The Rescue Pilot

by Rachel Lee

  “Consider it done,” Yuma answered. He picked up the pace.

  Rory’s mind scrambled around frantically. They had to ease Cait’s breathing, but every stop to build a fire was going to slow their progress. For the first time she realized how fortunate they had been to have the plane’s protection. All the frenzy she had felt to be on the move and seeking help had partially blinded her to their good fortune.

  Now the threat was not the lymphoma—it was pneumonia. Her sister could die on this trek, no matter what they did. How had she ever thought hiking out of here would be better than waiting?

  But they had no choice now. None. The plane had become dangerous as a shelter, open to the elements. They had to strive to make it to a road. They could do nothing else.

  On another day, under other circumstances, she might have noticed the beauty of the woods around them, the evergreens and snow. So appropriate for the season. But she couldn’t care less about the season, and had no sense of the beauty. All she knew was that they had to keep moving as quickly as possible.

  She was so unaccustomed to the altitude that it fatigued her as much as the uneven terrain and the snow she had to wade through. She hated to admit it, but when they stopped to build a small fire, heat some food and tent Cait, she needed the rest nearly as much as her sister.

  The tenting was more difficult now, as the wind managed to occasionally find them. They had untied Cait from Chase’s back, then set her on Rory’s lap.

  “You’re not used to the altitude,” Wendy said. “You need the humidity almost as much as she does.”

  She held her sister on her crossed legs, making a chair for her, keeping her off the icy ground. Another survival blanket had been tucked beneath her for protection, but while she didn’t get wet from the snow, it scarcely felt warm at first.

  Chase had managed to pack the chafing dish and snow melted quickly in it over a very small fire. They propped the tent on some tree limbs, keeping it above the ground just enough to admit oxygen, but soon it grew almost cozy inside, and filled with steam that immediately began to bead on the silvery blanket.

  Cait moaned softly and began to really awaken. “What’s going on?”

  Earlier she had been only half-awake, and quietly accepting, but now she seemed to become aware of the change in scenery.

  “We’re hiking down the mountain to help. And you need to cough,” Rory said firmly. “No matter how tired you are, you have to cough. Please, Cait. Please.”

  “’Kay.”

  But it seemed like a long time before she even attempted it. Just as Rory’s concern began to reach a fever pitch, she heard the first tight cough. A moment later came a small one that sounded looser.

  At once the tent was removed from Rory’s head and tucked between her and Cait.

  “Let’s go,” Wendy said. “Lean her forward so I can reach her, or lean back yourself.”

  Rory wasn’t sure Cait would remain upright if she took her arms from either side of her, so she urged her sister to lean forward. Wendy stuck one arm beneath the tent to keep Cait from tipping forward, and pounded almost mercilessly on her back.

  Rory gasped.

  “I have to,” Wendy said. “Sometimes you just can’t be gentle.”

  At last they found success. Even as she listened to the necessary coughing, though, Rory heard how bad it was. Her sister’s congestion was worsening. From the sound of it, she might have begun to drown.

  And all of this might be for naught.

  Wendy kept at it, though, until Cait’s breathing sounded clear. Rory could easily imagine that her sister’s back must be bruised, but there was no other option.

  At last Cait sagged back against her, and they were able to get her to drink some hot tea, which made her cough some more. This time the coughing sounded normal.

  They all ate quickly, their food heated over a second fire. Cait even swallowed a few mouthfuls and asked for more tea. A good sign? God, Rory hoped so.

  They packed up as quickly as they could, tying Cait once again to Chase with bungee cords. Rory offered to carry her, but he shook his head.

  “I’m used to the altitude. I know Cait doesn’t weigh much, but it might be too much for you right now. We don’t need you to get pulmonary edema.”

  More hiking. More snowy stops. An occasional clearing where the going became even harder with deeper snow.

  Rory lost all sense of time, all sense of how far they had traveled. She had become an automaton, awakening from the daze only when Cait needed tending.

  At some point she realized that the day was waning. The sun poked through a few times, and once, as they approached a clearing, she could see the lengthening shadows.

  One more day of meds for Cait. And they might prove useless.

  But she had wearied too much now to even feel the fear. Numbness took over and she let it.

  It was a small blessing.

  All of a sudden, when she was sure that night was close to overtaking them, Chase froze. “Stop. Listen.”

  Rory obeyed, wondering what he wanted them to hear. At first she heard nothing at all except the stirring of the treetops in a wind that couldn’t reach them down here. Not a bird call, not a snapping twig.

  Then, slowly, she caught snatches of a humming sound. A plane? She hardly dared believe it.

  Chase looked at Yuma. “Now?”

  He nodded. “Let them know our general area. We’ll have to press on a little longer in hopes of finding a clearing.”

  Rescue? Could it be? Rory almost collapsed to the ground, but found some last reserve of strength to keep herself upright.

  Chase fumbled at a bag that had been hanging at his belt and brought out the flare gun. He loaded it with quick efficiency, then looked up for an opening.

  There were plenty. The woods had thinned here for some reason. He waited.

  “Why are you waiting?” Rory asked.

