G -1

by Kyle Thomas Bruhnke

  We easily roll them up to the center platform. I wonder what we’ll do next. “I’ll be right back,“ Jared says as he begins to travel back the way we had just come. He quickly returns with a length of rope.

  “I was thinking we could tie the ends of the rope to the axle, just above the wheels, throw the rope over the top planking on the scaffold and lower it in. What do you think?”

  I ponder the plan for a few seconds. “Where are we going to stand?”

  “In the cowling, I guess. It’s a bit of a stretch, standing on the u-frames, but I think it’s the best way.”

  “Let’s test it out to see how it feels,” I suggest, wanting to be cautious. “I don’t want to ding anything too bad.”

  “We won’t,” he assures me as he proceeds to tie the rope around the axle. Then he tosses the free end over the top plank, letting the loose end fall into the cowling. I can see there is more than enough rope as he lowers himself into the cowling. Pulling up the slack in the rope he says, “Okay, you lift one end of the axle while I pull up the other.”

  I nod my understanding and get a good grip on the steel axle. Immediately, the weight of the assembly warns me we might not have enough strength to complete this task. As Jared gives a strong pull, the rope slides along the planking towards me. The top part of the axle has cleared the edge of the cowling.

  “You need to lift a little more so the wheel is high enough,” I grunt to him. He pulls until the wheel clears, now hanging on the inside of the cowling. Thankfully, the rope doesn’t slide anymore. I rest my end of the axle on the cowling. “Got it?” I ask before letting go completely.

  “Yep, hop on in,” Jared replies. I can hear some strain in his voice.

  I climb in as quickly as I can. Where it’s resting, the axle is waist high.

  “Okay,” he begins, “Let’s lower it horizontally so it’s resting on the lower frame.

  Again I nod and take hold of the axle. Without speaking, our efforts coordinate. He slowly lets the rope out while I bend my knees to lower the axle. It doesn’t take long, but it’s a pretty tight fit with both of us and the gyro wheel assembly entirely inside the cowling. The axle will stand upright in its final position, but horizontally it’s wider than the opening through which it has to go. We set the ends on the inside rim of the cowling so we can take a rest.

  “Climb on down into the gyro frame now,” he instructs me once we’ve shaken our arm muscles loose again.

  As I lower myself through the hole, I’m immediately aware that the wheels and I will not fit inside the frame together. “This isn’t going to work,” I warn plaintively.

  “Position your legs outside of the frame, and when the wheels come down, try and keep your body out of the way,” he suggests like I should have no problem.

  I don’t particularly like this part of the plan. It feels like I have no way out. Gramps would be issuing a warning if he were here. Jared impatiently pulls on the rope. “Which side would be best?”

  “The bottom of the axle, of course,” he replies. “We’ll have to tilt it upright to get it through.”

  I have to squat at a slight angle to be able to reach up and lift the axle over the inside edge of the cowling. My butt is hanging between the framing that my legs are wrapped around. Adrenalin courses through my body. Jared lifts his end with the rope. The weight begins to transfer onto me more. “Lift a little more, would you? It’s too heavy!” I feel the angle increase, which doesn’t help with the weight either.

  With the axle tilted more than fifty degrees, my end slides past the inside of the cowling. I use all of my strength as I crouch down to keep it from crashing to the floor. My head slams against the rounded bottom of the cowling, the wheels pushing down on top. Straddling the gyro frame, I finally feel the rope take more of the weight. I hear Jared let out a puff of exertion. “You okay?” I push out.

  “Yeah,” comes a strained reply.

  Just as I tuck my head under the top of the gyro frame, the wheels slide past it, lodging against my chest, the axle falling between my legs. Quickly I move my left hand to catch the wheels on my palm. They shift a little, but I quickly move my other hand to steady them. The axle drops another few inches, now almost vertical. I support my elbows with my knees as I slowly lower the wheels.

  I hear the dull thud of aluminum as the axle comes to rest on the point. I can finally let go. I hear Jared let out a breath of relief.

