Defining Moments

Defining Moments - Northern Canada - Chapter 1

Tony heard Ellie talking but didn’t catch the gist of it - he didn’t even try.  Between the steady drone of the plane’s engine and the background static on the old headset he wore, he couldn’t pick up anything these two were saying.  He’d given up on trying to make sense of their chatter about five minutes into the flight.  He could guess what it was about though - she probably wanted to turn back to Hay River.  No stick-to-it-ness, these bloody southerners, he thought.  There was no way he was going to come all the way the hell up here and then turn back before finishing.  How stupid would that be?

Ellie sighed again, resigned to waiting it out for as long as it took.  Tony was cantankerous at the best of times, but she was still fond of him.  He’d been watching this river breakup for more than 30 years now and she appreciated how generous he’d been with his time and knowledge.  So, even though she was paying for this flight, she wasn’t prepared to upset him by insisting that they should turn back.  Still, it drove her crazy not knowing what was going on back in town.  She checked her cell phone for the thousandth time - hoping to see a text message from one of her other grad students, but there was no coverage this far out into the bush.  Damn, she thought, anything could be happening back in town by n... 

The plane lurched wildly, cutting short the thought and she was thrown forward for a second, then slammed back against her seat. The engine clanked once, coughed twice, then cut out completely.  Black smoke belched from the nose as the prop shuddered to a stop.  Mark, jolted out of the daze induced by the hot, stuffy cabin, began pushing and pulling knobs all over the control panel, his feet working the rudder pedals as the plane started to pitch and yaw.

“What’s going on?” Brenda cried, jolting upright.  “Mark! What’s happening?”

Mark ignored her as he hit the radio button.  “Mayday, mayday, mayday.  This is Tango, Golf, Echo, Bravo.  Tango, Golf, Echo, Bravo.  Tango, Golf, Echo, Bravo.  Forty kilometers southeast of Meander River, four souls on board.  Engine failure - forced landing…  Tango, Golf, Echo, Bravo.”  Then, remembering that the others in the plane could hear him, he flicked the switch to cut the cabin intercom off from the radio communications.  Tony watched as Mark’s lips continued moving, relaying the mayday message several times.

Ellie turned to look at Brenda, now sitting bolt upright in her seat, tightening her seatbelt. Brenda’s eyes were wide and her mouth was puckered into a tight ‘o’.  Ellie figured that more than one of her own orifices was doing the exact same thing. 

Brenda found her voice. “Forced landing?  Ellie, what does he mean by…?”

The intercom snapped to life, interrupting her.  “Stow your gear in your knapsacks and put them in the back,” Mark ordered.  “Check that your seatbelts are securely fastened.” He flicked the button and went back to his radio calls.

Ellie began stuffing all of the loose bits of equipment that had been on her lap and on the seat beside her - camera, GPS, cell phone, laptop, voice recorder, camcorder and field book - into her own knapsack.  She looked over her shoulder at Brenda.  “Can you,” she paused, her voice cracking, cleared her throat and tried again.  “Can you put this on the floor beside you?”  Brenda, ramrod stiff and eyes glazed, grabbed the bag and dragged it over the seat back. It clumped to the floor. 

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The plane was gliding now, gradually losing altitude.  Mark was still talking continuously into his mike, but with the engines silent, it came through to the three passengers as a low murmur through their heavy headsets.  They jumped as Mark again switched back over to the intercom, his voice bursting through the silence of the whistling descent.