Flying Home

by Mary Anne Wilson

  “No, it’ll hurt you.”

  He touched her chin with the tip of his gloved finger. “Okay, sawing wood is out, but I can lay a fire.” With that he went back to the big box, took out several pieces and came back to the circle. “Open the kindling and give it to me one at a time.”

  She hesitated, then a narrowed, “Don’t mess with me,” look from his dark eyes got her moving. She unwrapped a pack of kindling and handed him one stick after the other, while he made a pattern on the ground. The saw he’d used was on the ground by the large branch and he motioned to them. “Can you cut off a few of the smaller branches for me?”

  “It’s all ice,” she pointed out. “It would smoke, if it could even catch fire.”

  She saw the frown distort his handsome features, then said, “It’s the pills. I can’t think straight. Of course that’s not going to burn.” He straightened very slowly, his shoulders slumped.

  “Rest a minute,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”

  As Merry headed into the wilderness, she heard him ask what she was doing. “Going on a scavenger hunt!” she tossed over her shoulder.

  She ventured deep into the brush, veering away from the tracks that they’d left going and coming from the clearing at the drop off. Looking carefully, she found a spot where branches had broken off the tree and piled near its base. Snow and ice were thin on the top branches. Quickly, she pulled the upper branches off and found what she wanted. Branches that were barely touched by the dampness of ice and snow.

  Five minutes later, she was back at the plane with her arms heavily laden by her find. Gage was leaning on the wing, his face tense until he spotted her, then he immediately brightened. “Did you take a survival course?” he asked as he met her halfway between the plane and the trees.

  “I wish.” She looked toward their spot for their signal fire. Gage had everything put in order, at least she thought it was in order. Walking toward the spot, she could see the kindling in a terribly small looking mound. As she dropped the wood, she asked, “Is that enough to get a fire going? And this wood is still a bit damp.”

  Gage was there, stepping past her, and nodded confidently. “The kindling does it all,” he said. “It’s treated, and it will make anything burn.”

  And he proved it as they both cracked off the smaller branches from the larger ones, and he laid them over the kindling. When he touched a wooden match to several spots, the kindling almost whooshed, then the branches began to light, one after the other, hissing and popping, but burning nonetheless. It was a fire, but not much of one, and it didn’t look as if it would do any good. Then Gage took one of the boxes out and opened it, pouring some of whatever was inside into his hand and tossing it onto the growing flames.

  Suddenly smoke was drifting into the dull sky, an oddly billowing cloud that rose up into the clouds. The smell wasn’t unpleasant, almost a fire smoke smell with something tinged with pine in it.

  “We’ll need more wood,” Merry said and started back toward the trees.

  Gage followed, but stayed silent as Merry forged around a clump of tightly growing trees with what turned out to be a nice amount of protected branches they could use. He didn’t make some macho attempt to carry anything, just silently watched her then fell into step beside her as they headed back.

  “I’ll cut more later.” Merry moved toward the fire that was sending a steady stream of dark smoke up toward the clouds. She stopped, frowned, then turned to Gage right behind her. “Where can we put these?” she asked, nodding with her head toward the branches she was carrying.

  He glanced around, then crossed to the plane and to the door he’d broken to get the flares and fire makings. “In here,” he said, and when she got to him, he took the branches, shoving them inside the now empty space and forcing the door closed.

  He faced her and Merry could see he was grim. “The snow won’t get to it there,” he said as he leaned back against the compartment’s door.

  She frowned at him. “More snow? There’s another storm coming?”

  “Let’s hope not,” he said, moving toward the end of the wing. “Every two hours of light, we have to renew the fire.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “And if it gets windy, we have to put the fire out. It’s too dangerous, even with all this snow around.”

  She nodded.

  He took a deep breath and released it. His gaze held hers for a long moment. “Let’s get inside and warm up a bit?”

  “What about the flares?”

  He pulled one from his pocket, and stared at it as if trying to figure out what to do. “This medicine...” He shook his head as his words trailed off and he headed about five feet away from the end of the wing.

  A plain wooden stick the same length as the flare had been taped to its side. He pulled it off, pushed it in the bottom of the flare, then looked back toward her. “We’ll put out four of them, push them in the snow as far as we can, space them about three or four feet apart, then if there’s any sign of a search party, we’ve got the fire and can light the flares in seconds.”

  She yanked the flares out of her pocket, attached the sticks at the bottoms, then bent to push one into the snow near her feet. It went about four inches, then hit something as hard as a rock. “That’s as far as it goes,” she said, putting her head back to look up at Gage. “Is that far enough?”

  “It’ll have to be,” he said and she repeated her action about three feet from the first. Gage went three feet farther, held out his flare to her, and she put it in place another three feet closer to the trees. “I hope they’ll be able to see them,” she said as she took the second flare from Gage, who had inserted the stake in the end.

  “They will, believe me, these things are bright and high for about thirty seconds. Only light two at a time and wait for them to fizzle before lighting two more. We need to keep some with us at all times.”

