Officer Kelly ran to his partner and knelt by his head.
"Jesso?"
Officer Jesso slowly opened his eyes.
"Don't move," Officer Kelly suggested.
Officer Jesso sat up quickly, but immediately held his head.
"Fuck, what happened?"
Officer Kelly shook his head.
"I don't know.I heard a sound, turned and saw you on the floor."
"An ambulance is on the way," the pilot, John, informed the two Officers.
Officer Jesso was helped to his feet.
"I am okay."
He looked around.
"Where is Lamont?"
"I don't know."
John, the pilot, looked through the window of the small terminal. He could see Jackson getting into the helicopter.
"The fucking idiot."
He turned to the Officers.
"He just got into the chopper."
The two Officers hurried to the window. Through the quickly thickening snow, they could see the propeller of the helicopter start to turn.
"Can he fly that thing?"
John shrugged.
"He has some hours, but never in any kind of weather. And certainly not in weather this severe."
Officer Kelly started for the door of the terminal, his pistol drawn.
"I'll stop him."
John ran after the Officer. He caught up with him, as the young Officer was aiming his pistol.
John yelled at him, "no."
The Officer turned.
"What?"
"If you hit the fuel tank, you will kill us all. That chopper will go up like a bomb."
Both men looked toward the helicopter, as the engine revved higher and a moment later, the machine lifted off the ground, disappearing in the heavy snow.
"Fucking idiot," John yelled.
Officer Kelly put his pistol back in its holster.
"Lets get back inside."
Officer Jesso was sitting on a chair, when the two walked back into the terminal. They shook the snow off their coats.
"Where is Lamont?"
"Gone," Officer Kelly informed his partner.
Officer Jesso looked at John.
"So we lost him?"
John shook his head.
"He took off, but as far as I am concerned, he is as good as dead."
"Why?"
"Jackson doesn't have the training to handle this kind of weather. For fuck sakes, I wouldn't take the chopper up in this. It is pure suicide. He won't be able to see a thing."
Officer Jesso slowly got to his feet.
"So what do we do now? Where would he try to get?"
John shrugged.
"Maybe Stephenville. He could land and refuel there, but he is flying blind. His GPS and equipment might help him, but he doesn't have the skill to handle that bird in weather like this."
John shook his head.
"Best ride out this storm and then go looking for the wreckage."
"You don't hold out any chance he will make it?"
"Well let's just put it this way. He has about as much chance as a snowball in hell, pardon my pun."
Officer Jesso took out his cellphone and called Commander Lukeman.
~~~~~
Jackson fought with the controls of the helicopter, as he struggled to find some landmark that he could fly by.
His plan was to fly along the coastline and hopefully find his way to Deer Lake or Corner Brook. But his lack of experience and unfamiliarity with the coastline was causing him more trouble than he expected.
He had hoped to be able to get through the storm before it covered the west coast, but the longer he flew, the more it became evident that he had massively misunderstood the effect of the North Atlantic on the severity of storms.
Though a confident, if not arrogant man, he was quickly realizing that he was in way over his head.
Jackson picked up the microphone from its cradle.
"This is helicopter ALB445, on a flight from St. Anthony to Deer Lake. I have encountered heavy weather and am in need of assistance."
He let go the talk button and listened, but all he got was static.
The heavy weather was interfering with the transmission.
Jackson pushed on the talk button again.
"This is ALB445 requesting assistance. I am ..."
Jackson's transmission was quickly cut off, as a strong gust of wind lifted the helicopter, bouncing the microphone from his hand.
As quickly as it lifted, a downdraft pushed the helicopter to the west, losing elevation quickly.
Jackson fought with the controls, trying to keep the helicopter on a straight and level path.
He could hear his heart pounding, as he managed to stabilize the machine.
"Fuck me," he yelled, realizing he had made a critical mistake, in taking the helicopter to the air.
"What to do? What to do?"
Jackson took hold of the microphone cord and lifted the microphone to his hand.
"Mayday, mayday. This is helicopter ALB445. I am in need of assistance."
Jackson let go of the talk button, but was only met by white noise.
"Fuccccckkkkkkk," he screamed throwing the microphone to the floor of the cockpit.
Jackson's arms were getting tired and strained, due to the constant movement of the helicopter and his struggling to keep it in the air.
