Turbulence (5 page)

“At least you can feel good about giving him a little of what he’s lacking.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He glanced over at her, making sure she was safely strapped in and wearing the headphones he’d provided. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered.

“Then let’s go.”

Although the airport was officially closed to commercial traffic, he cleared his takeoff with local officials. Once the formalities were handled, he increased the engine speed until his plane quivered with the same restrained power as a horse at a starting gate. Noise roared to a fever pitch, the propellers whirred to a blur, and within seconds they were sailing down the tarmac. An instant later, they lifted off the ground.

He drew a deep breath and felt a familiar sense of calm spread through him as he soared into the sky. He was in his
element doing what he loved, and no matter the headaches and challenges of his business, he wouldn’t trade this for anything.

S
AM STOOD AT THE HANGAR
door and watched Micky take off. If only he’d been able to go with them instead of staying behind. Micky had always talked about how it relaxed him to be high in the sky and Sam had felt it, too, when Micky had taken him on short trips. Looking at the storm moving in, he could use some of that calm right now.

For a minute, fear that Micky might not make it back before the wind got worse made his chest hurt. He didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to Micky. He was Sam’s best buddy, even though Sam knew that sometimes he was a pain in the neck with all the questions he asked.

He didn’t think Micky minded, though. He was always willing to answer and explain and show Sam how to do stuff. Tinkering, was what Micky called it. Sam liked to tinker and he wanted to do everything perfect. As Micky said once, a man couldn’t be too careful with his plane.

Sam watched the Piper become a speck in the sky. This time, the sense of being alone felt so strong that tears came to his eyes and a lump jumped into his throat. He brushed the tears away and swallowed hard, glad that his friends from school couldn’t see him crying like a sissy. It was just that when Micky was nearby, everything seemed okay, even if it wasn’t. Right now, with the storm coming, he’d feel a lot better if he was with Micky.

Close the hangar and padlock the fence.
Micky’s instructions popped into his head. Sam couldn’t do those jobs until his ride came and they left, but he wouldn’t forget. He didn’t want to disappoint his idol.

He’d also make sure that he saved a space for Micky next to his at the school gym. With everyone staying there until
the hurricane blew over, he wanted to be sure there would be room for Micky when he came back.

Please God, don’t let anything happen to him.

D
ANA’S EXPERIENCE
with air travel had always been from the viewpoint of a passenger in the cabin. Sitting in one of the control seats and watching the mechanics involved in this technological feat was far more exhilarating. There was something special about feeling the plane lift off the ground and knowing that the pilot had unleashed the power to break the laws of gravity. Now she understood why flying lessons were so popular. Perhaps she’d check into taking them herself when she got home.

Sensing that Micky was too occupied for small talk, Dana silently watched him at the controls. Every move he made, every glance he took, was graceful and unhurried, as if he was more at home here than at any other place in the world.

Flying was obviously in his blood, just as firefighting was in hers. She’d always known she’d inherited whatever thrill-seeking genes nature had created and it was obvious that he had, too. Idly she wondered what hair-raising interests the kids of two people who thrived on excitement would have. Perhaps they’d become astronauts or deep-sea explorers….

Feeling ridiculous at thinking along those lines, she smiled.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

Realizing she couldn’t explain her goofy grin without either making his ego swell or giving him a heart attack from the horror of it all, she simply shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just enjoying myself.”

Determined to avoid further prying, she changed the subject. “I heard you mention that you were flying VFR. Does that stand for Very Foolish and Risky?” She knew it didn’t, but hoped to lighten the mood. If they were going to work to
gether for the next few hours, she’d rather the time pass smoothly.

He laughed, a hearty sound that raised her own spirits.

“It might seem that way today, but it’s shorthand for Visual Flight Rules,” he told her. “Pilots fly by two sets of regulations. VFR, which I just explained, or IFR, which is shorthand for Instrument Flight Rules. Under VFR, I control the altitude of the plane by relying on what I can see out the window.”

