“Where’s Tommy?” Eli asked, above the sound of the Cessna’s engine starting. Hannah massaged the throttle until the cold engine hummed, ignoring Raven’s dad in the process. Officer Nowicki jumped in beside her, manning the co-pilot seat once he was sure the stubborn motor was operational.
“Tommy? Who’s Tommy?” Bobi questioned, her little frame pressed between the Falconers. Raven tried to stabilize her roommate’s fractured arm with a small plank she’d found in the flight hangar. She glanced up only briefly to take in her father’s concerned expression, his eyes frantically searching for his furry friend.
“My cat. I just realized he’s missing.” Eli shifted, squinting to see through the narrow windows that offered a partial view of their surroundings.
Zygmunt half-turned in his seat, while he pulled his safety harness over his head and attached it. “Get your belts on,” he said sternly. “Mr. Falconer, if . . .”
“It’s Eli. Call me Eli.”
“Sure. I wish we had time to worry about your cat but we just don’t. If he’s survived this long, he’ll be fine.” Ziggy turned his attention to Hannah. “Can you handle this rig?”
Hannah was lost deep in thought, her mind traveling back more than a dozen years. The cockpit had been much the same but it was her father seated next to her, quizzing the novice pilot on the dials, their meaning and significance. She’d felt pressured then but it was nothing compared to the burden she shouldered at this very moment. A detailed sequence ran through her mind, testing and challenging her recall. She’d heard Nowicki but did not immediately answer, her hands wandering over the instrument panel as she spoke to herself. “Altimeter, inclinometer, heading, vertical . . .”
“Hannah . . . can you fly it?” the officer inquired again.
“Oh, sorry . . . just refreshing my memory. Yeah, I can fly it. You topped off the fuel, right?” she asked nervously, her hand and eyes returning to the illuminated control panel.
“You watched me do it. Come on, relax . . . you’ll be fine, but we need to go. Darwin won’t be anxious to see us get away.”
The amateur aviator suddenly pushed back into the seat, adjusted her harness and gripped the yoke with both hands. She closed her eyes and pictured her father, his stern features breaking into a broad smile the day she’d soloed. “Okay, I got this. Everybody ready?”
A unanimous swell of ‘affirmatives’ went up all around. Raven was the last to concur, energetically vocalizing her need to leave this place of evil and despair, “Kick it, Hannah. Get us the hell out of here.”
“Okay, hold on . . . next stop . . . ah, ah,” she paused, having no idea where she was suppose to take the small group of survivors.
The RCMP officer hadn’t given it much thought either, but knew they had to see if any of their bunch had made it beyond the outskirts of Banff. “Follow the highway west. If everyone got through, we can meet up in Lake Louise as we’d originally planned.”
Applying a controlled amount of pressure to the throttle, the amateur pilot eased the light aircraft forward and free of the hangar. They slowly taxied a short distance before lining up on the narrow runway, which had been cleared and paved in the center of a natural meadow. Hannah looked over her shoulder and winked at her friends. “You’re in good hands.” She offered the comforting words just as she slammed the accelerator to full throttle, pushing them back in their seats and racing the plane down the narrow strip.
“You worried?” Raven asked Bobi, feeling her friend tense up, as the plane shot along the pavement.
“Not really. My arm . . . any movement’s making it hurt like crazy – endorphins must be wearing off.”
“I wish there was more we could do, but it won’t be long before we can get you comfortable.” As the words slipped from the Falconer woman’s lips, a sense of dread overtook her. It was not unlike other promptings she’d had over the past few weeks, but she instantly knew they were not free and clear, at least not yet. She looked at her father and offered a quick, silent prayer as the landing gear lifted from the ground and the aircraft took flight.
“Right on!” Bobi exclaimed, followed by a ‘whoop, whoop’ from Eli and his daughter. The two smacked hands in an enthusiastic high five, narrowly missing Bobi’s nose. “I get the feeling you two have done that before.”
“Absolutely . . . every time the Flames score a goal,” Eli confirmed.
The Cessna began a slow, deliberate bank to the right when a hail of spinning, copper-jacketed bullets assailed the fuselage. The rifle’s concussion was barely noticeable above the panicked screams and the engine’s roar. Ting, Ting, Ting, sounded throughout the confined space as the ballistics easily penetrated the thin aluminum, striking seats and shattering glass. The plane briefly dipped in the sky but did not go down. Hannah battled to control her emotions and the aircraft, pulling back hard on the yoke in an attempt to gain some altitude and evade their attacker. The engine sputtered, near stalling, forcing her to level out.
