There Must Be a Mistake Ch. 05

"Delicious are you going to be a pain in the ass like your uncle?"

"I have been told that my ass is prettier than his."

"Young woman don't you start with me. I have known you for 12 weeks, and I don't like you."

"Rod has known me for 12 weeks, and he hates me most of the time. Tonight he tried to drown me in whipped cream."

"We want our cameras back."

"I don't have any use for them. You can take them all back, every single one of them; including all the other cameras and microphones you have hidden down here. If you do not do as I ask, I will expose your staff to high-frequency sound levels they won't ever hear, and they won't hear anything else ever again."

"You are going to be a pain in the ass."

"Stan what will the police say if I had them come here and show them all this high tech stuff that wasn't here before we went to Texas. Then we show them the tapes of the trucks coming on the property, without setting off the alarms. What do you think they would say about that Stan?"

"You do not have anything on the property that recorded us doing that."

"Did you see that new nodule above the elevator in the basement, Stan, the one with the mini camera in it? Did you look in the two lights at the entranceway? They have cameras in them. The microphones are in the bushes to the left and right of them. My uncle may act like a bumbling fool sometimes, but it is an act. No one as smart as he is let's men like you run rampant on his property."

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch. I had no idea he was that sneaky."

"You better hope he's alive so you can kill him, or I may kill you myself for invading his privacy. I could have a warrant put out for your arrest for trespassing on private property, breaking and entering, and anything else the police can think of, but my uncle seemed to like you."

"You are as smart as your test scores indicated. We will pick up everything within next few days."

"Everything Stan; Rod has a friend who is a private detective. He will do a sweep of every inch of the basement and the house. If he finds one bug remaining anywhere, from the attic to the hot springs, you are in big trouble."

"I understand Delicious, everything will be taken out."

*******

17. UP IN THE TREES

I woke up. How about that, it worked. If I ever get a chance I must tell Jennifer about this experience. I must take stock of myself; let's see what's working and what's not working. I am bleeding from the top of my head, but not badly. My arms are moving, and I can move my legs. I don't have any pain in my back, and I can twist my shoulders. I am okay. I am in working order.

The aircraft is in a 70 degree down angle at the nose, and tilted 40 degrees to the left. We are in a copse of trees, but not entangled in them. I must be careful. The windscreen is broken, and I don't want to fall through it, or get cut up by the exposed jagged pieces of plastic.

Michael, I must check my pilot. I unstrap myself from my harness, and nearly fall on him. As I did this the aircraft shuddered and fell towards the ground a few feet. I regrouped and braced myself, as I tried to assess his condition. He is breathing, and his pulse is strong. He has no head wounds I can see, but there is a tree branch that punctured his door. It looks like it has penetrated his left side. That is going to be a problem. His left leg is really badly broken. It is almost like the letter L starting halfway down the calf. I must get him down to the ground and put a splint on that immediately. I have to tend to his wounds, but I have to figure a way to get him down to the ground without killing him first. I decide not to wake him up. He will be in pain soon enough. Why should I inflict it on him now?

I take my first good observation outside the aircraft, and luckily we are only about 20 feet above the ground. It may as well be a mile if I can't find some rope in the aircraft. Otherwise I will have to fasten some tree bark together and make a cord out of it. That will be a long and arduous task, and Michael will definitely wake up while I am doing it. I crawl to the rear of the aircraft to look for emergency supplies, and a medical kit. Both are attached to the bulkhead, and they are fully stocked. There are blankets, pillows, flashlights, matches, and a full survival kit also. Thank goodness Michael has his aircraft well supplied for emergencies.

I wrapped everything I needed together, and began moving forward. The aircraft lurched downward several feet and stopped. I fell and slipped forward towards the nose of the aircraft hitting my head against the rear seat. My head hurts like hell, but what was worse is I heard Michael groan. I immediately went to attend to him.

His eyes were closed, his pulse was still strong, but his leg had moved into a position that was worse than it had been before. I had to get him out of this fucking aircraft soon, or he would never be able to use that leg again.

I started back to get the supplies and the aircraft lurched downward again. This is getting tiresome, but it occurred to me that this was not altogether a bad thing. The lower the aircraft was to the ground the shorter the distance I would have to carry Michael down.

