Sky Pilot

{There is a small amount of sex in this story but I don't think it's erotic and I doubt you will either.}

I reached down and turned the fuel bleeder valve on the tank of the old 1951 Tri-pacer. Just force of habit, I always checked before takeoff.

The tiny test glass was clear fuel, it always was. I always checked anyway, finding out that there is moisture in the fuel tank when at altitude can really spoil your day. I closed the valve, it felt slightly sticky, so I opened and closed it again. It seemed all right that time, so I wiped up the droplet of fuel, looked at it for a few seconds.

No more drops appeared, so I dumped and stored my test glass and climbed aboard.

The old airplane was in pretty good shape, I had picked her up for just $3500, an amazing figure even in 1975. It only took me 10 hours of instruction from the crabby old man I hired to teach me to fly it. That part was pretty easy, the certified instructor was right there at the airport where I bought the machine.

"Remember any damn fool can land an airplane, they always come down. Getting her in the air is the trick." He grinned at me.

I was thinking landing was the hard part and said so.

"Naw, she will always come down just fine. The only question might be where!" He grinned at me some more, cackled at his joke. I guessed he had probably said that to trainees a thousand times.

But OK. I got that part.

Just 10 short hours of instructions in the air later, we landed and he climbed out and told me to take her up and bring her back in. The first time up there alone, I was actually nervous as hell. But I got her airborne, did a complete fly around and set her down as soft as it is possible to do.

He cut a big chunk out of my T-shirt and wrote my name and date on it, then pinned it to the wall.

"There you go, keep the wheels down!" He shook my hand and I was a pilot, just like that. Well, there was some forms and crap like that.

So now after nearly a decade of flying the tiny thing I was feeling fairly experienced. The initial $3500 became many thousands, though. There were government rules, those required the plane to be taken completely apart and inspected periodically. Expensive, but it always gave me a good feeling, the plane was actually brand new all the time.

Well, I thought so anyway.

I flew out of the Boise airport at 2PM, I even filed a flight plan even though the trip was just 4 hours or so to the Oregon coast area roughly 600 miles away. It was one of those days that made me feel alive to be flying, hot near the surface but cooler in the air and clear as a bell for miles and miles.

I had checked the weather report, nothing was on my route at all. There was a front off the coast but I had no plans to get anywhere near that and figured to be down and eating my dinner long before it arrived.

She struggled a little bit lifting off, the air was close to 100 degrees and I had my 200 pound frame plus a suitcase and some other gear on board. I knew the little 120 horse engine could handle it, still she just didn't like hot days. There was a brisk breeze off my right wing and I had to keep her crabbed into it to keep going straight. She bounced around a little bit before smoothing out around 5000 feet.

The air was so clear I could see halfway around the planet it seemed. Even higher up there was a fairly heavy wind coming in from the Northwest, I took a sight on a barely visible mountain in the distance and checked the compass, it read about 20 degrees North of the direction I wanted to head.

Some folks that don't fly might think we go straight, but it's seldom that we do, usually we are flying sideways to some degree.

I figured I had the crosswind guessed pretty well, and I was being careful since this was a new route for me. I sighted on a highway for awhile to make sure I was holding course. Normally I just flew South towards Bend and used the river and some highways I knew to find the airport there. I usually landed there, checked everything. Then on the next leg I had the Three Sisters off my right wing, made a turn and over the South side of the mountains.

But the lateness of the day would put the Sun right in my face, so I opted for a straighter flight.

The Sun was still giving me some troubles, though. I dropped my sunglasses down over my eyes, reached for the charts setting on the seat beside me to double check the altitudes. There was nothing much in the way, just a couple of mountains that would be easy to miss.

Then I looked up at the horizen, the hazey blue shadow of the far mountain I had sighted on was now North of me so I reset my heading, checked the compass.

It didn't move.

Confused, I made a small turn to the South, the compass stayed right where it was. I reached out and tapped it with my finger, nothing happened. I looked again at the far mountain, it seemed to have changed and was darker.

