Mayday

“Get Fire Chief Donald on the phone now,” Chief Anthony Russo exclaimed to his team from his office doorway.

“What’s going on boss?” questioned second in command Bobby Flagler.

“That was the State Police. They just received a mayday call from a single engine floatplane flying over this area.

“Holy fuck, does he think he’s going to crash?” Meredith Wesson asked. as she grabbed her issued Glock .22 from her desk drawer.

“Total loss of engine, so it’s only a matter of time. I’ll be getting updates from them once we are on the move.”

The chief proceeded to explain that the pilot projects he’ll go down on or near Fulton Lake, according to his calculations, but Tony wasn’t exactly sure.

“Bubbas and Monty, I want you two going around that general area and evacuating people toward the center of town. The logging museum and high school should be far enough away,” Tony directed, as the four headed to the police vehicles. “I called Town Hall and the old hotel, they are already on the move.”

“Christ, I hope this guy is good at math,” Richard Montgomery chimed in as he climbed in the passenger side of Bubbas Tahoe. Monty always seemed to need the last word, whether it be an attempt to be funny or just be heard. He was the newest member of this team and sometimes felt he was overlooked. Richie disliked the idea of being a small-town cop, but delt with it because he could still land a date or two each week, especially in the summer months when tourists ran amuck.

Bubbas and Richie drove south on Main Street swiftly toward the first business in possible striking distance of the wounded bird. Chief Russo and Mary Wesson headed North on Main toward Fulton Lake.

“Chief Donald has loaded up the fire truck with his men and plans on waiting in the Town Hall parking lot for further instruction,” Mary explained as she clicked her smartphone.

Tony drove two miles down to the Fulton Lake Access Point, where thankfully only one trailer and truck were parked. The full summer swing of boaters hadn’t started yet so on weekdays the access was usually sparse. Park Rangers Ian Chandler and Brady Morrison pulled up right after Russo and Wesson, towing their patrol boat. They all parked and hopped out of their respective vehicles.

“Damn, you guys are fast,” Tony said, briefly smiling and shaking both rangers’ hands.

“Once Mary’s dad called us, we loaded up as quickly as possible and hauled it here,” Ranger Morrison replied.

“Lucky for us, our base is only in Appletown,” Ranger Chandler chimed in.

Before anything else could be said, Chief Russo’s phone rang. It was State Officer Wesson.

“Frank, what’s the deal? Chandler and Morrison just rolled up to the boat launch. Mary and I are here too.”

“The pilot’s radio has cut out,” Frank replied, sounding stern and level headed.

“Fuck me,” was all Tony could reply with.

“I know. Before we lost communication, it sounded like Fulton Lake was going to be the crash zone, I just don’t know if it’ll be the shoreline or smack in the middle of the lake.”

“Alright, I’ll get everyone over here and have Chandler launch their boat. I’ll see you…”

Tony’s voiced trailed off as he could hear a roar of an engine trying to turn over. He looked up and saw a yellow floatplane barley clearing the tips of the pine trees on the south shoreline of the lake with Camel Hump Mountain in the background.

“Get over here now,” Tony finished and hung up the phone.

By this point, the two Rangers were already backing their boat into the water and Mary was on the phone with Chief Donald. Tony watched in horror as the pilot desperately tried to slow his speed down. The floats of the plane hit the water at excessive speed and made the aircraft flip onto the calm water. The crash echoed through the woods, scattering the birds from their resting place.

“Chief Donald and the Ambulance crew are on the way. My God,” Mary exclaimed as she ran toward the boat.

Tony called Bubbas and told him to get over to the lake as quickly as he could. Echos of several sirens ran through the mountains and woods like a bomb was set to explode. Brady Morrison swiftly parked the truck and soon the four officers were speeding to the flipped over airplane. No one had seen the pilot surface.

“There are extra life jackets in the cargo box underneath you Tony!” Ranger Chandler yelled over the pistons of the outboard engine of the rescue boat cutting across the water.

“If we don’t see him after a few minutes we may have to call in the dive team,” Tony yelled back, grabbing an orange life vest.

“I radioed ahead after parking the truck and they are headed over already, prepared to take over,” Morrison said standing behind the wheel.

Mary looked behind her and could make out a fire truck and ambulance pulling into the access point as the sirens grew louder. Morrison slowed the boat down as they approached the plane, yet there was still no sign of the pilot. Soon the boat was in neutral and the team desperately looked for any sign of a human.

“Hello! Can you hear me?” yelled Chief Russo, scanning the wreckage.

The left wing had sheered off at impact and the left float had split down its center, filling up with water. The fuselage somehow was still attached, but the windshield had a hole the size of a basketball. Blood smeared around the hole and a piece of tan fabric stuck out of it.

“There’s a hat!” Mary yelled. “I’m going in.”

Before Tony knew what was going on, he saw his officer hastily take off her boots, socks, empty her pockets, and place her holstered gun off the port side of the boat. Soon she dove into the crisp water as the wind drastically picked up, moving the slowly sinking aircraft toward the boat. She soon surfaced and swam with even and powerful strokes to the hat.

“Do you see anything?” Ranger Chandler asked, now grasping the beam holding the right wing up.

Now, Mary was treading water looking left and right. No one has surfaced. Tony began getting nervous. He pulled up his rain jacket sleeve and checked his watch. It had been 10 minutes since impact and 4 since they had arrived and still nothing.

“Mary,” Tony finally said.

She didn’t respond, rather swimming toward the tail of the plane, which by this point they could only see traces of.

“Mary, its over. We need to call in the divers.”

“Chief, we can’t just give up so quick, he could still…” Mary began, but was interrupted by the groaning noise of the fuselage. A heavy gust of wind shifted the plane directly toward her.

“Mary let’s go now. It’s getting too dangerous,” Tony exclaimed sternly.

“Is that an order?” “Direct order.”

Reluctantly, Officer Wesson slowly began swimming back to the patrol boat, while Ranger Morrison called in for the dive team. Slowly, he backed up the craft. Once Mary was safely aboard, Morrison steered far enough way from the sinking floatplane. They stood in silence and waited for the dive team.