Chapter 9

Larry eased up on the collective of the helicopter, slowing it as he passed over a small road and then over the northeast corner of a huge field.  The whoop-whoop of the beacon was now screaming in his headset, so much so that he had to turn the volume down.  He pulled to a hover and concentrated on a place encompassed by the darkness below them.  He was close, he knew.  He adjusted the helicopters big searchlight and flipped it on, and was immediately stunned.  The wreckage of a small airplane appeared lit up exactly in the middle of the beam.  He didn’t even have to adjust it.  He had hit the crash perfectly.

            Then the realization of what lay before him settled on him.  It was a terrible crash.  He swung the light around and stopped as the beam washed over a covered figure several feet from the plane.  He made out the arm and legs of the body lying there.  He paused to point it out to Bruce, and then slowly set the chopper down.

            When the skids hit, Bruce jumped out of the helicopter, gripping a hand spot light as he went and switched it on.  Its beam pierced the hazy air and dust kicked up by the rotors as he swung it around, focusing from one thing to another. 

Larry keyed the radio.

“CAP-1, Sheriff-1,” he said somberly.  “Looks like we got ‘em.”

“Roger that, Sheriff-1.” Jim said.  “Give us a location.  We are almost there.”

“Approximately three quarter mile east of Highway 81, maybe three miles northeast of Hebron, just southwest of the intersection of two dirt roads.” He said.  “Approach on the dirt road to the east and parallel to the Highway and head north.  You’ll find it.”

“Roger that,” Jim said.

He could almost feel them screaming down the road toward him.  At least this part of the mission was over.

Bruce first went to the body and lifted the blanket.  Bruce shook his head and Larry could tell by his expression that whoever it was, they were dead.  Bruce then moved to the wreckage and probed the interior with his light.  After a few moments later he emerged and began to look around the outside of the wreckage.

“CAP-1, Sheriff-1,” Larry said.  “We’ve got at least one dead here.  We are searching for the others.”

            Larry switched to the common frequency to call the local Sheriff and report the crash, but was cut short.  Excited chatter filled the frequency and told of a carload of badly injured people that had just gotten to the hospital in Hebron.  Larry knew it was them.

            How the hell was that possible?

            But the conversation conveyed words like plane crash and he was sure, then they said things like ‘all alive’ and he was further shocked.  He knew it was time to go there.  He flipped the switch to activate the outside loudspeaker.

            “Come back,” he said.  “They are in Hebron.  Let’s go there.”

The light Bruce carried bobbed as he made his way back to the chopper in a quick jog.  He appeared at the door and climbed in, pulling on the headset and clicking the seatbelt around him.

            “There’s one dead down there,” he said breathlessly as they lifted off.  “I couldn’t find any more.”

            “There are five people that just showed up at Hebron,” Larry told him to Bruce’s amazement.  “I guess we’ll know soon.  CAP is on the way and will do a thorough search of the crash site.”

            “Roger that,” Bruce said.  Larry pointed toward Hebron and flew toward the green and white airport beacon there as it rose into sight beyond the horizon.  He cut into the radio chatter and told the deputies who he was and requested a ride to the hospital.  He wanted to get a look at them for himself.

A few minutes later, Larry set the skids of the helicopter down on the tarmac of the Hebron Airport, and shut the craft down.  The fuel gauge read that that they were almost empty.  Larry thought there was something to be said for timing. 

A local sheriff car was waiting for them as they wound down the chopper and exited into the cold night.  They quickly run-walked to the car and Larry got in, sliding beside the young deputy driving and introducing himself, while Bruce offered to stay with the chopper and get her fueled up. 

The image of the crash was still burned in Larry’s mind, and he could only imagine what these people, this family, had endured to make it this far.  Anything he could do to help them now, he would.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the emergency room driveway and Larry hopped out of the patrol car, expressing quick thanks to the young deputy.  He briskly walked through the cold to the same doors dad had found locked only a little while later.  He noticed it was smeared with dad’s bloody handprints. 

He fully expected that the scene would be chaos, and doubted this hospital saw much action like this very often.  He pictured a flurry of activity as doctors and nurses rushed about trying to save the victims that had somehow been pulled from that airplane. 

Instead, as he walked into the Emergency Room, he was struck dumbfounded, utterly baffled by what he saw.

Around the room stood several hospital staff, either in small groups or alone, some with arms crossed and frustrated looks on their faces, some nervously sipping coffee.  A few caught his eye with restless glances as he entered, but no one said a word. 

The room was practically silent.  He looked past the fidgety staff towards the motionless forms of the patients lying on stretchers beyond them.  Three small children were laid on their backs, each with a blood stained gauze bandages wrapped around their head.  One had a bandage loosely wrapped around his leg, which was currently propped to the side.  Over the boy stood a filthy man, bending down and appearing to inspect the wound under the bandage.  He was the only visible person providing any kind of care to any of the victims.

It felt like something out of the Twilight Zone.   Larry had been a cop for a long time, but had never seen anything even remotely resembling the scene that was laid out before him right then.  He glanced around at the staff again.  They muttered hushed but sharp tones at each other.  Many slowly shook their heads side to side.  None made any attempt to help.

A surreal feeling crept over Larry.  The man was dirty and bloody from head to foot.  His clothes were mud caked and tattered.  His head was bent forward, but Larry could clearly make out the open gash that extended from his forehead into his hair.  He could see that his face was disfigured with swelling and other trauma. 

Just then, the man glanced in his direction briefly giving Larry a good look at him.  His face looked like a prize fighter after a very bad several rounds.  It was grotesquely swollen and his eyes were mere slits recessed into red, bloody, swollen flesh.  Larry was amazed he could see at all.  He didn’t move around the children so much as he lurched.  Larry could not believe his eyes.  Was this the pilot?  From the looks of him it was amazing that he was even standing, yet alone providing care! 

Why was no one doing anything to help him, Larry wondered intently?