“Yes, I agree. We’re all exhausted. Practically living in the same clothes. Let’s pack it up.”
Robert cleared his throat. “Sir, there is one more thing. I have talked to the chief of staff of Air Force Reserve, Lieutenant General Maria Ruiz. We have to discuss their casualty status.”
“Their what?” Emily said with a stern voice.
Robert had a grim look on his face. “Their casualty status. The air force, and frankly all the services, have classifications for service members. Ford and Pinky would have to be declared dead, wounded, diseased, detained, captured or missing.”
“Bugger me. Really? Piss off, Robert. We have to give them a title?” Emily said, throwing her arm down and slamming it on the table surface.
Calvin’s fatherly and generous touch on her hand made Emily feel more comfortable. Blimey. I still can’t believe this is happening to me. Where are you, bloke? Why can’t we find you? Emily said to herself.
“Emily. Listen to me. We will continue to look for them. We’ll be on the hunt and will never stop. It will be OK. We’ll find them,” Calvin reassured her.
Robert waited a few seconds. “Sir, General Ruiz also said we had to notify their next of kin, and… neither of them was… married… so…”
Emily had tears in her eyes now, with one tear streaming down a cheek. She turned to look out the window. Married, Emily thought.
“I am so sorry, Emily. And… so… sir, Air Force Reserve wants to send a casualty team to see the Stevens and the Pinkertons.”
Calvin closed his eyes. “I know Marion and Chad Stevens very well, Ford’s parents, as you know. I’ll go in person. Today. Ask Maria to make plans for Pinky’s parents with Headquarters Air Force. I’ll facilitate Ford’s notification. Missing status, right?”
Mark nodded, then took out his phone. “Sir, we can get you some fresh clothing at the Fox Run Mall over in Portsmouth, fly you down to Hilton Head at 1400, land at 1600. Would that work?”
Calvin nodded.
Ford used the dim flashlight on his helmet to see as he moved the snow around in the cockpit, resting often, searching for their backpacks. Wearing the gloves Robert had gotten for him, he slowly dug in the rear of the cockpit, exhausted at just moving his body around in the small, dark space.
Finally locating both backpacks, he took a few long sips from the water bottles. He found food that would last a few days or more, dirty clothes, Pinky’s make-up kit, and his partial shave kit. Dehydrated, he located all the bottles of water in the backpacks and laid them out so he could see what he was dealing with. He’d have to figure out his water plan soon in order to survive.
Ford also sat for a moment thinking about Pinky’s clothing. He was considering using her cold-weather gear in some capacity, too, although he wasn’t sure for what use just yet. He was creeped out by the idea of taking her clothing. She’s gone, so she doesn’t need it. Kinda weird to take it from her, but she would want me to have it to live.
Sitting on his knees, Ford looked around a bit at the bleak wreckage he was in. The cockpit was still angled at about forty-five degrees, nose low, and where the windows used to be was complete snow and darkness. The rear of the cockpit was gone, exposing jagged and sharp composite fibers and hundreds, if not, thousands of broken colored wires. It was exposed to the night sky at the top, almost like the opening of a cave.
Ford climbed on his hands and knees inside the cockpit the eight to ten feet of distance to the surface of the earth and immediately felt the forceful wind and wind-chill temperature change. Down in the crevasse where the cockpit was located between ice and the earth, he was concealed and protected from the mountain’s elements, and it was warmer. Not up here. On the surface of the earth, Ford looked around like a ground hog searching for his shadow and was now fully exposed to the dismal elements.
The only illumination was the brilliant starlight on the clear night, and no city or suburban lights could be seen. He moved his head and body around in a full circle, searching, and realized there was absolutely nothing to see — no aircraft wreckage, no path of aircraft destruction to where he was presently, no fire, and no civilization. Just snow on the ground everywhere he looked, some blowing, with massive mountains and peaks in the distance. Ford felt the strong wind rip through his thick clothing and past his exposed skin.
Goddamn. Where the hell am I? he thought. There is nothing here. Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes, swallowed, then looked up to the heavens. Ford sighed and stayed another few minutes, staring and thinking. There is nothing here. How the hell are they going to find us if there is no wreckage? The snow covered everything up… and no emergency locator transmitter telling them where we are. No survival vest or radio. “Fuck,” Ford said quietly, shaking his head.
Not spending more than two minutes in total, he slowly crawled back down into the cockpit to evaluate his position. One leg on the back of his pilot seat, and other on the snow-covered floor, he stood quietly, looking at his breath. Immediately, he knew the situation was much, much worse than he originally thought.
“Well, Pinky. They have no clue where we are. Nothing. We’re solo up here,” Ford told her, angered and disgusted at the situation he was facing.
Calvin, Robert, Emily, an air force chaplain, and a casualty assistance officer, a pilot, from the Georgia Air National Guard Base at Savannah, stood on the doorstep of the Stevens’ home, waiting for the door to open. No one answered, and the men remained quiet.
An older retired couple walking their golden retriever passed in front of the house, inbound to the nearby ocean. No words were said as strange glances were exchanged.
An uncomfortable minute passed before a white Mercedes sedan then pulled up in the driveway, parked, and shut down. Marion and Chad got out of the car and walked slowly up to where the group was standing.
“Cal? What? What are you doing here?” Marion asked.
Chad knew better, as his years at DIA and in the military all came to a head in one moment. He sighed, letting out a long breath. “My gosh. Did we lose Ford? Did we lose him?”
“No, no, please let me explain,” Calvin replied, attempting to calm things down.
“No, I need to know about my baby. Tell me, Cal,” Marion said, raising her voice and ready to burst out crying.
“Marion, he said no. Let’s just go inside,” Chad said, putting his arm around her.
“God. What’s going on with Ford, Cal? Tell me,” Marion said, becoming very upset.
Chad and Marion gave Emily a hug, and she warmly hugged back, her eyes welling up.
Everyone walked inside the home, beautifully decorated in a nautical beach theme with complete open windows to backyard pool and Atlantic Ocean. It was a gorgeous sight to see.
“Cal, tell me right now. This isn’t the old days. This is our boy,” Marion told him with the tone of an experienced DIA wife with years of deployment under her belt.
“Please, everyone, come in. Sit,” Chad told them.
Calvin thought about ten different ways to tell them the details, but not everyone there had a clearance. And certainly the program was not open source for everyone to discuss, so it would be a challenge to explain.
“Marion, Chad, as you know, or may not know, we called back Ford for some work. A mission,” Cal explained, then paused. “He and his copilot were due to land a few days ago, and they are overdue.”