1
Joe
Mangione was genuinely afraid. Not only
for his life and the life of the person sitting next to him, but afraid of what
was happening to his personal version of reality. He had been in worse situations before, in his old reality that
is. Mangione had been the pilot in
several Army helicopters that had been shot out from underneath him. He had crash-landed two because of equipment
failure. There were literally thousands
of Viet Nam pilots from all branches of the military who, once plied with
enough alcohol, could back up his story and add plenty of their own. But the one thing they would all have in
common was that something tangible had caused them go down.
Sure, parts could fail. Hell, pilots could fail. Planes were no different from cars; you
could always get a lemon from the factory.
But Joe had flown this Cessna 182 before, and N173269 was a solid
bird. If the rivets of this plane were
going to burst apart like the buttons of a 300-pound woman trying to get into
her size 5 high school prom dress, they would have done it along time ago. There was nothing tangible about what was happening to Joe Mangione and his plane
right now, but knowing that only made him feel worse.
"Sara,"
said Joe as calmly as he could, "Listen up darlin'. It don't look good for us making it to
Ilwaco. But I'm going to do my best to
put what's left of this crate down in one piece. You with me so far?"
Sara
just nodded her head, her eyes wide with fear.
"Good
girl," returned Joe. "I've
got all the fancy stuff handled on this end, all you have to do is two
things."
Joe
tried to speak his words evenly, but knew he was failing miserably as he fought
to keep the plane in the air. "Number
one, when I tell you to, put your head down between your legs and cover your
head with your hands."
Sara
looked at him wildly. "Jesus Joe,
you've got to be kidding!" she yelled.
"Do
I sound like I'm kidding?" he shouted back as the plane banked sharply to
her side.
It
took Joe what seemed to be an eternity to bring the aircraft level again. They both heaved a sigh of relief as the
wings leveled out somewhat parallel to the horizon. Joe was not only glad to see that they were out of what could
have turned into a lethal dive, but they were also a hundred feet lower and
closer to the beach.
"Number
two," he continued, "When I do
land this baby, and it comes to a stop, I want you to unbuckle your ass
and get out as soon as you can. Just
get out and run as fast as you can."
Sara
watched as he fought the controls, his feet moving as fast as his hands.
"Did
you hear me, Sara?" Joe shouted.
"What
about you?" she asked.
"I'll
be right behind you, trust me."
"Wouldn't
it be easier to land in the water?"
"The
currents and undertows are a bitch around here, water's cold as hell," he
yelled, as he looked out the rear window again. "No one knows we're going down. We could die from hypothermia before they sent anyone out to look
for us."
Sara
nodded in agreement.
"Besides,"
added Joe with a crooked smile that reminded Sara of the devil himself, "I
can't swim for shit!"
Joe
had barely gotten out his words when there was a loud thump followed by a high-pitched
shriek coming from behind him. He felt
the foot pedals go slack and realized without looking towards the rear of the
plane that the rudder was gone. He
glanced at his altimeter and saw that they were still three hundred feet above
the ground.
"Shit!"
Joe exclaimed aloud, without realizing he had even spoke.
"What
now?" asked Sara, not wanting to believe things could get worse.
"No
biggy, just lost another piece of the tail," Joe lied.
He
wouldn't have said anything, but he knew that Sara had heard the noise
too. She had chosen not to look back he
noticed. Probably too afraid of what
was coming up ahead, he thought to himself, totally agreeing with her as he
did.
Their
aircraft had been reduced to little more than a paper airplane. It was destined to finish out its flight at
the mercy of the winds. With no rudder
or right aileron, steering was out of the question. The left aileron was still attached, but it was pretty much
useless, flapping in the wind stream as they drifted towards the ocean. Joe cut the throttle a little more, and they
began to descend even faster. He
watched the needle on the altimeter drop below the two hundred feet mark.
Sara
began to tense up for the final impact, as the tops of the small wind whipped
shore trees rushed up to meet them. It
didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that their angle of approach was
wrong. They were coming into the beach
diagonally, which would leave them very little room to land before ending up
in the surf. Down below her she saw the
rooftops of buildings and beach cabins, so close now that she could see the air
vents and an occasional missing shingle.
She could feel the plane buffeted by the ground turbulence. Suddenly they passed over the main highway
and the trees were replaced by bunches of dune grass and sand. She could make out individual foot trails
running down to the beach and she turned to look at Joe.
Joe
would have seen the same things, except he was too busy crunching the variables
of their attempt at returning to terra firma.
It didn't look good. Had he had
the chance to converse with Sara, he would have agreed that the angle was
completely wrong. Unfortunately, there
wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
"Head
down, Sara," he shouted.
He
killed the engine and pulled back on the steering wheel to try and flair the
plane into the wind. He nearly pulled
the controls out of the dashboard, as the elevators broke free of the plane,
thanks to Eddie's last attempts at destruction. Now they were no more than an oversized dart, totally at the
mercy of wind and gravity. There was no
reason for Joe to hold onto the controls anymore, so he folded his arms across
his head and began to bend over just as the plane hit the beach for the first
time.
