by Bobby Akart
“Rear engine is lost!” shouted the copilot over the chorus of alarms being sounded. “Rear rotor failure.”
Unbeknownst to Jake, the Sikorsky’s crew had about three seconds to make a decision that would determine whether they had a chance to live.
Helicopters are not unlike airplanes in terms of how they fly. An airplane has a set of wings affixed to the sides of the fuselage. Based upon the size and design of the aircraft, the wings have a specific shape, an airfoil, which makes lift possible at a certain predetermined minimum speed. As the pilot accelerates down the runway, once that speed is met, he pulls back on the stick, which lifts the airplane’s nose. This has the effect of changing the direction or angle of attack of the wind against the wings. The change in direction causes lift and the plane takes off.
A helicopter has wings too—the front and rear rotors, in the case of the Sikorsky UH-60Q. However, instead of speeding down a runway to cause sufficient wind to create lift like an airplane, the engines of the Sikorsky power the blades to rotate until they reach one hundred percent capability. The pilot then pulls up on the controls and the pitch of the rotor blades changes, causing lift.
For airplanes, it is vital to maintain an airspeed above stall—the speed at which wings can no longer produce lift. When a plane’s engines fail, the pilot pushes the nose forward, sacrificing altitude for airspeed. The plane would then glide toward the ground, albeit quickly, until the pilot can find anything that resembles a runway.
Helicopters require the engine to turn the rotor blades. If the engines stop running, the pilot must also avoid stall speed by making a split-second decision to enter autorotation—a process whereby the pilot uses wind and aerodynamic forces to artificially create lift. Experienced pilots, like those on board the Sikorsky that day, know exactly what glide angle to use based upon weather conditions, weight, altitude, and airspeed in order to produce sufficient upward flow of air to keep the helicopter in a safe, controlled descent.
That day, however, the atmospheric conditions were anything but normal. Their training couldn’t have envisioned the heat and winds created by the pyroclastic flow that had chased them out of Wyoming and halfway across Idaho.
“Sir, the gauges are telling us one thing, but the conditions are contradictory,” cautioned the copilot.
“I’ve got to do this by feel,” the pilot calmly responded.
In the cabin, nobody spoke, and they barely breathed. Jake continued to lean forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of the horizon to see what their landing options were. Riding in the helicopter without power was peaceful, in a way, but unsettling.
The copilot continued to advise the pilot of the conditions. “Visibility is improving, sir. There is a clearing on that peak to your ten o’clock, sir.”
“Well, it looks snowy, but as good a spot as any,” added the pilot. He raised his voice to get his passengers’ attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna try to set us down. You need to be prepared for a crash landing. Make sure your harnesses are properly affixed and tight. Cover your heads and keep your legs and feet tucked up under your seats.”
“Half a click out.”
“Roger that. Altitude?”
“Eleven thousand feet and steady, sir,” replied the copilot.
“Okay, now.” The pilot spoke in a hushed tone. “Call our altitude drops at hundred-foot intervals. What’s our elevation on that ridge look like?”
“Topographical imagery suggests ten thousand two hundred, sir.”
“Roger.”
Sweat began pouring off Jake’s forehead as he took a moment and provided a reassuring smile to Ashby’s team. He’d only known them for a short period of time, during which he’d fallen in love with one, saved the life of another, and grown fond of the third. This was his family now, and he wanted to help them through this.
“Ten-eight. Ten-seven. Ten-six.”
“The rate of decline is too fast,” said the pilot.
Suddenly, the helicopter, pushed by a massive gust of wind, lifted upward to a point where Jake swore they were at the peak of a tall roller coaster. For a moment, they were weightless, and then the pull of gravity forced them downward. The rear of the helicopter wiggled under the g-forces created by the rapid descent, causing the rear to fishtail as the pilot struggled to regain control.
“Ten-five! Ten-four. Ten-three. Prepare for crash landing!”
