by Hunt, Jack
Could it have fallen out? Kara scanned the ground, picking her way through branches and lifting sheets of metal, but saw nothing. It was disheartening but at least they’d radioed in, and the ELT in the tail would have broadcast a distress signal.
Two potential means of being found. It wasn’t ideal but it was something.
The look of dismay on her face said it all as she returned.
“Any luck?”
“No. And the radio isn’t working.”
She held up the float vest and tossed the Snickers bar to him. Frank caught it and frowned. “What? It has to be there,” he said. He made his way over and looked in the pockets of the vest as if he didn’t believe her.
“Maybe it got knocked out. It could be out there but I didn’t see it,” she said.
He offered back a confused expression.
“Well, at least with the filed flight plan, they’ll know when it’s not closed that we’re missing and they’ll try to call the home base. Dispatch will be able to confirm via satellite tracking. You did have a SPOT tracker or inReach?” she asked.
He looked at her with not a hint of hope.
“Frank?”
“We didn’t file a flight plan.”
“What? Everyone files a flight plan. It takes two minutes.”
“Outside of commercial operations, not everyone files flight plans, Kara.”
“Guys working for my father do.”
He snorted. “You don’t know your father.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Kara, a large majority of bush pilots don’t file them, at least not in Alaska. I thought you knew that. We operate outside of any controlled airspace most of the time, and well, besides making traffic airborne calls or switching to different frequencies, we generally rely on PLBs, SPOT trackers, and inReach. Besides, your father didn’t want anyone to know where we were heading. Specifically because…”
She brought a hand up to her face. “His obsession with this damn gold.”
Frank nodded. She gritted her teeth and looked over at her father, angry. He was lucky he wasn’t conscious or she would have chewed him out.
“Well then thank God for the ELT and radio.” She took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart and ran a hand over her hair. “You did… manage to get a message through… right?”
Frank cleared his throat. “Radio reception can be spotty, it’s highly dependent on distance and line of sight.”
“So, you’re telling me no one knows we’re here?”
“Yeah. No. Uh… I’m saying…” He sighed as he trailed off. “Listen, the ELT in the tail could have broadcast a message but...”
“Could? But? It hasn’t done it already?”
Frank looked out into the forest and then back at her. “Armed, there are two ways it can be activated. From the impact, or manually using the remote switch on the panel.”
“Frank, all I want to know is was it activated, and has it broadcast a signal?”
“I hope so.”
“You hope?”
“It’s not like you hear the audible alert that lets you know it’s working unless you tune into the frequency. The light came on when I flipped it on the way down.”
“So that means it worked.”
“I hope so.”
She groaned and stared at him, listening intently. “But they’re guaranteed to work?”
“They don’t always work. The G-switch has been known to not kick in, antennas get broken off, or the transmitter is destroyed upon impact. Hell, they say if they work in one of out of three crashes, they’re doing well. And…” he continued with worse news, “that doesn’t count for all the false alerts, that’s partly why they switched over to 406 MHz.”
“Switched?” She shook her head. “ I don’t even want to ask.”
“I can check the device but that requires finding the tail,” he said pointing at the plane which was no longer sporting the back end. All that was left was some dangling, twisted metal sheeting. She hadn’t seen the tail, just debris scattered far and wide behind it. It wasn’t an ideal situation, it was best to have more than one means of being found but something was better than nothing. “Okay, so no PLB. Frank, what about a GPS tracker?”
“I had a PLB and inReach in my vest, that’s it and they’re both gone.”
Filled with worry, they headed out to explore and find the tail.
13
The plane had plowed into the perimeter of a forest that butted up against a vast cobalt-blue lake surrounded by peaks and high ridges. They were far enough south that a vast sea of green trees, brush, moss, and grass dominated the area. The first fall of snow hadn’t occurred but the air had the familiar chill that only October brought, the telltale sign that it could snow. Had they crashed further north in Alaska, closer to Barrow, there would have been nothing but tundra. For that reason alone she was thankful.
It was a short distance from the plane to the rocky shore. Although the wind kept picking up, the temperature was hovering somewhere in the mid to low 40s.
The thought of being stranded as it began to snow made Kara even more determined to get out. Still, the first 24 hours were critical. It was always advisable to stay with the crash and not wander off.
It didn’t take long to find the tail end of the plane; it was close to the edge of the tree line. Ahead of it, scattered throughout the spruce and fir trees, were smaller chunks of metal and open packs. Their clothing was dotted throughout as if someone had unzipped the bags and dropped one or two items every few feet.
“You do know where we are, right?” Kara asked as they got closer to the tail.
“We are west of our last location. I don’t know exactly, I have a rough idea but it’s pretty vast out here. My best guess is somewhere in the Talkeetna Mountain Range close to Nelchina Public Use Area.”
“But pilots fly over here all the time, yes?”
