The pilot's voice woke her.
"We're not far now," he said.
"The weather ahead's kicking up a storm so keep your seat belts buckled.
Oh, and the Feds wanted me to inform you that they're
gonna
conduct a more thorough search of everyone before y'all get off.
They decided the scanners at the airport weren't enough.
All carry-on luggage, too.
It's for your own protection."
"Shit!" Latisha heard from a few seats back.
A woman stepped forward, bent down, and whispered to her that she had orders from Boss Gilmore to smuggle a kilo of coke.
"What should I do with it?" the woman asked.
"That's your problem," Latisha said.
This was too much. "No more criminal activities," he'd told her in prison.
"When I get to Adak I'm going to open a club.
The men need recreation."
She believed him and so far she'd heard about women working for him and drugs being imported.
"Hey, listen," the woman said, "you're the boss's wife.
What the hell should I do with this coke?"
Latisha stared straight ahead, saying nothing.
The woman stood there.
Latisha pulled a piece of paper from the pocket on the seat in front of her.
"WARNING," it said, "Dangerous Wind."
She pretended to read it. Finally the woman said, "I'm flushing it," and walked away.
Damn him, she thought.
But it was partly her own fault.
Early in their marriage she asked questions about what he was doing and they fought.
Then for the sake of peace they both stopped talking about his activities. It was a lie between them.
She glanced back at the paper.
It was a note from Frank Villa warning parents about a dangerous wind on Adak called a williwaw.
"Sometimes the wind on Adak can dam itself up on one side of the mountain and then, suddenly flood over to the other side of the mountain and create a dangerous wind. It's like a tidal wave of wind.
It can rip the roof off buildings, suck the warmth from a child's body, even blow a small child away.
In a storm, protect your children!"
There was that strange, excited tingle in her stomach again. What was happening to her?
Suddenly a foot pushed her seat forward and
a child began to cry. She turned to see the four children of the sleeping woman struggling for a battery operated robot, all of them in the seat behind her.
One of them kicked her seat again, while another
accidentally kicked the short woman behind Maggie.
The woman stood up.
"I can't take it anymore."
She tapped Maggie on the shoulder.
"Would you mind switching places with me?
These children…" she raised her voice so the mother could hear "…are out of control."
"Well, sure, okay, I'll switch with you," Maggie said.
Maggie squeezed by Latisha and the new woman slipped in.
When she was settled, she turned to Latisha, "And you are?"
"Latisha Gilmore."
"Well, well.
What do you know?
Boss Gilmore's woman. I hope you're not planning to kill me."
"Why would I do that?"
"I'm Judy Villa."
Latisha closed her eyes.
Maybe the Villa woman would take the hint.
She needed time to think, to plan.
Her new life with Gil started in less than an hour.
But Judy kept on talking.
"Never in my life have I been on a flight like this. And Frank promised me a new beginning.
He said he was going to take care of me this time.
Wife
, he said that.
Finally he was going to treat me like a
wife
.
Well, what a way to begin.
A flight with hooligans and prostitutes and drug addicts.
And I suppose you're in the rackets, too."
"No.
I work for Sears. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep a little. I've been up all night." Latisha shifted toward the aisle, put her head back and closed her eyes.
"You're not the only one who's been up all night.
You know, I worked for Gold's in Milwaukee, department head,
that is, until
Wal-Mart
came along."
Where was privacy?
Latisha opened her eyes. Judy Villa wore a cream-colored business suit - serious, but lively.
She might dress like a department head, but she talked like a cashier that had just been laid off.
"I gave up a comfortable little house for this, this…" she pointed forward to where the island might be.... "Why did you come?"
Before Latisha could reply, Judy offered her own answer.
"My minister, Reverend Ellsworth, says a woman's place is with her husband."
Suddenly a hand pushed down on Latisha's shoulder.
"
Scuse
me, lady."
A drunken woman tottered in the aisle. "Which way is the ladies?"
Latisha pointed to the back where the woman had come from. As the woman turned to go, the little girl across from her, Jeannie Dickinson, stood and blocked the drunken woman's way.
She held a pencil and pad in her hand
"
Hllo
,
lttle
girl," the woman said.
