* * *
The airport laid quietly and deserted when John Taylor opened the door to his living container and stepped out into the early morning dusk. The air was still but heavy with humidity covering asphalt and grass with glittering dew. Red River Airport was the one remaining intact runway of what was once one of the busiest airports in the country, Dallas/Forth Worth International. Air traffic was very light on most days. Other than a few transport planes there was not much activity on the field since the supply of any kind of gasoline let alone aviation gas was scarce.
A small flight service office, which managed the airport with a handful of people, providing basic conveniences to the pilots and airplane crews. Weather information, availability of fuel and supplies and of course the latest gossip from around town could be obtained by stopping by the reception desk in the office lobby. Even though there was not much going on during the night the office was usually staffed around the clock.
Taylor strolled across the parking ramp to the administration buildings. The pilot’s lounge was empty but behind the only desk in the office he could see the familiar figure of Mary Pearson. Her good natured humor and her genuine efforts to make life for visiting and local pilots as uncomplicated as possible had earned her the title ‘Mother of Red River’ and many regular visitors called her half jokingly but affectionately ‘Ma’. Mary was in her early sixties and had seen the worst of the war. She had lost two sons a long time ago in unexplained plane crashes so she treated the flight crews as her own children.
“Good morning Ma,” Taylor greeted her when he entered the office. “Any chance to get current weather information to the northeast of here?”
“John, come in,” Mary’s face lighted up, “can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Well, thank you, why not,” Taylor replied. “It might be a few days until I get an earnest brew again. How about that weather?”
Mary put a large cup of black steaming coffee on the counter in front of Taylor.
“I pulled up the weather thirty minutes ago. I knew you would show up before your trip to Sector XXI. It looks good from what I see, should be smooth sailing.”
Taylor studied the map prints that Mary had laid out in front of him. Northern Texas and Arkansas were almost completely free of cloud cover, winds were light all the way up to fifteen thousand feet and the extended forecast promised a fairly stable weather pattern for at least the next two weeks. Of course one never knows about weather development when entering higher elevations and mountainous terrain but for all he could see right then, they had ideal weather conditions ahead of them.
“Well, Ma, it seems that we are on,” Taylor said slowly. It just now began to really sink in that his big adventure was about to start. “Wish me luck,” he added with a big smile.
“You be careful out there, you hear me?” Mary was in her maternal element. She reached behind her desk and pulled out a small paper bag.
“I was able to get a box of nutrition bars at the auction last night. I know you like these. You never know when you might need something extra to eat.”
Taylor leaned over the counter and kissed Mary on the cheek. “You are the best! I’ll bring you back something nice,” he said winking at her before he took the bag and walked back out into the night.
There was the faintest idea of a silver lining on the eastern horizon. Taylor’s wristwatch showed ten minutes after five. ‘It’s still going to be a good hour before we have enough light to get going,’ he thought to himself. He didn’t like the idea much to be flying into the rising sun for the most part of the first leg of their trip, but there was no getting around the fact that they were going east in the morning. He had planned to follow the old Interstate 30 as far as it was still recognizable and then head northeast until his fuel was down to half the tanks.
With four passengers and little luggage his plane should be good for about nine hundred miles at a low cruise speed. Taking into account that they would probably have to start from rough surface for their return flight, Taylor was planning to fly about four hundred miles each way to have enough fuel reserve for unexpected circumstances. This would put them back on the ground in the early afternoon, so they would still have plenty of daylight to assess the situation and start their hike into the mountains.
Arriving back at his container Taylor heard a Jeep engine approaching from the main gate. He was glad that his passengers at least had the courtesy to be on time so he would not have to rush his final briefing and loading of the plane. The ancient vehicle made its way through the night and stopped a short distance from where Taylor was waiting. Cody Hunt stuck his head through the door and walked over to Taylor to greet their travel companions.
As the Jeep came to a halt Tim Farmer jumped out of the driver’s seat and rushed around the car to open the passenger door. He actually had to pull out a wrench to accomplish this. Obviously he was not accustomed to carrying female passengers who frowned upon the idea of having to crawl out of a car window.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” he apologized to Helen Spade who made her exit in a perfectly pressed Khaki suit and safari hat. It seemed there were some perks involved in being employed at the intelligence agency. Taylor stabbed his elbow into Hunt’s rib cage. He knew that a laughing outburst was his friend’s most likely reaction to the unexpected display of fashion style. He was not in the mood to start the trip with bad blood between the two of them.
