Frank turned and saw Jake Holsen approaching. Judging from the expression of Holsen's face, Frank knew this wouldn't be good, Jake Holsen was coordinating the air search.
"Frank, you probably noticed the weather. We're going to suspend the search until this blows over. I'm sorry."
"How much longer till you call it off, Jake?"
Jake looked away for a second before looking into Frank's eyes. "I'm calling it now, Frank. I don't want my guys up there when the storm hits. I am truly sorry but I have to do this."
Frank drew out another cigar, cut the tip and lit it before commenting, "Yeah, I know you're sorry but that's John out there. Hell, you're a second father to him!"
Jake frowned and growled, "You think I don't know that...that I don't think about John? You really believe I want to call this thing off?"
Frank sucked on the cigar and held his breath for a moment before exhaling, the bluish white smoke quickly dissipating in the wind. He could feel the beginning drops of rain and stared at Jake.
"Hell, I know you don't want to shut down the search. I'm sorry...I'm just upset. I'd do the same if I were you."
He turned away to stare at the mountainous sky line, the rain building in strength. Jake reached out and squeezed his old friend's shoulder before returning to the tower. Frank stood there awhile longer, the rainfall now falling in heavy sheets.
He thought of Jo, his daughter-in-law. He knew she was hurting, was frightened of losing John. When he first heard what David and Jo had done, he was furious...with David. Frank knew David and how he operated, how he treated women.
Frank thought of Bree, David's ex-girlfriend and fiancée. While David was attending sub school back east, Bree decided she needed to party with her girlfriends and, as the fates would have it, met a guy at one of the college watering holes. Evidently, one of his oldest boy's buddies was at the same bar and witnessed Bree getting very intimate with this guy.
When David returned, word got back about Bree. When he confronted her, she blew him off saying he was an idiot for listening to false rumors. Two weeks later, David followed her when she again went out for the evening with her girlfriends and discovered her secret liaison with this other guy. Without saying a word, David had walked up to the booth they were cuddling in, and before Bree could react from her shock, reached down, grabbed her left hand and removed her engagement ring. David never said a word to either of them. By the time Bree was able to wrest free from the booth and chase after David, he was gone.
Frank recalled the countless number of times she called the house trying to reach his son but David had written Bree off. In fact, David had written off all women.
Frank grimaced as he recollected how David changed. All women were fair game to him, married or single. Fuck em then leave em became his standard. Several times, he tried talking with his son but couldn't break through that wall. Now, David had gone after JoAnne. Why he did Frank could never figure out. Frank shook his head saddened over the whole affair. Through the pouring rain, he stared at the far mountains. David was gone and now John was missing.
**************
"Uhhhhh...wha...what happened?" I opened my eyes finding everything dark. For a moment, I a felt rising panic thinking I was blind but slowly I could make out shapes and shadows through the darkness. A crushing sensation emanated from my waist as I was trying to clear the cobwebs from my head. Becoming aware of my surroundings, I remembered what transpired...I had crashed. Shit, I thought, I went down. The last thing I recalled were tree tops smashing against the airframe. Where the hell was I?
Groaning, I closed my eyes and tried taking a deep breath, a piercing ache to radiating from my left side. A busted rib or two? Probably. I would have to wrap my torso when I...when I what? Fuck, I have to get out of the plane. Panic set in again when I thought of fire. I just knew the plane was on fire and I would soon become a brochette. I sniffed the air...no smoke, yet. I couldn't even detect any fuel leakage, only the scent of pine and fir.
The fuselage angled a good thirty degrees to the left which explained the crushing sensation to my abdomen. I was still belted in. I pulled the quick release and, falling against the bulkhead, cried out. The Comanche suddenly pitched forward, sliding downward. When the plane came to a sudden halt, I fell against the instrument panel my forehead bouncing off the wheel. My head felt as if there was a tiny gremlin with a sledgehammer, the hammer slamming against the inside of my skull.
"Ahhhh...," I groaned rubbing my temples until some of the ache left. After a moment, I decided it was time to take stock of my current predicament. First, where the hell was I? Grabbing the seat, I pulled myself to the side window and looked out but couldn't see a thing in the darkness. Reaching behind the seat, I grabbed the flashlight and looked once more.
"Fuck me!" I was in the goddamn trees, maybe about forty plus feet above the ground. The fuselage was jammed between three Douglass firs, the wings and engines long gone. It was a miracle the fuel hadn't ignited. Now, it was going to take a miracle to get me out of here. Looking aft, my eyes widened in shock...I was looking into open space. The tail section was ripped off just behind the rear seats creating a new problem...as if I needed any more. The ELT, or Emergency Locator Transmitter, was probably somewhere miles away and non-operational. Why am I still alive? I wondered.
I remained on the floorboard, my breathing sending spikes of pain into the left side of my chest. Damn it! If I had a busted rib, I stood the chance of piercing a lung. Feeling around, I found my bag jammed behind the co-pilot's seat and pulled it forward. Opening the bag, I fumbled through some clothing until I found what I needed, a heavy t-shirt I always took with me on these trips. Tearing the material into a strip, I tightly wrapped the cloth around my torso overlapping the strip and tying it off. Um...yeah, that felt a little better.
I knew somehow had to get down from this perch before gravity decided to kick in. Going through the bag once more, I grabbed my old pair of sweat pants and laid them over my shoulders. I tried pushing on the door but it was wedged tight against the tree trunk. Scooting over between the front seats, I looked out the open part of the fuselage. A large tree branch had jammed all the way through the airframe.
Crawling over the center console, I was able to hunker down on the rear floorboard. I closed my bag and tossed it out the end of what used to be the rear cargo hold. I listened as the bag crashed through the many tree limbs and heard the final smack as the bag hit the ground. Well, that didn't take too long, maybe I'm not as high up as I assumed, I thought.
I slowly slid over the rear seats and balanced on a portion of the airframe just behind the rear seats. I could hear the creak and pop of the shredded aluminum frame as the fuselage shifted from my exertions and re-settled. Making matters worse, I heard the familiar ping of rain drops on the frame, in the distance the resonance of rolling thunder. Oh great, a storm's approaching, icing on the cake!
Reaching the tree branch, I noted it was strong enough to easily hold me. Pulling my ball cap down, I zipped closed the front of my leather jacket and thought, now or never. I played the flashlight over the branch and carefully lifted my legs onto the branch, one arm wrapped around the limb. A jagged piece of metal skin was hooked onto the branch and I, cautiously, lifted myself over that chunk of metal trying to avoid any contact with the sharp aluminum membrane. Finally, I was completely sitting on the branch and able to slide to the massive trunk. As I balanced on the limb, I could feel the rain continue to build. Using the sweat pants, I was able to swing one of the leggings around the trunk while holding the other. Once done, I tied the leggings together, securing myself to the tree.
No sooner had I accomplished this feat, a screech of metal assaulted my ears. The airframe, filling with water from the pouring rain, began sliding on the wet branches, the weight pulling in forward. The branch I was sitting on began to bend, the wood crackling from the stress. Fearing the thick branch would break off, I perched as close to the tree trunk as I could get, cinching the sweat pants even tighter around me.
"Grrrrriisshh...wooosh," the fuselage grated loose from its roost and vanished into the dense forest, followed by the sound of breaking limbs and branches, my own branch snapping back into place. Seconds later, I heard the crash of what was once my beloved Comanche smashing into the ground with a resounding thump. Rest in peace, I whispered looking into the darkness.
