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

the door, setting down the coffee pot and water pot, she peered inside. There was nobody home. No dead bodies or ghosts. That was a relief! A counter ran along one wall, and two bunks were along two separate walls. A metal box stove sat to the right of the front door. A table sat in the middle of the room.
Alex touched the front door. She pushed timidly on the handle. The door stuck slightly, then swung open. She leaned inside and looked around. A second window on the far wall let in more light. Moving into the room she could see a stack of firewood lying beside the wood stove. Some cupboards hung above the counter. Alex opened one to see what supplies, if any were left behind. First cupboard was totally bare. Second cupboard held a box of matches and some candles, the last held the jackpot.
Opening the third cupboard, Alex found six cans of Spam, a roll of aluminum foil and two sealed jars of peanut butter. The two bunks were built to the wall on two separate walls of the cabin. Thin mattresses sealed in plastic covered the bunks. A broom leaned in the corner behind the table. Two home-made stools were parked on opposite sides of the table.
Suddenly Alex remembered Cappy and why she had come here. She ran outside, scooped up some water out of the creek beside the cabin and headed back.
“Guess what I found!” she shouted as she ran out of the woods at the tent.
Cappy was still sitting on the emergency box by the fire. “What?” he said, somewhat puzzled.
“There’s a cabin over there!” Alex said excitedly.
“No kidding.” It wasn’t a question.
“Seriously,” Alex continued, “it’s over by that creek, come on, I’ll help you get there.”
Alex moved over next to Cappy and helped him to his feet. He slung one arm over her shoulder and leaned on her. Hop, grunt, pause. Hop, grunt, pause. For nearly half an hour they worked their way through the trees. Cappy was sweating profusely and she could tell he was tiring. “Just a little way farther,” she encouraged. “Up this little hill and we’re there.”
Alex hoped the cabin was still actually there, that it wasn’t a mirage or hallucination. Maybe she had only imagined it. What would she do then? As the pair made their way into the clearing, she felt a sense of relief as the cabin came into view. “There it is,” she said.
Cappy said nothing, just nodded his understanding. Alex was beginning to worry that they had over-done it. “Do you want to rest?” she asked.
Cappy shook his head, “We’re almost there, right?”
“Almost there,” Alex assured him.
Minutes later they were at the door. She pushed it open with her foot. “Right over here,” she directed Cappy to the nearest bunk.
“They even left us some firewood cut and split here inside,” Alex commented.
Cappy sat down heavily on the bunk. “It’s the way of the north,” he replied.
“What do you mean?”
“In case someone stumbles on your cabin and they’re nearly frozen or injured, at least they don’t have to hunt for firewood. It’s just a matter of northland etiquette,” Cappy explained.
Alex helped him lie down on the bunk. “I’ll build a fire and then go start bringing our things to the cabin,” she said
“Is there anything here we can use?” Cappy asked.
“I think there’s more firewood outside, there’s some Spam and peanut butter in the cupboard, aluminum foil, some matches, and some candles, that’s about it,” Alex reported.
Alex began laying kindling in the stove, then touched a match to the driest of the kindling shreds. The fire caught immediately and began to crackle and smoke. At first smoke backed out of the stove door, but a quick turn on the damper fixed that and the little cabin began to warm up.
“I’ll be right back,” Alex said as she started out the door.
One hour and several trips later, all of their supplies were either inside the cabin or just outside the door covered with tarps.
“How about that cup of tea now?” she asked Cappy.
Alex filled the coffee pot with water for the second time and set it on the stove. The little cabin was toasty warm by now and almost comfortable.

Trooper Brogan Gates kept a close eye on the instruments as the observers watched out the windows. They had flown past Cordova Peak and were carefully scanning the lakes, glaciers and ice fields below. With the 12 inches or so of freshly fallen snow, it was difficult to make out the details of objects on the ground. A rock or rock outcropping can look like a crumpled airplane if it is covered with snow.
At times the cloud cover was so low they could barely see the ground. Both observers expressed frustration over the bad conditions. Gates had his hands full flying the plane low enough to see the ground, but with enough altitude to create a safe cushion. Although they could still see well enough to search, they had been flying for nearly two hours and according to the weather forecast, it would be snowing again back in Cordova. Trooper Gates contacted some of the other pilots in the search. They all agreed it was fruitless to continue. They would turn back to the base. Once again, the weather just wasn’t cooperating.


