by Bryan Dunn
Harry watched as the creature finished its meal, then turned its attention back to them.
“Okay listen, Amy,” Harry said softly. “We’re going to get out of here.”
“How, Harry?”
“Shhh… Be very quiet. Follow me. We’ve got to get to the life raft.”
Amy nodded okay and they began to back away, moving toward the edge of the iceberg, the place where they’d left the raft.
Harry glanced back. The creature was advancing toward them again – then it suddenly stopped, drawn back by hunger. It let out another victorious scream and fell back onto Lt. Cushman’s body, tearing out a chunk of flesh and disemboweling him at the same time.
Amy looked back just in time to see it eviscerate the body, retched, and tried to run.
Harry grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her tight against him, stopping her from fleeing. “It’s okay, don’t run. You might attract it.” With Harry half carrying her, they quietly made their way to the raft.
As soon as they’d reached the edge of the iceberg, Harry grabbed the round cylinder containing the four-man Zodiac life raft, then looked up at Amy.
“Okay, I’m going to pull this quick release cord. The raft will automatically inflate – and then you and I are going to put it into the water, climb inside, and move away from the iceberg.”
“Let’s hurry, Harry,” Amy said anxiously.
Harry motioned for her to step back, pulled the quick release cord – and like magic, a fully inflated life raft was suddenly sitting at their feet.
The hexagonal-shaped Zodiac had two rows of thick rubber baffles and was topped by a bright red canopy. Inside, storage pouches contained water, food, and basic survival tools.
Harry unzipped the door flap, looked inside, then turned to Amy. “Quick, give me your pack.”
Amy slipped the pack off her shoulders and lowered it to Harry, who quickly dropped it into the raft along with the items he had collected. Harry glanced back towards base camp – the creature was standing completely still and staring directly at them now.
“Shit,” Harry said. “He’s watching us.” He reached down and, lifting one side of the raft said, “C’mon, let’s get the hell out of here.”
Amy grabbed the raft and together, moving as fast as they could, wrestled the Zodiac over the side of the iceberg, letting it plunk safely into the water. Both of them managed to board the raft without falling into the ocean.
Harry reached out the door, shoved off the ice, sent the raft coasting out to sea away from the iceberg – and then began to pray.
Chapter 41
Inside the radio room of St. John’s Air Station, a dispatcher tried for the third time to contact the Air Guard H-60 Black Hawk of Captain Le Marche and Lt. Cushman at their last reported position – an iceberg drifting somewhere in the North Atlantic.
“This is Air Station St. John’s calling Captain Le Marche…” Then: “Nowhere Man, come back. Over.”
Nothing.
Commanding Officer Noonan stepped up behind the dispatcher and put a hand on his shoulder. “Alright, that’s it – I’m giving the launch order. Rescue One has the mission. Broadcast an emergency bulletin. Even though they can’t hail us, they may be able to hear us.
As the Air Dispatcher put out the emergency broadcast, Commander Noonan stuck his head into the Air Guard ready room where Rescue One (two pilots and two pararescue jumpers, or PJs) were drinking coffee. He said, “Launch. The mission is go.”
This was what they’d been waiting for. The four team members dumped their coffee in the sink and got busy assembling gear. Each man had a Mustang survival suit, harness, and life vest containing basic survival gear, first aid kit, strobe light, ERIPB, food, and water.
The pilots exited the station and sprinted across the tarmac to their freshly fueled H-3 to preflight the ship. The two PJs filled packs with, swim fins, masks, snorkels, rappelling line, ice axes, and crampons. After the jumpers were sure they had everything, they each grabbed a pack, shoved out of the station, and hustled towards the H-3 which already had its three engines running and main rotor blades spinning.
Five minutes later, the H-3 lifted off the runway and nosed into the weather. Every soul aboard began to pray that they could beat the massive front that was rushing towards them – beat it before it made flying impossible.