Then it hit me, that wasn't a mountain, it was a small storm cloud, low down. It wasn't supposed to even be there from the weather report, but I had seen them miss small storms before. So the storm didn't worry me, it was too far away but now I had no real idea for sure exactly where the hell I was. I checked my watch, I was only 50 minutes out, no problem for fuel or anything like that, so I didn't turn around. I glanced at the fuel gauge, it read 3/4 tank. That seemed to be a bit more than normal but I dismissed it.

Then the engine sounded funny. I listened, decided that it was my imagination.

That was dumb, but I had an important meeting to get to and I wanted to get there. I spotted another hazey mountain in the distance to the North, I turned that way.

I dropped down to 4000 feet, looking out for some kind of landmark so I could get a heading. I must have tapped the compass 30 times, it just sat there.

Then I looked at the fuel gauge, it read less than a half tank. Now what the hell? She was full when I lifted off, no way did I go through a half tank in just an hour.

I reached out and tapped that, too, nothing happened. Both the compass and the fuel gauge on the blink at once? No way in hell was that possible.

I dropped her down another 1000 feet, looking for a town, a field, something. I saw a large lake off to the South and hoping, I turned that way. I could see buildings but no air strip so I flew on. The last few turns had really confused me, I wasn't sure where I was but I did know where the Sun was so I set another heading based on that. I kept looking for a nice straight stretch of road, I even saw a couple but I didn't like the big trees on each side of them. Where the hell was the Columbia river? It should be in sight but I scanned around and didn't see it.

I reached for the radio, called in to someone, anyone. All I got was static. I tried that several times, nothing. I sniffed the air, there seemed to be a trace of a burnt smell but I wasn't really sure. No radio either?

I got a little chill up my spine.

I just kept my heading, following the Sun. I knew I would reach the coast and should be able to find an airport. I kept scanning the horizen for signs of the ocean. Looking out, I saw forest, it seemed to go on forever.

I was almost at the two hour mark when I heard the engine skip a beat. The engine never skipped any beats. I listened carefully and she did it again. I looked at the gauges, temperature was just above normal, not too bad but unnerving. The fuel gauge now read under 1/4 tank.

I started looking around in earnest, now I really wanted to set her down. I was over some rugged looking terrain, I didn't see any buildings or anything that even resembled a field I could land on. I did get a glimpse of what looked to be a dirt road through some trees, I followed that out with my eyes and off in the distance I saw what looked to be a dark green field in a long narrow valley.

The engine was now skipping regularly, and starting to lose RPM. I pushed the throttle forward a bit, that didn't help. I was now in trouble, so I turned towards that field.

Then she started to shudder and make some popping sounds, I saw the temp gauge climb quickly and knew I was out of time. I set up on the green patch, dropped to 500 feet, then at 200 feet I pulled full flaps.

She started to drop like a stone so I eased off on the flaps, nosed into a slight dive to pick up some speed. That didn't help much, I nosed her in some more. The field rushed up at me, I waited until the last second and pulled flaps again, hauling her back at the same time.

I was perhaps 10 feet off the ground when she began to stall out, the whole machine began to shake violently. I felt a thump, she lifted slightly and thumped again, shreds of debris from the prop biting in was all I could see. I was hoping the field was just grass but whatever it was was tall.

I was still moving when I killed the fuel and ignition switch, there was a couple of more bumps and the windshield folded back as I came to a stop.

It took me several kicks to get the door to swing open, finally I got it loose and climbed out. The prop was folded back, the nose caved in, one strut was folded up. She sat there with one rear wheel at a crazy angle, but both wings were up and intact.

That was good, at least I didn't end up on my head. I looked around the machine, now how in the hell had this happened? Still, I knew it shouldn't be completely out of fuel, something else was going on.

But the plane was done for, I knew. I felt a little sick at that, but glad to be alive.

Glancing around, I was in a patch of Corn, some of the stuff was a good 8 feet high. It was ripe, that was what took out the windshield, I guessed. I also knew that meant there were people around somewhere, so I picked a direction and started walking.

I made it perhaps 200 yards when the field opened up, there were some different plants growing there. They were very large and odd looking. I reached out and picked a few leaves and looked at them.

OHOH! I knew what that was!

Now I had a sudden very uncomfortable feeling.

