Page 9 of Signed With Love

With a quick run through my preflight checks, I’m off the ground and flying toward the last place we picked up the couple’s GPS. I’m able to touch down on a small stretch of land on the south end of the mountain, but it will require some hiking to find them.

The moment I’m out of my plane, I’m hit with the harsh wind of the impending storm. I reach in and quickly grab my pack. I could be out here for hours or days, and I packed enough food and medic equipment to be prepared for anything that might come my way. My hiking boots are built for the long walk, and I added layers to keep the chill at bay.

With another harsh hit of the wind, I put a pair of gloves on, then cover my head. I secure my pack, heavy with supplies, and start off into the harsh Alaskan wilderness. I search with a clear mind and a calculating focus. I’ve done this many times before, but it never gets easier. I watch for movement, and with purpose, I observe the landscape before me. The snow-covered ground is undisturbed, and the trees whip harshly as the wind batters away at them. The storm is moving in quicker than expected, and I make the journey solo because there isn’t much choice. Any larger than my plane couldn’t have landed in such a small area with these wind speeds.

I keep my mind clear and my attention centered as I take a path higher and deeper into the mountains. There’s no life visible, but I don’t let that fool me into thinking I’m alone up here. The land can seem calm at times, then toss something at you unexpectedly. Hours go by as I continue my hike. The sun sets lower, but I’ve prepared for that as well. Spring has granted me all but five hours of light left, yet I won’t waste any of those hours, so I continue higher. Over three hours into my hike, I see a subtle yellow glow on the side of the mountain.

My pace increases as I head toward it. Their shadowy forms come into view. One rises and takes a stance in front of the other body remaining on the ground. I raise my hands in a surrendering gesture. He’s been lost up here for days. Everything would seem to be a threat, I’m certain.

“My name is Jamison. I’m here to help.”

“I’m Jason. And this is my wife, Sarah. She’s hurt badly. I’ve been trying to carry her down, but she hurts more every time I move her.” Jason’s voice breaks off. Tired and worn, the panic ebbs in and out as he tries to stay calm for her.

“I can help. I’ve got food, for starters. And I want to see how badly she’s hurt.”

I place my pack on the ground and pull out some protein bars and water. Sarah comes into view when Jason moves for the food, and I see how bad she’s hurt without her husband blocking her. I’ve seen a lot on rescue missions, but this one is bad.

“She fell when we were rock climbing. We’ve done it a million times, but something happened.” Jason grabs his wife’s hand and stares at her.

I crouch down and observe her leg. The denim of her jeans is soaked in her blood, the leg mangled and torn, likely from a sharp rock. Jason tried to stem the blood with what looks like a t-shirt and secured her wound in a tourniquet. But she can’t walk. There’s no way, and looking at how badly she broke it, it could be a while before she ever walks again.

“Sarah, can you hear me?” Her face is dirty, yet I can tell her husband cares deeply for her because he’s tried to clean it. There’s still blood caked on the side of her head.

Sarah’s eyes flutter open at my voice. They’re bloodshot and tired when they find my gaze.

I come closer and place a protein bar in her hand. “Can you eat this for me?”

Her weakness is evident when I have to force her fingers around the bar, but I have to get food into her. I also have to consider how we’re going to move her and get her the three-hour walk to my plane in the dark. With my medkit, I wrap up her leg with clean bandages and secure it as best as I can.

Jason helps Sarah eat, and they murmur to one another. He gives her reassuring words. Promises. He will get her home. His voice is gravelly yet laced in a promise that I swear he’ll keep on this mountaintop as the sun finds its way behind the peak.

“I love you, baby, so much,” Jason whispers as I tighten the last bandage. I do it as gently as my rough hands allow, yet Sarah’s cry echoes back to us. “I’m going to get you home.”

Jason looks at me. I nod. We will get them home.

After carrying her down that hill with her husband, I secure them on my plane and take off. I give radio control a heads-up to have a team ready to meet me in Ketchikan. The wind makes for a rough flight, but Sarah is quiet, having passed out from the pain. I touch down at the airstrip thirty minutes later. There’s an ambulance waiting to immediately take them to the hospital. We unload from the cockpit and assist the medics to get Sarah into the ambulance.

“Jamison, I owe you. I’ll never forget what you did for my wife and me,” Jason says before they close him into the ambulance.

It doesn’t take me long to inform air traffic control that I’m back in the air. I finish my trip, and it’s dark by the time I climb into my Jeep and head home. By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m ready to pass out from exhaustion.

Despite the long day and the moon hanging high in the sky, I make a stop by the mailbox just to see if there’s a letter. After the day I’ve had, I apparently need more torture.

I release the breath I’m holding the moment the red envelope is in my hand. The thick material and feminine script of my name and address has my pulse racing.

With all the restraint I have, I walk inside and toss my shit on the kitchen table before I tear into the letter. I flip the lamp on and plop down on my leather couch. I need to shower away the long day, but I want to read this letter from Claire. I need a bit of her in my life first.

The woman is impossible to get to know. I haven’t been able to figure out who she is outside of the things I’ve pulled from her father. The shell Claire wears has been damn near impenetrable over the last six months I’ve known her. But within this letter, I’ll get a piece of the woman who has me so tangled up.

???

Dear Jamison,

I didn’t realize people still wrote letters. I don’t think I’ve written a letter since I passed notes in middle school to Jacob Young. And now we are skipping past all my younger years just like you did.

I’ve never been on a plane or seen Alaska that far north, but I’m sure it’s beautiful. Just listening to you describe it sounds perfect. Tell me more about your adventures. I’d love to know more about your mother too. Is she who taught you how to fly?

Your job sounds like it’s full of adventure, but I’m sure the search and rescue is the toughest part. I hope you don’t have to do that often.

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