Chapter 5
Sheep Mountain
Central Idaho
The Sikorsky slammed into a snowbank at over a hundred miles an hour, immersing the cabin in a sea of bright white conditions. After the helicopter emerged on the other side of the snow, it struck a fallen tree, hopped into the air, and then twisted as the rotor blades, measuring fifty-three feet in diameter, caught the tall pines on top of the ridge. The fifty-foot fuselage hit a combination of boulders and trees, slid sideways down an embankment, and broke apart.
Jake covered his face as debris and snow entered the cabin, which had been split wide open upon impact. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cockpit section of the helicopter continue racing down the slope, over a hill, and out of his vision. The tail section broke apart and flipped over as it slid through a stand of mountain hemlock trees, knocking the snow off them as it tumbled.
The center of the Sikorsky, the cabin, broke in half. Jake and Ashby’s side slid through the snow until it impacted against a boulder. Dusty’s part of the cabin tumbled like a bowling ball split in half down the mountainside until it too disappeared from view.
Then the noise and clamor of the crash suddenly stopped. The surreal surroundings fascinated Jake as blue skies appeared, and white crystals of snow fluttered around him. It was cold, but not bone-chilling. The combination of Yellowstone’s warm air flowing over him and the existing snow caused him to wonder if he was awake, dreaming, or dead.
Ashby’s groans brought him out of his temporary daze.
“Oh, gawd!” Jake shouted as he unbuckled his harness and slid downhill into the foot-deep snow. He struggled to maintain his footing and slid to his knees before catching himself. “Ashby! Hold on!”
Jake made his way up the small slope to where their side of the cabin rested against a couple of wayward boulders that had made their way down the mountain’s rocky peak. He glanced around and realized they were just below the tree line at around ten thousand feet.
He reached Ashby and did a quick visual check of her extremities. Her legs were scratched from the slide through the shredded tree limbs, but nothing else appeared broken. He gently took her face in his hand. His fingers, cold from crawling through the snow, had the instantaneous effect of bringing her awake.
“Jake,” she began as her eyes grew wider. She looked around and then whispered, “Jeez.”
Then Ashby winced in pain as she attempted to adjust her position in the seat. Jake dug his feet into the snow to get a good footing. She was a couple of feet above him, and when he unharnessed her, she would fall down on top of him.
“Ashby, I’m gonna get you out of this seat, but you have to know it’s going to hurt your shoulder. Can you do it?”
She managed a smile and nodded. Jake readied himself and placed his left arm near her waist and unbuckled her with his right. One by one, the harness straps were released, and with the last one, the weight of her body collapsed onto him, but he held her upright.
“Arrgghh!” Ashby groaned as her shoulders twisted in his arms. “Good god, that hurts!”
Jake held her stationary as he looked around for a place to set her down. A hundred yards behind them, the peak rose sharply upward, and he noticed a rock outcropping that created a slight ledge. Assuming the volcanic debris would continue coming in their direction, Jake needed to establish a shelter for them first. The side of the mountain was their only option.
“Okay, Ashby. I’m going to carry you.”
“I can walk,” she replied defiantly.
“I know you can, but this will be faster. I’ve got to g
et you under cover.”
Without waiting for further discussion, Jake scooped up Ashby and cradled her in his arms. He began to trudge above the tree line, and as he did, the snow thinned, as it had melted in the sun. His footing became better, and despite the thin air, to which he’d grown accustomed, Jake managed to get Ashby there in just a few minutes.
“Hey, is that a cave?” Ashby asked. “To the left. See it?”
“Perfect,” muttered Jake. With a little extra pep in his step, he moved quickly through the mushy snow and soon found himself staring at a vertical rock wall that rose straight up the face of the peak. Rocks protruded out of the peak’s side, creating a canopy, and underneath, a dark opening appeared. He found a place to set Ashby down while he caught his breath.
“Ashby, wait here. I’ll just be a minute.”
She reached up with her good arm and touched his hand. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.
