Read Online Pilot Error by T.C. Ravenscraft - Free Book Online
Authors: T.C. Ravenscraft
Tags: Romance
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become her support, she moved up the beach and gently put Luke's camera bag down beside him.
"Thanks." Still nursing his bump, he did not look up.
"Don't mention it."
Crossing back to the fuselage, she leaned into the cabin again and jerked the pilot's seat forward along its bent runner to gain access to the backseat. She stretched to recover her dark blue ball cap, a gift from Tex, embroidered with the Coast Guard logo and their motto, 'Semper Paratus.'
'Always Prepared.'
Unable to reach into the baggage stow, she exited again and went to the small external door at the rear. It was jammed shut, twisted on impact like every other formerly moveable part on the Cessna.
Stepping back, Micki raised her boot to give it a kick, not really expecting the move to help anything but her temper. The compartment popped open, spilling her leather jacket and an orange life vest out into the water at her feet.
"Wonderful," she said with quiet sarcasm, retrieving the sodden leather mess and flinging it and the life preserver up onto the sand behind her.
A waterproof camel-colored backpack held her permanently stowed survival gear in a handy ready-to-go kit. If they were about to have company of the armed and dangerous sort, then their best chance of survival lay in hightailing it to the interior of the small island and taking advantage of whatever cover it provided.
Swamp and mosquitoes , she thought distastefully. Her plan would have been to stay with the wreckage. Traipsing into the underbrush was not the smartest way to ensure a swift rescue, but it was, under the circumstances, more preferable than remaining on the beach as a stationary target.
Snagging the pack, she wriggled herself free of the twisted aluminum and immediately checked her gear. Good. The Emergency Locator Transmitter was in the backpack and undamaged. She pulled it out to check it, just to be sure.
Without a Mayday call they were going to have to rely on the transmitter to bring help. Like her father before her, she never filed flight plans for the routine scenic tours over a course she knew like the back of her hand. Instead, for safety reasons, the details of her route were permanently inked, in thick red marker, on the aviation chart in her office. When Hardigan had asked for his deviation out past Big Pine Key, Micki had given serious consideration to taking time for the paperwork, but she ultimately nixed the idea because turning a 30 minute flight into a 60 minute flight was no big deal.
Now she wished she'd listened to her inner pilot's voice, because the downside of having no flight plan was that she had no SAR time—no designated moment when her failure to return to Marathon would trigger a Search and Rescue. In fact, no one would know they had crashed until...
Until Dirk missed her when she didn't show up for dinner.
Even then, after he raised the alarm, the Coast Guard would fly her scenic route first, looking in the area where she was supposed to be, before they widened the search. It could be thirty-six hours or longer before they moved out past Big Pine Key. Hopefully, the Emergency Locator Transmitter would ensure a swifter response.
Micki glanced at her watch. It was just now coming up on 10:00am and she still had to deal with brewing thunderstorms, maniacs with machine guns, and Luke 'Super Sleuth' Hardigan. Whatever way she looked at it, it was going to be a long day.
She returned to Luke, who in her short absence had dug out his Smartphone and was holding it up in hope of a signal. Not that she expected him to get one out there in the middle of nowhere; she didn't have to be a techno geek to figure that out.
"Nothing," he said in defeat, confirming her suspicions.
"What did you expect? Five bars?" Micki asked, putting the backpack on the sand between them.
"Right now, I've have settled for one. What's this?" He nodded at the backpack.
"I told you before, I'm a survivor." Not feeling much like one, despite the declaration on her cap,
"Thanks." Still nursing his bump, he did not look up.
"Don't mention it."
Crossing back to the fuselage, she leaned into the cabin again and jerked the pilot's seat forward along its bent runner to gain access to the backseat. She stretched to recover her dark blue ball cap, a gift from Tex, embroidered with the Coast Guard logo and their motto, 'Semper Paratus.'
'Always Prepared.'
Unable to reach into the baggage stow, she exited again and went to the small external door at the rear. It was jammed shut, twisted on impact like every other formerly moveable part on the Cessna.
Stepping back, Micki raised her boot to give it a kick, not really expecting the move to help anything but her temper. The compartment popped open, spilling her leather jacket and an orange life vest out into the water at her feet.
"Wonderful," she said with quiet sarcasm, retrieving the sodden leather mess and flinging it and the life preserver up onto the sand behind her.
A waterproof camel-colored backpack held her permanently stowed survival gear in a handy ready-to-go kit. If they were about to have company of the armed and dangerous sort, then their best chance of survival lay in hightailing it to the interior of the small island and taking advantage of whatever cover it provided.
Swamp and mosquitoes , she thought distastefully. Her plan would have been to stay with the wreckage. Traipsing into the underbrush was not the smartest way to ensure a swift rescue, but it was, under the circumstances, more preferable than remaining on the beach as a stationary target.
Snagging the pack, she wriggled herself free of the twisted aluminum and immediately checked her gear. Good. The Emergency Locator Transmitter was in the backpack and undamaged. She pulled it out to check it, just to be sure.
Without a Mayday call they were going to have to rely on the transmitter to bring help. Like her father before her, she never filed flight plans for the routine scenic tours over a course she knew like the back of her hand. Instead, for safety reasons, the details of her route were permanently inked, in thick red marker, on the aviation chart in her office. When Hardigan had asked for his deviation out past Big Pine Key, Micki had given serious consideration to taking time for the paperwork, but she ultimately nixed the idea because turning a 30 minute flight into a 60 minute flight was no big deal.
Now she wished she'd listened to her inner pilot's voice, because the downside of having no flight plan was that she had no SAR time—no designated moment when her failure to return to Marathon would trigger a Search and Rescue. In fact, no one would know they had crashed until...
Until Dirk missed her when she didn't show up for dinner.
Even then, after he raised the alarm, the Coast Guard would fly her scenic route first, looking in the area where she was supposed to be, before they widened the search. It could be thirty-six hours or longer before they moved out past Big Pine Key. Hopefully, the Emergency Locator Transmitter would ensure a swifter response.
Micki glanced at her watch. It was just now coming up on 10:00am and she still had to deal with brewing thunderstorms, maniacs with machine guns, and Luke 'Super Sleuth' Hardigan. Whatever way she looked at it, it was going to be a long day.
She returned to Luke, who in her short absence had dug out his Smartphone and was holding it up in hope of a signal. Not that she expected him to get one out there in the middle of nowhere; she didn't have to be a techno geek to figure that out.
"Nothing," he said in defeat, confirming her suspicions.
"What did you expect? Five bars?" Micki asked, putting the backpack on the sand between them.
"Right now, I've have settled for one. What's this?" He nodded at the backpack.
"I told you before, I'm a survivor." Not feeling much like one, despite the declaration on her cap,
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