The Seven Swords of Diya: An Indiana Jones Fan Fiction Part 1

Chapter 72: Flight to Kamchatka, 1960

Flight to Kamchatka

1960

Inside Shorty's Plane

The plane dipped, rivets rattling, brakes screaming and there was a sudden smacking of a splash like a kid's cannonball dive. Indy felt water underneath the frame of the plane, and scrambled to his feet, knowing the plane would only float for a few moments.

Shorty grinned at Emily, and then swung the tail against the shoreline, like skidding a car to a curb.

"You owe me chocolate," Emily told him. "There were two bounces before we got stopped - not one like you insisted on your landing technique when you were bragging over India."

"I only felt one."

"Both of you are wrong," Indy stood, gripping a handle on the ceiling. "There were more than two and last time I checked, most planes don't float -"

"This is designed to," Shorty replied, getting up. "I think there's chocolate in our supplies."

"Nope. You've got to buy it when we get back - because all the chocolate that's packed is mine."

"Bit possessive, aren't you?" Shorty wondered.

Indy stopped him. "Just agree, Shorty - its safer. You've seen me grumpy. She's worse than me."

Emily smiled.

"Can I write you an I.O.U.?" Shorty asked.

"Is he good for it, Dad?"

"Em! The last time I saw this kid was when he was eight!" Indy sputtered.

"But we ate worms together, Indy!"

"Maggots. They were maggots," Indy corrected. "And that didn't mean you had to like them."

"I'll take the I.O.U.," Emily replied, shrugging the swords over her shoulders. "Oh, Dad - Shorty's taking your backpack."

"When was that decided?" Indy asked. "I'm not incapable -"

"Your arm is injured," Shorty told him. "And it was decided somewhere between Nepal and Hong Kong."

Emily handed her father a light backpack. "We rearranged things. That's the lightest pack. Most of your archaeology stuff is in there."

"You mean, my whip, gun, spare ammo, knife, pocket knife, the maps and paperwork from Mac and a few other things?"

"Yeah. And the first aid kit."

"Which is a bottle of whiskey," Shorty announced. "And its strong!"

"That's your mother's brand of whiskey," Indy told Emily. "How much did he have?"

"He just smelled it," Emily explained. "I wasn't going to let him drink and fly."

"If he flies like he drives it might have been an improvement," Indy grumbled.

"I heard that!" Shorty called from the back of the plane.

"Dad," Emily smiled. "At least you didn't have to fly."

"I can fly, Em... I just can't land."

She leaned close to her father's ear. "Between you and I - I think Shorty's got the same problem. You didn't teach him to fly did you?"

"No. We were just in India, hanging out... on a bridge... which I broke... with a machete, while a cult was trying to kill us."

"Oh. Sounds very normal, Dad. Excellent father son bonding time." She started to walk away.

He caught her hand. "Em, do your old man a favor and stay with the plane."

"What?" Emily stared at her father.

Indy swallowed. "Em, you're coming into a vulnerable time and -"

Her dark eyes flared. "No! No, Dad! You promised!"