FIRE ON HIGH

    “Fire On High” is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and settings © Tigermark 2003-2018 unless otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.

The characters of Anatol Altaisokova and Melinda Altaisokova are my names for characters © Max Blackrabbit. They appear in this story with his permission. The characters of Brandy, Maxwell, Tonya and Zig Zag are also © Max Blackrabbit and appear here with his permission. Events and information relating to Tonya, Anatol, and their family are presented here, but are not to be considered canon to those characters or any other story but this one. ZZ Studios, and all characters associated with ZZ Studios, James Sheppard, and Marvin Badger © James Bruner and appear here with his permission.  Although characters from and events referring to Zig Zag the Story appear here, this story is not canon to that one, and the author will disavow any knowledge of this story. Wanda Vixen © Chris Yost and appears here with his permission. Sabrina Mustidalae © Eric W. Schwartz and appears here with his permission. This story is not canon to Sabrina Online the comic, or Sabrina Online the Story, either. Matt Barstock, Angie Rockwell, Intermountain Charter, The Bitch, and her crew, and Jerry Kitt © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE.  Gail Rutherford © me and is not canon to any other story involving ZZ Studios. Gabrielle Ryder and Jean LeBrun © Aslaug, from her Transitions stories. See them at her site, The Axe Shed, available from the links page. Aramis Dagaz is© his player and appears here with his permission.

Author’s Note: Lewiston, Maine’s airport, identifier KLEW, is actually uncontrolled. That is, it has no control tower. Poetic license was used for this story, so Alex and company talk with a control tower whilst aviating there.

Chapter 97

Hey Lady!

“What Ice? What do you see?” Mo asked excitedly. Alex had seen a glint, not bright, but there. He’d looked back over the spot he’d seen, and realized it was a small clearing. On the West edge of said clearing there was what appeared to be a helicopter tail and part of a rotor blade sticking out from under the canopy of branches and colored leaves. The items were in shadow, going into deeper shadow, but he again saw a glint as somewhere in there, sunlight found a reflective surface. Most of the surrounding trees were pine and spruce, with a few deciduous mingled in. The sun wasn’t very bright, as the cloud cover for the approaching snowstorm had begun to thicken and lower.

“I see a tail and a blade! Bring us back around there and let me be sure. Plus let me set a GPS coordinate.”

Mo added a little throttle and banked hard right to get back to the area Ice indicated. As they came around, he could see more directly into the clearing. It was definitely a Huey, but he couldn’t make out a color on it or tell if it was damaged as it was covered with fallen leaves and small branches, as though it had been there a while. Unsure now, Alex gave commentary as they got closer.

“Not sure now. It’s a Huey, but it could be an old wreck. It’s covered over with leaves and branches. There’s no movement or sign of life, either.”

Mo checked the radios. “No ELT or voice call, either. Mark it anyway and we’ll call it in.”

Alex marked a waypoint in his paw-held GPS as they flew over, praying that this was the right one.

#   #   #

Corrie roused and listened. She thought she’d heard a plane engine, but the winds were picking up again and all she heard was the roar in the trees and the ping and creak as the old Huey buffeted in the rising gusts. She looked out from her sleeping bag. The candle was about halfway down. Her head was clear, and the breeze whistled at the slightly open window, so she felt safe with the arrangement.

She thought about Alex, He’d likely be frantic. She could imagine him turning the place upside down trying to get the search going faster. Ben, too. She recalled the time Shawn McKenzie had put a Jetranger down on an old private strip after a precautionary alarm. Ben had turned Heaven and Earth getting a search organized until the bull terrier had called in. He’d had to walk down the road to a house to use a telephone, so it had taken a bit to call in.

Feeling relieved that folks were looking for her, she relaxed and snuggled into the bag, trying to stay warm.

#   #   #

Rex and Steve had just begun their search route. Being a bit late, they’d gotten Grid Twelve. Closer to get to, but farther away from Corrinne’s original route. Still, it felt much better to be doing something. Rex was a bit amazed at the number of aircraft involved, but that told him how many furs thereabouts cared about the lioness. He’d been a total ass to treat her the way he had, and even more so to do what he’d done. If they could only find her! It all came down to that.

“Hey, what’s that?” Steve called out.

Rex had been searching the area below on his side but realized his mind had wandered as he startled out of his reverie. He slowed and banked in the direction Steve was pointing. There indeed was an old Huey. Rex edged in closer, coming to a hover a couple of hundred yards out and five hundred feet altitude.

