At the Mercy of the Storm - Part 2

A Fantastic First Friday of the year to all my Favorite Friday Fiction Fans!
(Alliterations can be such fun.)


I wish you all a Happy New Year even if it is the 6th of January already! Wow, the time sure flies. Now that I'm back home and all the Christmas decorations are put away, I'm trying to get back into writing. And I will admit, it is difficult. Not because I don't have anything to write or because I can't seem to get any story written, it is because I'd much rather read right now. :} Have any of you read the quote on the side of my blog about writing? Well it sure is true! Writing is not just fun. It is work! Most of the time I love it, but there are days when I wish the next part of the story would just appear without me having to write it. But it doesn't so I have to labor and work. Some times things come easily and just flow along, while at other times. But I already mentioned that.


And now here is January's Quiz: How many books do we have in our house? Remember, we do not count cookbooks or songbooks. Here are some helps. But I don't know how many we have yet either.
In 2009 we had 4,011
In 2010 we had 4,262
And in 2011 we had 5,215
It is anybody's guess what we have now. We have gotten rid of books and gotten new ones. So take a guess and then come back next week to find out the answer!


But, lest I leave you hanging too long, here is the rest of last week's story. Enjoy!

At the Mercy of the Storm

Part 2

Rebekah M.

    Slowly Garret opened his eyes and forced his mind to focus. He was lying almost sideways, practically hanging by his safety harness. He could still see the flashes of lightning, hear the rumble of thunder and the rain drumming on-- something. Moving his arms and legs carefully, he undid the harness and sat up. By the light flashes he could see Thad slumped over in the seat beside him. Was he dead?
    “Thad?” Gently Garret placed a hand on his co-pilot’s back. “He’s still breathing, thank God!” he murmured.
    Just then Thad stirred and sat up in a dazed sort of way. “What happened? Where-” He shook his head to clear it. “We crashed. The passengers . . .?”
    “I don’t know,” Garret replied. “I just came to, myself. We need a flashlight. That lightning is too sporadic.”
    For a few minutes, both men fumbled around the cockpit until Thad finally discovered the light. He snapped it on and by its steady beam saw a long gash on Garrett’s arm.
    “I must have cut it on that shattered instrument panel,” Garret surmised. “But,” he added, eyeing Thad, “That cut on your head looks pretty bad.”
    “I’ll be okay for now. Let’s check our passengers.”
    Slowly, carefully Garret and Thad made their way out of the cockpit to the middle of the plane. The light of the flashlight showed four passengers looking rather dazed but otherwise unhurt while the other two were still unconscious. While his co-pilot checked those passengers, Garret pulled out a second flashlight and by its light found the first-aid kit. The remaining passengers who were unconscious slowly came around and cuts and minor injuries were attended to.
    “So, where are we?” asked one of the passengers.
    Garret shook his head, wincing as his injured arm bumped the back of a seat. “I can’t tell you for sure, Ma’am,” he replied. “That first hit of lightning knocked the power out and after that with the winds so strong, it was impossible to tell what direction we were flying.”
    “And I suppose the radio is out too?” a younger man asked.
    Garret nodded. “At least it wasn’t working before we hit the storm. I don’t see why it would work now, but I’ll go check it.”
    Silence fell about the small group as the pilot carefully made his way back to the cockpit to try to send a distress call through the stormy clouds.
    Strongly doubting it would work, Garret prayed as he pulled a headset over his ears and turned the knobs of the radio. Nothing. Everything was dead, not even a hint of static came through no matter how he turned the knobs or fiddled with the wires. At last he gave up and returned to the cabin of the plane.
    “Well,” an older gentleman broke the stillness caused by Garrett’s news, “at least the plane keeps us out of the rain.”
    “True,” a middle-aged woman added, “and it could have burst into flames in the sky.”
    “What a comforting thought,” sneered a grumpy man from a corner. “We could have all died, so we should be glad we are alive.”
    Garret spoke soberly then, “You know, she is right. If the lightning had hit the fuel tank we wouldn’t be here now. We should all thank God for sparing us.”
    “Amen,” echoed a quiet voice from the semi dark plane.
    In tones low but distinct, the older gentleman began to pray. Not as though it was a duty, but as though it were a privilege. Garret, with head bowed was deeply moved by that prayer and when it was over, silence descended once more on the little plane.
    The storm had all but blown itself out and only a light rain now came from the heavens. Leaving the passengers in the plane, Garret and Thad forced the door open and climbed out to take a look at the damages. One wing was crumpled and half buried in the mud, leaving the plane tipped and the wheels mired in mud holes. Surprisingly, that seemed to be all the major damage the small plane had received.

    It was a long night for those eight people on the plane. No one could sleep, for their recent brush with death as well as wondering if they would be found, kept all minds spinning. At last a faint light began to appear in the east.
    “Day is coming!” someone exclaimed softly.
    Then the waiting began. As the sun climbed up from its bed, the passengers, along with their pilot and co-pilot, climbed from the listing plane into the fresh air. It was a clear day with blue sky. Not a trace of the previous night’s storm was to be seen above and only the flattened grass and the damaged plane gave evidence of nature’s fury below. All around them only grass was to be seen. Not a tree, not a fence, not a house. It was hard to wait. Some were for setting off in search of help, but Garret overruled all plans.
    “No,” he declared flatly, “it is more difficult to spot people from the air than it is a plane. Besides, we don’t know which direction to go. The one we choose might be the wrong one. And another thing,” he added, as the grumpy man was about to speak, “there is only a little food and water. By staying here we can conserve it.”
    “Don’t forget,” Thad put in, “the plane also gives us shelter.”
    There was much grumbling among two of the passengers, but it was not two hours later when help arrived.
    First a small plane flew over their heads, turned around and began circling. This was followed shortly by a helicopter which managed to land several yards away. It was with great relief that Garret watched his passengers climb aboard that whirlybird. Now his responsibility for them was over. He sank down exhausted beside his plane with Thad, to wait until another helicopter could come for them.
    “Thad,” Garret remarked quietly after a few moments of silence, “even eagles can break a wing now and then, but it doesn’t mean they can’t soar again.”
    Smiling, Thad replied, “Not if they wait upon the Lord.”

The End

So, what did you think?

Questions or comments?

Don't forget to come back next week for the Grand Total and for the extra special post . . . :)