Chapter 2 - Gathering
No one was completely sure how he managed to do it, but when Blade and Maru awoke the next day, Blackout had warmed up the main hanger and was cooking breakfast. He would only be the first of many vehicles that would trickle in the next week. The first to come were those who lived and worked in California or Oregon year-round…then came those who were working in the western United States…then came the vehicles from farther flung places. Most of the vehicles that found their way to the Piston Peak Air Attack Base stayed only briefly. They came to say their final goodbyes before heading back to their everyday lives…but some took up residence in the main hanger.
Both Maru and Blade were mentally prepared to deal with the constant stream of visitors…but Maru, in particular, hadn't been prepared to deal with a particular group of aircraft that hadn't yet made an appearance. By day three Maru couldn't help but feel a red-hot core of anger form for the aircraft that Cabbie had once called family. When Maru finally heard over the radio that Pickles was coming in for final approach, the mechanic was more than ready to give him a proper tongue lashing…but one look at the C-130 put Maru's anger on ice.
The vehicle took far longer than Maru expected to finally arrive, but when Pickles landed heavily on the tarmac three days after Cabbie's death the mechanic quickly discovered that he had probably judged the C-130 too harshly. One look at the plane it was clear to see just how exhausted and grief stricken he was.
"I don't know if is even possible, but would it be alright if the breaking is delayed until next week?" Pickles had made a beeline to speak to Maru and Blade as soon as he landed, even though you could see that every fiber of his being wanted to be with the aircraft who had become his parent.
Maru looked to Blade, who simply shrugged his rotors. "I don't see why not…"
At those words, Pickles sank low on his tires and sighed as though a great weight had been taken out of his hold. "Thank Chrysler."
"Pickles. What is up?" Maru asked trying to draw out additional information.
"We are having trouble getting Grid and Arrow home in time to say goodbye." Pickles admitted as he settled even lower on his tires, which surprised Maru who hadn't realized just how low the plane could sink to the ground. "I have been battling the Red Cross and the Air Force for days to even inform my boys that their grandpa was gone. It was only after they saw just how distraught the boys were when they got the news, they finally understand just how close our family is and started to make arrangements for them to come home."
There were a lot of words left unspoken in that statement. Maru knew that was often difficult for planes to navigate life on the ground. The infrastructure beyond the airport gates simply wasn't built for them and greatly limited the job prospects of any aircraft larger than a Learjet. Add the vast amounts of calories that the larger aircraft required to stay in the air, and it was very difficult for vehicles to become wealthy enough to live independently…let alone raise a family without government or company assistance. All of this meant that many aircraft considered themselves to be lucky to stay with their parents until they were fledged.
Maru didn't know the whole story…but Pickles hadn't been one of the lucky ones. By the time he had landed in the military, he had been bouncing between government orphanages and foster homes for years. Luckily the C-130 had found the father figure that he had been so desperately searching for during the Vietnam War, and Cabbie had formally adopted him after the completion of the war allowing him to leave the service.
While Cabbie had been notoriously tight-lipped about his family life. It was clear just how much he had loved and doted on his adopted son, daughter-in-law, and three grandchildren. It was clear the McHales proved that a strong family didn't have to be of the same steel. Maru glanced up at Blade with a sad smile, even though Cabbie would have denied every chance he got, he had also managed to turn the base into a cozy family in his own quiet way. Though Blade's nightmares had gotten so much better over the years, Maru knew that they were going to miss sheltering under Cabbie's protective wing the next time they reared their ugly head.
"I am glad that the military finally came to their senses." Maru looked Pickles straight in the eyes and tried to convey his deep sympathy with his tone. "Cabbie loved his grandchildren more than anything in this world."
That brought tears to Pickles eyes. "Can I see him?"
"Of course." Blade spoke with a deep warmth to his voice.
The drive from the base's runway to Cabbie's hanger was a short one, but even in that short amount of time, it was easy to feel the emotions that Pickles were trying to hold back. It was clear that the plane desperately wanted to be here…but it was also desperately clear that a part of him didn't want to see Cabbie because seeing the empty shell of his parent would finally make the C-130 have to admit that Cabbie was well and truly gone.
"Are you ready?" Maru asked as he placed his tine on the hanger door.
"No…" Pickles admitted in a voice that was barely audible over the gentle breeze that wound its way through the base. "No." This time he spoke a little bit louder, and he allowed eyes to flicker across the door and liquid to start forming at the corners of his eyes. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "No, I am not ready, but I suspect if we wait until I am ready, we will never open that door. So, we should probably not wait on my account."
Maru made eye contact Blade, who gave a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod. With the Chief's quiet permission, Maru hefted the hanger door and skillfully pushed it out of the way. The space that the hanger door reviled was dark, but a streak of sunlight played across Cabbie's face. The moment that Pickles spotted his father in the gloom it let out a faint whine from deep inside of his throat. It was a quiet sound, but one that expressed more grief than any whaling sob ever could.
The mechanic carefully slid open the other door. Once the hanger was fully open, Pickles gingerly moved forward…only to find his wings were too wide to let him. The plane paused, then continued to try to push himself into a space that was too small for him to enter. Given how delicate a plane's wingtips were and the horrifying metal on metal sound Pickles was making in his struggles, Maru was concerned that the C-130 might severely damage himself. But the mechanic was also too much in shock by the actions to figure out how to get the plane to stop. Luckily, Blade still had his wits about him.
