Beneath a Winter Moon (8 page)
Read Beneath a Winter Moon Online
Authors: Shawson M Hebert
It happened within seconds. Just as Thomas felt the pontoon under his feet connect with the ground, there was a horrible and violent shudder accompanied by the thunderous whack, whack, whack, of the blades as their tips made contact with snow and rock. Jenny yelled something, and the rest of the aircraft hit the ground hard, spun violently, and hopped off the ground several times before coming to a full stop. Thomas buried his face into Jack’s fur and held him tight. The entire cabin shook as if it there was an earthquake as the broken and beaten rotors still whirred.
As the blades slowed, so did the violent shaking. Thomas dared to look around and found that he had unconsciously blocked out sound for the past few seconds. As he took note of his wide-eyed friends, the sound suddenly returned. He heard Jenny yelling at Steven and heard Steven cursing. The blades were turning even slower now, and Thomas could hear the metallic grind that must have accompanied them all along.
“…answer me!”
It was Jenny’s voice.
“I’m fine,
damnit
!” Steven shouted.
Thomas saw that the cockpit’s bubble-shaped windshield directly in front of Steven’s face was badly cracked, with spider-like lines scattering out from a fist-sized hole and he finally saw why Jenny was screaming for her husband to answer. Steven’s face was covered with blood. The pilot was unconcerned with his own injuries as he flipped various switches and directed Jenny to check various indicators. He used the back of a gloved hand to wipe blood from his eyes and then pulled the helmet from his head in frustration. He tossed it over his shoulder, hitting Jack’s hind-quarters and causing the dog to yelp from surprise. Thomas said nothing.
Everything electric was powering down with a fading
whir
ring noise
.
The cabin’s emergency lights dimmed and went out. The rotors stopped spinning. Thomas looked out his window and saw that the tip of the rotor on his side of the cabin was now a jagged piece of ugly, twisted metal.
“Holy shit,” Delmar said. Thomas and Daniel looked at him. They were all breathing heavily. “Holy shit,” he repeated.
“No shit,” said Daniel, as he looked out his window.
“Wow,” Thomas breathed.
“You guys alright?” Steven looked back at them. “Don’t know what to say. Damned thin air and a badass downdraft…I’m so damned sorry, boys.”
“You are bleeding pretty badly,” said Thomas.
“No shit,” Daniel said.
“Steve, let me look.” It was Jenny. She had removed her helmet and was tugging at Steven’s shoulder. “Let me see.”
“
Unass
the bird,” Steven raised his voice when the three men just looked at him. “
Unass
this thing now, until we can do a complete check.” He popped the latch on his door, and swung his legs out. Delmar unbuckled his safety harness and pulled his door open while Thomas did the same on his side. The sudden burst of icy wind brought goose bumps to them all. Thomas squinted against the cold. He slid the safety harness webbing out from under Jack’s harness, and then hopped out. His feet sank about half a foot into the snow, and then hit what felt like solid rock. He felt like burying his face into that snow and kissing whatever was below. As he called Jack out of the helicopter, he saw that his hands were shaking—and not from the sudden cold. He zipped his jacket and snapped the overlay shut, sealing out the cold from his upper body. He reached behind his neck and yanked open a group of snaps, and then rolled out the cold weather hood. He snapped it so that his mouth and nose were covered by the warm material. Daniel and Delmar had done the same and had come around to Thomas’s side of the aircraft.
Steven held a bloody rag above his right eye as he moved around the aircraft making an inspection. Jenny was inside, checking fuel and hydraulic lines for breaks or bursts. Daniel pointed toward the nose of the helicopter. At first, Thomas and Delmar thought he was pointing at the broken windshield, but it only took them a second to see what had captured Daniel’s attention. The nose of the aircraft was no more than five feet from the edge of the cliff. Thomas felt sick at his stomach.
“Holy shit,” Delmar said.
“No shit,” Daniel replied dryly.
“Wow,” Thomas said.
