01 January - the drowning at Los Gatos

now, get their socks

10:20AM PST, January 28th

approaching Los Gatos Creek in central California

("For some unexplained reason, a number of shoes were found a considerable distance away...")

– The Fresno Bee

Sam Wilson shouted, "Where? Exactly where are we!?"

The nameless young man sitting beside him answered as if he had repeated himself several times already. "Los Gatos," he said. "We're nearing Los Gatos."

"I know. I heard you the first time. What is a Los Gatos? Is it a town... an airport...can we land there? Where's Fresno, godammit? Where are we?"

Slapping the window, the young man shouted back. "Look around you, Sam. We're in a goddamn canyonland. Nothing but goddamn hills all around us. Do you see any town? Any goddamn airstrip? Anything that isn't brown?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. All of a sudden, it seemed pointless to argue anymore. Truly, there was nothing left to do but stare at the goddamn hills and look for an area that was flat enough to land. Almost since the moment Charon left to check on the engine, Sam had watched the oil pressure dropping at a steady rate. By then, it was well below red line. At best, they had a few minutes before the engine would seize up completely and then burn itself to a crisp. He thought about shutting down the engine, but they would waste time controlling the plane when what they needed most of all was flat ground.

Sam tapped the instrument panel and tried to distract his knees so he wouldn't feel like cradling them against his chest. As he moved his head from side to side, it felt like his whole body was stuck in heavy wet sand. Nothing moved quickly. Nothing except his eyes, that is. They darted ahead from spot to spot to spot searching for someplace to land. It was fruitless, though. In every direction, there were hills. Hills rolling into more hills. Brown, nearly treeless hills. Still, he looked at every one of them and kept hoping that just one would magically flatten out in front of him.

Between two hills, he saw what looked like a dried-up riverbed. It wound through the valley like little bits of discarded twine. At times, Sam could see it distinctly. At other times, it blended perfectly into the brown hills surrounding it. Occasionally, a valley would open up for an instant and this would give Sam a small measure of hope. But then it would close as quickly as it had opened, making any hope seem foolish.

Finally, Sam said, "We have to get lower. You never know. We might get lucky. I'll follow that riverbed. That arroyo. Maybe we'll come to a road."

The nameless, long-legged, blond, young co-pilot looked down at his flight bag and saw the lurid cover from the book he had been reading. "Six pages left," he said to himself, "And I don't know if the banker did it or that smart-alecky salesman? Don't guess I'll ever know now."

Charon waited at the cockpit door. Question after question entered her mind. Even though everything seemed like it was moving in slow motion, she didn't want to ask Sam anything because she didn't want to interrupt. Most of all, she wanted to grab Sam or grab the co-pilot and make them do something. Finally, she just shouted, "What should I tell the passengers? Shouldn't we say something?"

Quietly Sam answered, "Tell them to take off their hats."

Without waiting for an explanation, Charon bolted out the cockpit. The door clicked shut behind her and she never heard Sam say, "They should uncover their heads before God."

A steady, visible, and undeniable stream of smoke was now escaping from the portside engine. When the color of the smoke changed from light gray to dark black, nearly all the passengers rushed to the left side of the cabin. There was nothing they could do about it, of course, but they rushed over to see it anyway. The unbalanced plane immediately tilted left. As Sam worked to level the wings, people began sliding all over the cabin – banging against each other and against the walls.

In the back of the plane, Jésus tumbled off his seat and into the aisle while Maria wrapped her arms around Francisco's head. Both began reciting prayers they knew as well as any words that they had ever spoken. But each time the plane shook, the words got mangled. Once, Maria even omitted the name of God from a prayer when it seemed as if that particular word was needed now more than ever.

Charon stood by the cockpit door holding the handset to the intercom. At first, she told everyone to take their seats. Since these words were ones she had practiced many times before, her Spanish was easily understood and most of the passengers sat down quickly. Charon nodded and thanked them for their cooperation. The next part of the message, however, was much more problematic. Sam had told her to have the passengers remove their hats, but Charon wasn't sure how to say the word hat and had no clue whatsoever how to say the word remove.

With no time to consider other options, she mixed English and Spanish. In a calm voice, she said, "Por favor, remove su sombreros". But the sound from the intercom was scratchy and intermittent. And the passengers were certain that Charon had used the word zapatos instead of sombreros. Shoes instead of hats. Had she stayed a bit longer, she might have seen a few men removing their shoes, but she turned immediately and reentered the cockpit. The intercom's handset swung wildly back and forth matching the movements of the plane.

Jésus stood up first. He yanked off his shoes and then leaned down to remove Maria's. Then he raised both pairs of shoes above his head and urged everyone else to do the same. When he saw 27 outstretched arms lifting their shoes toward heaven, he walked up the aisle and gathered all the shoes and boots. A couple of men even handed him their socks. At the entrance to the cockpit, Jésus dumped the whole load onto the floor and then knocked hard on the door. Although Charon had half-expected to hear someone knocking at some point, she wasn't expecting to see a large pile of dirty and beaten shoes outside the door. Her instant and only reaction was to laugh.

"Shoes," she said quizzically. She turned to Sam and added, "They brought us their shoes."

Sam swiveled in his seat and saw the pile. A slight smile formed on his lips. He was no longer nervous. He laughed out loud and said, "Now, get their socks."

ααα