  Merry took out four more flares from the box, closed it and returned to Gage to give him two. “Your stock,” she said, then put hers in her jacket pockets. “And my stock.” She hesitated. “Won’t they get wet from the snow, and not light?”

  “No, they’ll light. They’re made for bad weather and their ignition time is almost instantaneous. No extended burning.”

  “Good to know,” she said, then asked, “Now how do I light the thing without a match?”

  Gage explained it to her using one of his flares. He glanced over at the smoke from the small fire. “That will be useless if it snows again.”

  Merry felt some of the fear she’d been trying to suppress rise again. As if he sensed the damage his words had done to her spirits, he said more positively, “If anyone’s close by and it’s burning, they’ll see it.” He slowly started back to the wing.

  She fell in step next to him, and without warning, he put his arm around her, pulling her to his side. At first she thought he’d been about to fall, but instead he just held her against him. “You did a good job...and we’re going to be okay.” His hold on her tightened for a second or so, then he let her go and they kept walking toward the plane.

  She didn’t know why he’d hugged her like that, but she knew it had been perfect timing. She had needed it badly, some affirmation that they were doing the right thing and that there was hope this would end well. Whatever had prompted the tender embrace, she was grateful for it.

  Gage turned to her. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let’s get out of this cold.”

  She couldn’t take his hand, not when he was in such pain, but she wished she could. And she wished she could hold on to it until they were safely back home. Instead, she scrambled up onto the wing, felt his hand at the small of her back pushing to help her. Pivoting, she crouched and would have held out a hand to him, but he moved quickly, got himself up on the wing and made for the door.

 
But not before she got a glimpse of beads of sweat on his forehead, despite the fact the temperature had dropped even lower since they’d first come out.

  She moved too quickly, almost losing her footing on the icy snow, but she managed to get a grip on the hatch handle before Gage could bend to do it himself. She hauled up the door, and moved back to let him go in first, hoping he’d go right to the back where he could lay down.

  But he stayed where he was. “Get in,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Arguing would just make things worse so Merry ducked into the cabin. He was right behind her and immediately secured the door. He struggled to sit down. Without looking at her, he murmured, “I can’t think straight.”

  That’s when she knew how badly he’d been hurt. Not just bruises, but yes, even a possible broken rib or two. “Try to get into the back so you can rest,” she said.

  He stared at his feet. “My boots.”

  He didn’t have to say anything more. She toe and heeled out of her own boots, then leaned over and undid his, loosened the laces as much as she could before slipping them off of his feet.

  He exhaled and said, “Okay, here goes.” On his hands and knees he half crawled to the back, then shifted very slowly over to where he’d slept before. Merry had to make herself not reach out to help him get to where he wanted to be, and fortunately he made it without any problem.

  Gage looked over at her, then positioned his stocking feet up on the lowered seat back in front of him. “Leave the boots ready to put on quickly,” he said. “Just in case we hear something.”

  Merry agreed and settled into her seat. She kept reminding herself to stay calm. He needed her.

  Gage checked his watch. “An hour and a half for the fire, then I’ll tend to it.”

  She stared across the front seats to the windshield and could see the wavering motion of the smoke from the fire. It was still going. “We can see from here,” she pointed out. “No reason to go out in that cold before we have to.”

  “You’re right,” he said and she could hear a heaviness in his tone.

  “Do you want more pills?” she asked.

  He closed his eyes for several minutes, long enough that Merry thought he hadn’t heard her or was choosing to ignore her. His jaw was clenched, then she heard a hiss before he spoke. “No, I don’t want any more pills, but I do need something to ease the pain...”.

  She heard the tremendous reluctance in his voice and knew what it cost him to admit that to her. Quickly, she got the pills, and a bottle of water. He took the medication and then settled back again. “I hate not being able to think clearly.”

  She knew that anything she said to that would come across as patronizing, so she kept quiet. She shifted so she could watch Gage and could gradually see his breathing ease and the stress on his face lessen. From out of the blue, a smile suddenly tugged at his lips.

  “What’s so amusing?” she asked.

  He shrugged, his eyes narrowed on her. “I was thinking about my assistant, Tark.”

  “And that’s funny, how?” she asked. “Although Tark is an unusual name.”

  “His full name is Tarkington Davis, but that’s another story. However, his nickname is Boom-Boom.”

  “He fell a lot or likes big guns?” she asked, totally at sea about what he was amused by.

  “Neither. It’s Boom-Boom because he likes the demolition part of this business.”

  “Okay, I get the Boom-Boom part. But I don’t get why that’s funny at this point in time?”

  “What’s funny is seeing you wearing his hat.”

  She yanked off the hat that she’d all but forgotten about wearing and looked down at it in her hand. BOOM-BOOM was sewn on the front of the hat.

  “It could have been worse, I guess,” she conceded. “I mean, what if his nickname had been Doofus or something like that?”

  He chuckled and then caught himself immediately. “It only hurts when I laugh,” he gasped, and despite what pain he felt, the smile still shadowed his lips. And she was enjoying that immensely.

