Desperately Waiting!

[Ghostwriter1983]

Desperately Waiting!

As I flew my single engine Cessna between two tiny islands, something made me tip to the south instead of north. I don't know why, as I lowered to 500 feet. The water was emerald green, the sandy beach white, the palm trees tall with coconuts, and the landscape alive with wild orchids of every color. Funny how I never passed over this island while delivering supplies to the other island eight miles away.

That was when I saw them, a man and woman, in tattered clothes waving frantically up at me, and I tipped my wings to them. About 100 yards up the beach from them was their crashed plane, its crumpled nose wedged against a palm tree. Lush vegetation had over grown the cockpit and I knew that they had been stranded, but they were alive!

I flew close to the ground, as I passed over them a second time, and saw joy, yet sadness in their eyes as they continued to wave. I radioed to my friends on the other island and told them what I had seen, and they told me that they were getting their boat ready, and would wait for me. As I climbed high into the sky and turned north, it was just minutes before I saw the small dock and row of tiny bungalows.

Behind them was the small landing strip, and I hurriedly taxied up to the hanger. Once I was stopped, and my engine off, I jumped out the door and hurriedly re-told them what I’d seen. The speed boat had already been refueled and the four of us headed out to sea. Gerald was at the wheel, a large burly man, but as gentle as a puppy, though his appearance was that of a gruff tattooed biker.

Emily, his wife, was tall, tanned and slender. In her hand was a well stocked emergency first aid kit. Hastily loaded on the floor were food, water, and blankets. Though I had only seen two survivors, that didn't mean there weren't others. The wreckage appeared to be a business plane of carrying about ten people. Though the sea was calm, the winds light, the roar of our engine, was matched by the bounce of each wave over the bow.

It took time to cover the same distance by boat that my plane made at 125 miles per hour, but soon, the island grew larger and larger. Tim was the youngest of us, just over 25, a happy, carefree lad with a smile that made his eyes light up. He shouted over the engine's dull roar that he hadn't heard of a downed plane. His job was in the office and among his many jobs handled, radio dispatcher was an important job.

Once we were within 100 yards of shore, we paralleled the shoreline as I tried to recall just where I had seen the wreckage. The island looks a lot different from the air, then from in a boat. It also took longer to cover the same distance. The boat was equipped with a loud speaker, and it was a surprise to all of us that we saw no one on the beach, waving, as I had seen less than 2 hours ago.

Tim had binoculars and was searching the tree line for the plane. Finally, he spotted it, and patted Gerald on the shoulder and pointed to the shore. Surprisingly, the plane was hard to see, which might’ve been the reason no one had found it before. Gerald slowed the engine, then turned it off, and lifted the engine up, as we nudged against the sandy bottom. I jumped over the side, waist deep, and with rope in hand made it to shore and pulled the boat in closer, while Tim and Emily also jumped out.

There was a log on the beach and I tied the rope securely to it as other's began to call out to the stranded couple. How odd it seemed that the only sounds heard, were that of waves lapping at the shore, an occasional coconut falling, and the screech of brightly colored parrots. I was the first to reach the plane, with Tim right behind me. Tim took the left side and I took the right side.

It was plain to see that this aircraft had crashed here many years ago, maybe six years or more. Metal parts were well rusted. It took Gerald's strength to pry open the passenger door, because the nose of the plane was badly damaged. Inside were four bodies, still seat belted in. Six seats were empty. The pilot and co-pilot were killed on impact I was sure.

Most of the windows were broken and the luggage strewn on the floor. It looked like they had been on vacation. Gerald and Emily gathered Identification from each person, while Tim made his way to the pilot’s cabin to get their I-D. As for me, I left the plane and began shouting, hoping the couple would hear my voice and return, so we could bring them back to us.

As I walked further and further away from the plane, along the beach something didn't add up! I know where I had seen the man and woman; and how far they were from their plane. But the harder I looked for their foot prints, the more I realized, there were none! Suddenly, the couple stepped out onto the beach, walking directly towards me. I was so relieved to see them and I waved to them, and we met each other half way.

But instead of smiles and handshakes, there were tears in her eyes, and despair in his eyes. He thanked me for returning and bringing help. He said they had waited for so long and nearly gave up. I reassured them we had brought food and water with us, and would get them back to our island and then to the states as soon as possible. She looked at her husband first, then to me and him to her and they shook their heads no.

I stood there perplexed, that they wanted to stay. Then, with tears in her eyes she softly thanked me for my kindness, but that they could not leave the island with us, and suddenly, they both vanished! All that remained of where they had stood were their foot prints, and in a moment, their foot prints too had disappeared. With a sense of helplessness and anguish in my heart, I returned to the plane.

When I climbed inside, I recognized the clothing of a man and woman, side by side, in their seats as who had died while holding each other's hands. They were the same couple I had seen on the beach, passing over this tropical island. The same couple I had met and talked with. Emily was crying as she slipped the woman's driver's license from her wallet.

I said nothing to the other's as we headed back to our boat, and headed home with heavy hearts. Perhaps they already knew what I had seen, there on the beach. Two lost souls, waiting to be rescued. I never spoke of that fateful day again, to anyone! I was just glad that somehow, they called out to me and made me fly south instead of north and help them to be buried properly.

©2005 Raymond Cook (All rights reserved)

[NeverMore]

Ha! Ha! From the title of this one I thought you were desperately waiting for your grim reaper package.