by E. R. Mason
Markman awoke in darkness. He touched one hand to his face and found it covered. Pulling the covering away, the world became an unfamiliar space of tubular, tan ceiling and folded down seats, back dropped by a loud, flapping canvas. To make matters worse, all of it was slowly rotating to the left. His head ached. He wanted to say something but there were two problems. First, he could not formulate anything to say and did not seem to know how. Second, his mouth and vocal cords were apparently unavailable, or out of service. He looked around with all the clarity of a newborn and tried to focus his mind.
A strong gust of wind made him turn his head. A figure stood inside the canvas, draped with snow-covered rags and clothing, the head covered completely except for the eyes. It looked like a monster from another planet. It brushed the snow from itself and stomped its feet, perhaps intending to charge. It pulled the covering away from its face, but the image was too blurry and unsteady to recognize. It tromped its way toward him.
“Scott, you’re awake. Oh, thank God.”
Markman wanted to ask questions, but the system was still down.
“That’s okay. Don’t talk. You’ve got a bad concussion. Just lie still.”
Cassiopia further unwrapped herself. Markman’s mind focused enough to recognize her. His mouth answered, seemingly without his consent. “Cass?”
“We crashed. We’re in the wreckage on some forsaken mountain. I can’t find the pilot. He’s gone. This is our second day. I’ve been watching, and there hasn’t been a single helicopter or airplane looking for us. It’s cloudy. We’d be difficult to spot. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Markman’s voice was dry and cracked. Cassiopia picked up the thermos from beside the stove and poured water into the cap. “You’ve got to drink this. You’re dehydrated. We’re at a pretty high altitude.”
Markman sucked at the water and nodded for more. Cassiopia filled it and held it to his mouth.
“Why can’t I get up?”
“I told you. You have a severe concussion. I suspect your legs are broken below the knee, but I haven’t checked them yet.”
Markman drank and moistened his lips. “Well, that sucks.”
Cassiopia smirked. “Don’t worry. We’re leaving.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There have been no search planes for almost two days. If there hasn’t been any by tomorrow, we’re walking out of here.”
“You know where we are?”
“Yes, on top of a cold, barren mountain.”
“You know which way to go?”
“Yes. ...Down.”
Adrenaline began to flow within Markman. “Cass, you’re crazy. You know that, right?”
“We’re leaving!”
“I don’t get it. What are you talking about?”
“Something is wrong. They’re not looking for us here. The pilot must have turned off course to avoid the mountains. We must have traveled too far from the flight plan. They’re not looking for us. There have been no search planes or helicopters at all. The snow has buried all signs of the crash. There’s no sense in trying to make some kind of SOS marker because no one’s looking for us here. We have to leave.”
“Cass, is that even possible?”
“We’ll die of starvation if we don’t go. In a few days, we’d be too weak to try. We’ve got to try to walk out of here now.”
“You’re avoiding the obvious, Cass.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not walking anywhere on my legs. You will have to make this trip yourself if you can. You can send help back when you make it out.”
“Nope.”
“What’d you mean? How do you expect me to get up and walk out of here? Even if my legs weren’t broken, the world is spinning so badly I can’t tell up and down. There’s no way.”
Cassiopia stopped and stared down at Markman. “The only way to do this, the supplies including the stove will have to come along. Without that stuff, it’s a guaranteed death sentence for you, so that’s out. You’re coming.”
“But how?”
“There’s a lot of aircraft aluminum out there. I’ll make a sled. It’ll be a good one. But we’ll need a lot of rope.”
“There is rope?”
“There’s a ton of wire harness all over the place. I’ll braid it together and with the duct tape make some long lengths. It will take awhile, but it’s not rocket science.”
“You know how to braid rope?”
Cassiopia smirked and looked at him. “Scott, all women know how to braid.”
Markman rolled his eyes and rested back against his bundled pillow. His head turned to the side as he fell unconscious.
Cassiopia began. She set up a place near the stove, using a flat seat back as a table, and laid her tools out in neat order. With wire cutters from the toolkit, she began collecting wire from around the cabin. She piled it beside her workstation and went outside for more. After an hour, she had a waist-high stack of broken and torn multicolored wire. She sat by Markman and began the tedious process of unwrapping and separating it.
Markman opened his eyes once more and turned his head to smile at her. “I need to get up and do my forms.”
She paused and looked at him. “What, Scott?”
“I think I missed my forms yesterday. I’d better get up and get going.”
