Light Snow Falling - Dave Robinson (best e reader for android .TXT) 📗

touched it. She snatched up the receiver, “Hello,” said with hope in her voice.
“Bess, this is Ben Darnell, there’s still no sign of Cappy. I’m really worried. What do you think?”
“I’m worried too,” Bess was fighting to keep her voice from cracking. “Who do we call when someone is over due?”
“We call the Alaska State Troopers and they take it from there. Sometimes the Civil Air Patrol gets their search people out and they help.”
“We’d better make the call, then,” Bess decided. “It’s going to be dark soon and with the overcast weather, they won’t be able to fly for long tonight.”
“I’ll take care of the call Bess,” Ben offered.
“Thanks Ben,” she said, “I’m going to be coming down there, I want to be where I can hear what’s going on.”
Ben pushed his chair back from the cluttered old desk and stood to look out the window. He picked up the radio microphone and for the tenth time, broadcast in the blind to Cappy’s call sign. No response.
Ben picked up the phone and punched the number for the Alaska State Troopers. A female voice answered, “Alaska State Troopers, may I help you?”
As clearly and briefly as possible, Ben explained the situation. He gave the dispatcher Cappy’s name and airplane description, including his destination that day and the information that there was a teenage girl along as a passenger. He laid the phone gently back in the cradle.

Alex Makenna was getting very tired. She was cold, she was scared and she wanted to be back home in Oregon. The firewood stack was growing. She broke some of the longer pieces so that they would be firewood size, but it was getting pretty dark now and wood was harder to spot. She went back down to the lakeshore and picked a tarp out of one of the totes. Going back to the tent, she spread the tarp over the firewood. No sense letting it get all wet.
Glancing around, she zipped open the tent and crawled inside. It felt good to pull off her damp shoes and socks. Cappy was resting quietly. Easing out of her still-wet jeans, she dug in her backpack to take inventory. She had borrowed a flashlight out of the survival kit and used it to see what was inside. Aha, there was her iPod. Almost forgot about that. Pair of gym socks leftover from basketball season, they might come in handy. Down in the bottom an Altoids tin. “Forgot about those breath mints,” she said to herself. She snapped open the lid, no mints. “Aah, now I remember.” Her Grandpa had melted old candles and poured the liquid wax into Altoids boxes. Then he glued a matchbook to the inside of the lid and gave them as gifts. Survival candles, he called them. Everybody made fun of Papa Dave at the time, but now she was grateful. She’d save that for later. What else, a paperback book that she had just started, that, too would come in handy. There was that sweatshirt that she had almost grudgingly stuffed in this morning. The heavy coat her Daddy had insisted she bring along. Now she wished that she had brought along extra sweat pants as well, maybe a toothbrush or….she almost started crying.
Pulling off her jacket, she slid into her sleeping bag. Using her sweatshirt as a pillow, she leaned over and unzipped the tent door. Pushing aside the flap, she peered out into the night. It was pitch dark, and she shined the flashlight outside. There was a light snow falling.


Chapter 5

“Searching”

As soon as Ben Darnell hung up, the dispatcher called her supervisor.
Lieutenant Landon Scott sat up straight in his chair as she recited the details. His mind was spinning, even before she had finished. Glancing out the window, he could see that darkness was falling, not only darkness, but big flakes of snow were coming down as well. “Call the State Aeronautics Division in Juneau,” he said, “We’ll let them know and I’ll get hold of the Civil Air Patrol.”
Twenty minutes later they had all agreed on one thing. It was too late to start a search tonight and the weather was not cooperating. Tomorrow morning would give them all a fresh start and time to get organized. This was going to be a long night.
Lieutenant Scott picked up his phone and dialed a number. “Cordova Lumber Company, this is Gus,” a man’s voice announced.
“Gus this is Lieutenant Landon Scott over at the Alaska Troopers Barracks, we’ve got an overdue bush pilot coming back from one of your logging shows. Can you contact anybody out there by radio and see if they got their supply run today?”
“It’s not Cappy, is it?” Gus sounded worried.
“Yeah, I’m afraid it is,” Landon answered.
“Hold on Lieutenant,” Gus laid down the phone and stepped over to the radio table.
Lieutenant Scott could hear the static of the radio as Gus made the call. Minutes later he picked up the phone, “Lieutenant?”
“Right here,” Landon answered.
“Yeah, they got their supplies at about ten o’clock or so this morning. They said he had some girl with him and they hung around for about an hour, had a cup of coffee and then took off. It’s about a 90 minute flight; they should have easily been back in Cordova by one o’clock.”
“Ok Gus,” Landon said, “That helps narrow things down, you’ve been a big help. Thanks.”
“No problem,” Gus said, “If we can be of any help, be sure to let us know. We’ve all known Cappy for a long time.”
“You bet,” Lt. Scott replied and hung up. Stepping out in the hall he made his way to the dispatch center.
“Who’s our on-call pilot tomorrow morning,” he asked the dispatcher.
“Trooper Gates,” she answered, “Brogan Gates.”
Lieutenant Scott went back to his office, and punched a number on his speed dial.
Gates picked up on the first ring, “Hello,” he sang out.
“Trooper Gates, this is Lieutenant Scott,” Landon announced himself.
“Hey, L.T., what’s up,” Gates was starting to get serious now. He knew he was on-call and the Lieutenant wouldn’t be calling if it weren’t important.
Lieutenant Scott brought the pilot up-to-date on the overdue bush pilot.
“Yeah, I think I know him,” Gates remembered, “Older guy, retired airline pilot, flies a Beaver on floats?”
“That’s him,” the Lieutenant agreed. “Be at the barracks first thing in the morning ready to fly.”
“I’ll be there.”