Jack raised a leg at one of the pontoon-like landing skids.
“Fitting,” Daniel said as Jack relieved himself. Delmar chuckled.
Thomas stared at the few feet of distance that separated the helicopter from what would likely have been a deadly fall over the cliff facing.
“Damn, damn, damn!” Steven cursed as he rounded the tail of the helicopter, feet crunching in the snow. “Pieces of the damned rotor slammed into the tail. The tail is okay, but the rotors are shot.” He was talking loudly, speaking to Jenny, but saw the three friends shaking their heads. Thomas handed Jack’s leash to Daniel and walked over to Steven, his right hand extended.
“Thanks, Steven. That was one hell of a close call.”
At first, Steven thought that Thomas was being sarcastic—that he was expressing anger. Then he thought,
no…not Thomas
.
Thomas would never do something like that
. Steven didn’t know what else to do, so he shook the hand. “It was a damned powerful downdraft and maybe a crosswind from the west. It happened when we were so close to the ground that there was no time to correct and pull up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve endangered you all and I am sorry.” He grimaced as he removed the bloody rag from his head. He looked at the rag and sighed.
“Let me just take a quick look at your head. Won’t take a second.” Thomas reached up and turned Steven’s head slightly to the left, not giving the pilot time to protest.
“That will need stitches, my friend, but here…let me see the cloth.”
He took the cloth from Steven and jammed it into the snow, taking a bit and rolling it inside. As he did, he said, “You know, you can’t control the wind. This wasn’t your fault, so no more apologizing. We’re all fine and that is what matters. I’m just sorry that your bird is so badly damaged.” He handed the cloth back to him. “Press that against your head for now, if you can. Let the ice stop the bleeding.”
“Thanks,” Steven said.
Jenny had been watching the conversation from inside the passenger cabin. Her cheeks were white and her nose was a rosy red as the wind swept into her face. She smiled at Thomas and then motioned for Steven to come into the cabin.
Thomas walked back to Daniel and Delmar, who were shuffling snow with their feet as they talked about the crash-landing. Thomas took Jack’s leash. The three quietly agreed that they had no reason to be angry with Steven…and that Thomas was right…the fact that they did not end up sideways or over the cliff was due to some damned fine piloting.
“Does Jenny have a better jacket?” Daniel asked, noticing Jenny as she hopped from the cabin to walk around the nose of the aircraft. “She’s going to freeze in that old leather Air Force jacket.” He walked over to her and tried to get her to take his jacket, but she wouldn’t. He frowned at her but accepted defeat and jumped back into the cabin.
Jenny and Steven were inspecting something under the nose of the helicopter when Daniel came back around. “Here,” he said, thrusting a brown polypropylene shirt toward her. “At least put this on under your jacket. It will really help.” Steven nodded for her to accept the shirt. She thanked him and began removing her jacket.
“What about you, Steven? Between the three of us, we have plenty of polypropylene.”
“Sure,” he replied, “Whenever you have a chance.”
“How long do you think it will take someone to come up and get us?” Daniel asked as he rummaged through his pack.
Thomas tapped Delmar on the shoulder. He cocked his head toward Daniel and Steven. Delmar turned from the cliff facing and listened.
“I’m about to radio Kyle and let him know what happened.” The wind had picked up again, and Steven had to shout. “The radio signal from town will be pretty sorry right about now, but Kyle can relay the message.” He spit. Some blood splattered onto the snow. Steven rolled his tongue around in his mouth and made a grunting noise. “Busted my cheek open, too.” He looked over Daniel’s shoulder at Thomas and Delmar. “You can load back up now…get out of this cold. I can’t run the engine, but it will be a hell of a lot warmer inside.” He motioned to Jenny, who had just zipped her jacket up after having slipped on the warm shirt. “We just needed to be sure it was safe. Might have been a fuel leak or danger of fire. Wouldn’t want that.” He made a gesture toward the open cabin doors.