“Good morning,” Taylor started, “did you two get a good night’s sleep?”
“I was so excited, I could hardly sleep at all,” Farmer replied eagerly. He was the proverbial kid before a road trip.
“Very cute,” Spade snapped at him,” Would you care to help me with my luggage?”
“I hope you remembered to pack lightly,” Taylor’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw the five feet tall trunk that Farmer pulled out of the car.
“I just have a duffle bag and a small case for the scanner,” Farmer replied, “This is hers.”
“What the...,” Cody started without a thought.
“Keep your pants on boys,” Spade laughed, “I had to rent out my pad for the time of the trip. This is everything I own. Can I store this somewhere around here until we get back? This here is my luggage,” she added pointing at a small Khaki colored backpack.
“Sorry,” Cody mumbled into the giggles that came from Spade and Taylor.
“Sure, no problem,” Taylor agreed, “put it in my house, it’ll be locked and airport security is also watching out for it.”
Farmer hauled Spade’s trunk into Taylor’s living container.
“That coffee smells mighty fine, sir,” he said with his broad Texan accent. “Mind if I have a cup?”
“Go right ahead. Want some coffee too, Helen? Just don’t take too long. We’ll start loading the plane in a minute here.” Taylor was all business now.
“Since we are all here, let’s recap a few ground rules so we can all get along,” Taylor seized the opportunity for briefing his crew. “We will be in unfamiliar terrain. We do not know if we have to deal with any hostility. I do not expect major complications but we have to be vigilant and keep our eyes and ears open. If we come across strangers, I will be the only one who addresses them. Ms. Spade this goes especially for you. You are here to observe and to gather intelligence. You are not to engage anyone we meet on your own. We will take it slow, learn first what the situation is and then I will decide how to proceed. I want to be very clear about this before we get going. Everybody understand?”
Taylor looked everyone into the eyes to make sure he was taken seriously. Only Hunt had a half disguised grin on his face. He was very aware of the importance this trip had for Taylor but he still found the intensity and unfamiliar seriousness of his friend amusing. Taylor winked at Hunt to signal him that he was not the only one finding himself in uncharted waters. He got his nods of agreement from everyone even though the defiant look on Spade’s face was not too reassuring. Th
ere wasn’t much he could do about his travel companion’s loyalties so he just made a mental note to keep an eye on her and turned his attention to the business at hand.
Parked behind his living quarters was Taylor’s single engine high wing bush plane that he had used to haul supplies to camps in Alaska and Canada for many years. It was a sturdy little aircraft in camouflage paint with big tires and ample ground clearance to make starting and landing from unimproved sites a breeze. The plane had been converted from cargo duty to accommodate passengers for this trip. The four of them and their gear would put them slightly above maximum gross weight with full tanks but since Taylor knew he would take off with the tanks only at half for the flight back he was confident that they were safe to fly.
It was time to get the plane ready. Taylor and Hunt pulled back the cover, unfastened the wheel chocks and packed both items neatly into the cargo compartment. Taylor always got excited when he heard the fuel truck making its way across the parking ramp. Joe, the factotum of Red River Airport, sat in the driver seat with an unlit cheap cigar between his teeth.
“N’mornig,” he mumbled between his half closed lips. “I hear you get a fill on the Council’s tab? Fine with me, fine with me.”
He started to unwind the fuel hose and climbed up the foot peg on the right wing strut. He fumbled with the fuel caps and struggled to get them open. Putting the filler spout into the fuel tank he gestured to Taylor, “Would you mind firing up the pump, son?” Taylor walked over and flipped the switch as he had done so many times before.
“Tell you what, son,” Joe said with a big smile while the fuel was flowing into the tanks, “you bring me back some nice cow and I’ll make sure your tanks will never be dry. Man, I could use a good steak!” Taylor laughed and turned around to shut off the fuel pump. It seemed that he and his adventure were the talk of the town.
When the fuel truck had left, Taylor opened the engine cowl and started with the preflight inspection of his airplane. He had rebuilt and repaired this motor more often than he cared to remember. Often it had come down to begging, borrowing or stealing parts to get it back together, but whatever he had to do to keep that engine running, it never had betrayed him in mid flight. He knew he could always depend on it to get him safely back on the ground.
Flight controls, brakes, instruments and electric systems all checked out in his tests. It was a quarter after six and everything was progressing smoothly. Taylor had planned to get airborne by the first morning sunlight and he was well within his schedule. He walked back over to his living container to check one more time that all the lights were off and to close the metal shutters over the windows. He noticed that Farmer had placed Helen Spade’s trunk in a corner of the living room.
