Chapter 52

Still Cindy’s turn:

“Bring it on,” I said. “What’s the worst that could happen?” I thought for just a second. “Uh, could I get the FBO to come tow this thing? It’s not mine. I’m not rated to taxi it.”

Then I got mobbed by my survivors or passengers or whatever.

Through the scrum, Mister Lackman hollered “Which FBO?”

I told him, then “Guys, it’s NOT that big a deal. I saved my butt, too, you know...”

“Mizz Cindy,” my former copilot said, “If you hadn’t been there we’d be dead right now.”

“I understand,” I said. “But it’s a good outcome. We’re okay.”

Another one of the bunch said, “Darlin’, I need your contact info.”

“Just a sec,” I said. I turned and went back in the plane, got my backpack, retrieved business cards. Passed ‘em out.

Reporterette, as Dan calls ‘em. Kind of harried looking. Eight at night is outside her ‘looking good’ hours, I guess. Cameraman close behind.

“You’re the pilot?” she asked.

“Damned straight she’s the pilot,” one of the lawyers said.

I handed her a card. “This is me.”

Then it’s question time. Interview. I’m letting my mind go into ‘presentation mode’, just like for my dissertation defense or one of my papers at Los Alamos. Ain’t no ways skeered, to lapse into the vernacular.

You can tell by the questions that the sum total of this lady’s knowledge of aviation comes from looking out the window of an airline terminal, but I’m NICE. And it’s hard being nice because the adrenaline’s running out.

I step away. Hit my cellphone. “Dan, where are you?”

“Just landed. Did you see that mess just off runway three-six?”

“I AM that mess off runway three-six,” I said.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Long story. They’re gonna tow the plane to the FBO. I’ll be there in a bit. You can wait for me. I love you.”

“Cindy, did you do it again?”

“Uh, yeah. Let me finish up with this news lady, okay?”

More questions. Finally they left, I guess to put me on the ten o’clock news. A tractor showed up with a towbar. It backed up and clamped to the nosewheel of the Citation.

“Guys,” I said to my passengers, “If you get back in the plane, they’ll unload you at the FBO. I think your transportation’s there.”

“Look Cindy,” one of them said, “We owe you big time. We’ll be in touch.”

“Guys, really. It’s nothing.” The tractor with my little Citation followed two empty (darn! Made a trip for NOTHING!) ambulances and three crash trucks. The ambulances and crash trucks went their own way. I rode with Mister Lackman back to the FBO.

“My husband is waiting.”

“You don’t look old enough...”

“For what? Pilot? Or married?”

“Or what’s on your card. PhD?”

“That, too,” I said. “Long story.” I saw Dan waiting by our old Cessna 180. “There’s my husband.”

“Pilot, too?”

“Yep. And engineer.”

“Of course he is,” Mister Lackman said. “And that’s the plane you usually fly.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad. I learned in that one. I fly a Cessna 402 quite a bit.”

“Closer,” he said.

We pulled up close to our plane. I bounded out and clamped around Dan.

“What’d you do, little one?” He asked.

“All sorts of things, baby.” I looked, saw Mister Lackman approaching. “Dan, Mister Dennis Lackman. Mister Lackman, my husband Dan Richards.”

I must be getting old. Mister Lackman didn’t blink at the ‘husband’ comment. Wait a minute. I already told him that my husband was waiting for me. Cindy Sue, you’re fried.

He reached for the hand Dan was offering. “Mister Richards, your wife pulled a good one tonight. I got called that a pilot of a Citation had a heart attack and somebody was trying to land here. I thought I was coming in for disaster response.”

“I haven’t even begun to hear this story,” Dan said. “I was landing when all that mess was going on beside three-six.”

Mister Lackman smiled. “I’ll let her tell you, then. I don’t have any details anyway.”

“I’m sure I’ll get the story.”

“Dan, let me go get my passengers’ luggage and secure the Citation. Mister Lackman, do you know which hospital they took Mister Haugen to?”

“No, but I’ll find out in a bit. Go do what you have to do.”

The Citation was parked on the transient flight line, chocked in place and being tied down. Dan and I went over there. I made sure that everybody got his belongings, let Dan get introductions all around. Dan and I ran the checklist for securing the Citation, then backed out, closed the Airstair door and locked it. We walked into the FBO office and dropped the key with a business card.

The guy behind the counter was incredulous. “You’re the one that landed that Citation?”

“Yep.”

“Man...”

“Nope,” I giggled. “Girl.”

He looked at my Dan.

“Don’t look at me,” Dan said. “I married ‘er. Doesn’t mean I have any control...”

“Uh, I mean, you’re...”

“Eighteen. Commercial pilot. So, yeah ... today’s my first experience with a Citation. I think I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead...”

“You kinda got lucky,” he said.

“Luck’s a lot of it. A blessing. And Mister Geno’s a very good guy to fly with. He showed me a lot of things, translated it to what I already knew. After that, it’s flying...”

Mistr Lackman popped in. “They took your friend to St. Vincent’s.”

I turned to Dan. “Honey?”

“We can find a way to get there.”

“That’s your 180 out there?” the guy behind the desk asked.

“Yessir,” Dan said.

“Here’s the keys to my Tahoe. I’m holding your Cessna as collateral. I get off at midnight.”