"Get
outa
the way.
I gotta pee.
Iss
the Ladies back here?"
"My name is Jeannie Dickinson.
Press.
What's your name, lady?"
She flashed a hand-printed card in the woman's face.
"Oh, press, huh?" The woman laughed and tapped Latisha on the shoulder.
She bent down and whispered to Latisha with vomit smelling breath "
Lttle
yung
for the pr-press, huh?"
She straightened back up to Jeannie.
"But anyway my
name'ss
..." She paused, reaching for a moment of soberness.
"Elvira, my
name'ss
Elvira."
Latisha heard the music in the woman's tone.
This slurred, raspy voice had once sung out her name, "Elvira."
How sad that the music was gone.
What would it take to bring it back?
"Why are you going to Adak?" Jeannie asked.
"Ta be with my husband.
He's in prison."
"What's his name?"
"Carl, Carl Larson,
that'ss
his name."
"What did your husband do?"
"Oh,
he'ss
famous.
Wanna
see?" Elvira opened her purse and the contents fell to the floor.
Latisha bent down to help. There were three miniature bottles of whiskey, a paper bag that obviously held a pint, a collection of old cosmetics and a series of newspaper clippings.
"Whoops, sorry," Elvira said.
"Thanks, lady.
You're sure pretty."
"Disgusting," Latisha heard Judy say.
"The woman is drunk."
Elvira began to read the headlines of the clippings out loud. "Larson Arrested, Accused of `I-65' Killings."
"Rape-murderer Arrested."
"I-65 Killer -
Guilty."
"Larson Kills Prison Guard."
Next to her, Judy murmured, "He should have been executed."
Latisha, too, shuddered.
What was this place she was going to? In the aisle, Jeannie took a step back.
"If he's so terrible, why are you going with him?" Jeannie asked.
"
Whatta
ya
mean,
lttle
girl?
You getting' smart?"
"No, I just wondered why you were going to Adak."
"Oh."
Elvira smacked her lips a few times and laughed.
Then she closed her eyes. "Carl, he could make me come like nothing you ever seen in your whole life.
Shit!
He...", she opened her eyes and looked at Jeannie again, "you wouldn't know about
ss
-such things."
She nudged Latisha on the shoulder as if the two of them were enjoying a joke the girl didn't know about.
The plane lurched and Elvira almost fell on top of the women in the seat in front of Latisha.
"
Scuse
me," she said.
"Why are you two going to Adak?
This
lttle
girl wants to know."
"You're drunk, lady," one said.
"But anyway, it's like I told my mother, I'm tired of taking care of these kids by myself."
"Yeah," the other woman said, "what the hell?
My Jason's the kids' old man.
Life is shit with '
em
and shit without '
em
. What's the difference?
"An occasional good fuck," the first woman said.
The two of them laughed and each took a pull on a bottle in a paper bag.
"How vulgar," Judy Villa said.
Elvira staggered toward the back.
Latisha closed her eyes, but Judy kept talking. "My husband told me he only wanted reformed criminals.
That Larson doesn't sound very reformed to me."
"No," Latisha agreed.
Judy talked on.
How she had raised Frank Jr. by herself.
How she had managed to buy a little house. How Frank had it easy in prison and he could afford to be full of ideas. How Reverend Ellsworth said a man's job was to take care of 'his woman.'
Latisha nodded occasionally but Gil was there, in her mind.
Her eyes closed. They were lying together, sleeping.
Then it was morning and they held each other.
Children played in the hall.
A sudden noise exploded next to her.
Latisha turned in terror to see a small boy in the aisle with a burst air sickness bag.
The boy looked very proud of himself.
Judy stood up. "Go sit down," she yelled.
"Where's your mother?"
The little boy gave her the finger and Judy started into the aisle after him, but the pilot came on the public address system.
"Fasten your seat belts, folks.
We're approaching Adak Island.
Look over on your left when we get through these clouds and you'll see it.
The wind's kicking up down there.
We're
gonna
have a rough landing, but just hang on and I'll get
ya
through."
"This is Frank's idea of taking care of me," Judy muttered.
Latisha looked out the window.
The clouds thinned and there it was, Adak Island.