I braced myself behind my seat and began kicking at it as hard as I could. It didn't move. I realized I was beating on the wrong side of the aircraft to do any good. I moved to the pilots' side and started kicking. It didn't take long before the aircraft started to slide down between the trees. With one final surge, the aircraft plummeted the last eight feet to the ground. It rested on its nose and left wing. The creator was definitely on our side today, because for Michael's sake it was perfect.

I pulled the emergency supplies out of the aircraft and made a makeshift bed for him. I hoped when I moved him he did not wake up, because the pain would be excruciating.

In the survival kit was a small saw, which I used to cut the branch that had penetrated through Michael's door and into his body. I cut the branch on the inside of the door and opened it carefully. I unbuckled his harness, and gravity shifted him towards me. His eyes popped open, and he looked at me.

I smiled at him. "You are one great pilot. That was one hell of a maneuver. When you write it up for the federal authorities make sure they name it after you. You are alive, Michael, but you are seriously hurt. I have to get you out of this plane, and onto the ground. It is going to hurt like hell. Your leg is broken in at least two places, and a branch has penetrated your left side. In a moment you are going to hate God and me. Scream all you want, but this has got to be done now."

I didn't wait for his answer, or for him to ask me questions. I put an arm underneath his shoulders and an arm underneath his ass. I braced my boots against the edge of the doorframe, and pulled with all the strength in my body. He slid out of the aircraft and landed on top of me.

His screaming was probably heard in Fairbanks, and I did not blame him one bit.

I shimmied out from underneath his body, and brought the blanket to him. I shifted him as any nurse would do, and managed to get him on top of the blanket, and off the wet ground. He passed out due to the pain, and shock of coming out of the aircraft. I took advantage of the time it gave me to assess his wounds. I slit open his pant leg to see what I was up against. Sometimes I hate being right. His tibia and fibula were broken, and pressing against his skin. I had to make a splint, and set his leg.

I used the saw to cut four branches from low hanging trees. I measured and cut them to size against Michael's leg. I loosened the laces on his boot, and slowly pulled his leg as straight as possible. I placed the branches inside his boot, and ran them along both sides of his leg. I used gray tape to seal the top of his boot and branches together. The Ace bandages from the medical kit were just long enough to wrap one-half of his leg. It took all six of them to wrap his entire leg tight enough, but not cut off the circulation. I knew this would not last long, but it would hold for now.

This most pressing problem corrected, I opened Michael's coat to see how deep the branch penetrated into his abdomen. Finally, we received a bit of good luck. The branch hit his ribs and did not penetrate into the core of his body. It felt as if two of his ribs were broken, but that could be dealt with at a later time.

When Michael regained consciousness I gave him some water. He called me some very interesting family names, and used some Eskimo words I am sure were about my family heritage also, but I accepted each and every one of them cheerfully.

I handed him two pain pills, and told him to be nice to me, or those would be the last he ever saw.

He apologized profusely, and asked what our situation was. I gave him a brief summation.

I told him I had to strip some bark from the trees and wrap his leg in it, because the ace bandage would not hold his leg in position well enough while we walked out of here.

He laughed. "Doc, I don't think I'm walking anywhere."

"No Michael, I'm walking you are riding."

"What am I riding in?"

"Let me fix your leg first. I will make you a conveyance when that's done. You do have the toolbox and the airplane?"

"The FAA requires it in Alaska."

"In that case we will be out of here in four hours."

"In your dreams, Doc."

"How much would you like to bet?"

"Is a dollar too rich for your blood?"

"In this situation Michael, it sounds just about right."

*********

It took me an hour to strip enough bark off the trees to wrap Michael's leg and tie it on securely. The bark would start to shrink because of his body heat and hold the sticks tight against his leg. As long as he was not bleeding internally, he had a chance of keeping the leg, and continuing to fly.

I pulled the toolbox from the aircraft to see what was in it. The first thing I removed from the aircraft was the compass. I needed wire and all airplanes have plenty of that available. I pulled out about 400 yards of it, and lay it on the side. I asked Michael if it was possible to open the wheel wells so I could remove the tires.