  “Don’t you let go yet,” I say quickly. I know there is nothing to keep the axle from tilting to either side. Struggling to get out, I drop my butt further through the frame, pulling each arm through to push against the floor to support my body. But when I try to pull my legs through, I feel them wedged in by the wheel. “Can you pull the wheels away from me?” I cry anxiously. Immediately I feel them move. With my legs free, I pop out of the frame and down onto the concrete. What a relief!

  “What are you doing down there?” I hear Jared call out. “I could really use some framing up here.”

  “I’m coming,” I reply, exhausted. I lay there for another second. Before climbing back up on the scaffold, I grab the inside framing pieces that Willie had brought over with the wheels. Handing both supports over to Jared, I watch while he slides the axle through both frame holes. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out eight bolts to join the new pieces to the u-frames, tenuously securing the gyroscope assembly. He blows out one long breath and looks up from where he is crouched.

  “Is it lunch time yet?” I ask wearily.

  Jared stands up and nods. “We sure earned it today.”

  Grabbing the scaffold, he swings himself out of the cowling. It’s now the easiest way to exit from the center of the saucer. When I look down to survey our work, a twinge of excitement rises through the dull pain I’m feeling throughout my body. Jared holds out his hands so I can see where the ropes have cut him. This has been tough on both of us. But another piece is in place. And this is the first part of the flight control system.

  “You realize we’re actually getting close to having a test flight, don’t you?” I quiz Jared as we sit down to eat lunch.

  “Actually, yeah, I do,” he replies. “Just a few lifters and pitch controllers, a computer and a power source, and we’re all set to go.” I didn’t miss his sarcasm. “And that reminds me,” he continues, “Jennifer is coming over when she gets off work with some stuff for you.”

  “Did she say what stuff?”

  “Yeah,” he grins. “She needs help with the windings on the containment gizmos. She’s gotten all of the framework done. She says she’s out of wire, too.”

  “I thought that would eventually become a problem.”

  “Well, she says it’s going to be your problem. She’s really annoyed that nobody’s helping her. Other than Willie, she’s the only one of us who’s got a job.”

  “I’ve been meaning to help,” I say defensively, “but we’ve been busy with this.” I wave one arm around. “I can’t be everywhere helping everybody!”

  “Yeah I know, but we’ve made good progress here. I can finish up the welding. And Willie will help get the pilot controls and all that stuff in. I think if we’re going to keep up this pace, you can start helping the girls with their projects.” He grins as he says ‘helping the girls’ like it will be less of a challenge.

  “I could do with a little brain work,” I respond, stretching my aching arms. “This manual labor isn’t really my strong point.”

  “So I noticed,” he razzes me.

  I laugh at his humor like I always do. But I am at the point where some time with Jen and Kylie will be a welcome change. It always seems like more of a team effort working with them. With Jared, and even Willie, there seems to be a competitive undercurrent, like somebody always has to be better at something.

  By the time Jennifer arrives, Jared is back to welding and I’m just hanging out, alternating between standing at the door and over near the saucer just in case Jared needs anything. I happen to be by the door when she
drives in on her scooter. She parks by the truck and waves me over.

  “I got something for you,” she declares, without exchanging greetings.

  “So I heard,” I say as I walk up.

  She flips open the trunk on the scooter. It’s filled to capacity with several dozen pieces of metal, curved here and bent there. Though they look different than the original parts I’ve seen, I still recognize the legs and cross-bracing.

  “I couldn’t fit the box and these into the trunk at the same time,” she says.

  “I’m sure I can find one at home,” I assure her. “Shall we toss them in the truck?”

  “No. Lay them down gently. I spent a lot of time making these and I don’t want to have to make anymore.”

  “You got it.” I grab a handful and head for the truck. She follows with her hands full, and pretty soon they are all transferred.

  “So how are you planning to mount all those containment fields to the saucer,” she asks with a dead serious tone, as we walk into the hangar.