To the north, the sea was green; to the south of the island, the sea was a deeper blue. The Bering Sea and the Pacific, Latisha thought.
On the island water was everywhere - bays and lagoons, lakes and creeks.
At first it looked like a post card for 'the land of 10,000 lakes,' but as they flew lower she could see that no majestic trees separated the lakes as on the post card.
Adak was rocks, hills, green tundra - and a lot of water.
This would be her home for fifteen years.
She could see the east side of the island below her, the west side in the distance, two mountains and a rugged coast on the north side.
Farther to the north, on a separate island, a snow-covered volcano dominated the scene.
The south side of Adak stretched into the distance with green tundra, rugged hills, hundreds of lakes and no trees.
"Boring," Judy said.
Latisha thought it was anything but boring.
Green, like pictures she'd seen of Ireland. Wild. Untamed.
Rough.
Natural.
Most of all, natural.
And small, like a person could drive across it in half an hour - if there were roads.
Suddenly heavy rain obscured the window.
Then, just as quickly, the plane flew through the rain and the window cleared.
"Hang on, folks, we're going in," the pilot said.
The luggage compartments above the seats began to vibrate.
Latisha put her head back on her seat and clutched the armrest.
A crosswind slammed into the plane as it flew lower and Judy wailed, "Oh Jesus God, Oh Jesus God, save us!"
The plane went up, then down; up, then down.
Latisha's oxygen mask fell into her face.
One of the children in the front threw up.
Even above the roar of the engines Latisha could hear the walls and the ceiling creaking with stress.
She glanced out the window and saw the wing tip vibrating up and down.
Suddenly the pilot banked into a deep, sharp turn and she saw the rough water of an ocean bay right below her.
A child screamed.
The plane wobbled from side to side.
Latisha imagined the pilot fighting for control.
Never was she on a flight like this.
She felt cold and she dug her nails into the material of the armrest.
Her heart beat rapidly.
Was this the end?
Had she come all this way to die in a plane crash without ever seeing Gil again?
Out the window she saw the rain-slicked runway ahead.
The pilot was circling toward it.
She closed her eyes and waited.
A whirling, mechanical noise - a clunk below her - the landing gear was down.
The engine noise changed pitch and suddenly the plane tilted sharply left, then right.
There was a thud, followed by another thud.
Then she felt the plane start to skid down the runway.
She raised her head and looked out the window.
Her eyes opened wide in terror.
She watched the whole runway grow longer behind her as the plane slid sideways.
She turned and looked out the other window and saw the barrier at the end of the landing strip coming at her.
"Jesus God, we're going to die!" Judy screamed.
The plane shuddered and swerved back and forth, eventually slowing down.
Rain pelted the fuselage.
There was silence for a moment, then Judy's sobs filled the plane.
Latisha unfastened her seat belt and hugged her. "It's okay, we're down now."
"Oh Jesus.
Oh Jesus.
Look at this place."
Judy gestured toward the windows, obscured by sheets of rain.
"Adak. We're on Adak," the pilot said over the public address system.
He sounded surprised.
People applauded, but one woman in the back yelled out, "You lousy bastard, when you
gonna
learn how to fly?"
"We're taxiing in to the Pat Kelly Air Terminal," the pilot continued.
"The temperature's 41 here, it's raining, and the wind's running between 35 and 50 miles an hour.
That puts the wind chill around 15 degrees Fahrenheit.
So bundle up out there!"
The plane came to a stop on the runway near the terminal and she watched four federal soldiers roll steps up to the door.
Two of them, one male and one female, climbed the steps, came into the plane and began searching everyone as they got off.
She watched as woman after woman was searched and then left.
She could see the bottom of the stairs as each woman descended and her man struggled across the tarmac to greet her.
Was it the fierce wind and the driving rain that made them act like strangers to each other - or was it that they were almost strangers?
And then, there he was, James T. Gilmore himself, walking across the runway, neat prison pants, an expensive looking parka, dignified, important looking, dressed to perfection even as a prisoner, but looking quite annoyed with the force of the wind.
Her stomach fluttered.
She wanted him. She wanted to ride the wild whirlwind with him. She stood up, got her carry-on and walked forward to be searched.