Chapter 8


Bess Benson and Bailey had found their way down to the community building. Everyone gathered around them, hugging hand-holding and giving all the love and support they could muster. It was almost noon and the snow had been falling again for nearly two hours. Two of the Civil Air Patrol planes had returned and landed. Others weren’t far behind.
Lieutenant Landon Scott had stepped into the room and called for everyone’s attention. “Hello folks,” he said as the chatter died. “We’ve been forced to call off the search for now until the weather breaks. There’s just no way we can fly safely in this. We can’t see where we’re going and our pilots and observers can’t see the ground well enough to make out what’s down there. The National Weather Service tells us that things aren’t going to clear for at least the next 48 hours. We’ll do everything we can do to keep you posted.”
He walked over to Bess and said, “I’m really sorry Mrs. Benson, there’s nothing we can do with the weather as it is.”
Bess nodded her head, “I know Lieutenant,” she said, “After all these years, I’m aware of the hazards of weather and flying. Please just keep me posted.”

In the cabin, Alex was setting up housekeeping. Cappy was dozing off and on. At one point but he had her elevate his right foot and it seemed to help with the pain.
“You should take everything out of that emergency box,” he suggested during one of his waking moments. “You need to know everything that you have available so we can plan our food and how we’re going to get through this. With the weather like it is, they can’t even search for us. So we may be here for days, maybe a few, maybe several.”
“They will search for us, won’t they?” Alex asked.
“Oh they will search for us, in fact they’ve probably already started,” Cappy explained, “But with this snow and the low clouds, they can’t fly safely, nor can they see anything on the ground but snow. Even if they heard our…..” he broke off suddenly. “Why didn’t I think of this before?!” he said excitedly.
“What’s that?” Alex almost yelled.
“Our ELT,” Cappy said, as if she knew what that was.
“What’s an ELT?”
“Our Emergency Locator Transmitter,” Cappy said, then went on to explain, “It’s a device that is mounted in the airplane that transmits a radio beacon to a satellite, the satellite in turn tells the monitoring station back on Earth exactly where we are. It’s supposed to activate in a crash.”
“Sounds pretty complicated,” Alex said.
“It is,” Cappy went on, “The real name is COSPAS-SARSAT. Every airplane is supposed to be equipped with one so they can find you if you go down.”
“COSPA-what?”
“COSPAS-SARSAT believe it or not,” Cappy explained, “is part-Russian, part American technology. I forget what the COSPAS part means, it’s something in Russian that means “Space System for the Search of Vessels in Distress. The SARSAT part is an acronym for Search And Rescue Satellite Aided Tracking.”
“So why aren’t we ‘found’ yet?” Alex asked.
“It’s possible that there was a malfunction with our ELT, maybe the impact wasn’t hard enough to set it off, or maybe the electrical problem we had in the airplane messed it up.”
“Is there a chance we can fix it?” Alex asked
“Maybe,” Cappy answered, “But we’d have to retrieve it from the airplane first.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘I’d have to retrieve it’ out of the airplane?” Alex asked with a smile.
“Good point,” Cappy responded.
While they had been talking, Alex was removing items out of the emergency box. There was a lantern, a weather radio, some more candles, a medium sized green plastic box that was marked, ‘Henry Survival rifle’. The box wasn’t big enough to hold a rifle and Alex flipped open the lid.
All she saw inside was a gun stock. Some kind of plastic. “What’s this Cappy?” she asked as she held it up.
“What’s that?” Cappy said.
“It was in a green box, says ‘Henry Survival rifle’, but the only thing inside is this gun stock, and a few boxes of .22 shells.”
“There’s a hard rubber cover on the butt of the stock,” Cappy said, “Pull that off.”
Alex did as he suggested, stored inside the stock were the rest of the gun pieces. There was a barrel, the trigger assembly, an ammunition magazine. Alex pulled the pieces out and laid them on the counter. “Cool!” she announced. “Is it hard to put together?”
“Not really,” Cappy said, “take the piece with the trigger, that’s called the receiver, and slide it into the notch at the front of the gun stock. There’s a screw at the bottom of the stock, screw it until the receiver fits tightly to the gun stock.”
Alex did as she was told. The pieces fit together nice and firm.
“Now take the barrel,” Cappy continued, “And screw it to the receiver. There’s a notch in the barrel that makes it fit in the right place. Ok, now the only thing left is the magazine. Some people call it a clip, that’s where the bullets go.”
“I know about that,” Alex replied, “I’ve been out shooting with my Daddy lots of times. He lets me shoot his .22.”
“Well there you have it,” Cappy said. “I know it looks kind of funny, and it probably won’t kill a grizzly bear or a moose, but it’s good for small animals and would kill a deer if needed.”
Alex laid the .22 aside and kept digging in the emergency kit. She pulled out a nylon bag, opened the snap and another gun slid out onto the table.
“Is that the shotgun?” Cappy guessed.
“Looks like it,” she answered.
“It goes together