The Reluctant Traveler, Chapters 7 & 8

Mark Returns, and A Flight To Nowhere

Chapter Seven

Mark Returns Again

         
         “Welcome back Mark.”
         
         “Where have I been?”
         
         “That’s what you’re supposed to tell me.”
         
         “Tell you? What do you mean, I’m supposed to tell you? Who are you?”
         
         “I’m someone who cares for you right now. We are working together on a special project.”
         
         “Special project? Wait a minute, where am I?”
         
         “Where you have been for a little while now.”
         
         “Hold on a sec. Start over please. Why am I lying here like this? And again, who are you?”
         
         “You may call me Ishmael.” As he said this, he fought hard to hide a smile. Moby Dick had always been a favorite book, he found he related well to that character.
         
         “Ishmael huh. Nice. But you didn’t answer my question Ishmael.”
         
         “Mark, there’s a goal we’re working towards, something we want to do. It can’t be done without you. You are not a guinea pig for us, this is entirely voluntarily on your part.”
         
         “You mean I can leave when I want?”
         
         “Yes Mark, of course.”
         
         “Suppose I wanted to leave now?”
         
         “Then I’d have no choice but to let you go. After you tell me where you were.”
         
         As Ishmael said this, Mark’s felt a change in his senses. His mind seemed to relax as if he were meditating. He would almost swear it shifted to a new plane, or level. He started to recall where he was before he woke. Ishmael could see the change in his demeanor, a light flush coming to his gaunt cheeks. Mark looked at his surroundings some, his gaze coming to rest on his reflection in the mirror. He knew that man in the mirror, hair starting to gray around the temples, curly locks atop his head. “At least I’m not going bald anytime soon.” he thought. With that thought in mind, he lay back on his pillow, and for the first time noticed the soft sounds in the room. There was the soft beeping of machines that he couldn’t see, the quiet whirring of fans nearby, both mixed with myriad other noises he couldn’t identify.
         
         As they talked, Mark felt his mind slowly clear, the events of his past excursion slowly coming to mind. It was a little like a dream it seemed, but a dream that he could remember every detail of. He relaxed back on the bed, his mind churning as his memory cleared. He looked over to Ishmael with a wry grin and said, “This one will most likely surprise you!”

Chapter Eight

A Flight To Nowhere

         
         Amy lay on the cool sand of the beach, her breathing starting to return to a more normal rate. One hand was draped over her face as she got her thoughts in order. “Where did we go so wrong? One minute we were gliding towards the beach, the next we were fighting for our lives.” As she thought this, another came quickly to mind. “Fred! Where’s Fred!” Stiffly, muscles screaming with every movement, she climbed to her feet.
         
         “Fred! Fred! Where are you Fred?” Her voice fell quietly on the soft wind blowing across the sand. She looked around the sunlit beach, slowly getting her bearings. The sky was crystal clear with a high, light cloud cover. She scanned the beach once more, then the ocean. Her gaze quickly came to rest on the sea, the never ending surf, waves crashing on the shore. Looking still further out, she could see the remains of her plane sitting in the water. It seemed to be supported on a reef or sandbar, it was difficult for her to really know. Waves were slowly engulfing it as the tide came in. She had no memory of leaving the aircraft and getting to the beach, but knew she must have made the swim somehow. Amy was never one to admit defeat, and refused to do so now. She sat back down to try and relax, only to bolt upright when she saw something move in the cockpit. Knowing it had to Fred, she jumped to her feet and shouted his name again. But the brief, weak movement, had stopped.
         
         Amy walked into the waves and dove through a breaker. She started swimming to the plane with faltering strokes. She had no idea what she could do to help Fred, but she couldn’t just leave him to die. It wasn’t a long swim, but it took more of her remaining strength than she thought it would. She finally reached the plane, then struggled to climb through the broken door to enter the small cabin. She reached across the seat and was relieved to see Fred respond weakly to her touch. Despite his body being soaked with seawater, she could see that his breathing was irregular, his skin pale and flushed.
         
         “Oh please, please,” she thought to herself, “Please don’t be badly hurt.” Instead, she looked at him and said, “Fred, are you okay enough for me to move you out of here?”
         
         Fred looked at her with glazed eyes. It was as if his mind was somewhere else, not there in the plane with them. She was surprised at his sudden whisper, “It’s okay. They’re coming for us. Everything’s going to be alright.”
         
         “All that can wait Fred, we have to get you out of here!”
         
         “No, I’ll never make it. I am hurt badly, very badly. My right leg is lodged under my seat here, my chest feels like there’s an elephant sitting on it. I can’t feel much anywhere else. Get back to the beach!”
         
         Amy ignored his weak pleas and released his restraints. When she tried to move him from the seat, he screamed in agony. “No Amy! I know I’m done, whether you free me or not. Now get to the beach before the tide comes in. I know I’m bleeding a lot, get away before sharks get here!”
         
