AFatBoyisMissing
Page 6
She took the line that was being offered. "Yes, I'm famished. I guess cold swims whet an appetite."
There were mountains of food. Potatoes, peas and carrots, applesauce and pickles and other condiments covered the tables. Someone had baked fresh buns. After the twenty or so people were served there the only thing you could hear was for the sound of cutlery and the clinking of glasses. Someone had brought homemade wine and after the first glass Sarah could feel the buzz. It was more like hard liquor than fine wine, and she knew she'd have to be careful.
The evening was highlighted with a huge bonfire and as the couples gathered around the flames someone strummed on his guitar while another brought out his accordion. So in laughter and lilting and some cracking voices old songs were sung.
"People, I want to make a toast!" Arthur shouted. His voice was firm and loud and maybe he too had been into the wine.
"Most of you know that Jake and I have been using The Fat Lady to clean up the river. Well, it's been a good year and we have recovered our investment. But something happened today that could have ruined all of it."
Sarah turned away and wanted to disappear. Arthur was going to say something about what happened in the river. The last thing she wanted was to be singled out. She turned to go, but a hand reached down and held her still. She looked up and saw Jake.
"Patience! It's not going to be that bad. That's what happens when you save Arthur's son. He's rather attached to me for some reason and he knows he couldn't have done what you did. You see with all his bravado, he never learned to swim."
"We had an accident this afternoon and Jake was trapped underwater between two large logs. He couldn't get out and so he was in danger of losing his life. Jim, you missed the excitement. Well, here I was on board while Jake was down there using up the little air left in his tank. Jim, our other diver, was home and things looked bad. However God worked his miracles again. We had a visitor on The Fat Lady. She stepped in and put on the extra tank. I don't know if she had dived before, but she just told me what she was doing and then disappeared into the blackness. Then she was back on the surface and told me the Jake was pinned between two logs and he had told her to bring down the cable and so that's what she did. Oh, I forgot, when she was down she noticed that Jake's tank was just about finished so she exchanged hers for his. When she went back down with the cable and tied it around the upper log, I used the anchor winch to lift it. It worked and I had my son restored to me even though he is still cantankerous and disrespectful to his elders. This lady, whose name is Sarah Redbourne, used up her own oxygen supply and Jake and her came to the surface sharing one tank. So, I want to toast that gallant lady. I'm glad she came on board today. Sarah, I salute you and wish you a long and happy life."
A silence followed Arthur's announcement and all eyes turned towards the stranger. She had been introduced to them. Arthur had seen to that, but they hadn't known about the events of the afternoon. Then someone started to clap and the rest followed.
Sarah looked towards Arthur and then back to Jake, "Jake, I didn't want any of this! It's just too much. I need to get out of here."
Jake suddenly recognized that this lady of strong will and steel backbone had another side to her. She didn't like people staring at her. Jake realized she had come for a purpose and she didn't want it to become common knowledge.
"Hold on. You deserve to be recognized. I bet you have only actually dived once or twice, but down there today you acted like a pro. Arthur has his own ways and he just wanted you to know what you did for him and for me."
"I wasn't expecting this. I feel so exposed. I'm really not a hero. Can you tell Arthur that I am thankful for his kind words? I need to get away. Maybe that high-test wine is having an affect."
"Yes, I can tell him, but I've got something for you that I think you'll need."
Her eyes took on a suspicious glint. "Jake, I'm not ready for any more surprises. One a night is enough!"
"Don't worry. You've got to trust me. After all we are going to be seeing a lot of each other."
He handed her a clumsily wrapped elongation that had a red bow tied near the top.
She couldn't imagine what it was.
"I see that you had it gift-wrapped!" she started to laugh, and he joined in.
"I'm not exactly a gifted gift wrapper, but I hope you'll forgive that."
She opened it up and saw what it was. "Jake is this a walking stick?"
