The Story of Elizabeth Smart

16

Chapter Sixteen-Wind and Noise

Early the next afternoon. I was sitting on my appointed seat—the bucket had become the only object to which I could lay claim within the camp—when I heard a faint noise and vibration. I immediately looked up. It grew closer. Louder. The thump of helicopter blades echoed down the canyon. They slapped the air like gunshots, coming at me before the sound of the engines could reach my ears. Without even thinking, I stood up and moved toward the sound, my head up, my eyes searching, the blue sky obscured by all the trees.

Mitchell froze. He was only a few feet away from me. Barzee was on the other side of him, her face turned toward the sky. The sound was getting closer. Her eyes were growing very wide.

The helicopter seemed to be moving down the slope of the mountain. And it was moving very slow. It grew louder. So low. So slow. This helicopter was obviously searching. And it was moving directly toward the camp.

We had heard the sound of airplanes before, but they had always been far away and so high that they could never have found me. And we’d heard a few helicopters, but they were just the sound of beating rotors and noisy engines in the sky. Most times I never even saw them, only heard them as they moved across the top of the ridges on the mountain. But this one was different. It sounded like it was moving directly toward us. The sound grew louder. The roar of engines. The sound of rushing air. I started to feel it now. The trees began to move, blowing toward the bottom of the canyon. The helicopter was coming right toward us. And it was so close.

Instinctively, I pulled against the cable around my leg. My eyes darted here and there, looking for an opening, any break in the trees where I could be seen. I moved toward a spot of sunlight breaking through the branches, my eyes always toward the skies.

Mitchell was frozen in uncertainty and fear. Barzee seemed to be made of stone. I expected Mitchell to spring into action, but he seemed incapable of doing anything. For the first time, a thought crossed my mind: Maybe he doesn’t have all the answers. Maybe he doesn’t even have a plan.

I lifted my hands toward the skies. I almost started screaming, “I’m here! I am here!”

They were going to find me! My nightmare was nearly over!

It’s impossible to describe how powerful the helicopter seemed to be. The noise filled my ears. Jet turbines. The power of the rotors. I couldn’t see the helicopter yet, but the trees were bending down around me. Frantically, I searched above me, reaching out toward the wind.

Suddenly, I felt a vise grip on my arm. Mitchell pulled, his hand like cold steel on my skin as he forced me toward the tent. Barzee was already there, tugging frantically at the zipper. We piled in, almost tumbling onto the floor. I made a move toward the opening, but Mitchell was already standing in my way. I slid toward the corner of the tent and waited. They might not see me, but they would see the tent. There were blue and gray tarps all over the ground. They had to see our camp. They had to be looking for me! Why else would this helicopter be hovering down the side of the mountain? They would send someone up to investigate. Surely I would be found.…

It seemed the helicopter was right above us. The branches on the trees were being beaten down. I looked up through the air vent in the top of the tent, but I could only see a tiny slit of sky. But I could see the branches blowing all around us. Dust and dry leaves were in the air.

Seconds passed. And then a minute.

Surely they will see us.…

Truthfully, I wasn’t certain that all of this effort was part of the search for me. It seemed a little bit extravagant. But why else would a helicopter be hovering right over our camp?

The chopper didn’t move. They must have seen the tent, the camp, all of our utensils scattered here and there. I looked anxiously toward my captors. Fear showed on their faces. I wanted to scream with joy. I imagined that maybe the pilots on the helicopter had heat-seeking equipment that would allow them to see through the fabric of the tent.

Mitchell’s face was taut, his eyes wide, his lips tightly drawn against his teeth. Barzee was huddled in the tent beside me.

They know it’s over, I told myself. They’re going to catch them. They will be in prison and I’ll be free!

More seconds passed. The helicopter remained directly above us, the wind blowing the tent like a flag in the wind.

Mitchell was peering through the vent in the roof, the same as me. His expression looked like a bomb was about to fall on his head. I wanted to cry with relief. I wanted to scream in pure joy.

Then the helicopter started moving away.

I followed the sound with my eyes. The helicopter didn’t dart away but moved slowly, inching down the canyon as if it were … still searching for something! The wind began to decrease, the branches blowing with much less force. The dirt began to settle. We all waited. Another minute. The sound faded. A couple of minutes. The helicopter was gone.

I stared in disbelief. Had they not seen the tents? The tarps? The dugout and our camping gear? Had they not seen anything? I wanted to cry with frustration! They had hovered directly over us. I expected them to … I didn’t know … drop a sheriff from a cable? Yell out over some loudspeakers, circle around and fly back over the camp? Anything to give me a signal that help was on the way.

But nothing. They did nothing.

The sound of the helicopter was completely gone now, leaving only the quiet of the mountain and the gentle summer breeze.

*

I thought that maybe they would return. I thought maybe someone would come hiking up the mountain. Police. Someone prepared to save me. But no one did. The afternoon dragged by. All the time I waited, alert, my ears straining to pick up the sound of someone hiking up the canyon, calling out my name. All afternoon I waited. All night. All the next day. I tried to keep my hopes up, but I realized that no one was going to come.

Another heartbreaking moment. Another bone-crushing defeat.

We spoke little of the disappearance of the helicopter, but I could see that Mitchell took it as another sign from God. If it is God’s will that I do this, let the helicopter fly away. I don’t know that he ever said those words, but it was just too easy for him to interpret it as another sign from heaven. However, after the helicopter, he also became more cautious. He realized that they were still searching for me—making a real effort to locate me—and he was going to have to be more careful.

So while he took it as another sign, I took it as nothing but another opportunity lost. And I struggled to explain it to myself. It was so frustrating trying to understand how the helicopter could have missed seeing us. Maybe they thought it was a homeless camp. But we were so far up on the mountain, that wouldn’t have made any sense. Maybe they thought we were some hikers. But if we were, and they were looking for me, wouldn’t they have wanted to talk to us to see if we had seen anything?

I thought back on the other opportunities lost: tiptoeing down the steps in my house, just a few feet from my parents’ bedroom; crouching behind the bushes as the police car had driven by; the first morning, after he had raped me and then left me alone inside the tent. That was before I had been cabled. The voice calling me from down the canyon. The helicopter hovering right over my head.