         Amy knew Fred was right but refused to consider the idea of leaving him. She spoke his name again, receiving no response. Her hands enveloped his head as gently as they could as she looked in his eyes. His eyes were glazed, unfocused, there was no rise and fall of his chest to indicate he was still breathing. Amy sobbed as she realized Fred was dead. She looked around the tiny cabin and gathered what supplies she could. She looked back at Fred one more time, his body was completely relaxed now, his head loosely rolling from side to side as the plane was rocked by waves. She had never been one to cry much, and was surprised to feel tears rolling down her cheeks. She climbed from the shattered cockpit and grabbed a life preserver. Laying flat across it, she paddled towards the beach, the waves seemingly stronger with each crest.

         Reaching shallow water, Amy looked back at the plane. What she saw made her cry even more. The plane was sliding deeper into the water with each pounding wave. With the plane went all chances of communication with the rest of the world. ‘At least I don’t have to worry about freezing here on this island.’ Amy thought to herself. She stared at her plane as long as she could, as if she was trying to will it to float to the beach. As the plane became submerged, she saw it roll a little in the waves, its wings now broken from the fuselage. The waves inexorably pulled it towards the open ocean, as if trying to hide its wreckage from any searchers. It finally disappeared, leaving Amy alone on the beach. Once the plane had gone, Amy passed out once again, her head hitting the sand with a dull thud.
         
         Waking, Amy found her mind was clear, while her body still felt like it had been beaten severely. She lifted her head and looked around, taking stock of where she was, and what was available for her to use. She was on a small island, but she had no idea which one. Fred had been the navigator for the two of them, and though she had a good idea of where they were, she also wasn’t familiar enough with the local terrain to know which island she was on.
         
         She was pretty sure that the island was uninhabited, and as she took stock of her situation, she realized her true plight. Everything had gone down with the plane. She had not managed to grab much before leaving that last time. The radio transmitter was gone. A thought came to her mind, There isn’t any way I could power it on either’. They had not carried much food with them, the space had been very limited and the extra weight would have consumed more fuel. She had only grabbed a couple of small snacks brought on board in Lae. Those might last her a week if she really rationed it.
         
         The next few days jumbled together for Amy. She regained her strength faster than she would have thought possible, but her mind couldn’t focus on the task at hand. She finally managed to start a small campfire, but struggled to keep it going. The few provisions she had grabbed from the plane didn’t last too long, she was now living off the meager fruits and vegetables near her beach shelter, and the few fish or crabs she managed to trap.
         
         About five days after being marooned on the island she twisted her ankle while walking over the rocky terrain. She cursed at her stupidity and her inattention to her surroundings. At the same time, she knew it was caused by dehydration and hunger. It was then that she realized something needed to change drastically, or she would never get off this small sliver of ‘paradise’.
         
         The next morning she walked the beach a little, wincing at each step initially. She found the more she walked, the better she felt, and realized she’d escaped serious injury the day before. She didn’t get far for the beach wasn’t that long, and she didn’t have the stamina to explore further. If she had been able to walk just a half mile further and rounded the curve of the beach, she would have seen the wreckage of a tramp steamer sitting high and dry on the rocks, its back broken in two places.
         
         Arriving back where she started, a weariness unlike any she had ever experienced engulfed her. Amy knew she had suffered from shock shortly after the crash. Her knowledge on this subject was very sparse. She had no idea how long it lasted, but was pretty sure it would be gone by now. It bothered her that she her mind still seemed to fail her, and never realized that she had suffered a severe concussion during the crash. Her brain could only process a little information right now, causing her to act like an automaton. She half crawled, half walked to a nearby palm tree and leaned back against it, willing her mind to rest. Once again she slept. So soundly that she never heard the sound of a plane passing high overhead. As she slept, dreams engulfed her as her mind wandered back to the beginning of this long flight.
         

 

         
         
         Amy slowly ambled out of the ready office, her eyes on the silver Electra sitting on the tarmac. It was early in the evening, but also hot, very hot. It was late June, but Amy felt sweat forming in her armpits quickly. She wasn’t surprised, they were at Lae Airfield, Papua New Guinea. She cursed the heat but knew there was nothing to be done about it, since they were very close to the Equator.
         
         She carefully walked around the aircraft, checking the aileron’s for ease of movement. It was a task she would rather not do, but one she’d done hundreds of times. The next leg of their flight would be over nothing but ocean; she wanted to be sure the craft was in tip-top shape.
         
         “Amy! Amy, whatcha doin?”
         
         “Over here Fred, under the right wing. I’m just making sure everything is set for our takeoff tomorrow morning.”
         
         Fred joined Amy under the wing, and together they continued to inspect the aircraft. As they walked, they softly discussed the coming flight.
         
