by April Hill
“If I’m not under arrest, does that mean you can’t force me to go with you? Legally?”
He glanced around the dismal little room the corporal called an office. “Dear God, woman, are you telling me you actually want to remain here?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. What I want to do is to wait here for the first commercial flight out. I don’t care where it’s going, just so it has a fucking indoor toilet.”
“You’ll have a long wait,” he said. “The last time a commercial flight landed here was three years ago—forced down in a blizzard. This is nothing more than a weather station most of the year. There’ll be another plane arriving at the end of the month, to take Corporal O’Brien back to civilization for the winter. That’s the extent of air traffic in or out of Fort Honolulu.” He chuckled. “That’s the name some long-forgotten fellow gave the place before he went quietly insane and started giving affectionate names to the vermin.”
“Why Regina, then?” she inquired. “And not Toronto. That would be closer for me, since I live in Boston.”
He sighed. “That’s not our problem, I’m afraid. Regina is where I’m posted at the moment. This trip was originally assigned to Flight Officer Harry Brubaker, whose lovely wife, Hannah, had the very poor judgment to go into labor at the last moment, leaving me to fly up here to hell and gone, for the sole purpose of collecting you.” At this point, the Sergeant picked up the largest of her bags, and pointed to the rest of them. “Now,” he said grimly, “unless you’re determined to spend a sub-zero Yukon winter here, in the company of a lot of seals and marauding polar bears, I suggest you pick up the remainder of your luggage, haul it to that airplane out there, and let me get us the hell out of here.”
She did as he ordered, mildly worried that he might decide to leave without her.
“How old is that thing, anyway?” Anne inquired, as they approached the plane.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I understand it’s been out of service for a while, but it’s perfectly airworthy. It was all that was available on short notice, and it was naturally assumed that you’d prefer not to spend any longer with us than necessary.”
“Your assumption was right,” she said sweetly, “especially if this is the way you usually treat visitors to your country.” She waited alongside the plane while he threw her belongings into the back.
He handed her the file. “You’re not a visitor. According to that, you’re an intruder. Actually, after knowing you for these few minutes, I’d be forced to testify in a court of law that that you’ve exhibited personality characteristics typical of something far worse. You’re arrogant, resentful of authority, and determined you’re right, even when you’re behaving idiotically. You’re being deported, or exported. Call it what you like, but you’re about to be booted out of Canada, at government expense. My orders are to take you as far as Regina. How you get home after that is your problem. Now, get in the plane and fasten your seat belt. I’d hate to have you fall out. I might have to turn around and go back for you.”
“So, now, you’re acting as my judge and jury, as well?” Anne inquired. “Are you so sure that everything in that file is correct?”
“If there was ever an open and shut case, lady, you’re it. You stowed away, lied to the CCG, and resisted arrest by popping a Crown policeman in the nose with his own copy of the Collected Works of Rudyard Kipling. Besides, we try to keep the administration of justice fairly simple up here. It saves time, and a good deal of unnecessary paperwork.”
“Then your system is corrupt and unjust,” she insisted sullenly. “All that happened was I was on the phone, and wanted to continue talking, and the corporal tried to take the phone away from me. What I did was entirely in self-defense.”
“Corporal O’Brien appears to disagree, and our corrupt system of injustice being what it is, the Corporal’s version trumps yours. He says you whacked him in the nose—first with the telephone receiver, and then with Rudyard Kipling.”
“You’re obviously biased,” she shot back, “and you know absolutely nothing about me, personally.”
When he replied, his voice had taken on a distinctly threatening note. “What I know is this, Miss Wilson. If you don’t board that airplane in three seconds, you’re in serious danger of having your backside paddled. By me—personally.”
Anne’s jaw dropped. “You’re threatening to spank me?” she exclaimed. “Like some character in a Victorian novel? I’m not surprised you people still ride around arresting people on horseback.” She narrowed her eyes and gave him a suspicious look. “Are you sure you’re really a licensed pilot?”