Luckily,
the elevators had done their job well enough before falling off and the Cessna
hit the ground on one of its rear wheels.
If they had hit nose gear first in the soft dry sand, the initial impact
of slamming into the ground would have killed them instantly. The plane bounced into the air again,
leaning to the left, and then the wind caught the wing and tipped them over
even more. The second time they hit the
ground was on firm wet beach, and the left wing tip caught the sand before the
landing gear.
Sara's
screams could barely be heard over the noise of the wing as it folded, the
outer half of it being ripped off of the plane as it dug deeper into the
sand. The Cessna went into a complete
cartwheel, and the other wing sheared off in almost the same place. The crumpled fuselage came to a slamming
halt on it's back in about a foot of water, sending spray ten feet into the
air. After everything had settled, an
occasional wave slapping against it's twisted hollow side was the only sound to
be heard, soon to be lost in the roar of the breakers just a hundred feet away.
2
Jonathan polished off his beer and slammed
the schooner down on the bar so hard that his father was amazed the glass
didn't shatter. Luke set a refill down
for Thomas and began topping off his own from the hidden brandy dispenser.
"Easy
on the hardware, sonny," said Luke, giving Jonathan a look he reserved for
his most unruly customers.
"I
don't know what my dad told you, Luke, but obviously it wasn't enough for you
to fully understand what's going on.
Otherwise you'd be helping me load his butt up in my car, and all three
of us would be getting the hell out of here," returned Jonathan, with a
look of his own.
"So
why don't you just humor us, and fill us in on the rest of the details?"
asked Luke.
"Fine. Just fucking fine!" shouted
Jonathan. "Maybe you could put on
some tea, and round up some crumpets, and we can have a nice little chat until
Eddie shows up. I'm sure he'll be able to make believers out
of you two."
Jonathan
turned towards his father, who still had the face of one who was waiting for answers. He resigned himself to the fact this was
going to take more time than he felt they could afford.
"Okay,
you win," Jonathan said. Luke
reached over and began refilling his beer glass, giving him a nod of approval
as he did.
"Start
with Janice, son," Thomas said.
"Janice?
Okay.
You're probably not going to believe this, but Janice and Eddie have
this power to communicate without the use of a phone. I didn't know about it until today as I was on my way here as a
matter of fact. It's spooky, dad, let
me tell you. One minute you're driving
along having a conversation with yourself, the next thing you know, you're on a
party line. Clear as a bell. They might as well have been sitting in the
seat next to me. I damn near wrecked my
car the first time it happened."
Jonathan
looked at the two men, expecting to see expressions of disbelief. Luke's face hadn't changed a bit and his
father was just nodding in silent approval.
He took a drink of his beer, and decided to continue.
"Anyway,
Eddie gets a hold of me first, and tells me that he knows where I'm going. He told me that I needed to get back to
Olympia, and that I wasn't supposed to see you under any circumstances. He gave me instructions to meet him at the
airfield down the street.
"As
I get closer to Long Beach, Janice gets a hold of me in the same way. I hadn't talked to her since I left
Nebraska, dad. And get this; she tells
me that she had finished talking to Eddie and that we are in danger. No telling what he might do if he found us
together is close to her exact words.
She told me to round you up and meet her at Fort Canby State Park."
"So
where is she right now?" asked Thomas.
"Hell,
I don't know, dad. We really didn't get
a chance to finish before we both felt Eddie coming on line again. I imagine she's pretty close, must be Oregon
if she's coming up from the south. She
said she'd be in a brown Nissan, so I know she's driving."
"What
else did she say?" Thomas asked.
"Not
much. Like I said, we both felt Eddie
was trying to get a hold of me, and sure enough, as soon as Janice went away,
Eddie was there."
"What
did he say?"
"He was basically
checking up on me, wanting to know how far away I was, shit like that. I lied to him to give me a chance to reach
you first, but we don't have very much time, dad. I wish you would believe me on that."
Thomas
looked towards Luke.
"What
do you think Luke?"
"Your
boy's probably right. I say you get the
hell out of here. Besides, what's the
worst that could happen? He could turn
out to be wrong, and you'd have to spend a little time together. No harm done there. Probably do you both some good."
"Thanks
Luke," said Jonathan sincerely.
"I think it would be better if you came along too. No telling' what Eddie might do if he
figured out that we were here and you had anything to do with us leaving."
"Alright. As long as you know it's because I'm damn
curious and not because I'm afraid of some punk with an attitude problem. Luke Perry don't run from shit!"
"Understood,"
said Jonathan. He turned to his father. "Dad?"
"Okay,
but you still have a lot of explaining to do."
"Fair
enough. Just humor me for a little bit
though; let's make it quick, okay?" replied Jonathan.
The
three finished their drinks simultaneously and Thomas stood up from his bar
stool.
"Just
let me go to the head, and I'll be ready to go."
"I'll
shut down the stove and finish locking up, and I'll be right behind you,"
added Luke.