Thomas was the first to jump into the cabin and sit back down. Jack sat down on the floor at his feet. The sun was sitting heavy on the horizon, an orange blur through the snow clouds. It would take the sun another hour to set but it was gloomy enough. Thomas slid his door shut after Daniel climbed in.
Steven spent the next hour trying to radio Kyle. He believed he might have heard him press the handset a few times, but he could not be sure. The wind continued to howl around the helicopter, rocking it occasionally. The interior finally got cold enough so that they could all see their breath. The three friends pulled space blankets, ponchos, and poncho liners from their packs and passed them around. Thomas gave Steven an old shirt to stuff into the hole in the windshield. They talked about the landing and about what was to come next.
Steven assured them that, at some point soon he would be able to communicate clearly with Kyle and if help was not already on the way, it would be soon thereafter. Delmar had to command Steven to stop apologizing for the landing. No one could resist the voice of the retired Sergeant Major. Steven changed the topic of conversation to insurance claims, estimated costs for repairs and something about license penalties. Steven called in a radio check every fifteen minutes, hoping that if Kyle could not hear them, someone else might.
“Doesn’t that guy…Jeremiah… live somewhere up here on the northern side?” Delmar asked.
“It’s marked on that map I gave to you,
Del.
I circled it in red along with these cliffs and a couple other landmarks,” answered Steven.
“No…I mean…don’t you think that guy has a radio? Living way out here, he’d have to own a radio, don’t you think?”
“Probably,” Steven said, “But it doesn’t help us at all if he does not have it turned on.”
“Get out the map and take a look,” Thomas said.
“Bah. I was just curious….but I’m not curious enough to dig out the map. Besides that, none of us are leaving this aircraft, right? So, we don’t much need a map. Steven’s eight-digit GPS coordinates are all that we need. He’ll read them off to whoever is coming to pick us up.” He pulled the cigar from his breast pocket and stuck it in his mouth to chew on as Steven broadcast over the radio once more. Thomas stared at the horizon, watching the sun slowly disappear. Jack yawned and looked up, ears raised, listening to the wind howl around them.
CHAPTER THREE
Kyle banged a fist on the counter in frustration. He could barely understand anything from the many radio calls and had no idea if any of the transmissions that he had attempted had gone through. He caught just enough to believe that Steven’s helicopter was broken down. He was unsure of the location but he had thought that Steven had radioed in that he was heading to the high bluffs. If Steven
had
landed badly then at best they would be stuck up there without a good source of heat and at worst some or all of them could be injured. If anyone was hurt, time was of the essence.
The storm still surrounded the cabin and the lake. Rather than continue its push south, it had joined with another front that had been moving east. Together the two storms settled in, rolling over a large portion of the territory for the night. Snow was still falling in heavy flurries and the wind was still gusting.
Kyle had been twenty-three when Steven and Jenny took him in two years earlier after finding him stranded in
British Columbia
. He had no relatives in
Canada
and no means of support…no job. After finishing a two-year enlistment in the Army, Kyle had traveled north, seeking adventure in the mountains. What he had found instead was trouble. He got involved with a local girl soon after moving into town and the two had moved in together. Their small rental home had been heaven for a while but things had gotten ugly quick enough. She was a drinker and a hell-raiser and in the end she left Kyle with a stack of bills and about a dozen bad checks cashed in his name. His job as a bartender didn’t pay enough to settle the debts, and he had ended up in jail without the cash to get him clear of the charges or to make bail.
Steven and Jenny flew in to drop off a donor organ for a waiting patient in the small town hospital. Was it a kidney? He could not recall. Steven had seen Kyle sweeping up the sheriff’s office and had taken an interest. The two men had talked while Steven waited for some paperwork. Kyle never understood why, but Steven agreed to pay Kyle’s bail and sign for him. Kyle was grateful but Steven assured him that his help was not charity and that Kyle would earn every penny and would pay back all the debts, whether the girl was responsible or not. Kyle had felt like a little kid when Steven laid down the law, but he saw something in Steven and Jenny that made him feel at home….not quite part of the family, but at home nevertheless.