Chapter 42
The sturdy little Zodiac raft was amazingly comfortable, Amy thought, short of central heating.
Harry was frantically searching the raft’s floor. Inside a flap of nylon Velcroed to the side, he found what he was looking for. A small, lightweight paddle with a telescoping handle. He pulled the handle out, extending it to its full length, then tightened the locking nut.
Harry leaned out the small opening in the canopy with the paddle clutched in his hands. Standing on the edge of the iceberg, no more than forty feet away, was the creature – the hair around its mouth and chest stained crimson with human blood.
A small piece of Lt. Cushman’s flight suit, caught on one of the creature’s eyeteeth, hung out of the corner of its mouth – and a rivulet of blood coursed down the side of its face, disappearing into the thick hair surrounding its neck.
“Fuck me!” Harry yelled. He dug the into the water and paddled with everything he had.
The creature shrieked, and for a moment, Harry thought it was going to dive off the iceberg and come after them. But it just moved back up onto the flat ice, then watched as the raft moved farther out to sea.
Harry kept paddling with a steady stroke. Every once in a while he’d turn back to check on the creature, and each time he’d see it standing there, watching from a distance.
After about twenty minutes of steady paddling, when Harry was sure they were safe, he pulled the paddle out of the water and fell back into the raft, exhausted from the exertion.
“Is it coming after us?” Amy asked, anxiously staring at Harry’s face.
Harry could only shake his head, then after a few more seconds said, “It’s okay. It’s not following us.” Then he rocked up to a sitting position and took one more look out the door just to be sure. “Polar bears can swim, monsters can’t.”
Amy, who had been fishing out a bottle of water, stopped at the word “monster” and gave Harry a funny look. “What –?”
“I’m just setting the record straight. Call it a scientific observation based on empirical evidence.”
Amy laughed. “Well, if you think that entitles you to any of my Nobel Prize – forget it.” A chill shot through her body and she suddenly found herself unable to stop shivering – though she managed to add, “Although if you can get us out of this, it’s all yours.”
“Deal,” Harry said, then watched with concern as Amy began to shake uncontrollably.
Harry grabbed his nylon rucksack, fished out the survival suit, and handed it to her. “Here, put this on. It’s a survival suit. Better than a roaring fire.”
Amy stared at the amazing-looking bright orange suit. It was thick and rubbery and had feet sewn into the bottom and a hood attached to the top with a removable face shield. Safety lines and quick release air valves lined the front, and attached to the left breast pocket was a personal survival kit containing food, water, and flares.
“No, Harry, I can’t take it. It’s yours.”
“Yes, you can. I insist. You’ve got to get your body temperature up.”
Harry was right, and Amy knew it. She had to stop the shakes and hopefully ward off hypothermia. She reached out to take the suit and was surprised by its ten-pound weight.
“Wow, this thing weighs a ton.”
“It’s made big and roomy so you can keep your clothes on and climb right into it during an emergency,” Harry responded. “Go ahead and leave your boots on too. Once you have it on, I’ll help you adjust the fit and tighten the leg straps.”
Amy wiggled into the suit. Harry leaned forward, helping her with the bulky zipper that ran a good deal of the way up the front.
/> “My God, I’m going to look like a giant orange bunny rabbit.”
“Too bad I left the floppy ear attachments at home,” Harry said, smiling at her.
As Amy worked her arms through the sleeves, she stopped and looked directly at him. “Harry, we’re going to share the suit. Once I’m warm and my body temperature is back to normal, we’ll switch.”
“Sure,” Harry nodded.
“Promise. Promise me you’ll take your turn when I say.”
“Promise.”
Amy smiled, then zipped up the suit and slipped the hood over her head.
Harry began sorting through the survival gear and inventorying the provisions that had been fitted into the raft. In one pocket, he found a plastic orange box with the name Olin stenciled on the top. It contained a flare gun and a number of flares.
“This will definitely come in handy,” Harry said, holding up the flare gun.