He groaned. “No, I thought I’d just help myself to an elderly, hundred thousand dollar aircraft and go for a joy ride, while my horse was getting new shoes. Get on the plane.”
“Show me,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t particularly like small airplanes, and I’m not setting one foot on this one until you can prove to me that you know how to fly the fucking thing.”
For a moment, Cameron simply stared at her, disbelieving what he’d heard. Finally, he stepped up into the cockpit, opened a small compartment on the control panel, and pulled out a laminated pilot’s license and a slender leather book that read Pilot Log on the cover. He passed it down to her, and waited while she leafed through the pages.
“Do you verify that you are Staff Sergeant Geoffrey Andrew Cameron, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?” she asked.
“Yes, but at the moment, I’m rethinking my choice of careers. Policemen in this country aren’t allowed to punch people in the nose. Get in the damned plane, or…”
“Or what?” she snapped.
“Or I waste more daylight by administering that paddling we discussed, and squander even more time by tying you into the damned seat and stuffing a gag in your mouth.”
“Is that sort of conduct permitted by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?” she inquired sarcastically. “Striking unarmed women?”
“Probably not, but we are encouraged to act on our own initiative, when we find ourselves in unforeseen difficulties. I’m beginning to think that this trip will be measurably less difficult if I simply take that initiative, now, by putting you across my knee and setting your obstinate backside on fire. Now, for the last time, are you going to get in, or risk finding out just how much initiative I’m capable of taking? And how much discomfort I can deliver in a short time, with a wide leather duty belt?”
“I’m going to report this entire conversation, you know,” she said smugly. “As soon as we land in Regina. Assuming we don’t fall out of the sky before then, and get eaten by bears or whatever.”
“I’ll be happy to co-sign any report you wish to make,” he said wearily. “And do my best to make it as detailed as possible, by filling in any details of the alleged spanking incident you may have forgotten to mention. In fact, as soon as I’ve finished whaling the living daylights out of you, I’ll be certain to make extremely careful notes.” He reached behind the front passenger seat and removed a small digital camera in a leather case. “I’ll even provide pictures of any alleged injuries to your person.” He smiled. “Like the boy scouts we’re often accused of resembling, Mounties are always prepared. And if you should be consumed by a bear, there’ll be pictures to accompany the article about your unfortunate demise.”
Anne scowled, but made the extremely wise decision to say nothing else. She was getting tired of exchanging stupid repartee, and felt fairly certain that the Sergeant’s threats were nothing but male bravado. Still, though, there was something in his tone that suggested caution. She slapped the book and license into his extended palm, put one foot on the metal step just below the wing, and stepped up into the cockpit. Behind her, holding the door, Sergeant Cameron was fighting an almost overwhelming urge to use the Pilot Log to give his companion’s attractive backside a sound swat. Instead, he pushed the door closed, locked the handle in place, and dropped back onto the macadam. It was a long flight
to Regina, and he was dreading every minute of it.
* * * * *
For the next hour, they didn’t speak at all. He didn’t appear to be angry any longer, but he did seem preoccupied, and since she had always been mildly uncomfortable flying, Anne spent the time staring out the window at the bleak terrain passing beneath the wings. A range of snow-covered mountains loomed in the distance, but now, they were flying quite low to the ground, which made it possible to see everything at close range—what there was to see. Mainly, the landscape was barren and flat, dotted with pools of still water that looked like small lakes.
“Were those reindeer, back there?” she cried suddenly, forgetting that she had promised herself not to speak one civil word to him during the entire trip. She turned in her seat and pointed behind them.
“Caribou,” he replied, accommodating her curiosity by dipping the wing slightly, in order to provide a better view of the small herd of deer-like animals that were grazing contentedly, only fifty feet below them. “They’re still fattening up, for the winter.”
“But it’s barely October,” she remarked.