He’d spent the first couple of months helping to maintain the Svensons’ small ranch. Later Steven hired him to help out with their hunting outpost. Kyle eventually paid all his debts but had come to love the land in which he spent most of his time and enjoyed being around the Svensons. He didn’t want to leave and asked for permission to stay on. Their answer was a resounding ‘yes.’ Kyle grew to love the job even more, especially the treks into the wilderness where he slowly learned the ins and outs of being a good hunting guide.
Right now, however, he was cursing being alone in the cabin with no way to get back across the lake. Kyle checked and rechecked the radio antenna. Normally he would have no trouble contacting the two closest airfields but tonight there was nothing but static. He was having a hard time believing that the bad weather was to blame for the constant static and poor signal. He muttered another curse under his breath as he squeezed the button on the microphone and once again called for a radio check. He waited. No reply.
He dragged the small radio set from the kitchen counter and extended the cords so that he could sit on the sofa. He checked his watch. The generator out back had about enough propane for another two hours. After that, he would either have to go out into the dark and freezing weather to change the tanks or sit through the night with no power and no heat. He leaned his head back on the yellow and black plaid sofa cushion. Of course he would change out the tanks. He had to keep up the radio checks until someone answered. Ten minutes later, he called for another radio check. There was no reply. He listened to the eerie howl of the wind and saw through the big front window that it was completely dark outside now. He sighed heavily. He was worried for his friends and their passengers.
He woke with a start.
What was that?
Had he heard a crash? He tried to focus his eyes but his eyes were not the problem. He’d fallen asleep and the generator had quit. Now he was in total darkness. There was no sound and for a moment Kyle felt better. No wind. The storm had either passed or had calmed by leaps and bounds. He wished he hadn’t let the damned generator run out of propane. The radio would probably work fine, now. He lowered his head in frustration. He was already cold. Embers glowed in the fireplace, but not enough to help with the darkness much less keep him warm. He’d have to get it going and get some heat back into the cabin. Then he would refuel the generator and make a radio call
He heard one of the horses neigh from the barn. The sound was spooky and something about it made his skin crawl. Another high pitched wail from the barn didn’t make things any better. He held his breath. Goosebumps popped up on his arms and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
Kyle slowly stood up as another loud squeal broke the silence and scared him so badly that he sat back down involuntarily. That squeal was one of pain, and worse, it had been cut off by what he thought was a guttural sound. He slowly stood up again and moved to the fireplace. He felt high along the wall to the right of the barely-glowing embers until his hand found the rifle rack. He pulled down the only rifle there, his
Winchester
30.30.
Was a damned bear attacking the horse? All the way down here and in this weather?
He’d never heard of a bear attacking stabled horses. Not even the old timers who loved to scare the shit out of him with stories of bear attacks had ever mentioned horses being attacked in their stables. There had to be something else going on but he was not about to take any chances.
“Kyle, you dumbass,” he whispered, angry at himself for falling asleep and letting the generator quit and his fire die out. He felt along the gun rack once more until he found the nylon strap. He unhooked the headlamp from the rack and strapped it on but didn’t flip the switch.
Not yet
. He would only illuminate himself if he turned the powerful lamp on inside the cabin. He wondered why he was thinking this way, realizing he was acting as if he would need to defend himself inside the cabin, but he convinced himself that it was better to be safe. “Stranger things, kiddo,” he said softly to himself.
As he walked slowly toward the cabin door, he heard a loud crash and a thud from the direction of the barn.
Why in hell did you volunteer to sit here by yourself, Kyle?
He thought.
Because I’m a damned idiot who didn’t think there would be any reason to worry. Besides, I’m not supposed to be alone right now. The Svensons and those hunters are supposed to be with me
.