He looked at me as if I was crazy. I guess he remembered we were alive because of an insane maneuver we tried, so he told me how to do it.

As I looked at the wheel assembly, I decided to take the wheels and their yokes.

"Doc whatever you are making, you are making it very heavy for yourself to pull."

"Michael, I am the scientist, and the engineer; watch and learn."

The next thing I did was remove a seat from the aircraft, including the seatbelt. I could not have Michael falling out of the chair and injuring that leg any more than it already was.

I took the bolts from the chair, and threaded it through the top of the wheel yoke, adding wire in the space to make the connection tight. I did not have the convenience of an electric drill to make the holes the proper size for the nuts and bolts. I did the same with the other wheel. Michael was beginning to see the beginning of a rickshaw.

I cut two eight-foot long poles and attached them to the arms of the chair using the wire I had cut previously. I made a backpack for the rear of the chair out of the cloth of the seats, to place the tools and the medical kit in. I attached one side of a blanket to the poles. I had to wait to attach the other side, until Michael was sitting in the chair. I would use the poles to pull the rickshaw through the forest and up and down the mountainous areas to the safety of Fairbanks, which was hopefully not more than 70 ground miles away. We would have to find food to sustain us during the trip. I was not worried about water. I knew how to collect that easily enough. However, hunting is not part of my repertoire.

Now came the next hard part.

"Michael, I have to stand you up. I'm going to put you over my shoulder, and sit you down as easily as possible in that chair. Under no circumstances are you to put any weight on your left leg. If you do, I will kill you with your Swiss Army knife, and bury you here."

He laughed at me. "You talk a good game Doc, but you won't do it. Look at all the hard work you put into this contraption of yours. It would all be for nothing if you killed me."

"Stop being logical at a time like this Michael. Let's get you into that damn chair. My four hours is nearly up, and I don't like being made a liar."

I must have been getting tired, because he seemed a lot lighter the last time I picked him up. Then I realized I had not picked him up. I just pulled him out of the aircraft, and left him lying on the ground. I am going to have to have my memory checked when we get out of here.

I put him over my shoulder, and walked unsteadily, the 10 feet to my improvised rickshaw. I grabbed his ass, and sat him down in the chair. I noticed the color in his face had drained to white. I slid his legs onto the blanket, pulled it across to the other pole, and began tying it off. It went quickly, because he held his left leg up with his right, keeping the tension off the blanket. When I finished his face was sweating profusely. I gave him water and two more pain pills, even though it was not time for him to take them.

Using the remaining wire, I left a message on the ground near the aircraft: two survivors, one badly Injured. Heading south using wheeled vehicle. Help Us

I took the compass from Michael and took readings to see how badly the magnetic deviation was in the area was. Then I took a four-foot length of shielded cable from the aircraft and looped it through a screw opening in the compass module. I took the readings again to see if there were differences in the readings. There was none.

I turned to Michael and asked, "Where to sir?"

Michael replied, "Fairbanks please, and step on it. I don't want to miss the opening of the Opera."

"I can't afford another speeding ticket sir, but I will go as fast as I can."

It was 3 ½ hours since I made my four-hour prediction, and we were off on our adventure to reach Fairbanks. This time it was on foot, but at least we were alive, in good spirits and moving.

I looked at the compass, and set my heading due south. As long as we did not run into an impassable river or mountain, we would be fine.

I had not heard a peep from Michael in the last 20 minutes. I looked over my shoulder to make sure I had not lost him. He was sound asleep, and I was happy for him. My makeshift rickshaw was working out well. The wheels and wheel bearings were making pulling all the weight behind me easy, although I was beginning to tire. I wanted to move at least for two hours at a stretch before stopping for a rest. Maybe that would be good for tomorrow, but I did not take into consideration what we had just gone through today.

At 6 PM, after 90 minutes of walking, I was done. I could not move another step if I wanted to. I asked Michael how he was doing. He said his leg was throbbing and he was in pain.

"I have given you four pain pills over a five hour time span Michael. Can you hold out for a few more hours? We don't know how many days we are going to be out here, and we only have 12 pills left."

