‘Right, let’s get this show on the road,’ Dan Milner said, nodding to the two other rescue crew members on board, one of whom was closed-eyed behind his sunnies, trying to catch a few last zeds.
‘Mate, it’s not that early!’ Dan said.
‘Mate, it’s 6 am!’ Rich croaked. ‘What’s earlier than that?’
There was a pause.
‘No, please don’t answer that. Just shut up and let’s get up there and find these guys.’
‘Okay, Doc, we’re coming your way,’ Dan murmured. ‘Second time lucky.’ He picked up the two-way. ‘All clear for take-off, Reg, over?’
‘All clear, Bell Rescue, over.’
‘Roger. Will radio in again shortly, over.’
‘Thanks, Dan. Over and out.’ In the hangar, Reg squeezed Suzie’s shoulder. She sat on an old office chair, and nursed a mobile phone in her hands. Every now and then, she’d wake it up from its slumber and check the screen, just in case.
Pippa was there too, a sheet of butcher’s paper spread out on the floor, and a pencil-case full of her best textas. She was drawing a picture for Dad, to give him when he got back. When she finished it, she was going to do one for Spencer.
Spencer almost didn’t want to look up in case it wasn’t true. But there was no mistaking that sound. They’d come back!
They were hugging the mountain, and flying in an anticlockwise direction. Again, Spencer waved his arms over and over and over above his head, but he knew there was a slim chance anyone could see him. He needed to be wearing a high-vis vest or something! Charlie’s fluoro-yellow shirt would have been perfect for this, he thought.
Now Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. Should he go back to the crash site, or keep walking down towards the road? Or should he stay put?
If he continued to walk downhill, he’d be walking away from the help that was surely meant for them. But if he went back to the Drifter, and the chopper missed it again, then it was all just wasted time. Maybe staying here, where it was open and exposed, wasn’t such a bad idea? Then again, if they did find the crash site, and Spencer wasn’t there, then they’d have to search for him too.
Aaaargh! What to do? Think, Spencer, think!
He turned back to the sky. The chopper had disappeared from sight and sound. Where were they going? This mountain was big—they might not find either of them at this rate.
Spencer spun around. Where had they gone? What was this, the Bermuda Triangle or something? On a gnarled tree not far away, the crows sounded like kids practising the violin—badly.
He checked his watch. It was 6.40. He pulled his jacket up around his neck. All this standing around was making him cold. Spencer had a mountain to get down; he reckoned he’d better get started.
At 6.45, the Skippers two-way crackled: ‘Wind’s dropped significantly up here today, Reg. We’re nearly over Bluff Knoll’s peak now, over.’
‘Roger that, Bell Rescue, over.’
Mum and Pippa looked at each other.
‘Give ’em a few minutes now, to get there and circle the peak,’ Reg said to them quietly. ‘They’ll probably fly in a sort of corkscrew pattern down from the top so they don’t miss anything.’
It was still raining. The tarmac was slick black with it. Right then, Mum couldn’t imagine what she’d loved about gliding. And she couldn’t imagine what they’d been thinking when they let Spencer go up in the Drifter. Spencer wasn’t old enough. He’s not old enough! She felt like screaming into that spartan, stinking old tin shed they called a hangar.