Test Pilot's Daughter II: Dead Reckoning

by Ward, Steve

  Christina was up early in a buzz of activity. She had big plans and needed to get their gear organized. She wanted just enough supplies to sustain twenty-four hours of fun on Jessica’s Island, but a little extra wouldn’t hurt. In the back of her mind, she wondered what it would look like after all these years. She rounded up enough crew to help her get the job done as the yacht plowed on toward their objective.

  Thunderstorms from the night before had cleared, and it was a perfect day for beach bums, 79 degrees, calm and partly cloudy. Doesn’t get any better than this, she thought breathing in fresh, salty air. About 9:00 a.m. she woke the others against grunts and whines of protest. Michael arose in a groggy stupor, but Heather was the worst. She didn’t want to move, much less get out of bed and go to some godforsaken island.

  “Go away!” she screamed and hurled a pillow in the direction of the door.

  “C’mon, little girl, get up. Time to go to school.”

  “No!”

  “Dammit, bitch, get your ass outta bed. The least you could do is pay your respects to Jessica.” After watching her down a dozen glasses of wine the day before, Christina knew Heather would be a problem. If they were going to visit the gravesite, it had to be now.

  Heather moaned, “Uuunnng. . .my head hurts.”

  “So what else is new. You drank too much. C’mon get up.” Christina was losing patience. She grabbed her arms and pulled her erect. “Now hit the shower, and I’ll finish getting all the gear packed in the chopper.”

  “Okay, okay already. Jesus, what’s the rush? That piece of shit island’s not goin’ anywhere.”

  Christina ignored her complaints and walked away. It was a warm winter day in the Bahamas and a great day for exploring. When Michael made it to the upper deck, he appeared shocked to see the helicopter ready to go. It had been carefully packed with diving equipment, ice chests and enough survival gear for a week.

  Heather finally stumbled up to the landing pad in large, dark sunglasses with her hair pulled back. She looked like a movie star in disguise. She shielded her face from the sun as though it offended her senses. Tight jeans, a T-shirt and high-heeled flip-flops rounded out the look.

  Christina teased, “Where did you get those. . .at the Dollar Store?”

  “You’re about as funny as a hysterectomy,” Heather moaned in a bad mood.

  Finally, they all climbed in the aircraft and lifted off in a roar. One CIA agent flew the chopper and another rode shotgun armed with what looked to be an Uzi. All the passengers wore headsets so they could hear each other. With open doors, the sound level in the cabin was earsplitting.

  Christina adjusted her headset to dampen the noise. Ever since her ears started ringing, she couldn’t stand loud noises. It was like placing one’s head between two cymbals. She decided it was time to play tour-guide, so she pressed the intercom button on her seat and said, “We’re going to spend the day on Jessica’s Island, and if we all agree, maybe the night too.” She could see Billy trying to respond, but she couldn’t hear him. “You have to push to talk,” she pointed. “See that little red button?”

  “So you mean the island?” Billy replied.

  “That’s right, the island. This is our activity for the day. I wanted to visit Jessica’s grave. Of course, there won’t be a real grave. At least four hurricanes have long since taken care of that, but we should be able to find the spot. If you remember it was on the north end by the beach. Can’t be that far from here; the pilot has the coordinates.”

  “Wow, that is so cool!” Billy said.

  In no more than fifteen minutes, a long, thin island appeared on the horizon. Christina remembered how she had spotted it in the haze from ten-thousand feet, when the engine died on their Piper Saratoga. She spoke to the chopper pilot, “That’s it. . .eleven o’clock. There, that beach on the near end with the cliffs on both sides. Just put us down there.”

  “Okay, got it. Down in five.”

  As they approached the island, a flood of images swept through her mind. There were bad memories like Jessica covered in blood, Heather staked out naked on the beach, and a huge man with a knife in his back. Then there was the horror of the hurricane. But, there were also good times: Frisbee football, spear fishing on the reefs and story time. She remembered how they sat around the fire after dark and shared their dreams, and how fifteen-year-old Billy, the Eagle Scout, had figured out how to distill water. They had managed to survive some seven weeks with almost nothing, living off seafood and rain water. Even more remarkable, they flew that plane off the beach in the teeth of a gale.

  As they approached the spot, she still wondered how it all happened. Divine intervention!

  The helicopter dove in, hovered over the flat beach and landed in a cloud of white sand. After the blades wound down, they all climbed out onto Jessica’s Island. Each of the three survivors walked into the clear and twisted and turned taking in familiar scenes in stunned silence. Christina had a feeling of awe, so many memories, as she sensed the ghostly aura of her best friend. It felt like only yesterday. Emotion gripped her by the throat as she remembered her friend. Jessica, I so wish you were here.

  “Holy bejesus, this is it,” Billy remarked. “I thought it was just a bad dream, but I guess it was real. Doesn’t seem so foreboding now. Just a strip of sand really. Look at those cliffs, that’s where Heather and I figured out how to boil salt water.”