"Sure Doc, what the heck could go wrong next? I just don't want to see that bear like in the movie."

"Michael, if you see that bear it's been awful nice knowing you."

"I guess you've never seen a one legged sprinter before have you Doc?"

"I wasn't going to sprint; I was going up into the trees. These branches aren't stout enough to hold a full-grown bear."

"How long do you want to hold up here?"

"I want to get some sleep, and rest my legs. Figure we will be here 3 to 4 hours at the most."

"Let's eat first, and then you can go to sleep."

"We have food?"

"Sure, it's in the blue sack by my feet."

I reached into the sack and pulled out two bags of Trail Mix. I looked at Michael and said, "This is food?"

"If you don't eat anything today, tomorrow that will look like caviar."

"I don't like caviar either. I threw him a bag, sat down with my back against a tree, and started feeding like a squirrel. I do not like Trail Mix. I read the nutritional components, the ingredients, and everything else down to the expiration date. I decided I still did not like TRAIL MIX. However, nutritionally it would get me through the next few days. I fell asleep against that damn tree and woke up with a backache.

********

Something kept hitting me, and it wasn't always in one spot. I lifted my head up just in time to catch one in the jaw.

"Michael, if you do that again I'm going to leave you here."

"Quiet Doc, we have a visitor?"

"Friend or foe?"

"Dinner for a week."

"Where is it?

"20 yards behind the tree you're leaning against."

"What is it?"

"It is a yearling deer, possibly strayed ahead of her mother or she was killed."

"How am I supposed to kill a deer with my bare hands?"

"It would be better if you use the knife in the survival kit. Get up slowly, walk very quietly, and don't make a sound."

Michael was a scant five feet from me so getting to the survival kit was nothing. I opened it, found the six-inch knife, and withdrew it. I turned and saw the deer. Shit, it was Bambi. It had fewer spots, and was a little taller.

"What do I do now Michael?"

"It's survival time Doctor. Make up your mind that this little animal is going to be our ticket home. Get as close to it as you can. Either throw the knife at it, or lunge at it and drive the knife home to kill it. The best way is to slit her throat."

"I have never killed anything in my life, not even in a laboratory."

"This is not killing. This is survival of the fittest. She survives or we do."

The forest is a myriad of moss, twigs, tiny creatures you can't see but can hear. Prey and predatory animals. Suddenly, I was thrust into the role of a predator. I had no skill in this particular role. I moved from one tree to the next, and the next, without startling the little creature. It munched gracefully on flower tops and grass as if its life would last forever. Her mother might be around here somewhere close by. One sound from her and it was over in an instant. This little girl would be gone, fleeing in terror.

I was within six feet of her, with one tree blocking my path, and her sight line of me. She lifted her head and looked around. I stopped breathing and waited for her next move. She took two steps towards the tree that blocked our view of each other and began eating mushrooms.

I took one long stride from my position towards that tree and stopped again. I couldn't see her, which meant she couldn't see me. I looked towards Michael. He nodded his head slowly.

I gripped the knife tightly in my hand. I said, "I'm sorry little girl." Without moving my feet I reached around the tree and plunged the knife into the little deer's' chest.

She fell. She was making a pitiful sound. She was in pain, kicking her feet and thrashing around. I did what Michael told me to do. I removed the knife from her chest, and I slit her throat from ear to ear. As she bled out, I turned away, and vomited everything I had ever eaten in my entire life. I was a murderer. I had killed an innocent animal so we could survive. I heaved until there was nothing left in me to give back to mother earth in payment for the young life I had taken. I said a silent prayer of mourning and cried.

Michael yelled, "Get the fuck up, grab her by her rear legs and drag her here."

All I wanted to do was to give this poor little animal a good Christian burial.

I dragged her over to Michael, and he began the process of eviscerating her. I couldn't watch him do it.

I dug a deep hole with my back turned to him. He shouted at me to put everything into the hole. I brought him a whole animal. In return he gave me pieces: a head, the chest wall, hips, thighs bones, the leg bones, and bones I could not catalogue. The man should have been a butcher. When he was finished with her, if we had 15 pounds of meat it was a lot. I covered the hole with dirt and moss to hide the smell of blood.