“Anybody hurt?” Ziggy shouted, craning his neck around. He could see they were all alive, however, their faces were void of color or expression. “Raven, you guys okay?” he shouted again, snapping the trio from the state of shock that had overtaken them.
“Ah, ah, . . . yeah, I think so. Dad, Bobi, you guys alright?”
Eli offered a thumb’s up but was still unable to talk. Bobi, also overcome with fear, wrapped her hand around Eli’s and nodded. “Appears we’re good. You guys?” Rave questioned.
“I think we can consider ourselves pretty . . .” The officer’s words trailed off as the plane nosed downward, against Hannah’s best efforts to keep it steady. Ziggy clutched at the steering mechanism, yanking it back and somewhat righting the plane’s flight. He glanced at Hannah and instantly knew they were in trouble. The color had been flushed from her cheeks and a light bead of sweat was forming on her upper lip. “Where you hit?” he asked, scanning her for any sign of an entry wound.
“Hit! Hannah’s hit?” Bobi yelled from behind them.
“I’m not sure – feels like something hit me in the back. I’ll be okay, just feeling a little weak.”
“Can you pilot this thing while I see where you’re hurt?” Nowicki asked.
“Sure. Follow the highway?”
“Yup,” the officer confirmed, now rubbing his hand over Hannah’s upper body. On her right side, an inch or two below her armpit, he touched something wet. His finger probed, ultimately locating a small hole in the coat’s outer shell. “Hannah, it’s your side. I need to pull your coat back. Raven, give me a hand.”
The dark haired woman unbuckled herself from the restraints, leaned forward and tugged at the coat, providing an unobstructed view for Zig to inspect the wound. He pulled Hannah’s Banff emblazoned sweatshirt up enough to see a dime-sized entrance wound pumping a steady stream of blood down her pale skin.
“Hannah, I need to feel your torso for an exit wound.”
“Do it,” she cried, adrenalin and determination helping to keep her and the plane under control.
Ziggy ran his hand over her chest, back and side and felt no acute trauma. “No exit, the slug’s in your chest somewhere. We need to set this down and . . .”
“And do what? You going to operate on me?” Hannah asked, before biting her lower lip. “I’m good. I’ll get us out of here and then you can worry about me. We need to see about Mick and the kids. If we can catch up to them, I’ll set it down on the highway and they can help.”
“Hannah, you sure?” Raven asked tenderly.
“What else can we do? We have to put some distance between us, the Huskers, and Gladue.”
“Okay, I don’t like it but I have to agree with Hannah. Raven, clean your finger off with something and stick your middle finger in this hole,” the officer instructed, pointing at the orifice oozing blood from Hannah’s side. “I’ll help as I’m able with the controls. We stay calm and we’ll be okay.” He again played the words through his head, trying to make them sound the least bit believable, but could not.
Nathan Edwards ran his tongue over his lips, extending it to the surrounding skin and coarse hairs, where a small remnant of blood persisted. Overhead the airplane’s hum was faint and muffled, almost beyond his ability to hear, and had it not been for the night’s quiet and his fixation on the object, he likely would have ignored it all together. The Olympian wasn’t quite sure what he expected to happen when he pulled the rifle’s trigger, however, the solid recoil against his shoulder seemed in perfect harmony with the act itself. He looked skyward, his eyes following a number of lights pitching chaotically through the blackness. No longer held by the plane’s mystique, he slung the rifle over his back, withdrew the hatchet from his belt and returned to finish his meal.
“How you doing?” Raven used her free hand to squeeze her friend’s shoulder, while staunching the flow of blood with the other.
“Ducky,” Hannah spontaneously responded, fighting back the searing pain that was burning through her chest. “Doesn’t hurt,” she lied, “but I’m getting a little light headed.”
“Do we need to land?” Ziggy asked, a sense of urgency in his voice.
And then what, Hannah thought. “No, no . . . I’ll let you know if it gets that bad.”
“Hannah, I don’t need to tell you . . .” Nowicki began, being cut off mid-sentence by the injured woman.
“Zig, I know . . . believe me. I can do this.”