Alex Makenna was comfortable enough, but she was having trouble sleeping. Cappy was mumbling in his sleep and once she shined the flashlight on him. He was sweating profusely and from time to time was doing a lot of moaning and groaning.
She could tell he was feverish.
“Maybe he needs some more acetaminophen,” she thought to herself. Pulling herself out of the sleeping bag, she opened the first aid kit. Grateful that she had thought earlier to put it inside the tent, she popped the top off the bottle and poured out three pills. After several tries, she finally got him to wake up enough to take the pills and wash them down with water. His shirt was drenched and he was obviously in pain. She checked the wound on his forehead. It seemed ok, but the way Cappy was acting scared her.
Alex zipped open the tent flap and peered into the night. Totally dark, no moon, no stars, she shined the flashlight. Snow was falling now in huge flakes and there was at least six inches on the ground. Zipping the door closed, she glanced at her watch, 3:22 AM. Alex wiggled back into her sleeping bag. It didn’t seem cold in the tent, apparently the body heat of the pair was keeping them warm, and Cappy had been right about throwing that tarp over the tent. There were several inches of snow covering the tent. Even though the snow was cold, it was acting as insulation and keeping them warm.
The girl laid there for a long time thinking about firewood, food, and life back home. Maybe they’d be rescued tomorrow. Maybe…


Chapter Six

“Organizing”

Even before daybreak, people started arriving at the State Troopers Barracks. Trooper Brogan Gates had already been to the seaplane base preflighting his airplane. He made sure it was full of fuel, oil level was up,controls were all tight and it was ready to fly. Lieutenant Gates was there, he’d slept in his office on the couch. Then showered and changed in the locker room. It was going to be a long day.
Ben Darnell the local fixed base operator showed up. “My airplane is at your disposal,” he offered. “I can fly it or one of your people can use it, it’s up to you Lieutenant.”
Lieutenant Scott was always impressed at how people just pitched in. They wanted to help. It was important to them to be a part of helping find someone. This was a small town and everyone knew everybody else. And that included Cappy and Bess.
Some folks brought sandwiches, some brought thermoses of coffee. Scott could tell that things were quickly outgrowing the day room at the barracks. They needed to clear out the well-meaning crowd, yet keep them involved, but they needed the space to run the search operation without interference.
“May I have your attention please,” the Lieutenant called out from his perch atop a chair. “I’m going to ask that all of you meet down at the community building at the seaplane base.” He went on to explain why and following a bit of good-natured grumbling, all the town folk made the two block trip to the community building. There was a kitchen, a dining hall and they could make gallons of coffee in the big urns.
Lieutenant Scott turned his attention to the matters at hand. The local Civil Air Patrol Squadron was in attendance. That accounted for four planes and their pilots. The young cadets were coming along as observers. Trooper Brogan Gates was leaning against the wall in the day room.
“You all set?” Scott asked him.
Gates nodded wordlessly. He’d been through this routine before. He’d been up for three hours, getting his gear ready and going over maps of the area.
Lieutenant Landon Scott walked purposefully to the front of the room. Chairs had been set up and a map was hanging from the front wall.
“May I have your attention please,” He called out.
The chatter died out quickly and all faces turned toward him. “Have a seat and we’ll get started,” Lt. Scott continued. He waited until most had found a seat.
“Here’s the situation,” he began. “Most of you know Cappy Benson; he took off yesterday morning to fly up to one of Cordova Lumber Company’s camps. We know that he arrived yesterday morning at around 10 AM, dropped off his cargo, had a cup of coffee and started home sometime between 10:45 and 11 AM. That should have put him back in here by 12:30 or 1:00 o’clock at the latest. At that time the weather was clear with unlimited visibility, and according to