He was almost relieved when he heard the howl—
almost
. Wolves were well known for scavenging…coming in during the cold months to turn over trash cans and hunt down the local stray cats. He was certain that the howl came from a wolf, but there was a quality to the eerie wail that he could not identify. For one, the howl was much louder than he would have thought. He and Steven had come across their fair share of wolves in the wild and none had posed any real danger. This one, however, sounded much different from those wolves. He breathed deep.
I’ll be better off if it is a wolf—much better than if it were a bear.
He reached the front door of the cabin and made a decision. There was no need for him to go out there. The wolf had simply scared the horses and was now rooting through some garbage or something. He’d just wait a while until he was sure it was gone. No need to take any risks. He started to turn back toward the couch.
He heard a slight creak on the porch, just outside the door. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead now. He calmed himself again.
A bear might be something to worry about…but a wolf or two…while he was inside? No problem.
There it was again. Kyle realized he had begun to hold his breath. It was so quiet that he believed he could hear the pulse in his throat. He suddenly wanted to get away from the door and the window beside it but found that he was frozen in place. He could not have forced his legs to comply even if he truly wanted them to. He waited a moment that felt as if it had dragged on for hours, and when he heard nothing more he chided himself for being such a
wuss
. He slowly let some air escape though his lips.
Shit!
He thought he heard something breathing. Whatever
it
was, was breathing heavily and but not panting like a wolf or a dog. Kyle wanted to breathe air back into his lungs. He wanted to move away. He was even tempted to let his legs turn into jelly and then let his body just slide down to the floor in a heap. He wanted to do any or all of those things but he could not. Not after hearing those sounds. He heard a low growl.
It was not a wolf—something inside him screamed that it was not a wolf. He dare not move, now. If he did, whatever was on the other side of the door would hear him. He
knew
it would hear him. He knew it as surely as he knew the sun would come up in the morning. The animal outside was just waiting for Kyle to make the mistake of moving.
Kyle heard a soft clattering noise and pictured the claws of some wild beast tapping on the wooden porch floor as it moved just a few feet away opposite the door. He could hear that the animal had moved closer to the front door…closer to him.
I have a rifle!
It should have made him feel better but it did not. He forced himself to bring the weapon up and across his chest.
Shit!
He had not cocked the lever. The
Winchester
was a lever-action rifle, just like the ones heroes carried in the
Hollywood
westerns—the lever had to be cocked before the rifle could fire. He let out a shaky and ragged breath. He
had
to cock the rifle.
He loosened his vice-like grip, realizing that the fingers of his right hand were already through the lever. With the backs of his extended fingers, he slowly pushed downward….ever so slowly. He pressed the backs of his fingers hard against the cold steel of the lever as he moved it slowly toward the cocked position. When Kyle felt that the lever was almost in place, he slowed even more. His hand was moving impossibly slow now as he tried to prevent the rifle from making its usual loud
click
when the lever reached home.
He heard the claws on the wood once more…and this time, when he heard the breathing, he knew it was against the opposite side of the door. It was listening. He eased the lever.
CLICK!
The darkness around Kyle suddenly exploded as the door came crashing into him.
* * * * *
“At some point don’t we have to accept that Kyle isn’t receiving? Don’t you think it is time to turn on your downed-aircraft beacon or whatever you call it?” Daniel put the questions to Steven and Jenny at midnight. It had been dark for more than three hours, and there had been no luck at all with the radio.
There was a moment of silence in the darkness. “It’s been on, Daniel. The problem is that the system—the satellites that run the system just recently switched to complete digital.” He sighed heavily. “My beacon is analog.”
As with most Canadian aircraft, especially commercially licensed aircraft, there was a very long lag in replacing the analog beacons with digital, and there had been no crackdown by aviation officials. The satellites, however, were now set to auto-detect only the digital signals.
“Explain that to me in more detail,” Delmar said, trying to hide the irritation in his voice.
“The signal cannot be read by the satellite systems…only by searchers or others who are specifically looking for analog.” It was Thomas who had answered.
“So, that means that no one who isn’t specifically looking for us will find us…okay…that sucks.”