They saw then that it was all green in color, some of it looking lighter due to mildew. It had no rotor, and the windshield was missing. It was on the edge of an old airstrip, now overgrown with scrub. It was obvious the old helicopter had been there for quite some time.

“Good eyes, Steve, but that’s not her bird,” Rex stated sadly. Steve nodded in return. Rex pulled pitch and they rose back to fifteen hundred feet to continue their search.

Then they heard an excited call over the radio, and both unconsciously held their breath.

#   #   #

“Pine State Base, Pine Air Five One, we have a Huey spotted at these coordinates. Covered in leaves, but it could be our missing one. Are there any known derelicts at that location?” Mo called, and then read off the latitude and longitude from Alex’s GPS. There was silence for a full minute as everyone waited. Then the radio crackled to life again.

“Pine Air Five One, Pine State Base, all maps we checked show no known derelicts there or nearby. With all the wind we’ve had, it fits that there might be tree debris on it. Can you check it out better? Map shows the nearest road ends over five miles away. It’ll be tomorrow before we can get a ground team there.”

Mo looked at Ice, who shrugged. “Up to you, Mo. You know your comfort level.”

He was taken aback when Mo made the call.

“Pine State Base, Pine Air Five One copies. Do you see St. Regis Airstrip Four on your map? How long is it?”

The response was quick. “Pine Air Five One, it shows at three thousand feet, improved gravel surface. CO says it’s up to you, but be careful, we don’t want to have to come get both of you.”

“Pine State Base, Pine Air Five One, we’re going to put down on that strip and walk in and try to make contact. We’ll call when we get back to the aircraft,” Mo replied as he turned toward the airstrip about a mile away.

“Pine State Base to all search aircraft, continue your search until we know for sure that’s the right aircraft.”

Mo didn’t line up to go straight into the strip, as it would have been a steep descent into an unknown. Alex was grateful his CAP pilot knew what he was doing. The ferret eased the 172 down and flew parallel a couple hundred feet off the tops of the trees. The airstrip looked recently smoothed and well maintained. Mo keyed the intercom on their headsets.

“Ice, you okay with this?”

“My only concern is if it’s gotten soft from the rain, but it looked built up, so it’d drain pretty well, so no problem here,” Ice responded.

Mo gave a not and added throttle to climb back out. He did a standard left pattern, adding in flaps as he came around on base. They surveyed the strip again as they flew the downwind, and turning onto final, Mo had full flaps and a little power on. They dropped in over the last tree, and Mo chopped the power and let the aircraft settle. Flaring at the first feel of ground effect, he hit the brakes a split second after the tires hit the gravel. He stopped easily before they were even close to the end of the small strip. There was a wider area at the far end for turnaround and parking. As soon as they got there, he shut down the engine.

Alex got out and helped him chock the wheels and put locks on the control surfaces, so the aircraft wouldn’t be damaged by the gusty West winds. Then Alex got his backpack, pulled out the short machete, and grabbed his GPS. Mo looked at him and grinned.

“Let’s go see if she’s home, Ice.”

“Hold on, let me put our position here in as a return point. Excellent landing, by the way.”

Mo Shrugged. “I fly hunting parties in and out of some pretty tight strips up North. I’m just glad this strip was here.”

Alex nodded, checked the GPS against his compass, and headed out. The trees and brush became pretty thick almost as soon as they left the runway clearing. The ground beneath them was mostly solid but would become soft and marshy with little warning. Alex worked his way through, chopping the low brush out of the way and nicking a tree as a trail marker every few feet. The going was a bit slow, but they still managed to make the mile or so trek in about forty minutes.

They finally broke into the clearing on its South end. What they saw told Alex the story of the end of an autorotation. He could see the fresh scoring from the skids on the downed logs. He could also now see the Huey clearly, it’s green and white paint easily seen from the side. The top was covered in leaves, pine needles, and small branches. The old bird looked intact, but there was no movement or sound. They could see a flickering glow in the main door window.

“Fire?” Alex asked, almost to himself as they picked their way along the logs.

“Candle,” Mo replied.

As they came closer, Alex could see no damage whatsoever on the Huey’s exterior. He noted the front window was partially open. He nodded at that, knowing with a candle burning, ventilation was needed.

