Chapter Two
Left in the Darkness
"Unidentified aircraft, you are in air force air space, please state you reason for being here?" the voice sounded far away as Virgil slowly came to. He had been dreaming about a merry-go-round, and someone calling unidentified aircraft. Whoever it was just kept yelling. Why didn't Scott tell them who they were?
Then Virgil became aware of noises: the rush of the wind, a loud engine revving and shaking, metallic vibrations and rattles getting louder and louder.
Virgil suddenly felt sick, his head spun, like he had been on the merry-go-round too long.
"Look, who ever you are!" there was that voice again, "You need to answer me!"
"Scott," Virgil muttered holding his head; "Somebody wants to know who we are…" he still didn't understand why.
"Somebody, anybody; that looks like the Tracy one-Jeff is that you?" the voice came through Virgil's headset again confusing him even more.
Virgil's hands finally left his head and went to his ear and bumped into the large ear protector of his headset. It finally registered in his mind: It's the radio! Somebody's calling us!
"Level the wings, Jeff! You are tossing around up there like you're weightless, Come on now!" the person seemed to be realizing that they were in trouble.
Virgil's mind finally cleared enough for him to think, and then he said to himself "Oh boy, something's wrong. We're in trouble. What's happening?"
Fear gripped him. His dream was over and he was now in a nightmare. He reached out, groping for the control yoke, found it, and pulled back. As he did he knocked off the autopilot.
Virgil pulled to hard; "Oof!" as the plane pulled up to fast, his body was pressed into the seat as if he weighed a ton. G-forces. Like in turns. The kind that make you want to throw up.
"Level the wings Jeff!" came the voice yet again.
Whoever this person was he thought he was his father, but where were they? Scott had said that it was 100 miles to any were except Tracy Island-in the direction they had been going- they must have gotten turned around somehow. Virgil guessed they must be over the air force base in Hawaii. Virgil's thoughts brought him back to what the voice had said, Level the wings? What was wrong with the wings? He finally decided if Scott wasn't going to answer this guy, he would. He pressed his radio talk button and asked, "Uh, which way?"
"You're spiraling to the left, Jeff! Roll out to the right!"
Virgil nodded to himself and cranked the yoke to the right. "Oof! G-forces again. I'm going to throw up, I just know it!"
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Peter Westmore who was the pilot of another Cessna; was the one talking to Virgil, he had been asked by the air force base to check on the small Cessna that had flow into their air space. Peter now watched as the Tracy one snap out of the turn and then swoop skyward, climbing, slowing, climbing, hanging from the propeller.
"Get that nose down, Jeff! Or you're going to stall her!"
Virgil shoved the yoke forward. "Oooooooooohh," he felt like his stomach was in his throat.
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The plane went on, then suddenly nosed down, going into a sickening spiral. Sweat started trickling down Peter's face. Was he watching the death of Jeff Tracy being played out before his very eyes? "Level the wings, Jeff, you're spiraling!"
"Which way?" came a voice through the headset.
Peter suddenly realized it wasn't Jeff Tracy he was talking to, the voice was to high pitched; it must be one of Jeff's sons! "Level the wings, get the plane level!"
"Which way?" the boy said again.
"Right. Bank to the right-NOT TOO MUCH!"
The small Cessna teetered to the right and swooped upward again the moment the wings were level.
"Full throttle! Ease the yoke forward, get the nose down!"
The Tracy one went into a dive again, "NO, no, no!" the Peter yelled. Can't this kid see what he's doing?
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This was just like a ride on a great big roller coaster, and Virgil was getting sicker and sicker. His stomach was churning. He could feel that awful feeling you get around your jaw that usually came just before the sudden loss of a meal. He drew in some deep breaths and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He couldn't see! Something was blocking his vision—sweat, or blood, or his hair or something, all he knew at the moment was he couldn't see. He could hear the plane engine roaring, he could feel the vibrations of the plane, but he couldn't see anything.
"Pull back on the power," came the voice through his headset. "You're going to overspeed!"