“It’s going to be five hours until you’ll get another chance, so who needs a bathroom? Now is the time.” Taylor announced to his travel mates. Like good little soldiers they lined up in front of the bathroom door to take turns.
He walked back outside to load their luggage, still pleasantly surprised that everyone had had followed his request to pack lightly. The cargo compartment was still half empty which suited him just fine. With Hunt and himself in the front seats and Farmer and Spade in the back they should have almost ideal weight distribution according to his quick mental calculations. He had to pack parachutes for each of them. Even in times like these there were some regulations and as this was still considered a non-civilian flight into unknown territory, certain military customs needed to be followed. At the same time this allowed him to disregard almost every other rule that civilian flights have to contend with. He had it in writing in his passports that he was allowed to go wherever he pleased once he had left a one hundred mile radius around Red River Airport and kept a general northeastern heading.
One by one the others came out of the container and joined Taylor at the airplane. Cody Hunt was the last one out and locked the steel door with an old-fashioned pad lock. He turned around to see if anyone was watching him and quickly hid the key under a rock with the imprint ‘Beware of rattlesnakes!’.
“Very high security!” Helen Spade teased him. “Should I start worrying about my stuff now or right before we get back?”
“Be my guest and try to pick up the key,” Cody challenged her back, “rattlesnakes are very predictable and like to hide under the same rock day after day if you leave them alone. Still wanna try?”
Spade huffed at him and turned around to hear what Taylor was telling them about safety procedures.
“We are all going to wear parachutes for the length of the flights,” he started, “this has nothing to do with my flying skills or the capabilities of the aircraft. It is just standard requirement for military flight rules.”
He took the first chute out of the plane and showed them how to put it on securely and where to pull to deploy it.
“If we get into a midair collision with another plane, which is highly unlikely, me and Cody will open the doors and make sure your seat belts are unbuckled. After that you are on your own. Jump, count to three and then pull the D-ring, nothing to it. You are not going to need it unless you complain during the flight and we have to throw you out. So, suit up and get into the plane. It looks as if the sun is just about to come up. Time to fly! Good luck to all of us.”
They each put on the parachutes and climbed into their assigned seats. The big cargo doors made entry and exit of Taylor’s plane very comfortable. Hunt was in the right seat next to Taylor and already had the checklist out to go through the startup procedure. Both of them were flipping switches, checking gauges and twiddling with this and that.
“Put on the headphones and switch on the noise canceling. If you want to talk just push the button on the cable. Better yet, don’t talk,” Taylor advised. “Everyone ready?” He pushed the talk button on the radio control, “Four-Six-Charlie-Alpha, Taylor, Mary we are ready to leave. Any activity in the area?”
There was a soft crackle and then the voice of Mary Pearson, “Negative, you are the only soul flying this early in the morning. The runway is all yours. Good luck, John!”
“Thanks Ma,” Taylor answered, “roger that, only one nut job flying at this hour. I’ll be back in a few days, keep the coffee on. Taylor out.”
Taylor had never gotten over the butterflies in his stomach every time he started an aircraft engine. If he would not have felt that anticipation, he might have given up flying all together a long time before, but it was still there and fresh just like the first time he had flown solo what seemed a life time ago. He made sure one more time that the fuel selector was in its correct position and pressed the start button. It took only a second or two of turning over the engine for it to come to life and sing its powerful song that would propel them into the air. He released the breaks and the plane slowly moved off its parking position.
The sun in the East started to paint the sky with red and orange brush strokes. The stars slowly dimmed out of sight for the day. No matter how bleak times had been in the past, this sight early in the morning behind the wheel of an airplane just about to make the leap into its natural element never failed to give John Taylor a sense of hope and of life prevailing and treating him well after all.
He taxied to the South end of the runway checking once again if the flight controls had the right feel to them, his hands remembering more than his conscious mind. At the end of the taxi way he stopped the aircraft applied the parking breaks and pushed the power control lever all the way forward. The engine sputtered just a little before it gained speed all the way to its maximum RPM setting. Satisfied with what he read on the gauges and what he heard and felt in his seat Taylor pulled back power and released the breaks. He taxied onto the runway, turned around to see if everything was all right with his passengers and then applied full power to the engine. He set the propeller control to maximum efficiency and the little plane started to race down the asphalt strip rapidly gaining speed.
Chapter 2: War, What War?
&
nbsp;