Authors: Eric Walters
I tried to check off the variables in my mind. Height meant more safety if I did run out of fuel because I’d have more chance to glide to an open stretch of road, but climbing would cost me more fuel and make it more likely I’d need to find a safe spot to make an emergency landing. What I did know for certain was that speed sucked away fuel. The slower I flew, the farther I could go. I eased off the throttle and dipped down slightly—one compensated for the other so that I didn’t lose any speed despite feeding the engine less fuel. I just had to stay above stall speed.
Now I had a close-up view of the ground racing by beneath me. Houses and stores alternately lined the route on both sides of the road. I caught split-second glimpses of broken windows or smashed doors. I could see where more than one building had been set on fire. Not all of those could have been accidents.
I could also see all sorts of people, looking around as they heard me coming, sometimes staring up into the sky before spinning to see me. I was so low that I could see their faces. They looked curious or amused, and always a little shocked. In a world where not much of anything mechanical was moving, I was flying! I was probably the only thing in the sky above the whole city. Now I just had to
stay
in the sky.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t even try. I should just bring it down while I could. If I could find a stretch of road long enough, I’d land, run straight to the neighborhood, and bring back my car, some extra gas, and enough support to protect us all. I’d just have to hope that my plane would still be there and in one piece. Of course, that was assuming that both of us were in one piece after I landed. I listened for the engine. It still sounded like it was getting enough fuel. I’d keep pushing forward.
As much as I was worried about crashing I was almost equally worried about my mother’s reaction. I just hoped she didn’t even know I was up here. Okay, that was being ridiculous. I’d taken off from our street in front of dozens of our neighbors, and I’d waved at a whole bunch of other people as if I were the Queen of England. If my mother didn’t know right now, she’d know soon enough and I’d have to figure out what to say to her. But I couldn’t think of that now. I needed to focus—did the plane’s engine just flutter? Was I almost out of gas? I tilted my head to the side and listened. It didn’t sound any different, did it? I gave it a little pulse of gas to rev the engine up. It sounded good.
Erin Mills Parkway appeared below, and I crossed over and started my curve into the neighborhood, heading toward my street. I accelerated a little bit more to compensate for the speed lost through the banking. I couldn’t risk stalling out. Crashing because I had no gas would be unavoidably stupid, but crashing because I was coming in too slowly was just stupid.
Up ahead I could make out the individual houses. There were the two that framed my street, my landing strip.
Underneath me were houses in the subdivision just north of our neighborhood. I was so low I could almost reach down and touch their chimneys. The highway came up below. I was almost there. My street was just ahead. Even if the engine died now, I’d still have enough momentum at least to crash-land in the neighborhood.
I adjusted my course to correct for a slight crosswind, keeping the nose of the plane aimed right between my marker houses. All I needed now was just one more little squirt of liquid into the carburetor—heck, even the fumes should get me home from here.
I passed over the wall, so low I could recognize the sentries, and see their open-mouthed faces. I eased off the throttle even more, just keeping enough speed to avoid stalling. Fifteen feet up … ten feet. I leveled off a little to get across the intersection and onto my street. I looked forward and I could see my house—and Lori and my mother and Herb standing on the front lawn.
Deliberately I looked away from them and back to my task, focusing on the road coming up toward me. Less than ten feet, now lower than five. I had to touch down now or overshoot the street and end up on somebody’s lawn. I pulled the stick slightly toward me to lift the nose up, and the wheels hit the road and bounced a little and then settled down. I eased off the throttle and put pressure on the brakes.
“Come on, slow down, slow down,” I yelled at the plane, and it seemed to listen. It came to a stop, with five houses’ worth of road to spare.
“Thank you,” I said to the plane. I looked skyward. “Thank you as well.”
I reached for the kill switch to turn off the engine, but before I could touch it the engine coughed, sputtered, and died. That could mean only one thing. I was out of gas. I undid my seat belt and climbed out as my mother, Lori, Herb, and a bunch of my neighbors rushed toward me. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to say, but I knew I wasn’t going to mention the empty tank.