For the first time throughout the melee, he checked to see if his utility belt and holster were still attached to his waist. He was relieved to find they were. Then he felt for his knife, which was also there. He pulled the small tactical flashlight from the left side of his belt and unsnapped his holster. Jake was going to enter the cave ready for anything—grizzlies included.
Generally speaking, there were far more food sources for bears below the tree line, especially near lakes and streams. However, Jake wasn’t going to take any chances with Ashby’s safety. He turned on the bright LED flashlight and gripped it in his left hand. Then, using his left hand as support, he placed his right arm over the top of his left wrist. Known as the Harris Technique, this was the way he’d learned to enter a darkened space while using both a flashlight and a sidearm. Fortunately, there weren’t any bad guys in the cave that might shoot back at his light source.
The cave, which was actually a cavern because of its multiple openings and chambers, was damp from the moisture the region had received over the last several days. He could barely hear water running deep into the cavern, which had several passageways leading both up and down through the massive mountain peak. Jake took a chance, one that was necessary to draw out any predators.
“Hey! Hey! Woot! Woot!”
His shouts echoed through the empty space, but nothing emerged to challenge him. He tried again until he noticed a shadow cross his field of vision. Jake spun, pointing his gun at the figure that stood in the cavern’s opening.
“Jake, please don’t shoot me!” shouted Ashby. “I heard you yelling and thought you needed help.”
Jake spun back around and shone the light into every possible corner. Satisfied it was clear, he slowly backed out of the cavern opening to where Ashby was standing. He holstered his weapon and addressed Ashby with a smile. “You don’t follow orders very well, do you?”
“Nope.”
He looked her over once again and then asked, “Does it still hurt?”
“Hell yeah, it still hurts. Something’s wrong, Jake. I can’t move it.”
Ashby was wearing her normal attire, khaki shorts and a white button-up blouse. Jake gently pushed the hair out of her face and behind her ears.
“We need to take a look,” said Jake as he approached her. He reached for her blouse and then he stopped. “May I?”
Ashby blushed and nodded her head. Respectfully, Jake slowly unbuttoned her blouse and untucked it from her pants. He immediately saw the problem, one that he’d witnessed many times during his brief stint as a stuntman in Hollywood.
Her skin began to react to the cool air, or Jake’s touch, and became covered in goose bumps. Ashby noticed and smiled as she looked into Jake’s eyes. “Dr. Wheeler, um, the pain is in my shoulder. You know, the part about a foot to the left of where you’re looking.”
Busted, Jake began to stammer, “Yeah, I know, I mean, listen, I think your shoulder is dislocated.” Jake slowly ran his fingers along her shoulder. “Do you see how this side is lower than the other and how this depression or groove has formed near your delts?”
“Delts?”
“Deltoid muscles,” Jake clarified. “The good news is your shoulder is dislocated.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“It’s gonna hurt like hell to pop it back in place.”
Ashby chuckled. “Jake, it hurts like hell now. Plus, now that I’m half naked, it hurts ’cause it’s cold too.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Jake was stammering again. He quickly ran through the mental checklist of his options. Obviously, a hospital or trained professional would be best, but that was not an option. Complications included tearing muscles, ligaments and tendons, or worse, damaging blood vessels that could cause internal bleeding. If he didn’t fix it, her shoulder could be permanently damaged.
Jake unhooked his utility belt and set it on the ground. Then he unbuttoned his own shirt and removed it. Now it was Ashby’s turn to get an eyeful of Jake’s physique.
“Jake, I don’t think now is the time for—”
“Ashby! Shhh!”
Jake shook his head and rolled his eyes. He placed his shirt on the ground and her blouse on top of it. He then helped her lie flat on her back on top of the bed of clothing. When she was settled in place, Jake straddled her hips, and he explained what was going to happen.
She looked at him with a grin, appearing intent on making Jake feel uncomfortable. “We hardly know each other, Dr. Wheeler. And, after all, you are my doctor.”
He laughed and once again rolled his eyes. At that moment, he knew he loved Ashby, but he had a lot of work to do, beginning with fixing her shoulder. He ignored her question.