They got to the helicopter, and Alex peered in. There was indeed a candle burning, about three-quarters gone now. On the other side of the compartment, Corrie sat propped up against the pilot’s seat back. She was wrapped in a sleeping bag, with a silver survival blanket draped as a reflector. Her eyes were closed, her features soft in the candle’s glow. She was breathing steadily. Alex smiled, taking it in as one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

Then he stepped back, rapped three sharp, quick knocks on the door, and called out, “Hey Lady! Yer cab’s here!”

#   #   #

Corrie was drifting, fuzzy. Not really asleep, but not really awake either. The wind still moaned and roared outside. She would soon need to eat again. What she wouldn’t give for a hot cup of coffee! It was getting on toward midday, and she knew she’d have to get a little food and drink some more water soon. She’d also likely need another latrine trip, which as cold as the wind sounded she did not look forward to.

She drifted into a half dream. It began again as the nightmare, but then it was like something blocked that. As if she couldn’t go that way. Again, she was walking in fog. Not nearly as dark, more like a suffused white mist, bright but impenetrable. No trees loomed out of nowhere, but for no reason she could think of, Rex Richardson suddenly stood there. Only now, he wasn’t the pompous, bragging bully. He looked…humble? He said not a word, just stood there. She tried to speak but couldn’t seem to utter a sound. Then a familiar warm, gentle breeze caressed her again. She felt comforted and loved. She heard the breeze’s voice, barely a whisper as it danced by.

“Kitten…forgive.”

Then it changed. Rex was gone. The mist lightened even more. Still from a distance, but closer now, she heard Alex.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

The mist became thinner. She felt the warm glow of the candle and heard the sounds of the wind.

Then she nearly jumped out of her fur when someone knocked on the side of the helicopter! Her eyes flew open and she tried to leap to her feet, only to be tangled up by the sleeping bag and blanket.

“Hey Lady! Yer cab’s here!” she heard Alex call out. She managed to extricate herself and step by the candle to open the door.

Alex stood there, dressed in a flight suit and short parka, a black watch cap on his head. With him was a ferret she thought she’d seen before, but who’s name escaped her for the moment.

Taking one look at Alex, she quipped, “About time! I called over an hour ago!”

She then leapt into his arms and buried her head into his shoulder. She didn’t cry, just held fiercely onto him like that.

He pulled her in tight and just held her, murmuring, “Thank God you’re alright.”

They finally found each other’s lips and locked into a teeth-clacking, passionate kiss. So much so that after a minute, Mo cleared his throat.

“Ah-hem, sorry to interrupt, but we do need to hike back out and let everyone know the good news.”

The pair broke the kiss, and Corrie looked at him, eyes alight with warmth and thanks. The Captain took an involuntary step back.

“Hey now, all I did was fly the plane. Ice here did all the spotting and finding.”

Corrie laughed and released her hold on Alex and offered Mo a paw instead.

“Corrie Patterson. I’ve seen you around, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

He shook the offered paw. “Captain Tom Morris, Civil Air Patrol. Also of Range Rover Charters across the way at Lewiston.”

“Ah,” Corrie replied. “That’s where then. Glad to meet you and thank you.”

“What happened?” Alex inquired.

Before she could start to answer, Mo stated, “She can tell us on the way out. Grab whatever you’re taking and let’s get going, it’s a long walk.”

Corrie nodded. Alex gave her the watch cap and gloves he’d brought, which helped. It only took a few minutes for her to put out the candle and pack up her survival bag, flight bag, and headphones. In the meantime, Alex poured her a cup of coffee from the thermos and opened a package of strudel for her.

“God bless you, Alex. Oh, and Eva Pater’s strudel! This’ll really help.”

They compressed her things into one bag, which she insisted on carrying. The last thing she did before they left was make a note in her logbook and then shut the window and door.

G’bye ol’ Sheila. Thanks for a safe spot in the storm,” Corrie stated as she turned to go. Alex took a fix with the GPS and they started back. As they walked, she told the story of the battery failure and the engine going to idle.

“So, I was trying to make the airstrip to sort out the electrical problem, but I was a bit short when the engine decided to bludge off. I autorotated and managed to get into that clearing. Me blade tips knocked a lot of leaves and such down on top. I looked at the battery. It looks like the hold down nuts worked their way loose and let it start banging around.”

“Who worked on it last?” Mo asked.

“Our maintenance crew. She broke a generator shaft last week right as I was coming in at Old North. This was her first flight aftah that,” she replied.

They walked on, following the trail Alex had made. After a few minutes, Alex picked up the conversation.