Virgil did what he was told; he reached out blindly, groping for the throttle knob somewhere down to his left. He found a knob and yanked it out as far as it would go.
The engine calmed, the noise settled.
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On what was usually a quiet street in Hawaii, a retired surfer and his wife were enjoying the sun in their backyard when they heard an aircraft engine come closer, closer, and then suddenly quit, leaving only a rushing, windy sound.
The man rose from his lawn chair and looked at the sky through the tops of his fruit trees.
WHOOOOSH! An airplane swooped so low over their yard the wind from its wings made the fruit trees tremble.
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"Get that nose up! Ease it back slowly…"
Virgil pulled with all his might. He could feel himself being pressed into his seat again. The roller coaster was going up another hill.
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The retired surfer fell to the ground, scared out of his wits. His wife screamed. The airplane just missed the roof of their house and soared upward into the sky again, the engine still quiet.
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Virgil tried to relax. He was overdoing everything and he knew it, he was torturing his father's airplane and his own body. He was climbing again, he was sure of it.
It was strangely, frighteningly quiet. No sound came from the engine, all he heard was the wind rushing over the airplane's wings, and now that was getting quieter too. He felt like he was slowing down.
"Okay," came the voice. "Add some power now and ease the nose down."
Virgil reached for the throttle and this time found several knobs all side by side. Which one was the throttle? He tried one. Nothing happened.
What happened to the engine? Why isn't it running?
Quiet. Nothing but the wind outside.
"You're starting to drop again, power, you need power. Get that power in now!" Peter called.
Virgil's stomach did a flip flop. "The mixture! I've staved the engine!" Virgil's mind went blank. He didn't know what to do. He blindly groped for the correct knob. He couldn't think.
"Where is it, which one is it?" Virgil asked desperately.
"Forget trying to find it, just shove everything forward. I mean EVERYTHING!" the voice came again.
Virgil started groping for the knob's yet again, he found them. Putting the palm of his hand across all the knobs, he took a deep breath; he said a quick silent prayer and then shoved them all in as far as they would go.
The engine roared as it came back; it sent a surge through the whole airplane. Virgil felt the nose of the plane lurch skyward. At least that's what he thought that's what was happening.
Virgil's hands left the knobs and he rubbed his eyes.
He still couldn't see where he was going. He felt the airplane turn to the right. He turned the yoke to the left.
"Level the wings, you're going to spiral again," came the voice again.
"Which way should I turn?" Virgil asked as his hands started to sweat.
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"The right, turn to the right just a little," Peter said.
Peter watched the Tracy one's left wing come up and level out of the spiral.
"That's it, that's it. Now hold it in neutral. Don't turn anymore." Peter called.
"But I'm turning right now!" Virgil responded his voice cracking a little.
"No you aren't. I can see you from here and you're---," Peter stopped in the middle in his sentence, a thought hit him like the world's worst news: Maybe this kid really can't see. "You're not turning, you only think you are."
"I'm turning!" Virgil yelled.
Peter took a deep breath, he couldn't place the voice, he had only met two of Jeff's five sons, maybe this was one of the younger three, but that meant he didn't have his license yet.
"Son, it's going to be alright, can you tell me your name?" Peter asked. He knew the boy had to be a Tracy he just didn't know which one.
"Virgil Tracy," he sounded scared.
Peter held his breath, he had not met Virgil yet, so he knew that he could be no more then fifteen.
"Virgil, can you tell me how old you are?" Peter asked.
"I'm fourteen," Virgil said.
"Virgil who's up there with you?" Peter asked. He knew Jeff wouldn't let any of his sons fly alone.
"My brother Scott," Virgil said he was now very scared.
"Is he alright?" Peter asked.
"I don't know, he won't answer me," Virgil said.
"Virgil, can you see your brother?" Peter asked.
"No," was all Virgil said.
"Can you see out the window?" Peter asked.
"No. I can't see anything." Virgil said with a hint of panic.
"Can you see the controls in front of you?" Peter asked he was beginning to worry.
"No!" Virgil cried.
Oh no, oh no. Peter thought and then said, "Virgil-are you blind?"
T.B.C