In his mind, he was trying to decide what he should do. He knew he couldn't turn around and fly back to St. Anthony. He would never find the airstrip in this weather.
Finally he made a decision.
Jackson decided to try and land the helicopter.
Slowly he started reducing the altitude of the helicopter, staring to catch a glimpse of something, that he could get bearings by.
He watched the altimeter, as he continued to slowly descend.
When he reached 1000 feet, he managed to level off and for a brief moment he caught a glimpse of the shoreline and the forest beyond.
Jackson smiled slightly, as he was now confident that he could find a spot to land, where he could ride out the storm.
He started another slow descent.
At 500 feet, he levelled off again, catching glimpses of land between the wind gusts and snow squalls.
"Just a little further," Jackson said aloud, as he started yet another descent.
Now at 200 feet, he could see the tops of the trees and occasional open areas, where he was becoming more confident, that he could land.
"The next open spot," Jackson whispered.
Ahead he could clearly see a large open field.
"That's it."
Jackson reduced speed and started another descent. His smile grew larger, as he became more confident that he was going to survive the nightmare he had gotten himself into.
At 100 feet, Jackson prepared to hover and turn.
Suddenly a vicious updraft grabbed the helicopter, slamming Jackson forward, on the stick, knocking the wind out of him.
The helicopter went into a sudden dive.
Jackson was dazed from the impact with the stick.
Panic set in, as he realized he was in a dive. He grabbed the stick and pulled back, but a downdraft fought him.
"Come on. Come on," Jackson yelled, struggling with the controls.
The helicopter started to respond.
Jackson smiled, as he once again strained to see outside.
The snow let up briefly.
The smile left Jackson's face.
"Fuck," he sighed.
Seconds later the helicopter smashed into the side of a small mountain.
Tuckamore Mountain.
~~~~~
Everyone in Dove's Pub stopped talking, as they heard the explosion.
Many jumped to their feet and quickly ran outside, looking around the village, to see what had caused the explosion.
"Over there," one of the females from the Harris' crew pointed.
Black smoke could be seen to the north.
"That bes up at da Tuckamore Mountain," Clayton yelled.
He looked at Carl.
"Gits dressed and git yer snowmobile. Wese got to check dat out."
Clayton and about a half dozen of the other men hurried off to their homes.
At Tuckamore Mountain, Nanny Dove and another dozen or so spirits were already at the site of the crash.
"Looks like one of dey helicopter tings," Nanny Dove informed the others.
In the distance, a spirit suddenly appeared.
"Who bes dat?" Tanya's great-grandmother wondered.
"Ise guesses dat bes whosoever were flying dat ting."
Nanny Dove started walking toward the spirit.
The spirit looked confused, as it stumbled down the side of the small mountain. When it reached the bottom of the mountain, Nanny Dove appeared next to it.
"Well Ise bes fucked," Nanny Dove chuckled.
The spirit looked at Nanny Dove.
"I knew there were ghosts here."
"Well youse bes one of us now, Mr. Lamont."
Jackson looked around.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Well, me son, Ise says dat by da looks of dat smoke up dere, youse 'as a little accident."
Jackson thought for a moment.
"No. No. That's not possible."
Nanny Dove shrugged.
"Looks at it any ways youse wants, Lamont, but youse one of us now."
Jackson started walking up the side of the mountain again.
"No. No. I won't be dead. I can't be dead."
Nanny Dove laughed.
"Dats what dey all says dere, Jackson. But trust me, me son, youse dead as a doornail."
Jackson stopped and turned.
"No. No. Its bad enough that I am dead, but now I am trapped in this shit-hole in fucking hillbilly land."
"Seems dat way."
Suddenly another spirit appeared next to Jackson.
"Ise be fucked," Nanny Dove swore, when she realized the spirit was Paddy Webster.
"So you bes the one that was after my gold," Paddy sneered at Jackson.
"What? Who are you?"
"I bes Paddy Webster. And the gold that you so badly want, bes mine."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
Paddy laughed, as he took hold of Jackson's arm.
"You wants to see me gold? Then lets me and you go see it."
Jackson screamed, as he and Paddy disappeared.
Seconds later Paddy appeared once again, a few feet from Nanny Dove.
"Ise will be keeping dat Jackson fella with me. He wanted me gold," Paddy laughed, "then he can spend eternity with it."
"Youse bes a scoundrel, Paddy Webster."