“They’ll send someone for us, won’t they Harry?”
“Absolutely.”
Harry returned the flare gun to its box, then looked at Amy. “Did Nowhere Man radio for help before the crash?”
Amy pursed her lips and slowly shook her head. “No. There was no time. He had his hands full trying to lift off and get to you.”
“Good old Nowhere,” Harry said, looking away contemplatively. “He saved my neck.”
The raft was suddenly jolted by a wave, canting it up at a steep angle and then rocking it back down just as quickly.
“Great,” Harry said flatly. “Just what we need – big waves.”
There was a moment of calm and then the raft was bobbing up and over another large rolling wave.
Harry shifted to his knees, pulled open the canopy flap, and leaned outside.
The sky was darker than before and the front that had seemed a long way off was pressing in on their position. Soon it would sweep directly over the raft.
The sharp little wind waves that had covered the surface had all but vanished, and in their place, steep rollers swept across the Atlantic ahead of the approaching storm. The sky was dark and foreboding and the ocean had turned a deep menacing gray-green.
“How does it look out there?” Amy called out.
“Angry,” Harry said.
Just as he was about to duck back inside, something caught his eye, something that flashed momentarily on the face of a swell. Harry strained forward, trying to get another glimpse, but it seemed to have vanished beneath the waves.
Harry ducked back into the raft, retrieved the paddle, then kneeling in the doorway began to pull them in the direction of the shiny object.
The raft rose up a swell, and just as it lipped over the top, Harry glimpsed another flash. He quickly redoubled his efforts to reach it.
“Harry, what is it? Do you see something?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you see a ship?”
Harry, straining harder and harder, seemed to be more out of the raft than in it as he reached forward, spearing another blade full of water, and ripping his arms back, sent the raft scooting forward across the water’s surface.
The raft looped over another wave, dropped into a deep trough, and as it rose to the top of the next wave – there it was – flashing directly in front of Harry’s eyes.
He slid the paddle back into the raft, reached forward, grabbed the object – and fell back inside. He looked down, and clutched in the palm of his right hand was a completely unmolested bottle of Laphroaig scotch.
Harry stared down at the rescued bottle, stunned by his find. After a long silent beat, he laughed and said, “There is a God.”
“What is it, Harry?”
“A magic bottle.” He raised the scotch to his lips and kissed the label.
“A magic bottle?”
Harry nodded. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it… Five days ago I threw this out of my airplane, and now I’m holding it in my hand.”
“It looks like a bottle of scotch?”
“Even better – it’s a bottle of Laphroaig.”
“Well, that’s scotch, right?”
“Not just scotch, a single malt scotch – a very good single malt scotch.”
“Okay, I get it. It’s good stuff. So, why throw it out?”
Harry pulled his eyes off the bottle and looked at Amy. “It was between the scotch and Goodacre. Thank God we threw out the scotch – because I’d hate to run into Goodacre out here.”
“You lost me, Harry,” Amy replied, looking confused and doubtful.
“You had to be there,” Harry said. Then he removed the foil seal, eased the cork out of the neck and raised the bottle up in a salute. “May your lum reek with other people’s coal.” He put the bottle to his lips and took a long swig of the rich amber liquid.
He rolled the lowland single malt around in his mouth, chewing it like it was a piece of filet mignon, then let it slide down his throat.
“Oh, wow, oh… that’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He held the bottle out to Amy.
“Maybe just one, but that’s all.” She took the bottle. “Harry, that’s all you should have too. Alcohol is a diuretic. It will dehydrate you.”
Amy took a sip, nodded that she thought it was good scotch, then handed the bottle back to Harry, who quickly took another long drink.
“To dehydration.”
And then he took another belt.
* * * *
Rescue One was now fifty minutes into its mission, the H-3 was jumping up and down, loosening teeth and rattling bones as it slammed into a seventy-five knot plus headwind. The weather ceiling had plunged to four thousand feet and continued to drop as they pounded toward the leading edge of the front.
