive. It was a small comfort because she knew deep down in her bones they had probably not survived the elements—and she hadn’t even thought about sharks—but still, it was a small comfort. And Daisy would take all the comfort she could get right about now.

  Each night the aircrews took Daisy and Belle back to sleep on board the Villalobos. She ate and then fell into her rack, as they called it, and forced herself to sleep. On the evening of the second full day, Captain C
hristensen called her via the ship’s satellite phone system. She was elated to hear from the Commodore until she understood the premise of his call. Her extremities tingled and she grabbed on to a nearby bulkhead when he explained the search operation would be terminated in twenty-four hours.

  “The regional commander has already authorized more time and assets to the effort than the expert models predicted would be required to find survivors. At this point even my boss is feeling the heat for the cost involved, and more importantly, the assets need to get back to their counter Narco-Terrorism mission. Ma’am…” he hesitated and cleared his throat before continuing. “I hope your participation has allowed you to work out some of your angst about being unable to help your husband, but you might need to prepare yourself for the distinct possibility that both pilots are presumed dead and buried at sea, as so many Naval veterans choose for their final resting place. And if that’s the case, ma’am, I know for a fact Sky would have died doing what he loved and probably wouldn’t have traded it for—”

  “Thank you for your concerns, Captain. I appreciate them, but I still have twenty-four hours and I need to get a good night’s sleep so I’ll be prepared to search tomorrow.” Daisy paced in the tight confines of the Villalobos CO’s cabin. “But sir? Thank you for everything.”

  She dropped into her rack from exhaustion, mulling over what the Commodore had just said. Jack had died doing what he loved, too. But he was still gone. And she was still alone. And if Sky had died too, she might think about joining a nunnery when she returned to Florida.

  Did nuns need veterinarians?

  All of this played through her head on the third day when Petty Officer Giles lowered her and Belle via a rescue basket, borrowed from a Coast Guard cutter operating in the area. The basket enabled the two of them to travel up and down the rescue hoist cable together, making drop-offs and pick-ups quicker and more efficient. And with only two more hours of sunlight remaining before Sky and Mike were declared lost at sea and presumed dead, she was thankful for the precious minutes the device saved them.