  I actually have a response for that. “Willie says some five or six inch diameter plumbing pipes might be the best way.”

  “Can’t be metal,” she warns.

  “They won’t be. Some sort of plastic, like drain pipe. It can be clamped through the cowling wall for the lifters and the ribs or spars for the pitch controllers. Then we only have to attach the containment frames to the pipe. Do you think the pieces connecting the winding frames would be strong enough for that?”

  “Maybe,” she answers, “if they were brazed. I wouldn’t want to risk having some bolts drop off and lose anything.”

  “No. That wouldn’t be good,” I agree.

  “But how will you know where to drill the holes?”

  “I’ll create a pattern on a piece of paper using my CAD program. It may take several tries but it’ll work.” I try to sound confident. After listening to Willie talk about his jigs for the metal work, I just figure a template will work best.

  “Okay. Well, that part of it’s all up to you,” she says.

  “So you want me to wind some coils, too, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I’m not going to have enough time with my job. I redid the one we’ve been experimenting with. I’m up to two hundred and fifty turns for each coil.”

  “That’s a lot!”

  “You’re telling me,” she says, shaking her hand to dramatize the effort. “And they have to be tight and even too. That’s the hardest part.”

  We are almost to the saucer. I stop walking so I can hear her above the crackle of welding that’s getting louder. “So what size wire are you using?”

  “That’s not the problem. I’ve run out.”

  “So we’ll have to buy some?”

  “I guess, unless you’ve got some - a lot - around your place somewhere.”

  “I don’t think so, but I’ll ask.”

  “This project could get expensive,” Jen comments.

  “Yeah. I guess we can only scavenge so much.” She looks at me with a sad, sympathetic sort of look, like this could mean the end of the project. “But don’t worry about it. Somehow there’ll be a solution. Always is,” I reassure her.

  The welding stops. “Hey in there!” Jennifer calls out. “Why don’t you take a break for a minute.”

  Jared’s head peaks out from under the cowling, the helmet dropping off his head. Almost hidden behind the scaffold legs, he waves. “I’ll be right out.” Popping over the top, he traverses the scaffold planks and jumps to the floor.

  “You look tired,” Jen observes as she walks towards him, reaching out to give him a hug. At the last moment, her arm stretches out full length and she pushes him away. “And you stink!”

  “We’ve had a busy day,” Jared explains, giving me a nod.

  “So I see,” she says, backing away. “The scaffolding is in place; the gyro’s frame and wheels look like they’re in…”

  “And the welding is almost complete,” Jared interjects, “or at least it will be by noon tomorrow.”

  “So I guess I’m just in time with the windings,” she states, moving over to tap where the ribs and skirts are welded. “If I didn’t have to work, I could have them done in two or three weeks.”

  “You really think it will take that long?” I ask in disbelief. “We don’t have that long.”

  “Then you better get busy, mister!” she jokes. Jared joins in, but to be honest, I’m also getting tired of hearing it.

  “Yeah, right,” I say, somewhat dejected. “And I guess it’s up to me.”

  “I’ll come over and help when I can,” Jen volunteers. “I just don’t know how often that’ll be.”

  “I won’t be able to help any,” Jared declares.

  “No, I know. You’ve got enough to do here to keep you busy,” I say sullenly, though I think it is because I am starting to realize this phase is over and a new one is beginning. Or maybe it’s because when I’m here, there’s always a chance Kylie might show up. That will end, too. I guess I’m going to be working more on my own for a while.

  “Well, Willie’s going to be over after supper, so I’m taking the rest of the day off,” Jared says.

  “I figured there had to be more to Jen’s visit than just dropping that stuff off for me.” They both smile. “I guess I’ll head home then.”

  “It’ll give you time to think about the windings,” Jared suggests.

  “And figure out where the wire is going to come from,” Jen adds.

  “Right,” I reply, turning to head for the truck. “Don’t forget to turn off the welder,” I say to Jared. “See you later then.”