"Thanks,"
said Jonathan nervously, adding, "just hurry, okay?"
3
Eddie
had been resting for over twenty minutes when he finally decided that he was
strong enough to get on his feet again.
The rain and wind had picked up even more, and his lower back and legs
were soaked. He slowly walked to the
relative shelter of the old hangar and leaned against one of the walls. He felt like he might be coming down with
pneumonia. Things weren't going exactly as planned, but there was no turning
back now. His head was still throbbing
from the strain of events, but at least the pain was bearable now. It was really the first time he had ever
pushed himself this hard and he told himself he had to accept the fact that
there were limits to his powers. He
would have to be more careful from now on.
He
looked down at his watch and realized how much time had passed. Still no Jonathan, but he admitted to
himself that all things considered, that might be a blessing in disguise. He decided to give him five more minutes,
and then put out another probe. He
hoped that his hold on Jonathan wasn't slipping, but the way things were going
today, it would be just his luck.
Damn! He didn't need this shit
right now. He still had to deal with
Janice somehow, and he wasn't sure he had completely taken care of Sara and
Joe. It was all getting very messy and
Eddie detested things being out of his control, even the least little bit.
He
forced himself to regroup and put things into order. First things first; he would try a quick scan for the Cessna, or
what ever it was that Mangione had called it.
He had never had any luck with objects that were out of sight, but then
he hadn't tried recently either. He
could contact Jonathan from miles away, and Janice too, he reminded himself, but
that had never worked with anyone else.
He had tried many times, with Sara in particular, but as far as he could
tell, his brother and sister were the only ones who seemed susceptible to his
mental inquiries. He had never tried to
locate an inanimate object. Nevertheless,
he had to try.
What
if they had somehow landed in one piece?
It wouldn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that the plane had been
sabotaged. He knew that no one could
pin it on him, except maybe Jonathan or Janice. And they could never prove
it. Still, he didn't need the hassle of
unwanted investigations or the possible negative publicity this close to
elections. He had to do something else
if possible.
It
was then that he remembered what Joe had said back at the airport in Olympia.
'The
tanks are topped off, and the flight plan's filed.'
They
hadn't been in the air for more than an hour before landing, so there had to be
a shit load of fuel left in that puddle jumper.
"God! How could I be so stupid?" he shouted to
himself and the sea gulls starting to land around the hangar looking for
shelter from the coming storm.
A
plane full of high-octane gas, and he was busy popping rivets, he went on to
chastise himself. Fucking ignorant,
Triple E! All he had to have done was
melt one of the wings, and voila!
Carnation Instant Fireball!
What
was done was done, he told himself, and what wasn't, wasn't. Still, he didn't know if it was too late or
not, so he gave it a try.
A few
moments later, with a slight increase in his headache again, he realized that
he was probably wasting his time. It
was just too hard to focus on something he couldn't see. There was just no telling what had happened,
but he would be sure to catch the local news later on in the evening to find
out. His next action was to get hold of
Jonathan.
“Jonathan,
you've got five seconds to answer me, or else there's going to be hell to
pay. Where in the fuck are you?” he
projected with all of his pent up frustration and far more energy than he
needed to reach just up the road.
4
Janice
finally decided that she had put enough space between her and Larry, the State
Trooper, to make a quick stop and get in touch with Jonathan. She didn't want to take the risk of running
into another State Patrol, so she pulled off the road and parked along the side
of a little Mom and Pop store just off the highway.
She
got out of the car, letting Granite get out too, and he quickly began to sniff
out the area.
"Don't
go too far, Granite," she said as she walked up the old wooden steps to
the front door of the store.
She
quickly found the coolers at the rear of the store, and grabbed another six
pack of Bud Lite. As she approached the
counter to pay for her beer, she spotted a large tube of foot long beef
jerky. She picked out a couple of
strips and stepped up to the register.
The old woman behind the counter rang up the purchase.
"Will
that be all for you today?" she asked.
Janice
spotted a display stand with little packs of Bayer aspirin in it and placed one
of them on the counter next to her beer.
"And
one of these please."
"That'll
come to nine seventy," replied the woman.
"Nine
seventy?" asked Janice in surprise.
"Hey,
you want a bargain, Portland's just a mere forty miles up the road. You're only the second customer I've had
today, sweetie. I'll be lucky if I make
enough to pay the electric bill for keeping your beer cold."
Janice
handed her a ten.
"Keep
the change," she said as she headed outside.
Granite
was sitting at the base of the steps when she came out the door.
"Good
dog," Janice said, patting his head when she walked by him. "Time to go."
She
opened the car door and let Granite climb in first then quickly got behind the
wheel. The rain and wind began to pick
up and she resigned herself to the fact that it was going to be a nasty drive
to Astoria.
"Here
you go, Granite," she said as she handed him one of the jerky strips. "That should keep you busy while I make
a little call to my big brother."
She
reclined her seatback, closed her eyes, and began the process of contacting
Jonathan.