Deadland Rising (part 3 of the Deadland Saga)

Hope (Chapter 22)

"Things sure look different from up here," Griz said. "I could get used to traveling first-class."

"I was beginning to think you were going to sleep the entire trip," I said.

"I wasn't sleeping," he countered.

"You were snoring," I said.

"You snore like a rhino with a head cold," Clutch added.

"You guys make this shit up," Griz said. "I'm too pretty to snore."

Smiling, I looked out at the endless earth beneath us. At this altitude, we couldn't see anything moving, which gave the world a serenity I hadn't felt in a long time. Unplowed roads hid under a blanket of pure white, with no tire tracks or road salt to taint the snow. Trees and quiet houses were all that broke the rolling landscape.

Clutch looked up from the map. "Adjust ten degrees west."

I did as he instructed and savored the feeling of flying. I knew my days of stick and rudders were limited. At some point, all fuel would break down enough that no plane would run.

Clutch pointed in the distance where the horizon loomed higher. "We'll fly right over the Black Hills. Should be quite the view."

Boy, was it ever. Tree-covered hills went on farther than we could see. It was nature's splendor, untouched by the virus. I sighed. "I want to find a cabin and retire here." I looked to Clutch. "How about it? Want to retire here?"

He smiled. "I'm all for that."

The Black Hills soon gave way to North Dakota's flatlands, whose simple landscape had its own flavor of surreal peace. Once we flew over the bombed ruins of Bismarck, we approached the point of our journey to refuel and stay overnight. I began our descent and watched the trees for signs of the wind's direction and strength. "We're lucky," I said. "Hardly a breeze today."

The airport came into view from nearly ten miles away. That was an advantage of flatter land. About twenty other buildings dotted the airport on a circular drive. I read through my checklist several times before handing it over to Clutch. "I'll fly over to make sure the runway is clear," I said. "Then we'll come back around and land."

Except for a snowdrift at one end of the runway, the rest of the pavement was relatively clear. "We got lucky," I said. "I was afraid we'd have to deal with snow, but they must've gotten some strong winds here."

Clutch read each step on the checklist to me as I flew the pattern and lined up on final. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and I clenched the yoke. "Guys, you better make sure you're buckled in tight. I've never landed anything as big as this plane before."

I was a few hundred feet off the ground when the stall alert sounded. "Shit," I muttered, realizing I was trying to land the 210 like my Cub instead of like the much-heavier airplane it was. I added in power to pick up speed and lowered the rest of the flaps.

The runway came up way too fast, and I clenched my teeth as I brought the plane down. I made the mistake and let it drop, and the plane jumped right off the ground. After porpoising through another bounce, the plane settled on the ground. But, the snowdrift at the end of the runway was quickly approaching, and I slammed on the brakes. Clutch grabbed the dash to keep from crashing into the instruments. Gear banged around, and something slammed against the back of my seat.

The plane came to a stop less than ten feet from the snowdrift. After a moment of stillness, I breathed. "Wow, that wasn't pretty."

Griz laughed. "Pretty? More like it was the damn near scariest thing I've ever seen."