         “Amy, you should be resting! You’re not completely recovered from your spell of Dysentery. I know we flew from Darwin to Lae after it, but didn’t the doctors tell you….”
         
         Amy interrupted him by placing a finger on his lips, saying, “The doctors worry too much. I am fine, I think you’ve seen that for yourself.” With that said, she kissed him softly on the lips and walked away, leaving him standing speechless under the right wing of the Electra.
         
         Looking over her shoulder at him, she said, “I know I’ll sleep well tonight, will you?”
         
         Fred could only shrug in agreement as he ambled after her. “More rest is better though. That short break in the East Indies was good for us. Getting the direction finder repaired while there is a major relief.”
         
         “Fred, you’ve been great this entire trip. We couldn’t have gotten here without your navigational skills. Instruments be damned, I bet you could have gotten us here, and onward without them.” Once again she smiled at him with her impish smile. Fred could only wonder what she was thinking of, or planning.
         
         Fred blushed on hearing this. He had received many accolades before, but had never gotten used to hearing them, especially from Amy. “Well, you’re the pilot, I’m just the navigator. We’ve discussed this before. It’s a team effort, we’re a team here.”
         
         “One thing that will not happen again, is that crazy business with the radio. Obviously, we can’t leave here without having that problem solved!” Amy’s look of anger was not lost on Fred; he knew they couldn’t experience that problem again.
         
         “You mean the radio failure? We have to make sure the Itasca knows what frequency we’ll use, and we need to know theirs of course. I’m sure that’s been taken care of, I’ve been exchanging cablegrams with them about that problem since the Darwin flight.”
         
         “Okay, as long as you have it under control. This is an adventure as you know. And I always say, ‘Adventure is worthwhile in itself’. Once we have this adventure completed, maybe we’ll have others together…. Who knows?” She laughed as she finished saying that, then ran to her car and drove to their hotel that sat near the Lae airport.
         
         Fred completed his walk-around of the aircraft, then slowly walked to the hotel. He relished the long walk, it gave him the chance to think about this trip, their flights, and what was going to happen once they arrived in Oakland. He knew that Amy would be fawned over by the press and the general public, and figured he would be largely forgotten. That was fine with him, he was not a man who yearned for the spotlight. At times he wondered what it would be like to have the spotlight on him. He had a past though, one that needed to be kept out of the limelight. He knew things could get ugly if the press wanted looked into his history enough.
         
         Fred found himself a bit worried about this next stretch of their journey. Amy had not successfully used the Radio Direction Finder (RDF). It was understandable in many ways, the Bendix system was difficult to grasp, and in testing it the day before, Amy had not been able to find the sharp minimum which would indicate the direction of the RDF beacon. Despite these thoughts troubling his mind, Fred finally found peace and slept deeply.
         
         At 8am the next morning, Amy and Fred were going over their final flight preparations. Their flight path had been painstakingly drawn on the maps, their destination Howland Island and a rendezvous with the USCGC Itasca. Fred had checked once again with the Itasca about the frequencies to be used, and finally, with all the planning behind them, they enjoyed a hearty breakfast. At 9:30 they were in the Electra running over final flight checks. Everything was completed to their satisfaction before Amy started the engines and let them idle until they were fully warm. They taxied down the grassy runway, and at 10am sharp, they lifted off, heading east into the sun.
         
         Their flight over the ocean was uneventful for the most part. In fact, it was tedious. For Amy, it was almost boring. Keeping the Electra level at ten thousand feet was not difficult, but it did require some concentration on her part. Amy checked the instruments frequently while Fred busied himself checking their path, navigating by stars. Once he was satisfied they were on course, he’d relax a little, only to repeat it all within an hour.
         
         About five hours into the flight, Amy contacted Lae, reporting thick clouds in her area, and lowered her altitude from ten thousand to five thousand feet. As they neared Howland Island, she called the Coast Guard Cutter Itasca. She knew that once they established communications, the Itasca would guide them to Howland using the Radio Directional Finder equipment.
         
         “KHAQQ calling Itasca, over.”
         
         There was no answer to her transmission, and she tried again. “KHAQQ calling Itasca, over.”

         Suddenly Amy and Fred received a signal from the Itasca. There was no voice, but it was a steady signal at 7500 Hz. Fred rotated the directional antenna to gain a null, but was unable to obtain a suitable one. “Amy, I can’t get a null.”
         
         “Keep trying Fred. You know as well as I do that with no null, we won’t know their position, and can’t get to them!”
         
         “Yes, I know that. Believe me, I’m trying, but really, there’s a little change in the signal as I rotate the antenna, but it’s not enough to establish a null.”
         
