Stranger Things Have Happened
By Queena Foster
Cody stepped inside and looked anxiously around the small, cramped office, silently cataloging the contents: a scarred, generic desk holding a phone, scattered files, and papers; a batch of cubbies on the wall along with a bulletin board and a few filing cabinets; a couple of dusty, uncomfortable looking chairs one might find in an old dentist's old waiting room.
Cody startled nervously when the outside door opened behind him, letting in the constant roar of the airfield and hangar outside. A slender, middle-aged man with a slight comb-over walked in, carrying a clipboard. "Oh, hey. Didn't see you come in. Can I help you?"
Cody hoped his nerves didn't show. "I have a reservation for this morning."
"You from the law firm?"
Cody breathed a quick sigh of relief that he'd actually found the right place. "Yes. Cody Allen."
The man opened a three-ring binder on the desk and flipped through the dog-eared, scrubby pages. "Let's see…yep, here it is; Mr. Allen from Thayer, Sargent, and Winslow. Heading up to San Jose, right?"
Cody nodded, "That's right."
"You ready to go?"
Cody felt his insides turn to water. "Sure." Hopefully he sounded sure.
"I'll just get your pilot, and you can be on your way." The man came out from behind the desk and opened the door. "Hey, Ryder! Ryder!" After a second or two, he blew a piercing whistle with two fingers. "RYDER!" He motioned forcefully to someone outside and let the door shut, finally muffling the continuous low growl from outside.
That noise was making Cody twitch.
Shortly, a dark-haired man wearing black pants and a flight jacket came in carrying another clip board. "Hey."
The guy at the desk looked up, "Your passenger's here. Mr. Allen, this is your pilot, Nick Ryder."
Ryder flashed a quick smile, "Hi. Ready to go?"
Cody took in the man with a long assessment. Close to six feet, probably a good build but a little hard to tell under the leather jacket. And Cody had a brief idea of…recklessness. Or maybe not. Hopefully not. Probably just Cody's own nerves being projected. Suddenly, he realized Ryder was staring back at him, slightly concerned. And it occurred to Cody that he didn't remember the question. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Are you ready to go?" Slightly slower and more carefully enunciated.
"Yes. Sorry. I'm ready."
The pilot's brief glance back at the man on the desk seemed to promise payback. But all he said was, "Okay, let's head on out."
Cody took a deep breath as he followed him out of the office and through the hanger to the bright white helicopter sitting outside. Cody stared at it, trying to figure out where the contraption might break. Or just come apart. Those blades seemed awfully thin. And were they really long enough? How well made were the screws…rivets…paper clips…that held the whole thing together?
Cody shut his eyes on panic and tried to keep his nerves in check. It was a machine, manufactured on an assembly line just like his Volvo. Engineers had to test the design and all the parts before production could proceed. There were probably thousands of helicopters like this all over the world that flew every day and never had a problem. Just get yourself under control, Allen.
He was finally able to open his eyes and saw the pilot was staring at him again. The guy probably thought he was weird.
Cody cleared his throat, not liking the fuel smell that permeated the airfield. He decided to come clean; probably couldn't make the situation any worse at this point. He tried a smile, "So…you've probably already guessed that I've never been in a helicopter before. Where do your passengers sit?"
The pilot pursed his lips, like he was thinking about how to answer. "Well, most of the business types and lawyers sit in the back. They like the extra room and can spread out their papers and work. But it's not a rule. You can sit up front if you like. You'll be able to see everything I'm doing, which direction I'm taking us. Sometimes it helps."
By this time, Cody had made his way to the helicopter and was able to look in the back. Not dark, but certainly not as bright as the front seat with the larger windows. Of course, up front, he'd more easily see how far off the ground they were…but he might also be able to keep his bearings better and watch the pilot. Maybe have some control of the dizziness. He looked at the pilot standing beside him. No judgment, just a slight questioning smile. "I think I'll take your advice—try up front."
A slight quirk of his lips. "Okay. Let's go."
Nick settled into his seat and began flipping switches to get the helicopter warmed up. Beside him, his passenger kept fiddling with the harness. One quick glance, and Nick could see it was fine, but the guy just couldn't leave it alone. Nick had seen nerves before, but this guy was having real problems.