I walked past the huge mass of what I now knew was dope growing in the middle of a Corn patch, found a trail and headed down that. A large portion of it had been harvested, there were lots of strips of dark green netting spread out.

"You all want to hold it right there, motherfucker!" I heard a voice off to my side. I came to a stop.

There was a woman standing there, she looked to be about 50 or so. She was wearing what looked like old fashioned flour sacks, like farmer's wives used to make dresses out of in the old days.

I saw the shotgun in her hands and came to a stop.

"What ya doing in here?" She demanded.

"My airplane, I had troubles and crashed."

"Yea? Why here? Why not someplace else, this is private."

That sounded odd as hell.

"I didn't have a choice, the engine quit."

"You better come with me." She motioned with the barrel of the gun.

Now what the fuck had I ran into? I wondered, but I followed her instructions.

We walked for nearly a mile down a dirt track, my legs were starting to hurt. At nearly 55, I wasn't used to doing much walking any more. A couple of times I tried to slow down or stop to rest but that just got me poked in the back with the barrel of her shotgun so I moved on again.

I thought about making a grab for the gun and might have managed that, but I had a feeling there were more people around and I didn't know who or how many.

Besides, I should have made quite a racket coming in.

We came out on a clearing by some large trees, back under the brush were some tents. There was a dirty green old Ford truck sitting under some trees, I didn't see anything else but a campfire that had burned out.

"Sally, what the hell do you have there?" I heard a man's voice. I looked over, a huge man with long hair and full whiskers stepped out of one of the tents.

"He landed a air plane in the crops, tore things all to hell!" She said, in an odd accent that sounded almost southern.

"Jesus Christ, somebody will come looking for him I bet."

I just looked at him.

"Well, we better go fix that, I will get Jerry and Ben and take the truck up there."

"If you have a phone, I can call someone to maybe come and help?" I said, stupidly.

He scowled at me.

"Don't need no goddam help!" He growled. With that he turned and headed for the truck, yelling at the top of his lungs at someone.

Then two more men and a much younger woman appeared. She was wearing an outfit a lot like the older woman, in fact, they all looked to be dirty, like they had been out here roughing it for a long time.

The three men got into the old truck and left, but not before the first man told the woman that if I did anything at all to just shoot me.

I took him to be serious from the way he said it, so I kept quiet. I did find it odd that they left me there with just two women? Maybe they figured the two women could handle me?

I looked at them carefully, then realized that just maybe they could handle me. The older one looked pretty physical, plus she had that damned shotgun. The younger one was smaller and softer looking, she had a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She was dressed in the same flour sack looking outfit.

"He is bleeding, Ma. Want me to fix him up?" The younger woman said.

"Yea, go ahead, just be careful." She stressed the point by poking the shotgun at me.

Bleeding? I wiped my face, my hand came away bloody, probably from the windshield or the debris, I thought. I felt my arms and legs, everything seemed to be all right.

"Hold still!" The woman I now knew was Sally said. She poked the gun my direction again, so I stayed still.

The younger woman came up to me with a rag and a pan of water, she had me sit down on a log while she washed my face.

"Just some scratches, you will be fine." She grinned at me.

About an hour later I heard the roar of the old truck coming back, they parked it back under the trees, climbed out. There was a load of cloth bags in the back, full of the dope I guessed.

"What did you do with my plane?" I asked the older man.

"Don't you never mind, it's in the brush. It's junk now anyway."

"Hey, I just want to get out of here, I don't care anything about what you guys are doing up here."

"You could talk and we can't have that."

"I won't say anything."

"Yea, sure, and when a whole herd of folks come up here to help you get the damn airplane they won't talk either, right?"

"So what are you going to do with me?"

"Nuthin. Unless you give us trouble, then we will do what we got to."

I just nodded.

I thought of my suitcase and gear back at the plane, asked about it.

"Oh, yer stuff is in the truck. Ben! Go get the man's shit!" He yelled at one of the younger men.

Ben got up and retrieved my suitcase and briefcase, I saw it had been opened and rifled though. All that was in there was some clothes and a bottle of whiskey which I noticed was missing. That and the reports for my work with the Wetlands environmental group.