         Amy began whistling into the microphone trying to give the Itasca a continuous tone so they could home in on it. “Itasca, if you hear me, I cannot hear you. We must be near you, please transmit so I can hear you.”
         
         Nothing came over the air-waves at first, then suddenly she heard Morse Code being transmitted, but they could not determine its direction.
         
         Amy transmitted again and said, “Itasca, we must be near you, how do you read? Over.”
         
         There was no answer to her transmission, and she tried again. “KHAQQ calling Itasca, we must be on you, but cannot see you…. gas is running low…
         
         Amy knew they were in trouble if they couldn’t contact the Itasca. Concern etched across her youthful features as she made another transmission. "We are on the line 157 337. We will repeat this message. We will repeat this on 6210 kilocycles. Wait. We will listen on 6210 kilocycles. We are running North and South."
         
         Amy repeated the same message several times as they desperately tried to communicate with the Itasca. With gas running low and unable to communicate with the Itasca, she set their course due south as she’d just reported.
         
         As they continued on, they saw a small island in the far distance, almost on the horizon. “Amy, if you can, get us to that island. Maybe we can find a small beach to land on.”
         
         “Right, I’ll do my best Fred.” Amy knew the engines were close to running on fumes, and throttled back until they were almost idling. Slowly the plane lost altitude as it approached the island. Spying a desolate beach, Amy revved the engines some to control their flight. At this point, they were just a few feet above the waves. Suddenly a downdraft caught the small craft and quickly pressed it down. Amy jerked the column up, but it was not enough. The wheels hit the water, the plane slamming to a stop. The two of them were thrown about, screams and grunts from each of them as the Electra was wrenched violently by the waves.
         
         

 

                   
         When Amy woke, tears were streaming down her cheeks at the memory of their flight. She wasn’t too worried, the Itasca had heard them, that much was obvious. She figured it would only be a matter of time before she was found. She did not realize that she had missed a plane flying over as she slept.
         
         Throughout that day, Amy rested as best she could, keeping an eye on the sky and ocean, expecting to see a plane or ship at any moment. It was during one of those moments of searching that caused her to fall. As she walked along the beach and undergrowth of the island, she would pause to search the sky and ocean. During one of those searches, she kept walking, and tripped over a branch. She fell clumsily, her head banging hard against a thick branch. Blackness engulfed her as she passed out.
         
         

 

                   
         
         Mark said, “And that’s when I woke up and saw you. How long was I gone?”
         
         Ishmael replied, “You were gone maybe a minute this time.”
         
         “This one, it was a little different it seemed.”
         
         “I know. In other episodes, it would be a few days for you, but less than a minute for us. This time though, the time difference wasn’t consistent.”
         
         “Well, that’s why you’re doing these experiments, huh. You’re the scientist, the professor. I’m just a guinea pig, so-to-speak.”
         
         Ishmael smiled as Mark said this, and replied, “You are far more than a mere guinea pig, I hope you know that.”
         
         “Well, I don’t know that, but thank you. I hope that one day I will regain my complete memory, and can know who I really am.”
         
         “I do too Mark. But you must know that we know your background, your history. We had to for you to do this.”
         
         “Then tell me about myself!”
         
         “All in due time Mark. Right now though, we need to check you out as we usually do.”
         
         As they spoke, a young woman entered the room wearing a pale yellow slacks and a white shirt. Her shoes complimented her slacks, being an off yellow type of sneaker that Mark hadn’t seen before. “Michelle, how are you my Belle?”
         
         Mark’s question caused a smile to illuminate her features, a smile that seemed to light the room. “Why thank you Mark, I am doing well, I can see you are too!”
         
         “Michelle.” This time, Ishmael spoke. “During his most recent adventure, Mark was Amelia Earhart!”
         
         “Amelia Earhart? Whoa! That.... that is just so interesting. You’re going to have to tell me about that later Ishmael. Promise?”
         
         “Yes my dear, I will, I promise.”
         
         As they spoke, Mark felt a tinge of envy come over him, causing him to stop and wonder about things. Why would he feel envious of the two of them? His mind pondered this a bit. As he sat there silently, he felt a great fatigue come over him and closed his eyes.
         
         Ishmael saw Mark slip away, and quickly came to his side, monitoring his breathing and heart rate. Satisfied, he turned to Michelle and said, “His Amelia Earhart story is fascinating. I can’t wait to tell you about it. How about over dinner tonight?”
         
         Michelle smiled at him and said, “Jeffrey, you know I’d love that. Usual time?”
         
         “Well, it all depends on Mark here, doesn’t it? He should be back shortly. After that, I’ll get him settled for the night and meet you at the Cliff House. I’ll text you when I know a good time, and make our usual reservation.”
         
         Michelle smiled at Ishmael as she left the room. Despite the problems they faced working together, she found working with him far more satisfying that she had thought possible.

Jim Dorrell
8/18/19