Cassiopia stopped. She stood and leaned over Markman to look closely into his eyes. His pupils were dilating erratically. “Scott, take it easy. You need to rest.”
“Where are we?”
“We crashed. Don’t you remember? You’re hurt. You need to rest.”
“Okay. Let’s order pizza, though, okay?”
Cassiopia sat back down. “Okay, I’ll order pizza. You try to get some sleep.”
Markman’s eyes slowly closed as he drifted back into unconsciousness.
When she could no longer stand the monotony of wire bundles, Cassiopia checked him once more and headed outdoors to look for a piece of metal that might be sculpted into a sled. Although it was overcast, the wind and snow had subsided. The fog bank obscuring the steep hillside had lifted, revealing a vast ascent that reached up to the clouds. She went to the trail of debris that marked the aircraft’s slide. Snowdrifts now covered everything. Studying the hill, she wondered if a climb to reach the top to see what lay beyond was worth the effort. It was a very long climb. Stomping through the snow, it quickly became apparent snowshoes would be needed. Slipping and sliding, she found a jagged piece of aluminum sticking out. Working with both hands, she wiggled it partly out from the snow. Scarred red paint drew a band across it. It looked like metal from the missing tail section. She fought it the rest of the way out and found it misshapen but large enough. Dragging it downward, it slid past her and led the way down.
Near the fuselage, she inspected her find. There was a jagged, V-shaped piece sticking out from one side. She stepped on the base and pulled the V-shaped section up and over, folding it down on the main piece. That left her with a rough rectangle of metal. The sides needed to be folded up, and the front and back curled over to better plow the snow. She began clearing the accumulated snow away from the side of the aircraft, and with a large enough space exposed, she placed the sheet against the fuselage hoping to stomp on it and bend the sides up. After further consideration, she stopped and decided the pattern was not right.
Inside she found the hacksaw blade. Back at her sled-sheet, she cut two slits on either side of the front and back so they could be folded up separately. With the sheet metal braced against the side of the fuselage, Cassiopia pushed in the first side panel with her foot, until the sled had its first sidewall. Repeating the procedure on the opposite side, she had a sled with two sidewalls. The front and back were easy. With careful manipulation, she managed to curve the front wall of her sled, almost like a real toboggan. She borrowed some of the wire from inside and wrapped it tightly around the sides for added strength. As a final step, she used the screwdriver to hammer holes in
the sides and front and wound strong wire loops in them for pull-rope attachment points.
Cassiopia proudly pulled her sled by the door and parked it. She paused to admire it, and then returned to rope making. Inside the shelter, Markman was stirring. She went to him and placed her hand on his forehead.
“Scott, are you awake?”
Markman groaned and tried to raise his head.
“How are you feeling?”
He struggled to open his eyes and finally looked pleadingly up at her. “What happened?”
“We crashed. We’re stuck on a mountain. How do you feel?”
“Oh….” Markman again tried to raise his head but fell back against his pillow. “My legs are throbbing. The room is spinning and it won’t stop.”
“You have a bad concussion, and I need to look at your legs. Can you help me?”
“Where are we?”
“I told you. We crashed. We’re stuck on top of a mountain somewhere.”
“How long?”
“Today is the second day.”
“Rescue?”
“It doesn’t look good. There have been no airplanes. We’re in the clouds, and the wreckage is scattered everywhere, and it’s covered by snow. You need to drink some water. Will you try?”
“Yeah.”
Cassiopia quickly fetched the thermos, opened it and held it to Markman’s mouth. For the first time, his hands came up and helped. He drank sips at first and then too much so that it ran down the sides of his mouth.
“How about food? Can you eat a health food bar if I get you one?”
“Give me a minute. More water.”
Markman almost managed the thermos by himself. He drank and let go.
“I need to look at your legs. Help me.” Cassiopia pulled the coverings down and opened his jeans. She tugged to pull them down. Markman did his best to help. As the jeans came down below the knee, she found what she had expected. Two bright red rings just below the knees, legs swollen to almost twice their size. She gently felt the wounds. There was a strong pulse in both of them, and even in the cold, there was heat. She careful coaxed his pants legs back up and with his help got them back on and buttoned up.
“Your legs are broken,” she said, and she choked back tears. He looked in her eyes and it forced her to regain composure. “There’s no bleeding, so it’s not compound fractures. And, the breaks do not need to be reset. They are in place and are okay as they are. All you need is to not disturb them so they can continue to heal.”
Markman managed a half smile. “If you say so, Doctor. I think I’m ready for dinner. Can I have a menu?”