“The natives like to joke that we only have two seasons up here,” he said, flashing her a friendly smile. “The first week in July, and the dead of winter.”
“Will it be dark all the time, then?” she shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of the engine as he banked again and climbed higher, to avoid disturbing the caribou.
“Semi-dark,” he shouted back. “With a few hours of semi-light in the afternoon. It gets a bit gloomy, sometimes, but it’s not as bad as farther north. You get used to it. You learn to stay busy, and it helps if you like read.”
“I don’t know what I expected,” she said. “It’s beautiful, but I guess I thought it would be more mountainous, with a lot more snow.” She pointed downward. “This area looks sort of swampy.”
“Muskeg,” he explained. “Marshland, moss, scrub growth. The upper crust stays soggy most of the time–when it’s not frozen solid, that is. You’ll find plenty of mountains ahead, and as far as snow goes, be careful what you ask for. Winter can happen fast up here, and always before you’re ready.”
“Do you mind of I ask why we’ve been flying so low?” she asked
“I’m trying to not use the heater,” he said. “It saves on fuel.”
Anne looked at him, concerned. “We’re short on gas?”
He smiled. “No. I left Regina with a full tank, and topped off from O’Brien’s fuel stores back at Fort Honolulu. We’ll be fine, but it’s never a good idea to waste fuel. If you’re getting too cold, I can crank the heat up a notch, though. The temperature drops around three to four degrees with every thousand feet, so when I’m flying alone, I usually try to stay as low as I can. Until I start turning blue, that is.” He pointed ahead, to the mountains. “Or until we get closer to that, of course.”
“You keep looking at all those little gauges,” she observed nervously.
“Just keeping an eye on things,” he said. “The one on the left seems a bit low, but it’s probably nothing to worry about. Sit back and try to enjoy the view.” After a few moments, he spoke again. “I want to apologize to you, Miss Wilson— for some of my remarks back there. They were unprofessional, and I was totally out of line. You have every reason to file a complaint when we reach Regina.”
“So, you wouldn’t have actually done what you threatened?” she asked, trying without success not to blush, and even harder not to repeat any form of the actual word he’d used.
“You mean would I have spanked you?” he asked. The word seemed to hang in the air for a long moment, and this time, Anne’s face went red. It was obvious that he was teasing her, and equally obvious that he was enjoying her moment of embarrassment, at least a little.
“Well,” he said, “things of a disciplinary nature aren’t normally included among my duties, but I’ll have to admit that I was sorely tempted. I’m told that I have a short fuse, but I prefer to think I’m just not the type to bear fools gladly—no insult intended, of course. Just to be on the safe side, though, I’d try to be on my very best behavior until you’re out of my jurisdiction, and back on American soil. And while we’re on the subject, could you try to limit your use of Anglo-Saxon expletives? I’m a sensitive fellow, and in this confined space, that sort of language tends to grate on the nerves.”
She sighed. “I’ll be sure to do that. I’ll try to watch my language, too, even though it’ll sort of cramp what I like to think of as my tough-guy literary style. Actually, I probably owe you an apology, as well. I acted like a bitch, back there. It’s not much of an excuse, but I was upset about screwing up my assignment. It meant a lot to me.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. Will you lose your job because of it?” he asked.
“No. I’m a freelance writer and photographer. But it took me a hell of a long time to find that idiot cook that I bribed—the bastard who screwed me. Figuratively speaking, of course,” she added quickly.
“Of course,” he said, with a grin. “It’s difficult to find a trustworthy corruptible person these days.”
“How long have you been in the Mounted Police?”
He pointed to the arc of embroidered gold stars on his shoulder. “One star for every five years makes twenty years. I was a mere child at the time, of course. How long have you been a writer?”
She laughed. “Since I was four, and picked up my first number two pencil. Now, would you like to know how long I’ve been getting paid for writing?”
He smiled. “A few years less that that would be my guess.”
