Read Online Blackbirds by Garry Ryan - Free Book Online Page B

”Hello.”
    â€œHoneysuckle, it’s Sharon.”
    â€œOh, hello, dear.” Honeysuckle hesitated. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there? What’s happened to Linda?”
    â€œShe’s in East Grinstead at the Queen Victoria Hospital. She was burned in a crash. We just arrived, and the doctors are with her,” Sharon said.
    â€œHow badly is she burned, Sharon?” Honeysuckle asked.
    She sounds so calm . “It’s her legs. I don’t how bad it is. All I know is that they treat burns here.”
    â€œWhen did the crash happen?” Honeysuckle asked.
    â€œThis morning,” Sharon said.
    â€œThis morning! It’s hardly midday. How did she get to a hospital so quickly?” Honeysuckle asked.
    â€œShe was flown here. What do you need me to do for you?”
    Honeysuckle was quiet for a moment. “I have to make travel arrangements. Where did you say the hospital was?”
    â€œEast Grinstead. South of London on the A22.”
    â€œI’ll leave shortly.” Honeysuckle hung up.

CHAPTER 7
    [ AUGUST 1940 ]

    Mother looked tired when he said, “Things are really heating up. The Hun is on the move. This delivery is a priority.” He handed Sharon a chit. “We’re short of pilots. You must know by now, the reward for good work is more work.”
    Sharon smiled, took the chit, and sprinted to catch the Anson air taxi. The pilot had already started one engine. She opened the door as he started the second engine.
    â€œYou’re late! Where to?” the pilot said.
    â€œCastle Bromwich.” She sat in the only empty seat.
    Spitfires were a priority, so she would be dropped off first.
    In a matter of fifteen minutes, she was strapped in and starting the Merlin engine.
    The fitter said, “This one’s even got oxygen! You could squeeze in some high-altitude flying while no one is watching.”
    The propeller began to turn. The engine caught and belched black exhaust past the open cockpit. She caught a whiff of it and opened the throttle. The propeller blew the smoke away.
    Sharon looked up at the cumulus clouds stacked between fifteen and twenty thousand feet. Maybe today I will ignore the one-thousand-foot maximum.
    After the Spitfire kissed the runway for the last time and the wheels were tucked into the wings, she strapped on the oxygen mask. She set a compass heading for Biggin Hill and began to climb.
    At ten thousand feet, she checked her course and made sure the oxygen was turned on. She leveled off at over twenty thousand feet, exhilarated by the climb. The aircraft felt nimble as she flew down a canyon between a pair of clouds. The canyon grew narrower and she squirted out the other side into clear air.
    Ahead, another cloud. She flew over the hills and down into the valleys atop the cumulus cloud. The cloud whispered past as she dipped into an opaque world and out again. A bit of rough air made the Spitfire bounce.
    A shadow flitted over a cloudy hill, then fell off the crest. Sharon felt her exhilaration shift to dread.
    She looked up. A twin-engine fighter was diving on her. She recognized a Messerschmitt B f 110 with a lethal combination of machine guns and cannons in its nose. Sharon pushed the stick hard right and steep-turned the Spitfire onto one wing.
    The nose of the Nazi fighter sparkled as it opened fire. Tracer bullets streaked harmlessly by on Sharon’s left. She continued her turn and watched the 110 duck into the cloud and then reappear. It was turning toward her, attempting to get into position to open fire again.
    Sharon rolled the Spitfire onto its back and dove for a cloud. Inside the opaque middle of the grey, she was disoriented until the aircraft popped out the other side like a wet bar of soap.
    The sky was filled with green twin-engined bombers flashing in and out of the shadows of the clouds. The Perspex noses glittered with reflected light. The wings of the bombers had black crosses