“I need you to resist me, okay?”
She replied with a giggle. “But I can’t. You’re so strong and handsome!”
“Ashby! Focus! You know what I mean.”
She pouted and nodded her head.
“Okay, I’m going to pull your arm, slow and steady. You pull against me the best you can. No fast or jerky movements. Ready?”
She nodded.
The two began their gentle tug-of-war. Within seconds, a loud clunk sound could be heard. Ashby instantly exhaled, closed her eyes, and turned her head to the side with her mouth open.
Jake panicked. “Damn, what have I done?”
He scooted up over her waist and bent over to listen for breathing. As he got closer to her face, she suddenly opened her eyes and kissed him. Ashby drew him closer with her undamaged arm, and as he tried to pull back, she held tight.
Jake succumbed to her request, enjoying the tender moment they shared despite the fact the world was collapsing around them. The kiss shared by them was long overdue, and Ashby sensed it too. After a moment, he finally came up for air.
“Thank you, Dr. Wheeler, you’re the best,” she said in her best lovestruck voice. “See, all better now.” She shook her arm, and although it was functioning properly, she still winced in pain.
“Yeah, see? That’s still gonna hurt for a while. We really need to get you into a sling to immobilize that arm. I have one in my medical kit, which was in the tail end of the chopper, if we can find it.”
“We also need to find the N95 masks, Jake. We can’t be breathing this stuff.”
Jake helped her up and assisted her in getting dressed. He then slipped his shirt on her to be worn as a jacket for additional warmth. “Can you locate the tail end of the chopper where the gear was stashed?”
“Yes.” Ashby let out a sigh as she realized there were people missing. “Jake, we have to find the others.”
“That’s my job.” He planted a kiss on her cheek and ran shirtless onto the snow-covered ridge.
Chapter 6
Sheep Mountain
Central Idaho
“Well, I’m gonna die,” Dusty said calmly to himself as his part of the helicopter’s cabin split away from the rest of the aircraft and began tumbling down the slope, tearing through the trees and powdery snow as it went.
In the past, he’d imagined himself dying on several occasi
ons, but usually in bad dreams involving earthquakes and falling buildings. In his dreams or boyhood fantasies, he visualized himself racing through the streets, dodging debris, and helping fallen damsels in distress, like some superhero named The Rock.
What he never envisioned was screaming at the top of his lungs like a young child’s top-of-a-roller-coaster squeal. Not that anyone could hear him as he was tossed down the mountainside.
After the third or fourth roll through the snow and rock, he became keenly aware of his safety seat—the one described by the copilot as state of the art. Is this seat, designed for comfort with its blue cloth and padded headrest, going to help me survive, or carry me over the edge of a cliff into a ravine a mile below?
Dusty had tucked his thumbs into the belts that came together, two from below his waist and two from over his shoulders. He thought of the seat’s complex engineering as explained by the copilot—designed to take weight and impact into account as the incredible forces during a crash attempted to damage the human spine.
He thought his spine was intact, but there were several body parts that clearly were not. The violent impact had dislocated both of his thumbs, which had been tucked into the harnesses. With every tumble, his lower left leg flailed about as if it were attached by a nearly broken rubber band. His right arm was, well, sticking through his skin. At one point during the rock-n-roller-coaster of a ride down the hill, he tried to brace his arm with his left hand, only to find he couldn’t grip anything because his wrist was broken.
During the plummet toward the ledge of a cliff he’d caught a glimpse of, Dusty chuckled to himself as he imagined himself as a one-hundred-ninety-pound busted-up Raggedy Andy doll.
It was the final resting place of the wreckage that caused Dusty to lose consciousness. The right side of the cabin smashed into two rocks, forcing it into the air, until it landed on top of the boulders with Dusty upside down, suspended in the air seven feet off the ground. The sudden impact threw his head forward and then immediately snapped it back against the headrest, temporary disrupting the blood flow to Dusty’s brain, causing him to black out.