“Good, we should . . . wait a minute. What’s that? There’re some lights,” the young officer acknowledged, pointing to the road just ahead. “Hannah, drop down a bit so we can see what’s going on.” The plane descended slightly, the noise of the engine sending people on the ground scattering for cover behind and under vehicles. The aircraft sped by, giving them a quick view of the Daniel’s crashed truck and a few prisoners who had not been tucked away before the airplane’s arrival.
“That’s them!” Raven shouted excitedly. “They’ve captured the lot of them.”
“It could be worse,” her dad offered, not knowing that Zygmunt and Raven had already had that discussion. “There could be a bunch of bodies lying down there.”
“Agreed, Eli. Hannah, can you bring us around for another look?” Nowicki asked, more as a direction than a request.
“Coming about,” she confirmed. Using the pedals and the yoke she slipped the plane into a wide turn and lined up for another pass. The action sent a jolt of white-hot pain into her chest, as if she’d been stabbed. She flinched, but hung on, masking and keeping the discomfort to herself. Gotta hang tough, she repeated, thinking of her father’s favorite saying. As the pain ebbed and the airplane’s nose pointed at nothing but stars, she wondered why it was he should occupy her thoughts. Their relationship had been distant at best, at least now, but she mustered an inner strength from his memory, which she’d need to see this through.
On the second pass, Darwin stood in the center of the road with his hands held defiantly on his hips, mocking the aircraft clearly defined as RCMP property. “Come and take them,” he shouted, slipping the pistol from his belt and firing it wildly into the air, cleanly missing the Cessna.
“We’re being shot at . . . again. Maybe we shouldn’t try for a third time,” Bobi yelped sarcastically, feeling more than a little anxious to get her feet back on solid ground. “Could you see Mick?” she inquired. Her position in the middle of the back seat offered virtually no view of the earth below, prompting her to ask a slew of questions. “How many are there? Are they all alive? Where do we go from here?”
Everyone was quiet, their attention drawn to a host of weighty matters, allowing the queries to hang, unanswered, in the air. Officer Nowicki collected his thoughts and made an attempt at answering the last of the petite Egyptian’s questions. “I guess we swing around, avoid the natives and get to Lake Louise, just like we planned.”
“And leave Mick and the others?” Raven asked incredulously.
“We’re not leaving them. We can tend to Hannah, find supplies and vehicles and make some kind of an attempt to get them back.”
“That could take days and it puts us that much further away from where they’ll take them,” Raven argued. There was an extended pause, the drone of the motor dominating the surroundings. “What about Canmore? There’ll be shelter, cars, hopefully food and . . .”
Eli interrupted his daughter and interjected, “Huskers. Lots and lots of Huskers.”
“He’s right, Rave. We might stand a better chance . . .” Zygmunt started to agree, before Hannah suddenly coughed, pushing the yoke forward and sending the little plane into a steep dive. Foamy blood ran from her nose and mouth as she continued to cough. Ziggy grasped the yoke, pulling it back, and temporarily curbing their out-of-control descent.
“Hannah, Hannah!” Bobi screamed, yearning to escape her seatbelt and embrace her injured friend.
The coughing fit quickly passed, giving Hannah the resources she needed to regain a tentative reign on the aircraft’s dynamics. Moisture, initially warm, was now cold and unpleasant around her bottom. The sensation of drowning enveloped her and she gasped for breath, sucking in what she could but still wheezing for more. A battle had begun for control of her muscles, her mind willing them to strain, work and endure while being zapped of their needed blood-driven oxygen supply. Hang tough, Hannah. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably, as if she’d just completed a marathon but much worse. Arms, generally strong, quivered against the controls. I’m dying, she though, but continued to put her precious cargo first. “Which,” she asked, breathlessly, “is closer?”
“Canmore,” Ziggy confirmed.
“Okay, we . . . we’re going to Canmore. Zig . . . I’ll need . . . help.”
“Anything, just tell me what to do.”
A few minutes later and with the Cessna veering an unchartered path through the night’s sky, the hamlet of Canmore came into view, bordering the highway, black and motionless – at least, from the air, it appeared to be so.
A mile behind the imperiled airplane, Mick was being forced into a truck. She resisted, hoping any seconds or collection of minutes would give her friends the time they needed to come to their aid. They’re alive. We’re not alone. To a child and the others uncomfortably packed together, she whispered, “Don’t give up hope. We’ve still got friends.”