Chapter Twenty-Six
I steerthe plane as best as I can and hold my breath as we begin to approach the water. If this wasn’t a float plane, we would have a much lower survival rate with how big those waves look below. Luckily, I had been able to float the plane closer to the island, and we aren’t too far off, but those waves look dangerous. Float planes aren’t built to deal with large, crushing waves, and I greatly fear that when we land, if the force from the landing doesn’t take out the floats, those waves are sure to do the trick.
Before we hit the water below, I should send out my Mayday call. Setting my headset to 121.5MHz, the emergency frequency, I put out my call. “Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Captain of the Cove 2437, a tourist float plane, with Captain Cooper Heyes on board, along with one other passenger, Molly Thatcher. We have experienced propeller failure and are attempting an emergency water landing just off the coast of Emerald Isle. Captain of the Cove ending transmission. We are standing by on 121.5MHz.”
You know when they say there is a “calm before the storm,” well, whoever “they” are, “they” lied. There is no calm inside of me as I guide the plane down; there is only dark, churning water against the backdrop of gray, and I feel small and insignificant in the face of it all. I try to prepare myself for the impact, but nothing can prepare you for something you have never experienced before.
We hit the water, and the plane lurches to the side, but not entirely. The only thing separating me from being thrown to the other side of the plane is the seatbelt, which will probably leave a big fat bruise from the pressure of the landing. I can feel it cutting into my side as I straighten myself out. Time seems suspended as I wait for the side of the plane to smash into the water, but it levels out, and I thank my lucky stars that the floats have held. But the windshield didn’t, and the shards of glass from the impact of the landing are now all over the place. Only half of the window remains, and the next few waves are sure to start filling up the cockpit. I try to shield my eyes from the rain, which is now coming in through the piece of window missing on Molly’s side of the cockpit. Molly… I hope she is alright back there. I haven’t heard her in a little bit, so I whisper some words of comfort, hoping she hears them. “We’re okay, Molly. Just hold on. We are going to make it through this, and when we do, I am never letting you go.” I’m not sure where those words came from, but they are out now. I guess when you are staring death in the face, you say some pretty straightforward things.
I maneuver the back rudder with my feet and hope and pray that the rudder holds and doesn’t break from the immense pressure of the waves outside. With my other foot, I direct the rudder under the plane. At least this one should hold, unless the cables snap. In that case, we swim. Hopefully, Molly is an okay swimmer. How could she not be if she works with sea turtles?
I can only see the outline of the island, so I steer for where I think the dock should be, in hopes that it isn’t the cliffside. With how strong this storm is and how much worse it is becoming, I’m not entirely certain where exactly we are. With each passing wave, combined with the torrential downpouring of rain, the plane is beginning to bog down lower in the water, and I can feel the strain on the back rudder the further we move toward shore. Without the use of the propeller, all I can do is steer in the direction of the island. Hopefully, with help from the wind and waves, we will continue to move in the direction of the island. Otherwise, we will be like a sinking sitting duck.
I flip on the propeller switch, and I hear it start up for a minute before it cuts out again. This is exactly what it did in the air. It would start and then stop. Maybe it will keep switching on and off if I flip it every so often? Could help a little bit if we end up veering off course too much. My feet are currently sloshing in water, so I’m not sure how much more the electrical system can handle. We are pushing our luck already.
“How are you doing back there, Molly?” But all I can hear is the beating of the waves against the sides of the plane. “Molly?” There is nothing but radio silence, and I get that sinking feeling inside, one that tells me that everything isn’t alright. But I can’t just stop steering the plane to check on her. “Molly, just stay with me, sunshine. We are almost there.” I try to glance behind me to see if I can catch a glimpse of her, but it’s too dark.
I direct my eyes ahead of me as I try to dial back the panic taking over. “Stay calm, Coop,” I tell myself as I search for a landmark to show me the way, and that’s when I see it. The dock. Or what remains of the rickety old thing. The dock is gone.
I hear my dad’s voice in my head as I think about what to do in this situation: “I haven’t ever had to do it, but if you ever need to, run her aground, Coop. She’ll hold up. Might be a lot of damage to the plane, but it’s better than her sinking and you drowning.” I am going to have to beach the plane. But without a fully functioning propeller, I’m not sure how far up on the beach I can get her. I switch the propeller on and off over and over again, getting tiny boosts of movement from it every time it turns on.
I always thought I was unlucky, but right now, as I watch the waves crashing on shore with a speed and a force that should scare me, I smile to myself. “Show me what you’ve got, you stupid float plane.” I flick that switch as fast as I can, hoping the propeller will keep going, and pray to the Lord above that we gain enough speed to get her up on the shore. I can feel the sandy bottom as we hit, and it launches me forward in my seat, my seat belt cutting into my stomach and knocking the wind out of my body. A few more flicks of the switch and a couple of waves, and we are pushed up far enough on the island to open the door.
I unbuckle my belt and launch myself out of my seat, my leg snagging on something sharp, causing me to curse in pain, but the adrenaline keeps me moving. I grab the emergency bag from behind my seat, swinging it onto my back while moving toward the cabin of the plane. I need to get Molly off of this thing before I come back for supplies. It’s completely black back here, but between the flashes of lightning, I can make out a small figure slumped over across the seats. I feel around for her buckle and release it, gathering her into my arms.
Her body is warm, and I can tell that she is breathing, giving me some semblance of relief as we move for the door. I get the door open, and realization dawns on me that we are a good four feet from the sand. But the waves are still crashing on shore, and each time they hit, the plane lurches forward, causing me to lose my balance. I look up at the sky, hold Molly tighter to my body, and jump, my feet stinging when they come into contact with the sand. I move for the treeline, the wind whipping around the both of us, the rain beating against my arms as I try to shield Molly’s body from the storm. I look back and see the plane retreat a little bit as the waves recede. I need to anchor it and get as much of the equipment as I can off of the plane in case we lose it to the storm.
My eyes scan the trees, the rain streaming down my face as I try to find something that will offer Molly some protection while I take care of the plane and supplies. I see a large cluster of coconut palms nearby, and I move in their direction. Their long fronds should help keep some of the rain off of us until I can get a shelter built. Setting her down in the sand, I reach into the backpack and grab one of the emergency blankets, laying it on the ground closest to the base of the cluster of trees. I pick up Molly and place her inside the blanket, folding it around her small body to protect her from whatever the trees don’t keep out. She still hasn’t woken up, and I can’t see enough to tell if she has any injuries. Grabbing a flashlight out of the backpack, I kneel down next to her, shining it onto her face.
She looks pale, and her eyes stay closed as I smooth her hair from her face. I don’t see any blood, but that doesn’t mean she is alright. I glance back at the plane again and see that it is creeping slowly back toward the water. I need to get the supplies, but I am torn between staying with Molly and making sure we have food and supplies. I give her a gentle kiss on the forehead, my hand lingering on her cheek, before making the decision to walk away. I feel the separation stretching between the two of us the further I move, and it is all I can do to not turn around and ignore everything else but her. My eyes search the sky as I mutter another prayer: “Please, Lord, let her be okay. Please, let her stay. Please don’t take away this beautiful sunshine that I finally have in my life. I know it’s selfish of me, but if you take her away, I am afraid you will be taking a piece of my heart. One that I won’t ever get back.”