"Ise telled young Williams dat I wants to talk to his kin, Bill and his wife, Matty.
Now Ise telling you, Matilda."
Nanny Dove nodded.
"Ise will lets them knows, when dey gits back."
"You do that."
Paddy smirked.
"Now I has to go. I has company you know."
As he disappeared, the first snowmobile pulled up to the base of the mountain.
Clayton got off his machine and looked up the mountain. Black smoke and some flames could still be seen.
"It bes a helicopter," Nanny Dove informed him.
"Youse will finds da body of dat Jackson Lamont fella in dere. Or what bes left of 'e."
Officer Temple walked to Nanny Dove.
"You sure it was Jackson Lamont?"
"Ise were jest talkin' to 'e, but dere bes no need to go look fer 'is spirit. Dat pirate Paddy Webster comes and took 'im away."
Clayton looked around.
"Dere bes nothin' wese can do now. Da storm bes gettin' worst by da minute."
He walked to Officer Temple.
"Wese best be gettin' back."
"What about the body?"
Clayton looked up the mountain.
"Ise don't tink wese 'ave much chance of finding' da body in dis wether. And wese jest bes puttin' ourselves in danger.
And wese already knows dat 'e bes dead. Best wese wait till dis storm bes settled down and it bes safer."
Officer Temple nodded.
"Yea, you just might be right Clayton. But what about fire?"
"Dere bes no worries bes dat, Dave. Da snow will looks after dat, but Ise will ask some of da spirits to stick around and keeps an eye on tings."
"But what about wese freezes to death?" Nanny Rideout joked with her grandson.
"Wese wouldn't bes dat lucky," Clayton laughed.
"Youse still bes a bit of an asshole," Nanny Rideout smirked.
"But Ise loves youse."
"Wese will keeps an eye," Nanny Dove assured the men.
Clayton looked around.
"Come on boys. Lets be gettin' da 'ell out of 'ere."
The men quickly got on their snowmobiles and drove away.
~~~~~
Officer Kelly handed his cellphone to his partner.
Officer Jesso put the cellphone to his ear.
"Jesso here."
"Officer Jesso, this is Commander Lukeman."
"Yes Sir."
"Just wanted to keep you in the loop, Jesso. We just got word that Jackson Lamont crashed his helicopter."
Officer Jesso let out a long sigh.
"I assume he is dead?"
"He is. And as if by some twisted turn of fate, he crashed into Tuckamore Mountain."
Officer Jesso chuckled.
"I guess what they say is true, Commander. Karma can be a bitch."
Commander Lukeman chuckled.
"Yea, I guess it can. So I hear that Jackson attacked you?"
"Yes Sir. He cold cocked me. I got a bit of a concussion, but I will be okay."
"Good. Well I guess your end of this is over. I will expect your report in the next couple days."
"Of course, Sir. What about the pilot?"
"Do we have any reason to expect he was involved?"
"No Sir, its just that he is kinda stuck here."
"Put him up in a hotel for a couple days, until this thing is sealed. Have an informal chat with him, just in case he has some information that might be of use to us.
When it is over, we will put him on a plane, back home."
"Yes Sir, I will look after it."
"Thank you Jesso."
"What of Lamont's daughter?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, Sir, I believe Lamont has a daughter back in Alberta. She just recently lost her husband and now this. Someone has to inform her."
"I will see to that myself, Jesso. I will call her personally, in the morning."
"Very well, Sir. And thank you."
~~~~~
Clayton and the other men arrived back at Dove's Pub.
"Well?" Lindsay asked.
"It were Jackson Lamont," Carl informed her.
"What?"
Carl nodded.
"Seems dat 'e were in a helicopter and 'e crashed into our mountain."
"Youse sure it were he?"
"Nanny Dove spoke to his spirit and then, so it seems, Paddy Webster comes and took 'e."
"So what's now?"
"Wese rides out da storm and when it bes gone, wese goes and gits 'e body."
Lindsay walked behind the bar and opened several beer, passing them to the men.
"We will have to clean up dat mess," she suggested.
"Can't be having a wreckage around."
"Wese will git it all cleaned up," Clayton assured her.
"It wud nots be gud fer business."
Lindsay nodded, as she sipped her beer.
"Well, Ise gonna help da girls get some food on da go. Not much else to do right now."