24
“You shouldn’t have done that!” my mother shouted. “You know that.”
I nodded. There was no point in arguing. She was right. I stood there next to the plane, looking down, trying not to say anything to get her madder and embarrass me further in front of all the neighbors who were standing around watching. Then I saw the twins come barreling out of the house, shouting in excitement.
“I’m so angry and so relieved all at once I don’t know whether I should hit you or hug you.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t think that—”
“You’re right, you just didn’t think!” she exclaimed. “What if you had crashed?”
“But I didn’t. It flew, the way Dad and I knew it would.”
“What do you think your father would say to you if he were here right now?” she demanded.
“He would have yelled at me, and then congratulated me … and then wanted to fly with me.
He
had faith in our plane and faith in my ability to fly it.”
“
I
have faith,” Danny said, jumping into the conversation. “Can you take me up?”
“Take me instead!” Rachel exclaimed. “You know you like me better than—”
“He’s not taking either of you,” our mother said, cutting her off. She let out a big sigh.
“It’s not that I don’t have faith, young man.” She paused and I waited anxiously for what was going to come next. “Actually, I can’t believe what I’m going to say. I need you to fly me somewhere.”
“What did you say?”
“I need you to fly me somewhere.”
“And then can he take me?” Danny asked.
She silenced him with a glare.
“Or maybe not,” he said.
“Where do you want to go?”
“To the other precinct station.”
I was so surprised I didn’t say anything.
“Can you do it?”
“Um, I could get you there in thirty minutes, but I don’t know if there’s a place I can put down when I get there.”
“I don’t want you to put down. I just have to see it.”
Herb stepped forward. “There have been rumors, Adam.”
“What do you mean?” Lori asked.
“Let’s talk in a little more private spot,” my mother whispered. “Danny and Rachel, I want you to watch the ultralight.”
She walked away and Herb, Lori, and I followed, leaving my ultralight—and the twins—behind. She stopped when we had separated from the crowd gathered around it.
“I really shouldn’t say until I’ve got confirmation,” Mom said. “I don’t want to spread false information.”
“It’s only the four of us,” Herb said. “Nobody is going to spread anything.”
She didn’t answer right away. Then she sighed. “I heard that it was gone.”
“Gone? How can the station be gone?” I asked.
“Not gone. That’s the wrong word. No longer in use … abandoned. I have to find out if that’s true.”
“You do have to find out,” Herb said. “But maybe you shouldn’t be the one to go.”
“I can’t send Adam there by himself.”
“He won’t be by himself. I’ll go with him,” Herb said.
“No, it’s my responsibility. I’m the commanding officer.”
“That’s why you
can’t
go. You need to be at your command. Besides, you’re also a mother and you have children who need you, especially when their father isn’t here.”
“Adam needs me at his side, too,” she argued.
“Up there you couldn’t help him. Let me go. Have faith. In him and me.”
She looked like she was going to argue. Instead she quietly nodded.
* * *
Thirty minutes later Lori watched as I put another tick mark on my preflight checklist—the bolts holding the wheels in place were solid. I’d already checked the bolts on the wings and the engine mounts, and of course I’d filled the tank to the top from one of the six-gallon plastic cans we had in the garage. Nobody had noticed just how much gas I’d put in. With the added weight of Herb aboard we’d be using far more fuel. If he’d been with me on that first solo flight it would have been the last of anything for either of us.
“Almost ready?” Lori asked.
I held up the checklist. “It’s all checked and ready for another flight.”
“So when do I get to go up?”
“Today’s second flight is already booked.”
“I guess we’re never going to have that first date, are we?” she said.
“Were you just asking me out?”
“That’s probably the only way it’s ever going to happen,” she said, “although technically I think I was asking you
up
rather than
out
. It would be so cool to be up there.”
“And we wouldn’t have Todd as a chaperone.”