Cassiopia frowned. She leaned next to the stove, unwrapped an energy bar, and handed it to him.
“How many of these do we have?”
“A whole box; twelve. You can’t buy them hardly anywhere, so I brought the whole box. You can also make tea out of them. You break off a little piece and boil it in water and its good tea.”
He took a bite, noticed the flames in the stove and stared at them as though he did not understand. “Where did that come from?”
Cassiopia replied proudly, “I made it.”
“You made a stove? Where did you get fuel?”
“There’s still some in the left wing.”
Between bites, Markman laughed under his breath.
“Did you just laugh?”
“A little.”
“At what?”
“You.”
“Me? Why?”
Markman’s dry voice cracked as he spoke. “Cass, I wake up all smashed up in the middle of a plane wreck, and this little pipsqueak of a bathing beauty has survived the crash, set up a shelter, made an oil stove, and managed somehow to make a flame. I’ve been moved onto a bed of some sort, and am sitting in front of a nice oil-burning stove. What are you, some kind of fairy princess, or something?”
“Who are you calling a bathing beauty?”
“You. You’re a bathing beauty.”
“Am not.”
“The hell you’re not.”
“Aren’t.”
“Cass, if you stood out on the sidewalk in a bikini with a cardboard sign that said ‘car wash,' more cars would crash than made it by.”
“You’re crazy, Markman.”
“I might be delirious, but I’m sure not crazy. How could you have possibly done all this? Oh God, I forgot. It’s the photographic memory thing, isn’t it? You’re one of those crazy people who remember every damn thing they see, hear, and read like it’s a photograph in your brain or something.”
“Who’s crazy?”
“Well, it’s not normal.”
“It’s more normal than dancing around alone with yourself every morning.”
“Those are kata’s, form’s, martial arts simulated fighting, not dancing.”
“Looks crazy to me.”
“What, you think Tai Chi is crazy?”
“No, those are exercises.”
“It’s the same thing! Okay, tell me this at least, how the hell did you ever make fire on the top of a mountain covered with snow, in the freezing cold, without matches? Or did you find a lighter or something?”
“Chief Chandra taught me.”
“Oh my God, of course there had to be an American Indian in this story. It had to be either that or space aliens. I should have known. Please don’t try to tell me you rubbed two sticks together.”
“Chief Chandra was my friend. He had a gift shop with Native American artwork. It was my favorite shop in St Augustine.”
“And he taught you to make fire out of thin air.”
“It’s the fire piston.”
“What the hell is a fire piston?”
“It’s a compression cylinder that creates embers.”
“And in the middle of nowhere, you had one of these things?”
“No. There was some kind of dampening cylinder on one of the airplane’s wheels. It was the perfect size. I was lucky to get it off of the landing strut, and then I was lucky to be able to modify it a little.”
“So you made fire with a piece of a smashed landing gear?”
“It sounds funny when you say it, but yes that’s sort of it.”
“Cassiopia, you are amazing.”
“That’s nice of you to say, I think.”
“Tell me something; you’ve spent your whole entire life learning things, haven’t you? I bet you didn't even go to your high school prom."
“I skipped all those grades. I didn’t have a high school prom.”
Markman took another bite of his candy bar. “I should’ve guessed that. What formal event have you ever attended?”
“Offhand, I don’t remember. Why?”
“I think you’re a science-aholic.”
“Am not. What’s a science-aholic?”
“It’s someone who needs to join Scientists-Anonymous.”
“Very funny. How is your dizziness? You’re sounding better.”
“The room is still turning slowly to the left and it won’t stop and it pisses me off.”
“It’s the concussion. I’m more worried about that then your legs.”
“Maybe if I sat up, it would be better.”
Cassiopia thought for a moment. “Okay, let’s try.” She came along side Markman and slid one hand under his back. Together they worked him up to a sitting position.
“I’m sorry, Cass. It’s spinning ten times faster. It’s gonna make me barf.”
“Lay back.” Cassiopia pushed him gently back down. “There can be no vomiting. We have enough problems with dehydration. That would make it really bad.”
“So, I guess my job is to lay here and do nothing.”
“No, it’s to lay there and get better.”
“Well, at least when I dream, the world stops spinning.”
Cassiopia returned to making wire rope.
“Cass, what are you doing there?”
“I’m making rope.”
“Why are you making rope?”
&
nbsp; “You’d better get some sleep. I’ll tell you again tomorrow.”
Chapter 4