"Yes, and if you want to get to the top of that mountain you're going to need it. Tomorrow we need to make plans and pack up for our expedition."
Chapter Six - The Green Sea
The sailing master rubbed his head. He was worried. For two weeks they had made progress up the Iberian coast. He had sailed farther from the land than was his normal passage, but he was worried about pirates and other scourges of the sea. As Rome fell apart more than one vessel would be trying to escape and those who were escaping would be taking with them all their possessions, and all their wealth. It would be a good time for a pirate. Picking would be plentiful.
So he took a route that lay quite a distance from the land in order to avoid those threats and he had escaped. He had outwitted any pirates working in this part of the world. For two days they were becalmed and his passengers and even his wife had recovered for seasickness. The times when the sea was like a quiet pond was good in its own way. It allowed passengers to recover from seasickness and to gain their sea legs. But something was happening that he didn't quite understand. He didn't understand the signs; the nagging thoughts that he couldn't shake made him uneasy.
There was no strong wind. But what troubled him was the colour of the sky and the water. Each had taken on a green tint and the colour was so striking that even the inexperienced ones on board were on the alert. Hadn't there been a warning in the old Phoenician lore about sailing? In a green sea and green air, sailors take care!
A foreboding overtook him and he suddenly turned white. That colour was the first sign of a squall line that was coming towards them like a galloping horse, like a charge of mounted spearmen. If the ship didn't have everything tied down when the storm hit, she would flounder. They would have to ship the masts, furl the sails and store them below or they would be in grave danger.
"Everyone on deck!" he shouted, "we haven't got much time. Tiberius, signal our sister ship to do what we are doing. Hurry or all is lost!"
Soon the deck was a scene of confusion. Five men followed the master's advice and shipped the mast. Sails were removed and taken below deck. Others tied ropes as guide ropes. The green sea and green clouds brooded, as the men and women hurried to finish before the first squall line hit.
Marcus could see in the sailing master's face that something sinister was about to happen. It seemed so odd. They had begun to enjoy their voyage. The weather had been friendly. And today had been the best of the lot. It was actually warm and not as it should have been at this time of year. But none of them had complained. Now the sailing master was acting like a frenzied demon shouting orders to do this and that. Had he gone mad? What was coming that could put that fear of death on the sailing master's face?
"What is happening? Why are we suddenly taking down the masts and sails?" he asked.
"You are about to experience something I have only heard about. Even I have not witnessed what is soon coming
our way. But in the journals of those that have survived its embrace, a green sea and green air is a death message for those who fail to heed the warning. We are going to be smitten by a storm so fierce and waves so high that you will regret that you didn't stay home and face the Mongols."
Their sister ship was doing what they had done. The master watched them with a helpless air. "I hope they hurry. Tiberius shout to them make them understand!"
Tiberius went to the bow and used a megaphone shaped from waxed material to shout his message.
"You must hurry! Tie everything down. Take the sails off her. There is a huge storm coming and if you are not ready you will peris
h."
Tiberius didn't know if that was true, but he had seen the fear in the sailing master's face.
They stood and looked on, as Scripio's ship became a hive of activity. Could they get everything ready in time? Surely the sailing master was wrong. How could the weather change from being warm and peaceful to a killing storm in a matter of minutes?
They watched and some even prayed. They all knew that something was going to happen. But none, not even the sailing master, the one with all the experience of the sea were ready. Marcus stood at the bow and waved to his long time friend. Scripio saw the wave and waved back. Then the green cloud that had hung like a shroud above their heads settled over them and the ship that was only a shout away was wiped from their vision and hidden. They heard the banshee scream. The rumble and roar that sounded like a hundred thousand raging bulls blocked out all other sounds. The green sea and green air merged and both ships disappeared in its deadly embrace.
* * *
Over 16 centuries into the future, another storm was snuffing out lives. The giant B-36 was being tossed about like a children's toy and those people inside were riding the tempest.
