~ A Good Place To Land ~

by

Jaxine Daniels

Okay, he carried a hand-held radio in the lower right pocket of his survival vest. If he couldn’t reach the RCC, maybe he could at least reach his PJ’s on the mountain a few ridges over. For the life of him, at the moment he couldn’t think who he’d just dropped off.

He keyed the mic. “PJ’s on the ground, this is Scarecrow.”

No reply. He repeated.

Another long pause, then a voice.

“Scarecrow, this is Search Base. How copy?”

Not his PJ’s? Search Base? He scrambled his brain to make sense.

“Scarecrow, Search Base, how copy?”

Oh, Daniel’s base. Oh. Okay.

“This is Scarecrow. I hear you fine.”

~ * ~

Lily let out her breath. After listening to the edgy calls from the PJ’s to their commander, both on the RCC frequency, then on hers, with no reply, she’d begun to panic.

Then Rick’s voice. It was a voice she knew, a voice she always listened for.

She’d only been on the team for maybe two weeks when she’d first laid eyes on Colonel MacIntyre. He’d meandered into the SAR headquarters during a particularly ugly mission to toss ideas around with Daniel. He wore his flight suit. Even then his brown hair was starting to gray at the edges. Prematurely, no doubt. The guy couldn’t have been much over forty.

The man was--well--beautiful. Not in a Hollywood glamour sort of way, though. He was well built, maybe six foot two. Lily was used to well built guys in SAR though. There was little middle age spread in guys who did this for a hobby, even if they were middle aged.

No, what made Colonel Rick MacIntyre beautiful was his personality. He struggled with seriousness, which was quite a contrast to Daniel Fraser, who rarely even neared frivolity. To Rick, everything had a humorous side, and he made good use of it. He tried Daniel’s patience, but delighted Lily. The odd thing, though, was that he didn’t smile much. The laughter was mostly in his eyes. Smiling, somewhere in his past, had worn deep lines in his face though.

She only met him that day, but had been watching--and listening--from afar, ever since.

For what it was worth, he wasn’t married.

But, he was nearly old enough to be her father.

Lily keyed the mic. “Scarecrow, what’s your status?”

~ * ~

Rick hesitated. Unlike the RCC frequencies, the MRA ones weren’t secure. Anyone with a scanner from Radio Shack could pick up traffic. That’s why the SAR guys were always careful to talk in code when things were particularly snarky. But he hadn’t listened in on their frequency enough to know the codes they used.

But, then again, if his guys couldn’t hear him from a mile away and base could, it was likely that a low-power scanner couldn’t pick up his end of the conversation. So he held his nose and jumped in.

“Base, we have one fatality, one serious injury and one less serious.”

“Standby, Colonel while I relay to your team.”

Rick listened as the voice--a very female voice--relayed what he’d said to Daniel, using code.

“Colonel, please give me details about the injuries.”

“Stand by, Base,” he answered.

Rick tried to turn around to see Bell. Instead he was left catching his breath from the screaming pain through his belly and leg. Okay, so glass in your belly did hurt. Big-time.

He could see nothing of Bell. But he could still hear him moan.

“Base, my FE--my flight engineer,” better not speak military, “is alive but unconscious. I can hear him moan, but he’s not answering me. He sounds like he’s still in his seat. I’m afraid I can’t turn around to check on him. How copy?”

“Go ahead, Colonel.”

“I seem to have broken my right knee and I seem to be impaled on plexiglass. Right through my stomach. Other than that, I’m in one piece.” Poor choice of words as poor Glen was nearly not. “Copy?”

~ * ~

Lily copied loud and clear. Rick was trapped in the cockpit with a dead man and one who soon could be. It didn’t get much more awful than that.

“I copy, Colonel. Are we speaking on your chopper’s radio or on the handheld?” Lily established that Rick was on his handheld, that he had a fresh battery, a backup battery and, if necessary, he could maybe reach another radio. She passed the information on to her team then asked Rick to hang on while she informed the RCC.

It was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon when Daniel reported that his team, including the two PJ’s, were intent on making it down the mountain while they could. They’d splinted their patient’s ankle and were en route down the mountain the hard way.

She informed the Colonel and assured him that she’d spoken to Lieutenant Quillen. A plan to get him and Bell assistance was in the works. The PJ’s were on it, and if they needed help from any of her guys, they had it.

Rick reported that Bell was still moaning, he was still okay and it was snowing harder. He’d be conserving the radio battery by turning it off until the top of every hour. He’d set his watch to beep hourly.

By two o’clock--it seemed like a hundred phone calls later--Quillen had arranged another chopper to go get Scarecrow. PJ’s Cruz and Gabriel were gearing up.

Daniel’s team was making progress, though the snow was coming down harder.

Bell was making less noise; Rick had pulled out his space blanket and was trying to stay dry. The wind was up a few knots, and he urged caution if that bird was, indeed, coming up to get them.

And by three o’clock, the window for a rescue tonight was closed. Daniel reported fifty mile per hour winds and blizzard conditions.

His team had found a place to hunker down for the night. They had seven men, two tents, and everything they needed to ride out the storm.

“Colonel, I’m afraid I have bad news,” Lily said in as steady a voice as she could pull off.

“No in-flight movie?”

“Right, sir.” When had she started calling him sir?

“And it’ll be morning before I see a friendly face?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”