“That’s it? It’s just a matter of what you can see?”

“Actually it’s a little more complicated. Under VFR, I have to stay a certain distance away from clouds and remain in an area where the visibility meets the FAA’s minimum requirements. It’s then my responsibility to see and avoid other planes as well as obstructions like mountains, towers, or buildings.”

A midair collision with a plane or a building didn’t sound like something she wanted to experience. She might like adventure, but she was also a stickler for safety.

“Don’t worry,” he said as if he’d read her mind. “Airports are closed, so no one should be in this airspace except us. Even though we’re staying relatively close to the ground, where we’re going, there aren’t any mountains or tall buildings to worry about.”

“Oh. How high are we?” The cars on the highway below appeared smaller than the Hot Wheels cars that her nephews owned.

“About five hundred feet.”

She was used to hearing the captain announce they were at thirty-five
thousand
feet, not a few hundred. “Isn’t that kind of low?”

“Yeah, but with the rain, if we go any higher, we might miss the van.”

“What about telephone poles and TV towers?”

“We’ll have to watch for those, but if someone hasn’t moved them in the last day or two—” his grin revealed perfect white teeth “—I know exactly where they are.”

His confidence was infectious. Although she relaxed, she silently vowed to stay alert. Two pairs of eyes were better than one. “And the rain won’t affect our flying?”

“Not unless we fly into an absolute downpour. I hope to be back in Turning Point before that happens.”

So did she. She leaned forward in her seat as she peered through the rain-streaked side window. “Any ideas on where to start looking?”

“Mitch told me the group was from Laredo, which is southwest of Turning Point by a few hundred miles. I’d guess they were intending to get to Highway 44 and then hook up with 59. The question is, which little roads between here and 44 did they take?”

“Then we have a lot of ground to cover.”

“Unless the cell phone tower comes through with a fix on their position,” he agreed. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

“I will.”

For a few minutes, neither one spoke over the noise of the engine or the swoosh of the wipers. She wondered if this was an indication of how their partnership would be—he’d only speak unless spoken to—and decided that even if he was leery of her abilities, the two of them had nothing to gain by sitting in silence.

“Out of curiosity,” she asked, “do you prefer being called Micky or Mick—or Flynn?”

“Micky. Or Mick. Whichever you prefer.” He glanced down at his gauges before he continued. “So what happened after you gave the kid who called you ‘Red’ a bloody nose?”

“I got suspended from fourth grade for two days. My arguments that I was only defending myself fell on deaf ears.
Mrs. Pierson, our principal, spent the next twenty minutes discussing the finer points of acting like a young lady.”

“You must have been a tomboy.”

“I was. My parents’ favorite drill was to remind me that being a girl should never stop me from pursuing whatever career I wanted to pursue. So I took their advice and did all the things that interested me.”

“Enlightened people.”

She smiled fondly as she pictured them. Their DNA might not match hers, but no one except Tim and Helen Ivie would ever be Mom or Dad in her eyes. “They are. They’re both schoolteachers. Mom teaches sixth grade and Dad teaches high school biology.

“By the way,” she continued. “I noticed you wear a Texas A&M baseball cap. I thought everyone around here wore cowboy hats.”

“We do, but a headset isn’t exactly compatible with a Stetson. And this is my lucky cap. Can’t leave home without it!” he added cheerfully.

Several small animals streaked across the ground below. “Coyotes?” she asked, determined to prove that she wasn’t completely ignorant.

“Yeah. Probably looking for higher ground.”

Once again, they lapsed into an easy silence as they each scanned the horizon on their side of the plane. Suddenly aware of the small confines of their cockpit and the way the inside condensation blocked the windows, Dana realized how cozy their environment had become.

She indulged herself with a quick glance at her companion, noticing how well his jeans hugged his thighs and his Western-style shirt molded his shoulders.

“How do your folks feel about you volunteering in the middle of a hurricane?” he asked.