Which seemed odd since he looked like he'd be decently tough outside the suit. Tall and lean with broad shoulders. Probably a swimmer from his build. But a person couldn't pick what he freaked out over. Personally, Nick's problem was snakes, stemming from his two-year visit to the jungles of South East Asia; this guy, it was apparently helicopters. Maybe by the time they got back from San Jose, he would see he didn't have anything to worry about. That could be Nick's good deed for the day.
Nick handed him the headphones, and after a few seconds staring at them, the guy put them on. Nick flipped the microphone switch, "This baby's ready to go; how 'bout you?"
His passenger looked terrified, but he managed a tight nod, not saying a word.
"Okay, here we go."
The guy closed his eyes and shuddered as they left the ground. Nick tried to take it easy, but it always took a second for the stomach to catch up with the rest of the body.
For a while after they got airborne, Nick was busy, and he didn't have time to watch his passenger. When he did glance back over, he found the guy checking the windows with dread and a little curiosity.
"I thought you might like to see the ocean instead of just flying over land. That's Catalina down there."
The guy glanced back with a look of faint wonder. "Really? It looks completely different from up here."
"Yeah. Peaceful, huh?"
He became a little incredulous, "With all the racket in this thing, you can talk about peace with a straight face?"
Nick couldn't help his grin. Okay, his laugh. "Well…relatively peaceful. The view is peaceful."
Despite the circumstances, his passenger's smile made him look like a bit of a risk taker. "I'll take your word for it."
"You just ask your buddies back at the office. They've never seen anything like this from the back seat, that's for sure."
"That I can believe." He glanced back out at the islands, "I've actually only been at the firm a little while. I know a few people, but there's no one there I'd ever call buddy."
"They make you fly up to San Jose 'cause you're the new kid?"
"Didn't say it in so many words, but that's the impression I got."
Nick digested that; being a lawyer always sounded impressive, but he'd still never met one he liked. He'd probably flown hundreds of them over the years, but they were always cynical, arrogant assholes. This guy was clearly petrified, but he'd managed a small joke about how loud the chopper was. Maybe he was a little different than the average Joe Lawyer. And the fact that he was terrified made Nick feel kind of sorry for him.
"Well, you might be the rookie, but they let you go on a field trip. And I'm gonna give you your own personal tour of the coast. You know that song by The Four Preps? 'Twenty-six miles across the sea, Santa Catalina is waiting for me…'"
"'Romance, romance, romance, romance…'"
Cody stared open mouthed at his pilot as they flew up the coast. Could this get any stranger? First his supervising partner sent him all the way up to San Jose to take a deposition. And, oh yeah, by the way, he had to fly up there in a helicopter. Airplanes were one thing; helicopters were all-together different. That they absolutely freaked him out, Cody didn't mention that.
Then he'd ended up driving all over the airfield this morning looking for the charter office. Finally, he just parked the car and got out to ask. Turned out he wasn't that far away, so he left the car where it was and walked to the completely unmarked office. Well, okay, so there was a sign, but it was tiny. Almost non-existent. May as well not have been there at all as far as Cody was concerned.
And then he gets assigned a pilot who probably thought Cody was crazy but still proceeded to sing him a 1950's pop song about the island they were flying over. At this point, Cody wouldn't have been surprised if clocks started melting over tree limbs. Or helicopter skids. Runners? Whatever the stupid things were called.
The pilot finished the last chorus, nonchalantly checking his instruments and out the windows. Then he glanced over at Cody as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Feeling better?"
Cody couldn't help but laugh, "Yeah. A lot. Thanks."
A knowing grin, "Don't mention it. Works every time."
"Really? How often do you end up singing to your passengers?" Cody was still smiling. The pilot was so clearly confident in his flying ability, it seemed silly for Cody to be worried. Or… Well, hopefully the guy wasn't overconfident.
"Depends on the charter; if I'm taking up a bunch of sight-seers, maybe a fourth, fifth of the time. Your basic lawyer, business tycoon, they don't really go for it."