  She was about to tell Gage, but was shocked when he suddenly sat up, his gasp of pain a raw sound in the confines of the cabin. For a second she thought he was having a seizure, then he was actually pushing past her, on his knees, getting to the front seat and the door. “They’re here!” he said as he pushed the door up and out, then stepped out onto the wing.

  Merry fumbled getting upright, going after him as quickly as she could. She looked out the door, saw Gage at the wing’s end, in his stocking feet and his hands fumbled in the pockets of his orange jacket. Merry understood he hadn’t gone mad, no, he’d heard what she heard right then, a pulsating whirl of a helicopter high above them beyond the clouds.

  “The flares are on the ground,” she hollered, realizing he was going to try to light the flare he’d had in his pocket. “The ground!” she repeated, ignoring the stunning cold through her own socks as she ran to him, grabbed his arm and managed to knock the flare out of his hand. Top over bottom, it tumbled down and off the wing into the snow below.

  She didn’t think, just acted, lowering herself down to the ground, then darted toward the flares stuck in the snow. She sank to her knees by the closest one, trying to remember what Gage had told her about the cap and friction. But he was there, right behind her, going to the next flare. He worked quickly, then stood and had her by the arm, dragging her back out of the line of fire.

  The flare hissed, followed by sparks and a strange noise. A burst of flame shot into the air, tailed by more red glow, soaring into the clouds and disappearing from sight. “We’re here, we’re here!” Gage shouted up to the heavens.

  Merry thought she saw a change in the color of the clouds from leaden gray to an eerie glow, but it was gone quickly, the silence only broken by a fading whistling sound and then a growing wind. No sounds of helicopters, no engine sounds, nothing at all now. “Did they see it?” she asked, getting to her feet. Ignoring the damp coldness at her knees, and the frigidness of her socks, she grabbed Gage’s arm. “They had to see the flare, didn’t they?”

  There was only his heavy breathing. “I don’t know,” he said in a low voice.

  She held tightly to him while her eyes stayed fixed on the clouds over them, willing the helicopter to come back. But it didn’t. “They’re gone.” Her whole body seemed to feel the disappointment.

  Gage was still, and Merry thought he was still listening, waiting, maybe knowing something she didn’t know about this kind of rescue. But when she looked up at him, she recognized that he wasn’t moving because he was in a world of pain. His actions had cost him dearly. The pain had to be terrible, but that wasn’t why his face was twisted in a heavy frown. He was staring at the fire, or what had been the fire five minutes ago.

  The flames had since gone out, half buried by a huge dump of snow that had to have fallen, or been blown by the wind, off of one of the nearby towering trees. A bare wisp of smoke off to one side, was all that showed it had ever been there. The flare, the fire, nothing had worked right, and she felt all her hope start to slip away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  GAGE STRAINED TO hear the pulsating rhythm of the helicopter coming back. But it didn’t. No sound beyond more snow falling off nearby trees. Soon he was berating himself for not thinking about snow falling from the trees onto the fire, he made himself focus on Merry, who was clinging to his arm.

  It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, he realized, to meet her eyes and see the despair there. The pain burning through him, was nothing compared to what he felt when he saw the expression on her face. “They...they didn’t see us, did they?” she asked. “The fire, it didn’t work.”

  “No, it didn’t,” he admitted, the fiery ache in his side, growing with each passing moment.

  He never should have run like a crazy man. He sh
ould have remembered the flares they’d pushed into the snow beyond the wing...should have taken the time to put on his boots. He should have gotten off the wing slowly, instead of almost jumping for it. He should have...

  He pushed all of those notions away, knowing his big challenge right then was just getting back in the plane, where there was at least some heat.

  “This is useless, have to get back inside,” he said through clenched teeth.

  She hesitated, her eyes flicking over his face.

  The pain was frustrating him, and his inability to do anything when the helicopter had been so close, made him sick. “I’ll start the fire again after we warm up and the pills start to work. Then we’ll wait. They’ll be back,” he said, lifting his eyes to the clouds. “They hit an area in a grid pattern, and that means they go over each section at least three times.”

  He sucked freezing air through his teeth, being careful not to expand his ribs too much with the effort. “This was just the first pass. There’s two more for us to get it right.”

  She reached up to brush at his forehead by the wound. “You’re sweating,” she said gently. “You must feel awful.”

  Not any worse than the monumental failure he already felt like. “Let’s get inside,” he rasped and let her lead the way.

  She raised herself up and onto the wing tip. “How can you get back up here?” she asked. “I could get the fire box.”

  “Forget it,” he said tightly, and blocked everything except his goal of getting on the wing. He did it with one try, got up by Merry, and knew he couldn’t speak right then, so he simply made himself move around her and get to the still open door.

  He nodded for Merry to hop inside, then followed her, but knew he couldn’t pull the door shut. Merry knew it too, and waited for him to get to his knees and crawl along the prone seat nearest to him, and then make his way to the backseats.

  The door shut with a thud, as Merry stayed up front. “I’ll get some socks for us. And can we leave the heater on for a bit longer?” Although it probably wasn’t even near fifty degrees in the cabin, it felt almost balmy to him.