"This is Flight 2075. We are declaring an air emergency! All our stabilizers are inoperable. Three engines are no longer working and the force of the storm is so severe we can not see outside the craft. Our radar has been destroyed and most of the instrumentation is unserviceable. We have been hit by lightning and the storm is tossing us about so we have no indication of where we are."
The Captain knew that it was futile. The radio, as well as everything in front of him was dead. Yet the Aluminum Lady was still flying. The engineer had been thrown out of his seat and now lay moaning in the corner. Others too have suffered injury. Never before had he experienced a storm that seemed filled with a wish to kill and maim.
His co-pilot's face was bleeding and he too was aching with the effects of the buffeting. Then the intercom suddenly started to crackle. Some of the instruments in front of him started to hum. Maybe they would survive. Maybe they had a chance.
"Captain, we have two starboard engines on fire!" the shout from Jones, the side gunner, was calm, but you could hear hysteria lying under the surface. He had already discovered that another engine too was on fire.
Well, now that news was another unexpected and unwanted problem. All the snow, the sleet and hail must have clogged up the engines and they had overheated. So there was a design fault after all. The engineers hadn't been telling him the truth.
The intercom crackled again and Wentworth, the radioman told him that the number three-engine on the port side was now in flames.
The controls told him the extent of the damage. This six-engine aircraft could remain airborne in normal weather with four engines working, but the storm itself made it impossible to tell if the old girl was flying or making a poor attempt to maintain altitude. With the loss of the third engine the only conclusion was that they were now going down.
Below was British Columbia. Where exactly they were, was now known only by God, and it appeared that God was no longer looking after them.
"Billy, we are going down. Try to douse the flames in 2 and 3 starboard and engine 4 port side. Maybe we will get lucky. Maybe the automatic fire extinguishers will do their job."
He was just fooling himself. The co-pilot nodded. So they played their game.
Somewhere below them were the Rocky Mountains. Somewhere below them a place had been chosen by fate to receive one of America's most modern planes. But that too was a lie. Even as he thought and tried to keep the plane level in the maelstrom surrounding him he knew that jet aircraft were replacing this plane. He knew that before in the blackened skies of Europe as the angry German jet fighters cut through their squadrons and left bombers plummeting towards the ground in a swirl of smoke and flames. Anything that advanced would take over from a propeller driven aircraft. It was only a matter of time.
He had another worry and that made everything else, including saving their lives seemed immaterial. He was carry one atomic bomb.
He didn't really know its potential or the degree of destruction it could create, but he knew that somehow he had to jettison that bomb and have the activation procedure work to destroy it before it hit the ground. He only wished he knew where they were. The bomb he was told was harmless without the Uranium core and the arming device activated, but he never really believed those scientists in their white lab coats and ideal existence of working from 9-5. He never believed they told the whole truth and nothing but the truth. He had seen too many examples of "truth" in the last war. Too many of his friends had died believing what the scientists and the commanders told them.
"We have got to jettison our payload. Maybe if we get rid of 15,000 pounds we can remain in the air. I wish the radar worked or the storm would give us a reprieve. Then we might be able to take a fix on the stars and find out where we are."
Back in the centre of the aircraft another battle was taking place. The signal to open the bomb doors had been received. Ted Redbourne knew it's significance and he was working to set up the destruct device. The bombardier, the man who was new to the flight was not being helpful. The storm and the fires in the engines had unhinged his mind. But something else was in the insane eyes. Ted looked up as a warning cry from Baker made him turn, but it wasn't soon enough to escape the blow by the hammer-wheeling maniac. Blackness swallowed the radiation specialist and he fell unconsciousness to the deck.
The pilot knew he was losing the battle to keep his Aluminum kite in the air. Every muscle strained to keep the plane level, but he was soon aching and knew in his soul that the plane was going down.