Cody shrugged sarcastically, "Can't imagine why not."
Nick fought his own grin, "Yeah, me neither." Then he laughed, too.
And despite everything, Cody was feeling more relaxed than he'd ever imagined being in a flimsy little helicopter several thousand feet in the air. "I'm Cody."
"Nick. Glad to meet you. So we got a while yet if you want to work on something. Or I can keep going with the tourist stuff."
"Oh, definitely the tourist stuff. Or we can just talk." Cody blew out a breath, "I'll probably regret asking you this, but how long have you been a pilot? I swear, if you say a couple of months, I'll pass out cold."
"I sing to you, and you still don't trust me?" Nick grinned in jest and then shrugged, "Since 'Nam. 1970. So fourteen years now."
Cody felt a flare of embarrassment that he hadn't served. Happened every time he met a vet. "I was just starting law school then."
Nick shook his head wryly, "Count yourself lucky. Hell on Earth. Never could figure why anybody'd even want to live in Vietnam, much less fight a war over the place."
"You went."
"Only way I could learn to fly. If that's what I had to do..." He shrugged slightly.
"Wanted it that much, huh?"
"Since I was little."
"And now you're singing to a terrified lawyer as you fly him up to San Jose."
"You're still scared? I got more work to do. 'Do you know the way to San Jose? I've been away so long. I may go wrong and lose my way…'"
Cody cracked up, "Ah, c'mon, man. Stop! You're killing me."
"'Killing me softly with his song, killing me softly—'"
"Okay! No more songs!"
"You sure? I got a million of 'em."
Cody laughed again, "Clearly."
"Okay, your turn. What kind of lawyer are you?"
"Just your basic, run-of-the-mill…uhh…"
"Slimeball?"
"Well…maybe a slightly improved version of the basic slimeball."
Nick grinned, "And you seemed like such a regular guy."
"Every lawyer has his day in court. That's when the whole slime factor comes into play. The rest of the time, I just stow it in my briefcase."
Nick's eyes said he didn't really believe that. "Come on. Can't be that bad."
Cody hated that he'd brought the mood down. "Sad but true. Sometimes you gotta be a slimeball to get the job done. And that's what I'm paid to do."
"Doesn't sound like you like it much."
"It pays the bills. And as I've recently found out, Southern California is not a cheap place to live."
"You just move here?"
"A few months ago. My wife got a job, so we moved. Then she got an even better job…and left me. So now I'm on the other side of the continent from my friends and my mother. Starting all over at a new firm. In a job I hate. In a house I hate. With no wife."
The pilot—Nick—just stared at him, speechless, and then turned back to the horizon. "Damn."
"Yeah."
"Well…why don't you just…quit?"
"How can I do that?"
"Well…since your wife left, what's keeping you here?"
"The job. The house."
"Quit it. Sell it. Move on, man."
Cody huffed an amused breath. He couldn't just… No. He'd made commitments. It would ruin his career if he left Thayer, Sargent, and Winslow after only a few months. And what would it do to his credit if he bought and sold a house that fast? Besides, Janet would never agree to settle the divorce that quickly. "I can't."
"One thing I learned in Vietnam; life's too short. You never know when…" Nick shrugged slightly. "And it's way too short to waste doing something you don't like, living in a place you hate. If I died today, at least I was flying…even if it was only flying you up to some crap meeting in San Jose."
Cody listened thoughtfully. What the pilot said made sense in a carpe diem kind of way. But maybe Cody had overstated his case a little. He didn't hate the job. Or Southern California. He just hated what he sometimes had to do as part of the job. And most of the assholes at his office. And how other people regarded him when they found out how he made a living. And how hard it could be to make friends in that environment. And that Janet had dragged him away from people who'd known him before that was an issue.
Nick cleared his throat in the drawn-out silence. "You know, sometimes I open my mouth and the biggest load of baloney just tumbles out. Sorry, man, it's none of my business."
For about the fiftieth time, Cody couldn't help but smile, this time because the guy was trying to be nice and apologize. And he hadn't even done anything to rate an apology. "Don't worry about it. It's fine. And you've given me something to think about anyway."