  “Because we have a better chance of being seen if the plane is coming this way.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. Despair started warring with hope inside her. What if it was some normal flight, and came no closer?

  She listened as hard as she could. Chase kept turning his head this way and that as if trying to locate the sound.

  Rory hoped she wasn’t imagining it, but the engine seemed to be approaching them.

  Suddenly, Chase lifted his arm and fired. Rory tipped her head back, watching the flare rise until it burst into bright red flame, then rise even higher. It seemed to hang in the air above their heads, high, but maybe not high enough. Then, all too soon, it began to fall, growing dimmer as it did so.

  Oh, God, what if it hadn’t been seen?

  “Let’s keep moving,” Yuma said.

  “But they’ll know we’re here,” Rory protested.

  “If they saw that flare, we’re not going to get so far that they won’t see the next one and locate us. We’re going to need a clearing to be rescued anyway.”

  So they stumbled on, but more slowly this time. Rory was certain she wasn’t the only one straining her ears, listening for the plane engine over the muffled sounds of their breathing and their footfalls.

  Another personal eternity passed for her before Chase waved them all to a stop again.

  Rory held her breath. Then she heard it. The engine’s buzz was coming closer. “Oh, God,” she breathed brokenly.

  Chase took a couple of steps and fired another flare.

  Once again all their hopes rose with it.

  Even as high as it went, she thought she could hear it hiss and sizzle. The plane engine was still at some distance.

  And night was encroaching steadily. Too late. Oh, God, too late. Her heart fell to her shoes, and a tear leaked out to freeze on her cold cheek.

  Then, like the cavalry in the last minutes of an old Western, the sound grew louder. Steadily. Closer and closer.

  And then, to her amazement, through the treetops she saw a plane fly over, low, almost too low, and as it did it waggled
its wings.

  Yuma let out a loud, “Yeehaw! Those are our guys!”

  Dulled by fatigue, Rory hardly dared believe it. “They found us?”

  “They found us,” Chase said. “But we still have to get through the night.”

  “Why?” God, she felt like a dullard. She suspected that she already knew the answer, but they wouldn’t come. The cold had seeped into her brain.

  “Because they can’t come in the dark, and there are still too many trees. But they’ve marked where we are. We’ll find a clearing, and they’ll be back at first light.”

  “That’s right,” Yuma agreed. “First light. And they won’t quit until they have us.”

  She stumbled forward to check on Cait again. What she heard made her wonder if morning would be soon enough.

  Chapter 10

  Yuma led them to a small clearing. It wasn’t huge, but he judged it large enough.

  They tucked Cait into the shelter of a huge boulder while they made a camp with the survival blankets. Once again, dull as she was feeling from the cold and altitude, she was amazed at the things Chase had stowed on his plane, things he had brought with them.

  Duct tape joined the pieces of survival blanket and taped them to pine boughs to make a lean-to. A couple more of them made a groundcover.

  “Why do you carry so many of these?” she asked him.

  “In case. They fold up to almost nothing, so why shortchange myself? I always figured if I was in a situation like this with passengers, I’d hate myself for being cheesy.”

  “I’m glad you’re not cheesy.”

  He flashed her a smile.

  She had started to stumble, but refused to give in as she helped gather wood from the forest for a fire to keep them warm overnight. The lean-to arrangement with a fire at the mouth promised as much coziness as they could hope for, short of a cave, and she didn’t think any of them were about to hunt for one.

  Finally, Chase told her to climb under the shelter and take care of Cait.

  At least he hadn’t pointed out that, unlike the rest of them, her stamina seemed to be failing. She was ashamed of that, then told herself not to be silly. She wasn’t used to the cold, she’d given her warmest clothes to her sister, and the altitude wasn’t helping, either.

  “How high are we?” she asked.

  “Over six thousand feet. That’s enough to make any flatlander weary. You need some liquids, hot ones, and some warmth. You’ll come back quickly.”

  She hoped so. Falling apart at this stage seemed ludicrous.

  This time they built a bigger fire. The tent captured its heat and reflected its light into a wonderful bright yellow glow. Cait awoke again as they started boiling water, and Rory used a pine bough to sweep the steam into the tent.

  Soon Cait was coughing again—deep, racking coughs that frightened Rory as much as they relieved her. She gave Cait medicine, and more hot soup and tea, and even received a smile for her efforts.

  Chase brought her soup of her own, and some warmed-up mash of ready-to-heat foods he’d had on the plane. Ambrosia.

  They made cowboy coffee, too, in the chafing dish, and she ignored the occasional coffee ground.

  “Adds body,” Chase said to her with a wink.

  Weary and worried though she was, she managed a small laugh in response.

  Cait woke up again and seemed a little brighter. Considering that they were keeping hot water steaming just inside the lean-to, near the fire, Rory thought that might be helping her sister revive. More coughing, which was good, and then a request for more tea.

  “We’re going to get out of here in the morning,” Rory told her as she helped her hold the cup. “They know where we are now. You’ll be in a hospital soon.”

  Cait wrinkled her nose, and astonished her with a flash of humor. “That’s good news?”