She widened a spot on her side window to see outside a little better. “Actually I have two sets of parents.” She shared the condensed version of her story.

“I’ve read about strange things like that, but I’ve never known anyone who actually lived through it. It must have been tough.”

“It was at first. I’m not proud of the way I handled things at the time, but I’ve adjusted for the most part.

“As for coming here, everyone knew I’d set my heart on doing this, so they didn’t object too strenuously. Plus, most of them have learned by now that I’m happiest when I’m trying new things, seeing new places. I like to know what’s around the corner.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “The-grass-is-always-greener syndrome?”

She thought a moment. “I wouldn’t call it that. I don’t necessarily
want
what’s on the other side of the fence. I just like to see what it is and try it on for size.” Then, because the atmosphere seemed to inspire confidences, she added, “I also had some family issues to work through. It’s hard to do that when we live in a relatively small community. Physical distance seemed like a perfect solution.”

Suddenly the plane dropped a good twenty feet, sending her stomach into her throat.

“What was that?” she asked when she could speak again.

“The wind’s picking up,” he said as he eyed his gauges. He pointed to the horizon. “See those clouds?”

Dana looked at the dark, menacing band. “Yeah.”

“Those are the feeder bands of the hurricane. It won’t be long before they’re swirling around us.”

“But I thought the storm wasn’t due to hit for several more hours.”

“Yeah, well, forecasters aren’t perfect. Damon is obviously moving according to its own timetable.”

“But…” She bit her lip, hesitant to ask more questions, but extremely eager to understand this force of nature better than she did.

“But what?”

“Damon’s predicted to hit miles from Turning Point, so it shouldn’t affect this area that much, should it?”

“I’d bet it’s going to strike a lot closer to us than anyone initially thought. And even if it doesn’t, we’re still going to see a lot of rain. The flooding the chief talked about is ninety-nine percent guaranteed, not a remote possibility.”

She’d dealt with flooding before. It always amazed her that people thought they were safe in their cars during a flood. “He also talked about making sure the liquor stores in the area are closed. Why worry about those businesses and not the others?” she asked as she scanned the terrain for anything that resembled a minivan.

“Well, now,” he drawled, “before and after the storm, everyone’s busy getting ready or cleaning up.
During
is the problem. When the winds get above fifty miles an hour or so, people don’t go outside. As the speed picks up, there’s usually no electricity, which means no television, no air-conditioning, no lights. With nothing to do but sit and wait, some people drink.”

“But that’s so dangerous,” she protested. “I’d think everyone would want to have their wits about them.”

“So would I,” he agreed, “but you work in emergency services. Not everyone makes good choices.”

She recalled some of her own harrowing rescue attempts involving people under the influence. “True, but don’t Texans have more common sense than anyone else in the country?” she asked, feigning innocence.

He chuckled, as if he’d realized she was simply turning the tables back on him. “They do. They just don’t exercise it all the time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

Once again the plane dropped in the sky. Dana knew without asking that their window of opportunity was starting to close.

“They’re not in this quadrant,” Micky said as he banked the plane. “We’ll head south.”

“What if we don’t find them there?” she asked, dreading his answer. The idea of turning back without locating these people was too horrible to dwell upon.

“We keep looking.” He glanced at her. “We won’t go back until we do.”

She nodded, satisfied that they wouldn’t give up, although she had a mental picture of them as an aluminum can being juggled in the air by an unseen hand. To focus her mind on something less harrowing, she talked while she trained her gaze on the ground.

“How long have you been in the charter business?”

“About five years,” he replied as his gaze darted between his gauges and the area they were searching.

“Was it a family business?”

He shook his head. “Nope. My father was a rancher. He raised cattle and horses.”

She noted his use of the past tense, but let it slide for now. “If you grew up with livestock, how did you get into flying?”

“Dad used a plane to check his spread, but he sold it when I was a kid. After high school, I did a stint in the military and flew cargo planes. A couple of hitches in the Air Force later, I decided to be my own boss and make my own rules.”