“We should be back before then. We need to go check on Cindy’s friend.”

“We’ll be careful,” Dan said.

“Thank you so very much,” I added.

“Nothing. Uh, Dan ... Shouldn’t SHE drive?” He snorted.

“You haven’t seen her drive,” Dan laughed.

Siri provided us a route to the hospital.

“Now, punkin, what REALLY happened?”

“Baby,” I said, “I should’ve paid attention. He was complaining of upset stomach. Gas. Looked kind of strained, but I don’t know him very well, so I thought that’s just normal for ‘im. He talked me through the takeoff. I did it ALL.”

“He let you take off?”

“That thing’s NEAT! Acceleration. Climb. You gotta know I asked a billion questions on the flight out, about how things worked. He did like you did the first time I tried landing our 180 – hands and feet ready, but let me do it myself. So this was my second landing.”

“Damn, you learn so fast...”

“Uh, I may be on the news. Reporter interviewed me. I dunno how word got out, but there was supposed to be a plane crash at the Birmingham airport. That’s why Mister Lackman was there. He’s the airport manager. They told him there’s gonna be a crash.” I giggled. “I disappointed everybody.”

“Baby, I had no idea...”

“Not like I left the house this morning planning on this,” I said. “But there I was, in the middle of it, and if I didn’t try, we’d be dead now.”

“You tried. Succeeded. Your sisters are gonna freak.”

“It’ll be fun. I know it’ll give me ‘n’ Nikki something to talk about. Anything I can do to help ‘er.”

“Nikki’s, well, Nikki. She’s like you in a lot of ways. She’ll survive.”

“I know. She’s got her Dan. Dans are very therapeutic.”

We arrived at the hospital and parked, went in the emergency entrance, presented ourselves as Geno’s nearest friends. They bought that. Let us go back.

Geno. Lying on an examination table, IV dripping, oxygen mask. EKG leads. And conscious, his wife Sonya standing beside him, streaks of tears dried on her face.

“Hi, my teacher,” I said. “Hi, Mizz Sonya.”

“I guess you did it, then, huh, redhead,” he said.

“I did.”

“Bend anything?”

“Not a scratch. You did a great public service. Loosened the bowels on four lawyers.” I squeezed his free hand gently. “You okay?”

“I will be. That was my last commercial flight, Cindy. I’m glad I took it with you.”

I figured a way though the web of wires and tubes and hugged him. “Mister Geno, when you get out, you need to let me know. Mizz Sonya, make ‘im do it. We’ll go where you’re at, or we’ll bring the two of you up to Auburn. Just get together.”

“We’ll do that, darlin’,” Mizz Sonya said. “Right, baby?”

“You say we’ll do it, we’ll do it. Don’t want you thinking I’m chasing some cute little redhead around.”

“Old goat,” she said, working up a smile. “Cindy. Dan. We’ll do it.”

“Mister Geno, we have to get the car back to the guy who loaned it to us. The keys to the Citation are at the FBO office. I shut it down by the checklist. It’s tied down.”

“Dan Richards, you got a champ there, you know,” Geno said.

“I know.”

I hugged Mizz Sonya, squeezed Mister Geno’s fingers, and we left.

Driving back, I told Dan, “He looks a lot better than he did the last time I saw ‘im. He was out.”

Dan was shaking his head. “I can’t believe it. Cindy, I just can’t imagine...”

“I wouldn’t’ve imagined it this morning. Now...” I paused. “Hey Siri,” I told my phone. “Call Nikki.”

“Calling Nikki Granger, mobile,” Siri acknowledged.

The phone rang three times as the call worked through the system, then SQUEAL, “Cindy Lou Who, what the heck have you DONE?”

“Hi, Nikki,” I said. “What do you know and how did you find out?”

“You’re on the Birmingham ten o’clock news.”

“Oh, well,” I said. “What’d they say?”

“Said your pilot had a heart attack and you took over and landed.”

“I did.”

“No crash.”

Dan’s smiling. I have her on speaker so he can hear both sides. “No crash.”

“You’re something. Only Cindy ... You weren’t scared?”

“Oh, come on, Nik,” I said. “What would being scared have gotten us? I had to do what I could do.”

“As always, Cin,” Nikki said.

The phone buzzed in my hand. “That’s Susan,” I said.

“Talk to Susan. Will y’all be here tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“Talk to you then.”

I flipped the button. “Hi, Susan.”

“Cindeeeeee!”

So okay, tomorrow’s morning gathering is going to be fun.

“You just as well get ready for it.”

“Sometimes I don’t want to be the center of attention.”

“Then stop doing these things, baby,” he said.

We gave the guy his car back, thanked him profusely, then went out and preflighted the 180. When we stowed the tie-downs, Dan looked at me.

“You fly. I’ve pretty much had my share today.”

“No, YOU fly. I think the guys in the tower need to hear your voice again.”

I climbed into the pilot’s seat. Compared to that darned Citation, I just took a seventy year step back in time. Familiar round instruments graced the panel; old friends. I cranked her up, turned on the radios, checked to make sure which one was on the ground control frequency, then, “Birmingham Ground Control, this is Cessna five five two three uniform, at Atlantic for taxi. I have information Tango.”

“Roger, Two Three Uniform. Taxi via November to Golf to runway three six.”

“Two Three Uniform, roger, thank you!”