  “My, oh my,” Heather laughed. “You’re right Billy. As a matter of fact that’s where you kissed me, remember?”

  “How could I forget? It was the most embarrassing moment of my life. What a dumb-ass kid I was.”

  “No you weren’t honey, you were valiant.”

  “So this is it then?” Michael asked. “Not at all what I pictured. I envisioned a rainforest, something plush. This place is pretty crappy. How in the hell did you guys survive almost two months on this sand hazard?”

  “I don’t know,” Christina spread her arms.

  She looked off in the distance as the two CIA agents circled the perimeter to make sure the area was secure. The place probably hadn’t been touched by human feet in years. Why would anyone come to such a barren spot? Both agents climbed up on nearby cliffs to get a good look. As she watched them work, she had warm fuzzies.

  The island was smaller than she remembered, but basic landmarks were still in place. It was typical of the hundreds of Bahamian limestone formations. She made a beeline to the place in front of two large stones where they had buried Billy’s granddad, Jessica and the two drug runners. There was no evidence the bodies were still there, but she recognized some of the stones around the graves. One large stone showed the shape of a cross etched by Billy with a sharp piece of metal where his Granddad was buried.

  “Hey Billy, look at this.” She got his attention.

  “Yeah, wow, it’s still there,” he said.

  Michael came up behind Christina and put his hands around her waist as if trying to offer some comfort.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes while memories flooded her brain. Tears fell as she began to speak softly, “Billy and I were off scouting for water when we heard the shots. They attacked Heather and Jessica here. We went running, but we were a couple miles away. When we got back, it was too late. Jessica managed to knife one in the back. She shot the other guy, but she took a bullet in the chest. She was just barely alive when I got here. It was a mess.” Christina started bawling and said, “She bled to death. . .in my arms. Just before she died, she made me promise. . .to look for her treasure.”

  “Good God, Christina, it must’ve been horrible,” Michael said.

  “Her grandest dream was to hunt for treasure in the Exumas, but she never made it.” She fell into Michael’s arms sobbing.

  “There, there. . .let it all out.” Michael stroked her hair.

  Heather came up and asked, “Anything left of the graves? Oh, uh, are you all right, girl?”

  “I’m okay. I was just telling Michael what happened.” Emba
rrassed, Christina tried to wipe away the tears with the back of her hand.

  “I hope you didn’t tell him everything.” Heather sneered.

  “Look.” Billy came running up. “I remember those stones. We put them all around Jessica’s grave. Boy, I’ll never forget that. Christina, when you swore revenge, it was some scary shit.”

  Christina got control of her emotions and looked around. She placed a white cross, like the ones seen on the side of the highway, where the grave had been and hammered it deep in the sand with a rubber mallet. It was inscribed, JESSICA WARD, Treasure Hunter. She hung a gold necklace on the top rung. It was the one Heather had made for all three girls when they discovered their first tiny pieces of gold in the Keys. She turned, looked at the others and said, “Does anyone want to say anything?”

  Billy stepped forward. “I just want to say how much I loved my Pop. It was great flying with him. That was an awkward time for me, and he was my pal.”

  “Here Billy, I had this made for you. Would you like to drive it in?” It was another cross that said, HANK ROGERS, Charter Pilot.

  “Thanks Christina.”

  “Heather?” Christina wanted to give her a chance.

  “No, not me. I got nothin’ to say. I hate funerals. For God’s sake, this is all too spooky for me. Why don’t we get the hell outta here and go do somethin’ fun?”

  “Circle up.” Christina wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass. They circled the two graves and held hands. The two CIA agents made themselves scarce, but she knew they were nearby. She bowed her head and said, “Dear Lord, we thank you for Billy’s Pop and our Jessica. We thank you for letting us know them. They were noble in their own way, and they changed our lives for the better. We know they’re somewhere in heaven, but we miss them terribly. I just want Jessica to know she was right about that treasure. It was exactly where she said it would be. Her share went to her mom, and even though she suffers from depression, she’s being well cared for. Jessica, you were everything to me, my basketball buddy, my surrogate sister, my confidant, my best friend. May God bless you and your never ending soul in heaven. Amen.”

  “Amen,” they said in unison.

  “I guess that’s it guys.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “Just wanted to pay my respects. Now, let’s go take a walk. We can show Michael how we managed on this heap for so long.”

  They unloaded the helicopter with beach chairs, umbrellas, ice chests and diving gear. Then they took off to explore the island. Poor Michael had heard many of the stories before, but now he was pelted rapid fire. Every rock, every bush and every odd formation had a story. He took it all in good stride and seemed pleased with all the attention from Christina. She was happy he was there, happy they didn’t have to worry about pirates and happy the helicopter was standing by for a quick exit. It was so wonderful to take some time off and forget about the most pressing problems of the world.

  Michael turned his head toward the beach and said, “Holy mackerel, Christina, I can’t believe you got a Piper Saratoga down on that. . .and back in the air.”

