Читать книгу Flight of the Forgotten - Mark A. Vance - Страница 11

It was a summer I’ll never forget. I was having the time of my life visiting my grandparents in Indiana. Being there allowed me to do things most city-kids could only dream about, and I was also getting to know my grandparents better at the same time. There was plenty of work to do, and I was expected to pull my own weight, but in the evening there was also enough hunting and fishing that for a city-kid, I was in absolute heaven. Occasionally, I would sit on a fence post and stare at the contrails lining the sky above, watching two totally different worlds merge into one. I knew that someday the other one would be my world too, and I would be making those contrails instead of just watching them.

Late that evening at the dinner table, I was staring into space and lost in thought when my grandmother, Buster’s sister, asked outright.

“Were you daydreaming about airplanes again?” eyeing me suspiciously. “Yeah, I guess so …” I said, finding words difficult all of a sudden.

“Where did this airplane business come from? You didn’t get it from anyone in this family.” she charged.

“Oh, it’s always been airplanes with me, Grandma. Don’t you remember?” I replied.

“Well, I remember all the model airplanes you built as a kid and how you used to live for ‘12 o’clock high’, but you aren’t still thinking about becoming a pilot when you grow up, are you?” she asked point-blank, gazing at me steadfastly.

“Well, actually I don’t want to wait that long, Grandma. I’d like to start flying this year.”

“Flying?” she gasped.

“Sure, I’m old enough to start right now.”

“Oh my! Fly? Fly what?” she asked apprehensively.

“Little Cessna’s first and then jets!” I announced emphatically.

“Jets? But aren’t jet pilots trained in the service?” she asked nervously.

“If that’s what it takes, then that’s what I’ll do.” I declared, watching her look away in distress. “What is it?” I asked, trying to sense her thoughts.

“Come here a minute, there’s something I want to show you.” she ordered, rising from the table and leading me down a small hallway. Halfway down, she pointed to a large photo on the wall and asked, “Do you know who that is?” as I stared at the photograph and nodded.

“Buster.” I replied, as we both stared at the photograph for a moment.

“Do you know what happened to my brother?” she asked, fighting back a tear as she brushed a hint of dust from the photograph.

“I know there was a crash, but not what really happened to him.” I said carefully, eyeing her, waiting for a response.

“We never found out. His bomber blew up on the way home and the whole crew was killed.” she finally said sadly, wiping her eyes. “And now you want to be a pilot?”

“Well …” I stammered, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Today is the anniversary of his crash. Twenty-six years ago and it still feels like yesterday.” she said, staring again at the photograph as I suddenly felt more awkward than ever.

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Grandma … it’s … it’s … something I have to do.” I finally managed, as she looked at me suspiciously.

Eventually though, my grandmother surprised me by declaring, “Well, I suppose I can stand it if you say you have to do it, if it’s your true calling in life. But promise me you’ll be careful and you won’t fly in outer space. I don’t think I could handle that.” she said, squeezing my hand for emphasis.

“You’ve got a deal, Grandma, no outer space and I’ll be real careful.” I promised, hugging her to seal the agreement. “Did anybody ever try to find out what happened?” I asked, nodding at the photograph.

“Nobody ever knew.” she said sadly, adjusting the photograph again as it sat in its place of honor on her wall.

“He’s okay, Grandma. Buster’s with me all the time.” I said softly as she stared at me curiously for several moments. “He’s the reason for all of this.”