She glanced at him and he met her gaze but didn’t respond. Something in his eyes told her that he wasn’t sure. Of course, bush planes transported tourists, hunters, and locals to destinations across Alaska all the time but the state was so vast, a map didn’t do it justice. From above they would have looked like nothing but specks, and that was even if they could be seen. The plane was buried in the trees, hidden from view. Then of course there was the timing. October. Hardly any tourists, fewer flights. It wasn’t good.
“What about flares?” She asked.
“There’s a flare gun with roughly six flares. We always carry them. It should be under one of the passenger seats.”
“Your shoulds are not working out for us too well right now,” she replied.
Frank stopped and glared at her. “Kara. I’m doing my best here. I didn’t expect this to happen. No one does.”
A pause.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay, let’s just find this ELT.”
Frustration was building. The ever-present thought that they might have to ride out a night or two in the wilderness worried her for numerous reasons, most of which were obvious. When they reached the tail or what was left of it, as it didn’t exactly resemble one, Frank inched his way through the mangled wreckage until he spotted it. A bright yellow device. He crouched and looked at it, then gazed off into the distance then back at it. “What is it?” she asked.
“No, that can’t be.”
“What can’t be?” she said, fear rising in her chest.
“The antenna. There’s no antenna. There should be an antenna or at least a broken one but…”
“Isn’t checking the antenna part of the preflight routine?”
“For some it is but testing is done annually. But I had your father check it this morning.” He let out a sigh and ran a bloody hand over his head. He tossed down the mangled yellow box which clearly wouldn’t have been of much use now even if there was a way to create a makeshift antenna. She could tell he didn’t want to blame her father but at the same time, it was obvious that having her father perform a few of the checks wasn’
t the smart thing to do.
“Something doesn’t sit right here,” Kara said. “If he checked it, he would have seen that it was gone. Where would it go?”
“How the hell should I know? For all I know, it might have gotten torn out in the crash. Either way, there’s no use us sitting here griping about it.”
“Griping? So no ELT signal, no PLB or inReach, and the radio isn’t working. But you think they heard the mayday, right?”
“Like I said, there’s no guarantee.”
Kara blew out her cheeks and ran both hands through her hair as she approached the edge of the water that was lapping against the shore.
“I’ll see if I can find the PLB or inReach but right now let’s try to assume the best. Someone might have heard the mayday, it’s possible the ELT did have an antenna and it was torn out. Help could be on the way. Let’s stay positive.”
She nodded, not looking at him while she tried to convince herself that someone would recognize they were missing. As Frank began searching, Kara turned to him and asked, “How many days was my father looking to spend out here?”
“A week. He said there was some cabin that we would stay at.”
“But I told him I couldn’t stay that long. He told me one or two days.”
“Yeah, for you. I would have dropped you back. He planned to make the most of it before his medical next week. He didn’t want to rush back.”
She knew well enough that bush planes weren’t on radar out here, it wasn’t like they were flying in a commercial airliner where air traffic control would see them disappear off the radar and be alerted. One of the known limitations of radar was that it only worked via line of sight from the antenna on the ground, and with all the mountains around them in the way, and not flying above 10,000, the chances were slim to none of anyone knowing where they were. Also, more often than not once they had taken off from Anchorage and were five miles out they were on their own, free to change their flight path, and many times pilots did. That was both the beauty of flying the backcountry and a curse if anything went wrong.
“So if no one knows where we are, we need to make it clear to anyone flying overhead that we are here,” she said. He nodded as he fished through more debris. “We can create a fire, smoke would help, and then maybe lay out some wood and parts of the plane and create a huge SOS on the ground near the edge of the water.”
“I’m not sure we have enough wreckage.”
His replies weren’t helping. It was almost like he didn’t want to be found but she knew that wasn’t true. He had a wife, two kids. He had a reason to live and get home safely. “Then we gather up wood and cover some of it with the brightest clothing from our luggage. I’ll do that and see if I can’t find those flares.” Kara broke into a jog, knowing that time was against them. It was still early in the day but now that it was October the days would get shorter. Night would soon be upon them and with that would come a drop in temperature. Hunger wasn’t the first thing on her mind — staying warm, finding shelter, alerting anyone flying over was critical.
Kara climbed up into the belly of the aircraft, her body still in pain but she tried to push it from her mind. Each time she entered, her nerves got the better of her. Even though the plane was wedged between three trees, she was convinced it would drop. It took her a while but she eventually found the flares, in a bright orange box.
Regardless of what had gone wrong since the crash, having these gave her a small smidgen of hope. Back on the ground, she checked on her father. He was still breathing, his eyes closed. Kara returned to the water’s edge to find Frank sitting on a boulder staring at a photo. It was his family.
“You’ll get back to them,” she said, trying for his sake to remain positive even though she was freaking out on the inside. She even went so far as to buy into what he’d said about someone hearing their distress signal. “I imagine right now search and rescue is on the way and in a couple of hours we’ll find ourselves with one hell of a story to tell.”