“Good guess. This was going to be my second paid story, actually. I sold one six months ago, though—about restoring hair loss in bald men. The paid me a hundred bucks, which left me thirty bucks short of paying my electric bill. I’m thinking of taking up another career. Do they take women in the RCMP? Red’s my best color.”
“If you’re a Canadian citizen, yes. But I believe they prefer to hire ladies who haven’t entered the country illegally.”
“Damn!” she exclaimed. “Another missed opportunity.”
She glanced at her watch, and yawned. “Is it okay with you if I just close my eyes for a few minutes? I’m really zonked.”
Cameron peered out the window. “Go ahead. With all that ground fog down there, you won’t be missing much. I’ll wake you when the tour gets more interesting.”
Anne yawned again. “Thanks. Oh, by the way,” she asked suddenly, pointing to the control panel. “What’s that little orange light on the dashboard for? The one that just started blinking?”
Seconds later, all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER TWO
Anne woke up dazed and confused, and it took a minute or two before those last, terrifying seconds before the crash came back into focus. All she remembered clearly was a flash of light and the sound of her own choking as the cabin filled with smoke. The plane had begun circling slowly downward, in a series of lazy spirals. Then, in a sudden, stomach-churning loss of altitude, they had dropped through the haze and plummeted toward earth. As the earth rushed up to meet them, Anne had only a brief glimpse of what might have been a lake, and a range of low, bleak hills. And then, everything had gone black.
She twisted painfully to her left, looking for Sergeant Cameron, but he wasn’t in the pilot’s seat, and a quick glance to the rear made it clear he wasn’t in the plane at all. An odd assortment of items had been thrown forward into the cockpit when the plane crashed, and she had to disentangle herself from some of it before she could move in her seat. With the windshield shattered, and her window streaked with mud, it was difficult to tell much more about the damage, or to see anything outside. She clawed at her seat belt, and called Cameron’s name.
A sudden tap on her window startled her, and she turned and saw him, standing on the right wing. He motioned for her to stay back, then forced the door open and leaned into the cockpit.
“Don�
��t try to move too quickly,” he ordered. “You’ll probably be dizzy for a while.” He pointed out the cracked windshield. “You took a pretty good thump when we plowed into that embankment out there. Does it feel like anything’s broken?”
Anne turned in the seat slightly, and winced. “No. My shoulder’s stiff, and it hurts to move it, but I don’t think it’s broken. What about you?”
“I seem to have fared better than you,” he said, touching his left side gingerly. “A bit sore, is all.” When he put his hand on her forehead, Anne yelped. “This cut doesn’t look serious, but you’re probably going to have a devil of a headache.” He reached in front of her and pulled off a loose flap of torn metal from what had once been the map compartment. ”There’s a nasty bruise on your ankle, where you hit this, and your foot looks a bit swollen, as well. I’m fairly certain nothing’s actually broken, but we won’t know until you try putting your weight on it. Do you feel up to moving around, or had you rather stay where you are a bit longer?”
She glanced nervously around the wrecked cabin. “Shit! What a mess. We’re not going to explode, or anything, are we?”
He smiled. “Not to worry. No leaks. As far as I can tell, at any rate.”
Anne made a face. “Gee, thanks, but in the future, I’ll try to do my flying with someone who knows as much about airplanes as he does horses. Where the hell are we, anyway?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “All I can give you is my best guess, which isn’t very good. I had to spiral around, looking for a likely spot to set us down.”
“What’s all this crap I’m sitting in?” she asked irritably.
“I noticed a lot of stuff stored in the back, before I took off,” he said, pushing aside several items so she could get her seat belt off. “Old supplies, probably. Leftovers from when this plane was in regular use as a sort of delivery van for the more remote posts.”
He picked up a dented can and read the label. “I hope they find us quickly,” he said with a chuckle. “The expiration date on this chili was eight years ago.”