“I found out about you being missing when I walked in at Old North. I think every pilot in the area was there to help. Speaks well of how much everyone likes you. Even Rex Richardson showed up.”

Corrie’s eyes narrowed, but then she remembered the dream she’d had. “Er, really? Did he expect to run the show or something?”

Alex paused. “The opposite, actually. He was hungover and rough-looking, but all he wanted was to help. He even fell to his knees in front of me and submitted. Both over our ‘fight’ and you. Didn’t seem like the same guy.”

Corrie was silent, considering the words from the dream.

Presently, they broke out of the brush and onto the airstrip. From there it didn’t take long to stow everything and get Corrie seated and belted. Alex removed the control locks as Mo prepared to start the engine. Alex pulled the chocks and got in. Mo double-checked his weight and balance calculations, and after starting the engine, they taxied up to the North end of the strip. The winds were more Southerly in advance of the storm coming in later. Lining up, Mo pulled on full power and takeoff flaps. They lifted off a little over halfway down the strip. As soon as they got to five hundred feet, Mo was on the radio.

“Pine State Base, Pine Air Five One. We got her! She’s fine, no injuries, and in good spirits. We’re heading for Lewiston.”

They could hear cheering in the background as the CAP base answered.

“Pine Air Five One, copy you got her. Great job! All search aircraft return to base.”

There were various responses across the radio. Corrie just beamed. She was heading home.

#   #   #

Rex was carefully holding a semi-hover, keeping the weight mostly off the gear over the muddy terrain. They’d been flying their search pattern as they listened to hear whether or not what the CAP pilot had called in was indeed Corrinne, when they saw three furs walking along a muddy road. As they’d flown over, the three had frantically waved their arms at them. They’d eased back around and let down on the road, the rotor tips barely clearing the trees on either side. The three had rushed up and managed to convey the story that they had run into the ditch and their truck had broken down. Rex had seen the vehicle a couple of miles back along the road. Steve had gone down to get them seated in the cargo/passenger cabin in the body of the chopper. He now climbed back into his seat.

“They’re cold and tired, wet and muddy, but otherwise okay. We can drop them in Monson, so they can call for help fixing their truck.”

“Sounds good,” Rex replied as he lifted the big chopper skyward. As he climbed, he called in.

“Pine State Base, Loglifter One, we’ve picked up three furs who were stranded in Grid Twelve. We’ll drop them in Monson when we finish our search grid.”

Loglifter One, copy three picked up. We’re still waiting for word on the find from Pine Air Five One,” the CAP command base replied.

Loglifter One.” Rex acknowledged.

They flew on, crossing their grid, seeing only trees and lakes. Then came the call from Pine Air Five One, and Rex let out an exclamation of thanks. As they were released, he turned the Sikorski and headed for Monson to drop off their rescues. It made him feel surprisingly good to have not only helped in the search, but to have helped some others out as well.

Now, though, he had to face Corrinne.

#   #   #

It was mid-day after a productive morning as Jefferson Mastifson stood to get ready to go to lunch. He’d left his earlier troubling thoughts behind and was both satisfied with the work so far and also quite hungry. The last thought he’d had about O’Whitt had come when he’d seen Jason O’Whitt’s widow walk in at Kentiger. He’d wondered if they were having a memorial of some kind, and then promptly forgot about it. Now he noted the parking lot was full. The ramp was also more full of Kentiger aircraft than usual, but it was Tuesday, and sometimes near midweek there was a slight lull.

The Beech Starship was back as well. It had been gone when he’d left the day before, and he hadn’t paid much attention as to whether it was there this morning or not.

“So ordinary I could fall asleep,” he commented to himself as he headed out for lunch.

As he walked downstairs and went toward the side door to the parking lot, he approached the break room. Voices coming from there made him stop short and listen, as was his habit.

“So, what’s the word on ol’ McCrory?” the first asked.

“Still outta town on some special project. Heard there’s a big stir over at Kentiger today,” the second replied.

“Oh? What’s going on?”

“Remember that white tiger? O’Clancy or whatever his name was? Tom said that lioness that was with him, the real hottie? She’s missing up in New England somewhere.”

“Wow! First him and now her. That’s a weird coincidence.”

“Yep.”

Mastifson didn’t wait to hear the rest. It was sad that the lioness might be gone, too. She had been very beautiful. But there was no ghost in that situation to haunt his mind, so with a shrug he went out the door and on to his car, lunch on his mind.

 

 

End of Chapter 97

 

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