  “The wind was a big factor. Headwinds gusted right up to fifty knots when we got off, but it was a little hairy. We had a lot of help from the Big Guy.” She pointed to the sky. “The weather was horrible, but somehow we managed.”

  “A ‘little hairy’ is an understatement,” Billy chuckled. “We flew right through a thunderstorm and almost bought it. It’s a miracle the plane held together.”

  “What’s this?” Heather asked. She picked something out of the sand. “I don’t believe it. Look, it’s my broach.”

  “And look over there,” Billy added. “That metal box. That was part of the survival kit from the airplane.”

  “Christ, Christina, it’s hotter than Hades out here.” Heather fanned herself like the fat lady in the church choir. “Why don’t we do some diving or something to cool off?”

  “I don’t dive,” Michael said.

  “Me neither,” Billy added.

  “What a bunch of wimps,” Heather said. “You boys can snorkel. There’s a lot to see out there, and it’s not very deep.”

  “Great idea,” Christina agreed as she started rounding up the gear.

  For the next couple of hours the four explorers sought the outer reefs of Jessica’s Island. The water was crystal clear, and illumination from the midday sun offered excellent viewing. Michael and Billy floated above while the girls explored below. Christina thought it was so relaxing, she hadn’t dived in years. When they were in survival mode, they had no scuba equipment, so the deep layers of the reefs had been off-limits. The fish, several varieties of snapper and grouper, were abundant there and would have offered a treasure of seafood. She remembered how they struggled to find sufficient sustenance in the shallows. When their tanks were about to run dry, she signaled Heather by tapping on her watch and went after a large snapper at the bottom of the choral. With a spear to the head, the fifteen-pound delicacy succumbed to her line, and they swam to the surface. She showed Michael and Billy.

  “What do you think about this one?” she asked.

  “Beautiful,” Michael answered. “But why did you kill it?”

  “Dinner. I’m going to show you how we lived off the sea.”

  Back on the beach they used a portable, solar shower to get cleaned up. Billy started a fire with dried limbs from the scrubs. Christina filleted the fish and placed large chunks of white meat on the ends of sticks like a wiener roast. In just a few minutes over the flames, it was done.

  When Michael waited too long, his chunk fell into the fire. “Damn it to hell!”

  “It only takes about three minutes,” Christina said. “Better to keep it about half raw so it’ll hold together.” She offered him a piece of hers.

  Heather poured white wine for everyone in plastic wineglasses. “Too bad we didn’t have this when we were here before,” she chuckled.

  Michael took a bite, “Mmmm, that’s really good,” he said. “So what do you do with the guts?”

  “Throw ‘em back in the water,” Christina said. “The gulls and crabs really appreciate it. Nothing goes to waste in the sea.”

  “Did you ever try eating a seagull?” he asked. “I understand they taste just like chicken.”

  “We thought about it a couple of times, but those things are hard to catch,” Billy chuckled. “Actually, we ate so much seafood, we got sick of it. I remember when we made it back, I swore I’d never eat fish again. Now look. This stuff is great.”

  Christina thought about what they should do next and said, “Last night we learned how to live like the super rich. I was thinking about a little contrast. What do you think about spending the night right here by the fire?”

  “Are you crazy?” Heather replied in disbelief. “Girl, we got a thirty-five-million dollar yacht out there. Why would we want to sleep here in the dirt?”

  “C’mon, Heather, it’ll be fun,” Christina said. “We can sit around the campfire and tell stories. Remember ?”

  “Yeah, too well. It was god-awful.”

  “I know,” Christina said, “but this is a different. No reason to be afraid. We’ve got food, good wine and best of all, we got men!”

  “Well, you got a point there,” Heather agreed.

  A couple of hours later, Billy stoked up the campfire with some large limbs, and they sat on the beach and watched the sun settle. It was a beautiful scene as the brilliant orb snuggled between dark, cumulous clouds on the horizon. Off two the east an isolated thunderstorm illuminated the darkness with tiny flashes of light. It was too far away to hear thunder, but it made a strange contrast with the peaceful images to the west. Heather convinced the two CIA agents, Jim and Charlie, to join them around the fire.

  Visions of ancient man flooded Christina’s consciousness, as she peered into the dancing flames. There was something hypnotic about a campfire, an elixir for the soul, stimulating, yet calming. As burning ashes darted above the flames, she let her mind wander. Michael sat
next to her with one arm over her shoulder. Heather lead them in old camp songs, and Christina almost felt like a kid again. The wine was even better than it had been on the formal dining deck the night before, and she wasn’t holding back. My turn to get a little whacky, she thought. I’m tired of always being the designated driver. As they shared cheese snacks and smoked salmon, Christina was feeling downright whimsical.

  Apparently everyone was mesmerized, because the entire group fell silent. Finally Billy spoke, “You know, this place really changed my life. Before we were stranded, I was a stupid, fat kid afraid of my own shadow. After we made it out of here, I was a man. I actually had a great time in high school, even dated some of the better looking girls in our class.”