Out of the Wild: A Wilderness Survival Thriller

by Hunt, Jack

  Henry nodded. “You’ll do fine, kid. Look, don’t worry about paying Gareth. I’ll handle that. And hey, if you break a plane, we have another. Well, that is if you survive the first.” He laughed and went around to the driver’s side and looked over at him. “Which reminds me. You’ll need a plane for when you pass. I can’t give you one of the fleet. Not with the state of things in our business, but I do have an older plane that’s not being used anymore. It needs a few repairs but it’s reliable. If you’re willing to work on it, it’s yours.”

  His face lit up. “Are you serious?”

  Henry smiled. “Go get some sleep, kid. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He had him staying in one of the hangars. He’d outfitted it out with a private room, and there was a place to shower. Of course, Jay paid for it but the rent was next to nothing. Jay turned to walk away. “Oh, Henry. How did it go?”

  “What?”

  “With your daughter. The visit.”

  “Like your landing today.”

  He snorted. “Say no more. Maybe one day you’ll introduce me to her.”

  Henry gave him a thumbs-up and got in. He fired up the engine. As he was waiting for it to warm up, he saw Frank coming out of the office, waving to him. “Hey, Henry!”

  Henry stuck the gearstick into drive and brought his window down.

  “Has anyone died?” he asked as he got nearer.

  Panting, out of breath, Frank was a few yards from him. “No, but…”

  “Then, we’ll talk tomorrow, Frank. I’m really tired.”

  He left Frank behind in a plume of exhaust fumes.

  7

  Glaciers cut into the bright blue sky, looming over a sea of spruce trees outside his window as Henry prepared drip coffee. His home offered one of the best views in the city. He and Indi had bought the land and she’d picked out exactly what she wanted in the house. That was before a subdivision rose around them and the tranquility that had once been was replaced by the hum of lawnmowers, young kids bellowing and jackasses with loud motorbikes who liked to rev them early in the morning. It wasn’t so bad when he was in his thirties, but now that he was staring down the big 60, and they were in October, not far from the freeze-up, he was grateful for the peace. Last night, he’d only managed to get five hours’ sleep because he’d stayed awake piecing together information from the journals. As he stepped back from the huge map on the wall, covered in tiny red push pins with twine wound to indicate locations, there was a knock at the door.

  Henry glanced off to his left.

  “Come in, Frank.”

  “You know you have a loose porch step out there? I nearly broke my neck on the way in.”

  “Yeah, I keep forgetting to get that fixed.” He was still staring at the map, the cogs in his mind spinning endlessly, making connections, thinking about those he’d talked to online, interviews with historians and dates, so many dates.

  Franked wandered into his kitchen.

  “Help yourself to coffee.”

  “Thanks.” Frank followed his gaze to the map. “You still working on that?”

  “What?”

  Frank pointed.

  “Oh, you know, chipping away at it. I think I might have it, Frank.”

  He laughed as he made a drink. “Famous last words. I expect the others said the same before they disappeared into nothingness.” A minute or so later, he turned, cup in hand, and sidled up beside him. “You’re not thinking of heading out there, are you?”

  “Haven’t decided yet.” Henry tossed him a frown. “You sound like my daughter. Anyway, what did you want to see me about?” He moved his coffee and began cleaning up the kitchen table that looked messy with rolls of paper, open books, multiple maps, and his open laptop. He made a space for Frank to sit but he chose to stand, leaning back against the marble counter. The kitchen was modest but worn out. The cupboards were peeling and in desperate need of replacing. He had a new fridge, nothing fancy, white, bland, but he still had the same four-burner stove. The damn thing was a beast. Indi had picked it out. She always had a good eye for products.

  “Drones. I wanted to talk about drones.”

  “What?” Henry asked.

  “Apparently, it’s the future. Pilotless aircraft transporting medicine, mail, and groceries to villages.”

  “The last I heard the military was using them to transport bombs. What the hell has that got to do with us?” Henry took a seat and pushed aside another stack of books so he could set his coffee down.

  “I was running the pros and cons. We could reduce the number of hours in the sky, slash the number of fatalities and injuries, and save ourselves a lot of money and headaches dealing with poor weather and dangerous landscape.”

  “I like flying.”

  “So do I, but do you know they have unmanned drones that can fly miles over the Arctic waters and patrol the pipelines looking for any leaks or damage?”

  Henry offered back a puzzled expression. “Can they turn a wrench?”

  Frank chuckled. “I hear you. But companies like ours are starting to use them and eventually they’ll be able to transport people. Supply and demand. Let’s face it, Henry, we’re a dying breed. Baby boomers are dying off, there’s a shortage of pilots because guys are heading down to the Lower 48, and we’ve seen an uptick in collisions. The state doesn’t like it. Besides, we’ve had to hire seven part-time National Guard pilots to do what one of our guys used to do full-time. The day-to-day workings of this business are a logistical nightmare.”

  “So is integrating unmanned aircraft into the system. Frank, pilots are the lifeblood of this state. No, we offer jobs, not take them away.”

  “And yet we did.”