"Signal abandon ship. God knows where we will land. I hope it not in the sea. Get the life rafts rigged! If we are lucky someone will be able to reach us before the North Pacific waters robs us of the power to swim or even to breath. If we can parachute onto land it would give us a better chance to survive. Hurry, my arms are breaking!
Tell the bombardier to jettison the bomb. Then get rid of the sand or whatever is in that crate. We haven't much time!"
So the bomber became lighter as the atomic bomb fell from the opened bomb bay. When the bomb doors opened the unconscious Ted Redbourne was almost drawn out of the plane and about to drop like a stone except for the quick action of Baker. He pulled the unconscious radiation specialist back on board by the lapels of his uniform. It had been a close thing. The bombardier wasn't so luck. He had sat in the bomb space and started to laugh then cry and when the doors opened. He continued to cry as he fell with the bomb into the blackness below. The reduction of weight gave Jorgen a few extra minutes and then in one's and two's his crew, after wishing each other well, parachuted into the darkness.
The silence of the plane was a loud message, then it was time for the pilot to leave. He had done everything he could. So as the last man on board he tied the stick as best he could and made his way to the opened floor. The injured navigator had already been jettisoned. Someone had rigged his parachute to open once he was clear of the plane. With a silent prayer for everyone's life the pilot jumped into the hellish night.
The shock of the wind robbed him of breath and all he could do was grimace as the parachute opened. He looked up and through the blackness he could see three engines still on fire. So soon his plane would fall to earth and be destroyed. A loud noise made him look up again. The plane had suddenly throttled up and it turned in a gentle curve to the east and started to climb. That was the last image he had of the B-36 Peacemaker. It was the last time he saw his plane as it disappeared into the darkness of the B.C. night.
* * *
"Well, what did the doctor have to say?" Arthur Dorchet asked his son.
Jake just gave him a thumb's up. "I'm the perfect specimen of a healthy male. Nothing's permanently damaged. I guess I'll have a fine set of bruises on my thighs and torso, but that's to be expected."
He suddenly felt uncomfortable because he had not expected Sarah Redbourne to be
a guest at breakfast.
"Oh, I didn't know you were here!" he tried to make light of what he had said before. But it felt strange, talking about his bruised body and his injuries in front of her.
"That's good news. Your father invited me for breakfast and since I already know he's famous for his French toast I wasn't going to let the opportunity be wasted." She put a piece in her mouth and savoured the taste.
"Are you still up for our trek?"
"Yes, and we had better get cracking. With this changeable fall weather there is no telling how long this window of opportunity will last. While you have been stuffing yourself with my Dad's Maple syrup drenched French toast I've been putting together a list of what we need. What sort of clothing did you bring?"
She could tell that for some reason she had gotten under his skin. Why, she had no idea.
"Oh, the usual, panties, bra that sort of thing!"
Why she fell for the trap was maybe her own concern. She knew that this trip up into the interior mountains of B.C. was not going to be a cakewalk. Was she prepared to be with a man who could affect her emotions so easily?
"Well now, that's good, but I was more interested in your outer wear. In another time or place I'll be interested in what you classify as intimates, but you need to have proper clothing. Have you a down jacket?"
She shook her head. She suddenly felt embarrassed. He was doing it to her again, but then she knew that she had asked for it. If you can't stand the heat then stay out of the kitchen, but he did have a way of making her feel exposed.
Arthur once again came to her rescue. "That's not going to be a problem, my dear wife, God rest her soul, was about your size, maybe not exactly with the same complexion and vibrancy of youth, but she did have good taste in clothing."
Sarah turned and was thankful for his intervention. "She had good taste in other things too!"
Arthur stopped and then turned red. He hadn't been prepared for the compliment. But he had wanted to disarm the tension between her and his son. He had noticed that there was some chemistry between them and that was a good sign, but chemistry had all sorts of problems. Too much of this or too little of that can often lead to unexpected reactions. So for the rest of the morning Arthur helped Sarah and Jake put together the supplies necessary for the trip.