Herb rounded the side of his house. Trailing behind him were the twins. Danny was still annoyed that it wasn’t him going up with me. Herb had binoculars around his neck, a big bag on his shoulder, and a scoped rifle slung over his back.
“Are you going hunting or flying?” Lori asked nervously.
“It’s never bad to have a little backup in case somebody gets the idea of hunting us. Are you ready to go, Captain?”
“Safety check completed. Let’s go.”
“And I better go as well,” Lori said. “Those cows aren’t going to milk themselves.”
“I could help,” Rachel offered.
“And I could watch,” Danny said.
“I’ll take both offers,” Lori said. She threw her arms around me. “Be careful up there.”
I was too speechless from the hug to reply. She let go and walked away. The twins went with her and I was glad. I didn’t want them to witness things if they went wrong.
“Funny, she didn’t ask
me
to be careful,” Herb said.
“I think she realizes you’re too tough to be hurt,” I suggested.
“If that were the case I wouldn’t need these.” He pulled two armored vests out of the bag he was carrying.
“Where did you get those?”
“It’s amazing what’s tucked away in my basement. Put it on.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” I asked.
“I’m not trying to make a fashion statement. Put it on.”
It certainly couldn’t hurt. I slipped it on and did up the clasps.
Herb put his on and then we took our seats. I turned the ignition and the engine caught. While it warmed up I slipped on my helmet and Herb did the same. In the helmets were headsets that would allow us to talk over the roar of the engine.
“Can you hear me?” I asked after we both had plugged in our communication cords to the console.
“Yes, or should I say ‘roger’?”
“I think we can do without that. Clip on the harness.”
“Harness?”
I reached down, took the belts, and clicked them in place. “There, now you can’t fall out.”
“I appreciate that. Did I mention that I’m afraid of heights?” Herb asked.
I laughed. “Nope. You do know I’m planning on flying higher than a few feet?”
“Yes, I gathered that. Let’s get going.”
I snapped my harness on, released the foot brakes, and fed the engine more fuel. It roared and the ultralight inched forward. All around us a crowd was gathering. It wasn’t just people from our street but from other streets in the neighborhood who’d heard about our flight. They’d been moved back, well away from the road itself. Clipping one of them with a wing would have killed them and probably us as well.
I goosed the throttle and we picked up speed as we rolled down the road. I knew my mother had made a point of leaving to go back to her station and so wouldn’t be there to watch. She wanted me to go, but she wasn’t going to be there to see it happen.
We kept gaining speed, but not gaining any separation from the ground. The extra weight was making it necessary to reach even higher speeds before the wings would lift us up. Was this street going to be long enough?
I gave it more gas. This was no time to back off. The plane suddenly lifted off the ground, and I pulled back on the stick and gunned the gas. We started to climb, easily clearing the roofs of the houses at the end of the street.
I banked to the right, turning us toward the station and the city beyond. Herb reached out and grabbed my arm. “Not so steep if you don’t mind.”
“That wasn’t very steep.”
“Steep enough for me,” Herb said.
“You being afraid of heights surprises me.”
“People are all full of surprises and contradictions. It makes us interesting,” Herb replied.
“You didn’t have to come up here if you didn’t want to,” I said.
“It’s important for me to be along. From my ham radio contacts I know what’s happening halfway across the country, but I don’t know what’s happening twenty miles away. What
is
your range?”
“It depends on weight, speed, and elevation, but six hundred miles is a possibility.”
“That’s a fair distance. Could you stay low, please?”
“It’s actually safer to be higher. More elevation gives us a chance to choose a landing site if we need. Besides, it gives us separation from anybody on the ground.”
“It doesn’t give you separation from a bullet,” Herb said.
“But it gets us farther away from whoever is shooting at us.”
“Height isn’t a deterrent to a high-powered rifle. Being high up just puts us in their sights for longer. Lower is better because by the time anybody sees us, we’ve already flown by and gotten behind cover. That’s the way fighter pilots did it in World War One,” Herb explained.