  There was a pause, he couldn’t argue with that. It had been one thing after another. When Indi died, his ability to continue and manage the business had faltered. With pilots leaving left, right and center, others wary of crashing, and changes to their services because of what Indi didn’t agree with, they’d had to dial back, all of which had a cumulative effect that meant selling off planes to cover wages.

  Henry continued, “You know what I mean. Pilots can adjust to the dynamics up there, make decisions, turn back if the weather is bad, you think a drone can do all that?”

  “Seems so. This isn’t a tiny drone you buy down at your local Best Buy for taking photos of a machine that needs to be observed from a close distance. No, Henry, they can inspect, map, monitor, count, hell even deliver without anyone observing them. They have some detect-and-avoid system to determine birds apart from aircraft.”

  “Yeah, and what about people?”

  “We’re in a hole, Henry. We are tilting on the edge of the abyss. Do you want to go bankrupt?”

  He frowned. “Frank, who’s been filling your head?”

  There was a pause. “Frank?”

  “Callaway.”

  “That asshole? Again!?”

  “I told him you wouldn’t listen.”

  “He sent you?”

  “No. He came by while you were away and presented an offer. I told him I wasn’t the decision-maker. Listen, Henry. It’s reasonable, far better than going bankrupt. And we would still get to keep the employees, the fleet, and the name.”

  “Oh thank you. I get to keep my own damn name?! And as for preventing collisions. Maybe those pilots should have turned on their radio, pulled their iPod out of their ears. Damn sky cowboys! Making us all look bad. No, Frank, tourists want person to person contact. And the villagers. We know these people. I know their families, their kids. Pilotless planes, whatever is next!” Henry got up and went over and washed his mug in the sink, frustration getting the better of him.

  “Would you at least take a look at the offer?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “Indi is gone, Henry.”

  Henry stopped cleaning the mug and looked at him.

  “What I’m trying to say is this is no longer about who Callaway represents. Right now he’s offering us a lifeline.”


  “An oil line. You know what he’s after. We’re just the stepping stone to get what he wants.” He returned to cleaning the mug.

  “Henry.”

  “What?”

  “The stove.”

  “What?”

  “The pot.”

  “What?”

  Before Henry could react, Frank got up, dashed over, turned off the stove, and looked inside at a blackened pot and three eggs that now resembled chunks of coal. The smell was atrocious. “Well there goes breakfast again,” Henry said. He opened the windows, turned the kitchen fan on, and tossed the eggs out.

  Frank stared at him, an expression of concern. “Again?”

  Henry returned to the sink with the pan and turned on the faucet, causing a plume of steam to billow up around his face. “So I’ve been distracted.”

  “Distracted or forgetting? Coming in the other day on your day off. That’s not like you. Are you sure everything’s okay? When did you last get an annual checkup from the doctor?”

  He grumbled, knowing the pan was ruined. “What are you, my mother?”

  “No, your friend. And I know you like flying but at some point, you and I will have to hang it up and call it a day. Maybe this offer from Callaway has come at the right time.”

  “Enough with the Callaway offer. Okay? Hell will freeze before I sign anything over to him.”

  Frank nodded. “You know this isn’t just about you. Others depend on a salary, depend on a steady flow of money. You talk about creating jobs and not taking them away but if we go bankrupt it changes everything. Have you thought about that?”

  Henry stopped what he was doing and cut him a sideways glance. “We are fine.”

  “We are not fine. I see the numbers, you don’t.”

  “What’s the matter? Is this about rejecting his first offer?”

  Frank’s shoulders sank. “I’m just stressed out.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Did you know Paul Ross is working for Callaway now?”

  Henry snorted, not wishing to comment. He’d poured a lot of time and money into that guy. He shuffled across the kitchen and grabbed up a few slices of bread and stuck them in the toaster. Frank continued, “He knows a lot about the company, he knows we’re hiring multiple people to do one job.”

  “And?”

  “And he’s been talking with the other pilots. Gareth approached me and said he’s considering leaving.”

  “But we need him to train Jay.”

  “Well, that’s another thing I wanted to talk about. Do you think you’re spreading us a little thin right now training him, letting him stay in the hangar office? It doesn’t look good. People are talking.”

  “You said it yourself. We are short on pilots. What do you want him to do? The kid has to eat. He’s taking online college.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve got him using the hangar as an apartment.”

  “Where do you expect him to live?”

  “Are we a charity now? You know how that turned out the last time with Paul.”

  His toast popped up. “So it was a wrong call. Someone has gotta mentor these guys. It was good enough for us when we got started, it’s good enough now.”

  “We don’t have the funds or time. We need Gareth in the sky making deliveries not carting around a guy who is wet behind the ears.”

  “He’s learning. What he lacks in skill he makes up in instinct.”

  “Yeah, right. He’ll need a plane.”

  “I’ve got one for him.”

  There was a pause. “The Beaver?”

  Henry nodded.

  “You can’t go giving him that.”

  “It’s not being used, Frank. We’ve known each other for a long time. Have a little faith in me.”

  “I do, and I have your back but I just want to make sure you’re not digging us a deeper grave.”

  Henry chuckled. “A few days. Just give me a few days. I’ll get things squared away with the employees. We’ll be fine. Okay?”