My job was to find property to set up for saving as raw land, working with habitat, things like that. Between donations from environmentalists all over the world and matching revenue from government several of us in charge did pretty well. We really did try to set land up for conservation, the $120,000 per year salary I got as director was just a bonus.

I also knew I was going to be missed, the meeting I was headed to at the coast was an important one. There was a timber company and some flatland tradeoffs, we had carefully pushed some laws through that allowed development in exchange for conservation of flat lands.

It was a deal I had stumbled onto by accident, all we had to do most of the time was mention Salmon and wetlands and people sent in money, the government matched the funds. The timber company had a huge land value increase, our group controlled large areas of property, and as Director I got a nice fat check. There were a few developers mixed in, they got land to build on, we got wetland to save for Salmon, lots of money changed hands and deals went on in all directions.

Government officials were easy to bring on board, all that took was a mention of tax revenue.

Everybody happy. Well, sometimes a farmer or landowner got a short straw but that was part of the game.

Yep, I would be missed, and quickly, I had the contracts for the land swaps in my suitcase.

Plus there was that flight plan, I knew that when I didn't arrive, someone would be looking. I was well enough known that the fact I was missing was going to make the local news.

I decided to keep my mouth shut about that.

I would have felt one hell of a lot better if I knew where the hell I was. I knew I had to be somewhere West and South of Boise, but I could be in Oregon or even Washington. There had been one hell of a long stretch of just forest, that had to be part of the National forest and if so, I was way North of where I thought I was. I doubted very much that I was over the Mount Hood National forest.

"Someone is going to come looking for me." I told the man, almost instantly regretting saying that. That was a fine job of keeping my mouth shut, I thought.

"They ain't going to find you." He grinned at me.

"So what are you going to do with me?" I asked again.

"Told ya. Nuthin! We are picking now, and once we get the crop out you can go anyplace you like."

"Unless you give us trouble." He scowled at me.

I was pretty sure he didn't mean picking the Corn, and I really had no plans to give them any trouble. Not with there being five of them...and that damned shotgun.

It was almost dark when they built a fire and set a big pot on it to boil. Someone had brought in several dozen ears of the Corn, the younger woman sat there husking it. There was a large chunk of what I took to be Deer meat over the fire, they had a stick jammed through it and Sally turned it from time to time.

I realized I was hungry.

"Come on, ya might as well eat!" The younger woman said, dropping the Corn into the pot which was now boiling.

They had some logs pulled up, obviously to be used as chairs. She handed me a metal plate, cut off a chunk of the meat and pulled a couple of ears of Corn out and dropped them on the plate.

"We don't have any butter, sorry." I didn't care, the Corn was barely scalded and sweet, just the way I like it. Even the chunk of meat was tender and tasted good.

Later as the sky darkened, they began to head into the tents, first the two women, then Ben and the older man. The younger one, Jerry, was apparently my gaurd. He sat there smoking and taking a pull off my bottle of whiskey from time to time.

"Want some?" He said, holding out the bottle.

I just shook my head, it was getting cold out.

"Where do I sleep?" I asked him.

"You can go into one of the tents." He said.

"Better take the back one, Pa may want to be private with Ma." He snickered.

There was just two tents and I had seen the older man and Sally go into the closest one. I got up and went to the one farther back. It was pretty big, there was a couple of mattresses laying on some branches in there. It wasn't full dark yet, I could see the younger woman and Ben on one of them, so I took the other one. She sat up and looked at me, then lay back down. That was a surprise, she was naked to the waist, the top cover just over her lap. She didn't seem the least bit concerned about it, either. Ben was snoring, I lay down and pulled what looked like a dirty quilt up over me.

It was a few minutes later when Jerry who had stayed up came in, he poked me.

"Move over!" He said.

Great. I moved over closer to the wall of the tent, he lay down beside me and almost instantly went to sleep.

I woke up some time later, it was still dark, although the moon was up and fairly bright in the clear night sky. I knew I had to take a leak, so I sat up and carefully climbed up and over Jerry who was asleep. He sounded like a chainsaw, I made it to the tent flap and walked off towards the brush a ways.