"STOP." Blade's words spoke with the full authority of a fire chief and successfully stopped Pickles in his tracks. The C-130 allowed his eyes to slide from Cabbie to Blade. Only once the plane had made eye contact with the helicopter did the Blade speak with a low, quiet voice. "I know you are hurting right now, but we both know Cabbie wouldn't want you to get hurt on your account. Give us a moment and we will find another way."
"Hector." Maru called the smokejumper from out of the hanger where he had been keeping the deathwatch. "Hector, can you get the rest of the jumpers on base. I have an idea, but it is going to take all of us to implement."
The smokejumpers worked together to moved Cabbie forward with the same care that the old plane had once carried them in life. Once he had been moved forward enough, they then all retreated to the tarmac to give Pickles the space he needed to approach. The C-130 moved carefully until the tip of his nose was pressed against Cabbie's. He sat there for a few, long rotor beats, then he shifted to a position where Pickles' head was pressed cheek to cheek with the C-119. Only once he was in this position did Pickles let out a long, shuttering sigh. There was hushed quiet…then the dam of Pickles' emotion break and the flood of tears begin.
It was at this moment the members of the Piston Peaks Air Attack Base, made their full retreat, for they realized that some forms of grief were never meant to be on display. And while all of them were sure there wasn't a place on base where they could escape the sound of Pickles' whales, the least they could do was give the plane the illusion of privacy as he said his goodbyes.
The sky was turning from blue to purple by the time Maru worked up the courage to go pull Pickles away from Cabbie's hanger. With careful guidance, the mechanic was able to draw the exhausted plane away from the deathwatch and into the warmth of the main hanger. There the mechanic poured a mug of coffee, placed it in front of the plane, and waited.
It did not take long or Pickles to drink deeply from the cup. When the mug was drained Maru refiled it then filled a mug of his own. This time Pickles didn't inhale the coffee which gave Maru the time to slowly sip at his cup. The coffee didn't taste right, but at that particular moment, it didn't really matter. What they were drinking was less important than the ritual of togetherness that they were participating in. Once both vehicle's nerves had been steadied. Maru looked up at the plane.
"Anything you want to talk about?"
Pickles didn't meet Maru's eyes, preferring to stare into the depths of his once again empty cup. "I…I don't know if I am ready to admit he is gone."
"I suspect you are not the only one feeling that at the moment." The mechanic allowed his eyes to scan across the various smokejumpers and park personal that had gathered in the main hanger. "But we will mutter through this somehow."
"Yes…yes, we will." The ache in Pickles' voice was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.
"It is going to be a long week." Maru admitted fiddling with his mug. "Which brings up the question, what are you going to do to keep yourself busy?"
"What do you mean?"
"Pickles, we both know that the one thing that has kept yourself from wallowing in your grief was fighting to get your boys home to say goodbye. With that task complete, you are going to need something to keep you moving through the Breaking."
"I…" Pickles' voice trailed off and a slight blush rose in his cheeks. "I haven't thought that far. I am off from work through the Breaking, but I haven't thought about what I was going to do while I waited."
"Hm…" Maru hummed thoughtfully to himself. "Why don't you help out with transport? We have a lot of smokejumpers from all of the years coming to say their goodbyes. It would really be helpful to have an aircraft help pick them up from the airport."
"I…I don't know…"
"We can all pitch in for fuel, if that is the limiting factor, we can all pitch in." Blade mentioned has he placed a large bowl of Blackout's chili in front of Pickles.
"I…"
"If you don't feel up for that particular task, we can easily find you another." Blade's expression was soft. "But I suspect getting some air beneath your wings will do you a lot of good."
"I will think about it." With that Pickles ended the conversation by digging into dinner.
With the next day's dawn, Pickles agreed to become the base's transport aircraft for the next week. Each day he made a flight down to Sacramento to pick up and drop off the steady stream of smokejumpers were traveling through. Gradually the base became a camp that never really slept. In Cabbie's hanger, there was always a handful of vehicles taking their turn at holding the deathwatch. In the main hanger, there was a constant stream of stories and food. When someone got tired, they might drift off the smokejumper or guest hangers to grab a few minutes of shut-eye, but they were rarely gone for long.
Eventually, everyone started to get restless. It started with Blackout starting to cook more and more elaborate dishes in the kitchen, but it didn't take long for the other smokejumpers to start to get antsy. Luckily before the little vehicles got too rambunctious, Avalanche got them to work. After all, if they were going to hang about and use the Park's utilities the least they could do was get some work done. So, when the winter sun rose in the sky, groups of smokejumpers that felt the need to blow off some steam headed out into the woods to work through some of their grief with some frame breaking work.
Then a radio call informed everyone that the last of Cabbie's visitors was on a final approach, causing the base's waiting game came to an unceremonious end. The moment that Grid wheels touched down on the tarmac, Maru knew it was time to make the call to the breakers. No one said a word when he slipped away to the quiet shelter of Blade's hanger…and thankfully no one pushed Maru to return to the conversation and storytelling that filled the main hanger afterward. Instead, everyone let the mechanic have the space he needed to process what was to come in the following days.