Captain Reece was at the controls and started to be concerned about their rate of fuel consumption as they bucked the weather. A squall of frozen rain suddenly blasted the H-3. Visibility dropped to zero/zero. As the co-pilot flicked on the wipers to clear the windshield, the number one engine flamed out and then completely failed.
“Shit,” Reece said, after repeatedly trying to get it back online. Then he radioed
St. John’s that they had lost an engine and were returning to base.
Just as the wounded H-3 turned and began to run home with the wind on her tail, an Air Guard Falcon jet flashed by their port side and radioed that they were taking up the search.
Chapter 43
The storm had swept over the life raft and was now descending on them with all its fury.
Lightning streaked across a jet black sky. The wind shrieked and howled and lifted up bucketfuls of ocean, spilling them across the Zodiac’s canopy. Arching walls of water stalked across the tilting seas like prehistoric beasts. Thunder boomed. The heavens shook. Another series of lightning bolts swarmed across the sky, illuminating the red canopy of the life raft as it swept over the frothing lip of a thirty-foot swell, then went skidding down the face into a bottomless trough of black water – only seconds later to be sent shooting skyward across another mountainous wave.
Inside the life raft with the canopy buttoned down tight, Harry and Amy were hanging on for dear life – grateful to be mostly dry and alive and praying they didn’t flip over.
Harry was still holding onto the scotch, cradling it in his arms, and as they swept up another swell, he popped the cork and took another slug, leaving the bottle about half full.
He replaced the cork, then looked over at Amy who had her hands wound through two straps that were anchored to the raft’s floor.
“Amy… May I call you Amy?”
“You just did, Harry,” Amy said with a frown, noticing that the scotch had begun to do its thing.
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
Harry suddenly toppled forward as the raft pitched up and then slid down a wave. With some effort, he righted himself, careful to balance the bottle on his lap.
“Amy… I just want you to know that everything about you interests me. In fact, I’m totally attracted to you.”
“Amy, I want you to pretend that you’re interested in me. Romantically.” Harry wiped a hand across his mouth, contemplating another drink. “And I’ll respond in kind. Oh, yeah – and I am looking to notch my bed thing-a-ma-jing with a beautiful biologist.”
Amy looked at him, shook her head, but couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Harry, you’ve had too much to drink. We’re in the middle of the ocean in a life raft in a raging storm and we might die at any minute, and you’re suddenly feeling romantic.
I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Well, in that case, how about a kiss?” Harry said with a goofy smile.
Just as he was about to lean toward Amy, the raft was suddenly hammered by a huge wave. They shot straight up. It felt like they’d been lofted into flight – and suddenly they were tumbling down a cliff of water fifty feet high, freefalling through the air.
And then the wave broke, smothering the raft. Water poured in, swamping the Zodiac’s interior. Harry and Amy found themselves waist deep in frozen ocean water with the raft feeling like it was about to sink.
Then, as if by a miracle, the raft leveled, recovered, and shuddered back to the surface.
Harry, jolted out of his erstwhile happy hour, grabbed a plastic container and began to bail. “Come on, we’ve got to get this water out of the raft.”
Slowly coming to the realization that they weren’t dead yet, Amy rocked up onto her knees, found something to bail with, and began to help Harry empty the raft.
* * * *
After a half hour of bailing, the floor of the raft was free of water, and, mercifully, the howling wind and deadly swells seemed to be abating.
They both lay exhausted on the floor of the raft. The canopy had sustained a tear, but seemed to be largely intact. Harry was soaked from head to toe, and his body shook involuntarily, desperately trying to warm itself.
Swaddled in the survival suit, Amy had remained dry, and, all things considered, reasonably comfortable. She removed a glove, then reached out and touched Harry’s face and was shocked at how cold his skin felt. “Okay, Harry, your turn… We’ve got to get you into the survival suit.”