  I don’t wait for a response. My mood has quickly turned sour. Maybe I’m just tired. Or dehydrated again.

  As I drive past Jared’s house, I think I spy Kylie in the kitchen window. I wave my arm just in case she sees me. It would have been nice to stop and talk but, like Jared, I’m pretty stinky, and I don’t want Kylie pushing me away like Jen had done to him.

  As I’m driving, I can feel fatigue settle in. I look at the frames for the windings. Maybe that was it; I just didn’t want to figure anything else out today. Looking back at the past ten days, it has been nice just fitting pieces together. It was a defined process and I knew what to do. Now I will have to deal with the unknown again, and I just don’t feel like it. Not today anyway.

  I park the truck in its usual spot. It appears from the lack of vehicles that I am the only one home. Mom will probably be home from work anytime and tell me dinner will be late again because Dad’s pretty far away for his job today. Who knows where Gramps is.

  The quiet in the house is welcoming as is Handsome when I walk through the door. “Need something to eat, fella?” I ask him, reaching down to stroke the top of his head as he brushes up against my shin to say hello. But his bowl still has some nibbles in it so I head upstairs for a shower.

  The warm water helps sooth my aching body a bit. I notice some dried blood where the wheels had pinched my legs; not a bad cut, more of a scrape actually. It stings when I wash it though. Mom always says that’s good because you know you’re getting the germs out. After I’ve dried off, I put some ointment on it before stretching a few bandages across it like she had done so many times in my early years.

  I finish dressing. It’s nice to be able to wear shorts instead of the jeans I’ve been wearing to the hangar. It almost feels like I’m on vacation. “But I am supposed to be on vacation.”

  Handsome looks up from where he sits by my door, then follows me downstairs. I grab a soda before heading out to rest on the porch. He jumps up and sits beside me, looking up expectantly. I oblige his begging by rubbing between his ears. Soon he rolls over on his back for a good belly rub. I lean my head back against the chair cushion.

  I wake up when Gramps rides in on his bike. I watch languidly as he rolls the motorcycle into the shed, closes the door, and walks towards the house.

  “Got the day off?” he asks, stepping up onto the porch.

 
I sit up a bit trying to put together a response. “Jared and Willie are working later tonight. I’ve got a new task to work on.” He peers into the house. “You’re the first one home,” I assure him.

  “So it’s going pretty good?” he asks.

  I smile, nodding. “We’re ready for the next phase.”

  “What’s that?” he inquires.

  “Jen brought over five hundred and twelve frames for me to wind. The larger ones, the lifters, are going to need two hundred and fifty loops of wire each. The smaller ones, for pitch control, will need about two hundred.”

  “That’s a lot of winding!” Gramps quickly concludes, “and a lot of wire.”

  “Yeah. That’s the other problem,” I continue. “I don’t know where I’m going to get that either.”

  “Well, don’t let it get you down,” he says, sensing my apprehension. “There’s always a solution somewhere.”

  I can almost see his mind working. I’ve grown used to his creative thinking over the past five or six years. It is mildly exciting to watch his eyes dart back and forth as he searches the different areas of his memory for a solution.

  “Mom’s home,” I say, looking down the drive.

  “Don’t worry,” he assures me, using his quiet, secretive voice. “We’ll think of something. Meet me out in the shed later.” He takes a step towards the door. “Oh, and call your friend Kylie to let her know I have an upgraded interface ready to test.”

  Handsome follows him into the house. I feel better as Mom parks and gets out of her car.

  “You’re home early,” she says closing the driver’s door. “Got your little project done?”

  “Almost. Need some help?” I get up and step down from the porch.

  “Thanks dear. Yes. I stopped for a few groceries on the way home. Could you bring them in?”

  “Sure, Mom,” I say, opening the passenger door to get the bags.

  Dinner is later than usual. Dad stopped to pick up a crib for the nursery and asks me to help put it together after dinner.