  Rory obligingly laughed again, although she was terrified of the hours between now and then. Cait felt feverish—no mistaking it. She was far too warm for it to be explained by the heat in the lean-to. In fact, the lean-to was warm only by comparison with the dark world beyond it.

  But at least her own earlobes felt as if they were thawing.

  “Rory?”

  She turned at once to her sister, who was now lying cocooned on the groundcover. “Yes?”

  “I want you to know something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I know I haven’t been awake much. I know I upset you when I say I don’t want to fight anymore.” Cait paused, panting a bit, trying to get her breath. “But I want you to know…I know you’ve done all you can. More than most people would.”

  “Shh… You need your breath.”

  Cait gave a little shake of her head. “I know, Rory. I want you to know that. I know how much…you love me. I love you, too.”

  Rory felt tears prick her eyes, even as dread squeezed her heart. Surely Cait wasn’t trying to say goodbye? Cait couldn’t possibly believe she’d be gone before morning. Every cell in Rory wanted to scream a fierce denial. No, you’re not taking her, she shouted inwardly. Not now, not after all of this. God, the cruelty of it at this point would be beyond bearing. All this fight, all this struggle, all for naught? No way. No way.

  Instead of giving voice to her terror and anger, she managed a calm response. “You can tell me all this once we get you to the hospital and you can breathe again, okay?”

  “Okay.” A sigh. Then so softly Rory almost missed it, “I do want to live.”

  They took watches again that night to keep the fire burning high while ensuring that it didn’t burn their tent. Sleep wasn’t easy, but it no longer mattered to Rory.

  She wrapped herself around Cait on one side, and was touched when Chase wrapped himself around them both from the other side.

  “A sandwich is warmer,” he said, then reached for and held her hand. “You’re cold.”

  “I’ll be warm tomorrow.”

  “More coffee or tea?”

  “When we next take care of Cait.” Then she whispered, “One more night.”

  “We’ll make it.”

  “I think we will, thanks to you and your Boy Scout motto. You were prepared for everything.”

  “Not quite.” He sighed. “But maybe enough.”

  “Oh, definitely enough. All these survival blankets. Duct tape. Flare gun. Food, candles… Chase, if my portable office in Mexico was half as well-stocked as that plane, I’d brag.”

  “You don’t fly. You’re firmly planted on the ground. Besides, you’re talking to a guy who was given survival training by his former employer. They taught me enough, setting me free with only what I could carry on a fighter with me. I developed quite a list of things that were portable and would make surviving easier.”

  “I can see that. Coffee even.”

  “Hey, nothing short of Armageddon can separate a navy flier from his coffee.”

  She smiled in the dark. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me when you get to Minnesota,” he said gruffly.

  “I will.”

  “Good. So are you going to stay with your sister during her treatment?”

  “As much as I can. I’m hoping to be there for the whole thing, but business may rear up.” At this point, though, business didn’t seem to matter at all. Not even wild horses were going to drag her away until she knew Cait was getting better. Or until it was over. The last thought caught in her throat, tightening it. She swallowed hard and pushed the notion of failure away. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow herself to think of it.

  “Yeah, business has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? Well, don’t be surprised if you find me standing outside your portable office one day. I got wings, lady. Or I will again soon.”

  Rory’s chest ached with an impending sense of loss. Were they saying goodbye? It certainly sounded like it.

  If so, she wanted it to be a good one. “I also need to thank you for teaching me some things.”

  “I didn’t teach you a damn thing, darlin’.”
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  “You did.” She didn’t feel like exposing herself right then, though. She was exhausted, worried and very much on edge. “You made me think some things through, and in the process I learned something about myself.”

  “I could say the same. Watching you with Cait…well, let’s just say I know I’ve been missing something. And that I’ve been making bad choices. But I told you that.”

  “Yes.” She fell silent then, lost in wandering thoughts, all of which came back to the same place. When she left here tomorrow for Minnesota, she was going to be leaving friends behind. Worse, she was going to be leaving Chase behind. She was sure he was teasing about showing up at her office someday. It was just a kind, joking thing to say to lighten this last awful night.

  He’d done a lot of that, she realized. In a quiet, no-horn-tooting sort of way, he’d shouldered responsibilities, among them helping her to stay strong. He’d let her lean on him, and taught her that leaning was not necessarily a bad thing.

  Her life was going to be poorer without him.

  In fact, it was going to be downright empty. Saving her sister was paramount, of course. Top of the list, no question. But saying farewell to Chase was going to be extremely hard.

  She truly wished she didn’t have to.

  Chase’s thoughts were following a similar line: no future in this. He couldn’t believe he’d tipped over the brink of caring in less than two days. He’d never let himself really care for a woman before. Ever.

  Yet this one had somehow wormed her way into a special place. He guessed that made him a fool, because tomorrow or the next day she’d be on her way to Minnesota with her sister, and from there to Mexico. He might joke about having wings, but he knew better.

  They’d shared an intense time, everything heightened because of the crash and Cait’s condition. He wouldn’t have believed it if she said she cared for him, and he couldn’t believe his own lying heart.

  But as the night hours dragged by on leaden feet, he knew that he was about to lose something. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but he could sense the impending loss.