“Yeah,” he said, tucking the snapshot back into his pocket.
It was important to stay positive, to keep their spirits up. They could only work with what they could control and right now that might have been next to nothing but it was something, and she was holding on to that.
Over the next couple of hours, together they gathered up clothes and wood and began to form a huge SOS on the edge of the water. Once it was done, they stepped back and looked at it. It was hard to see it fully as it was designed to be visible from above. Kara opted to make her way around part of the lake and climb up the slope to see if it was big enough. “How is it?” Frank bellowed, his voice echoing.
She shrugged. “I guess it’s fine. I still can’t see it clearly from this height.”
After returning, they wandered back to the plane and found her father was now awake, coughing and looking worse for wear but alive.
“Dad.” She hurried over to him and dropped to her knees, clasping his cold hands. Now that the irrigation solution bottles were empty, she’d filled them from a stream nearby. She brought one to his lips and he sipped, then groaned in pain. “Don’t try to move. The right leg is broken. We need to splint it but we were checking to see if the ELT was in one piece.”
He gave a strained smile and glanced at Frank who came into view behind her. “Well this is one for the books, isn’t it, Frank?” Henry said.
Frank nodded. Her father looked around.
“Angela. Where is she?”
Kara dipped her chin.
Over the following ten minutes, they brought him up to speed on what had happened, what they’d found, and the possibility that a distress signal hadn’t been heard. That’s when Frank asked. He just cut straight to it. “Did you check the antenna cable like I asked?”
“Yeah, I did,” her father shot back without any hesitation, leading her to believe he was telling the truth. If he’d shown any sense of confusion she might not have bought it but he didn’t miss a beat.
“You sure about that?”
“Frank!” Kara said, not looking at him. “You heard him. How about you gather up what we need to make a splint so we can try and reduce the pain here.”
Frank grumbled as he walked away.
“Do you remember anything just before the crash, where we were heading, what we were passing over when we went down?” she asked.
He nodded and told her. He couldn’t confirm where they were but reeled off a rough estimation that was in alignment with what Frank had said. They were somewhere between the Talkeetna Range and Nelchina. With Frank out of earshot, Kara shared her concerns: the unfiled flight plan, the missing emergency communication devices, the radio not working, the ELT that didn’t have an antenna. He could tell what she was alluding to but he wouldn’t confirm, instead he said what Frank had, what any pilot might have given the situation. “There’s still a chance that someone heard the mayday.”
She was about to reply when Frank called out. “Kara! Hey, quick!”
For a brief moment, she thought he’d found the PLB or survival kit. She hurried back to the shore to find Frank staring up into the air. Hovering high in the basin, a fair distance from them, was a drone, it buzzed steadily and slowly got lower. It was far bigger than the ones that amateur videographers used, it was large enough to carry a huge box. It zipped down and they stared up. Frank lifted a hand and like snapping out of a dream both of them began waving frantically, Kara pointing to the SOS, her heart thumping in her chest.
At last.
They’d been found.
Someone knew they were here.
“Hey!” they bellowed loudly, then it dawned on Kara to use a flare just in case whoever was controlling the unit was nearby. She hurried back into the forest and collected the box, stopping only to tell her father that they’d been found and everything was going to be okay. Arriving back at the lake, she snapped open the box. She removed the yellow flare gun and took out one of the shell-style orange ammunition and inserted it into t
he gun and then fired off one round. A loud bang erupted and a bright golden light appeared in the sky, high above them before arcing and making its descent.
Their worry turned to laughter as they watched the drone get closer.
A surge of exhilaration and relief came over her.
They were moments away from being airlifted out of this hellhole. All her fears subsided, doubts and concerns evaporated. “I told you,” Frank said. She hugged him and they continued looking up toward the craggy ridge as they heard the sweet sound of a plane’s engine. Then, bursting over the ridge, the plane came into sight and they waved their arms frantically. The huge bird in the sky circled and made its approach down into the basin.
As it got closer, the smile on Kara’s face vanished.
It wasn’t a search-and-rescue plane. There was no signature on the side or anything that would tell them it was with that branch, instead it was the GA8 Airvan, the white floatplane from the lodge, the same one she’d seen Hugh Callaway arrive in.
14
They watched as it came down and skimmed across the water like a smooth stone, bouncing gently in a controlled fashion before slowing and turning toward them. The engine rumbled loud as it got closer, the propeller spinning wildly. It stopped a few feet from the shore, angled with the left wing toward them. The door on the pilot’s side opened and Paul Ross stepped out onto the float. At the same time, the rear sliding door shifted back and Hugh Callaway appeared. No longer wearing the long tweed jacket, he was outfitted in red search-and-rescue gear, a hard hat, and dark sunglasses, looking every bit the part.