  He nodded. “So how’s Kara?” Frank asked.

  “All grown up. A chip off the old block. Indi would be proud.”

  Frank smiled and looked toward the door as the toast popped up and Henry took it out to butter it. “I’ll catch you later. Don’t go burning anything else,” he said with a chuckle as he headed out.

  8

  Henry hated visiting the doctor. When they checked his file that listed how many times he’d been in, he prided himself on their look of surprise and being informed that he hadn’t visited in years. Damn right! No, he wasn’t like some of these hypochondriacs that looked for any reason to bellyache to their doc every week. In his mind, as long as he could walk, eat, breathe, piss, and shit, he was good to go. Of course, there was the glaring fact that if they found anything, it could jeopardize his ability to fly. He didn’t want to be denied a medical certificate any more than he wanted to acknowledge he was getting old.

  On the Monday following his return from L.A., Frank had promptly contacted the doctor. He figured it would take a few days before he’d get an appointment. Nope. They had a cancellation late that morning and were able to squeeze him in. The only reason he’d called them was out of concern for the future. While he didn’t fly as much as he used to, if placed in the position of having to fly he didn’t want safety to be an issue. It was the responsible thing to do. As of late, even he’d begun to notice a change in his ability to remember. It worried him but frustrated him more.

  After having a full medical exam, a few blood tests, and some cognitive tests, he was expecting to hear that he was worrying about nothing and that all he needed was to get some rest and more roughage in his diet.

  “So what’s the verdict, doc?” he asked, perched on the edge of the table.

  “Well, I’m not a specialist but you are showing signs of what could be the early onset of Alzheimer’s.”

  “Oh come on.”

  “Hey, I’m just telling you the results of the tests.”

  “But they could be wrong?”

  She turned and sat down in front of her computer and pecked at the keyboard. She was always pecking at that damn keyboard. “It’s possible, however, I’m going to recommend you to a specialist at a memory clinic. They will be better suited to make that determination. We should be able to get you in next week.”

  “That soon? Doesn’t it usually take a year?”

  “We can get backed up but maybe this is your lucky day.”

  He snorted. “Lucky.” Henry slipped off the table and shook his head. “Ah, maybe we should put it off a little longer. I have a lot going on, doc. Let’s set a date for next year.” He slipped his coat back on.

  “Henry, in your line of work you can’t afford to put these things off.”

  He waved his hand in the air. “Then, a few weeks from now. This is not a good week.”

  “Henry.”

  “I’ll send you a case of wine. Just hold off putting it in the system until then,” he said. He thanked her and left promptly, aghast with the news.

  Frank drummed his fingers against the desk and waited for her to pick up. He looked at a Super Cub that was heading out of the hangar. It never got old. The business meant as much to him as it did to Henry. He’d put his life and soul into building what it was today and was disheartened to see the way things had gone over the past sixteen or seventeen years.

  Indi had played a large role in that change. In many ways, he figured her departure would be a turning point in the company, a time for getting back to what they were good at. It wasn’t. It only sent them on a downward spiral and he couldn’t — wouldn’t — let that happen. His name wasn’t on the planes or signage but he’d sunk as much time and money into this as Henry had. He was still a partner and had a right to voice his opinion. If he wouldn’t listen to Frank, maybe Henry would listen to Kara.

  The call went straight to her voice mail.

  “Hey, Kara. It’s Frank.” He paused as if expecting her to pick up. “Listen, I’m so
rry to call you but I need to talk to you about your dad. He’s okay, so don’t worry when you get this, but… we need to talk. Call me.” He gave his direct cell and set the phone down.

  Kara had been applying online for jobs and was on a call with a company when she got the notification. While the offer of employment would be a step down in pay, it was better than nothing. Fortunately, her work had caught the attention of this agency and a few others that had secured projects from clients she’d handled in the past. Of course, they were curious to know who the company had worked with, and her name was dropped. So when she asked about employment, they were more than happy to discuss an opening.

  Hopeful was the best way to describe how she felt after passing the initial phone interview, that was until she heard Frank’s voice. Despite bumping heads with her father, she cared about him and as the only child, she was listed as the next of kin who could speak to his physician, if and when an issue arose. The trouble was the breakdown in communication with her father had created a divide which meant that the chance of him telling her was slim to none. Fear – that was what came to mind, fear of losing another parent. It was always at the forefront of her mind, especially with her father’s line of work. Though that had changed over the years after she moved away. Still, all manner of horrifying thoughts flooded her mind. Had he taken a fall? Disappeared searching for gold? Been in a car accident or worse — crashed a plane?

  Even though Frank’s message was calm, he wouldn’t have called her in a panic. It just wasn’t his way. As soon as Frank picked up, Kara asked, “What’s going on?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As close as Henry and I are, you know him better. He keeps his hand close to his chest. I’m worried about him, Kara. He’s forgetting things more frequently. I spoke with a neighbor across the street from him, you know — Joe Broderick. He said your father burning things on the stove has become a common occurrence. The fire truck has been out there on more than one occasion. Of course, he flat-out denies it. So I told him to go see the doctor. To be fair he did, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. Did he talk to you?”