Sojourners of the Sky (32 page)

When the thirsty airplane was five hundred feet above the ground, the yellow caution lights illuminated again. This time, however, they stayed on. Both pilots held their breath, wondering which engine would flame-out first.

The airplane neared the runway doing one hundred and sixty knots. Bill pushed himself further back into his seat and double-checked the position of his feet, making sure his toes were in the right spot to apply the brakes after touchdown.

The first audio tone blared through the speakers when the airplane was one hundred feet above the runway, warning Bill to get ready--the runway was near. At thirty-five feet a slightly higher pitched tone sounded, telling Bill to pull the nose up slightly. The last tone, higher in pitch than the previous two, sounded at twenty feet, reminding Bill to make sure his alignment with the runway centerline was set and to keep the nose slightly elevated. The captain pulled all four thrust levers to idle and waited for the very aft set of main wheels to touch the runway. He knew he would only have to wait a few seconds.

Bill took one final glance at the airspeed indicator to make sure the airplane wasn’t getting too slow, which he knew would result in a “firm” touchdown. But neither did he want to be fast, because in the B747 each knot above the target speed equates to hundreds more feet of required stopping distance. His speed was on the mark.

The moment the wheels touched the runway the speed brake handle flew back, making a squealing noise as it moved, aurally alerting the pilots that they were indeed on the ground. Bill then pulled the reverse thrust levers up, deploying the thrust deflector doors. These panels are mounted on the engines and are used to force a large portion of the engine thrust forward. In an airplane that weighs four hundred thousand pounds at touchdown, pilots use everything at their disposal to reduce their forward momentum after landing.

As their speed decreased, Mark dutifully called out each twenty knots of airspeed loss. He was in effect telling his captain when it was safe to stow the engine reversers, and when they were finally traveling slow enough to safely exit the runway.

“Nice landing,” noted Mark.

“Thanks,” said Bill.

Though both were aware of it, neither pilot commented about the number one engine flaming-out mere seconds after Bill touched down on the runway.

Finally concluding that he’d been way out of line, Bill began to feel remorse for his treatment of his copilot. He realized that it had all been in his head. But as he taxied the behemoth Boeing toward the gate on three engines, he told himself that that was one of the reasons he was paid a good salary--to never take anything or anyone for granted. But he also reminded himself to pay closer attention to the younger guys. He knew his days were numbered and that they were only there for his benefit. His dad was right. And he was also forced to admit to himself that his copilot was, too.

Once the remaining engines were shut down, Bill looked at Mark and extended his hand, saying, “I’m truly sorry about what I said and the accusations I made. Please accept my apologies. Dinner and drinks are on me if you’re interested.”

“Thanks, Bill,” replied Mark with a wry grin. “Give me a few hours to stop thinking about what a jerk, egomaniac, idiot and worthless loser you are. After that, I might just take you up on your offer.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” said Bill with a nod. “I guess I’ve been about as blind as a fool could be.”

The two pilots secured the airplane and then quickly proceeded aft to help get their crew members to the hospital, and to be sure that John Tacker would be dealt with appropriately. Bill also wanted to make sure that Liesel Tacker’s body was properly cared for.

After the stricken crew members were taken off the airplane in stretchers, and the last passenger deplaned, Mark walked off the airplane and into the terminal. He smiled, feeling content with where his life was heading. Once clear of customs and immigration, Mark whistled as he walked outside to catch the bus to the crew hotel. One door was closing while another was about to open, and Mark was ready.

As the would-be hijacker was escorted off the airplane, a handcuffed John Tacker’s eyes met Bill’s. The tired captain saw the fire of an atom bomb staring back at him. Neither man spoke. Bill felt compelled to pass along his condolences, but wisely decided to remain silent.

Bill briefly recalled the Thanksgiving game against Valley View. He didn’t think he’d get to play in their biggest football game of the season. He remembered that John lobbed the ball on the wrong trajectory and that he had to run with everything he had in order to snatch the football from the sky. He knew John had always believed it was his extraordinary talent that won the game, but Bill knew his friend choked. John was about to get sacked and he panicked. Instead of taking a few steps back, he threw the ball blindly. It was yet one more victory that Bill allowed his good buddy to claim as his own.

The memory reminded him of just how far they’d come from that stadium behind the Grove Street school in their hometown of Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania.

Bill watched from a distance as his old friend struggled into the small police car. In that moment, he felt sorry for many things. Little did he know that he had not heard the last from John Tacker. In the hours before they landed, his arch enemy decided to make it his life’s work to destroy Bill Pratt in whatever way and by whatever means possible. The war was far from over.

Thirty Two

“H
oly cow, Grandpa!” shouted Jack. “That’s unreal!”

“Yes, I’d say ‘unreal’ is an apt way of putting it,” said Bill.

“Grandpa, you didn’t kill Mrs. Tacker.”

“I know, but my neighbor believes I did.”

“I think he’s being unreasonable. Would you like me to talk to him?” queried Jack.

“That’s a mighty fine offer, Jack, but I think it would be best if you avoided him altogether.”

Jack nodded with his head down, not wishing to inform his grandfather that he and his worst enemy were already friends, sort of. “Grandpa, whatever happened to the Tackers’ son?”

“Over the years I caught a glimpse of him here and there, but they kept him pretty sequestered throughout his life,” said Bill. Then, noticing Jack’s odd expression, he added, “Hidden from us.”

“Oh,” replied Jack with a knowing nod.

*

After graduating from private school, Kenneth David Tacker became a student at the University of Michigan. Though he majored in chemistry, he read every book he could find about airplanes. Driven by a need to make his father proud, he intended to inform his parents about his newly-planned career as a professional pilot upon graduation. He only hoped he could keep it quiet for that long. He knew the words would make his dad beam. Unfortunately, Kenneth was never given a chance to tell him.

As an only child, in a setting that was as far from city life as one could get, Kenneth had few friends. Lacking any other role models, his dad became his sole source of male guidance. His father ruled with an iron fist, but at times, and quite unexpectedly, he could be as pliable as putty. The problem was that Kenneth never knew which personality was poised to emerge at any given moment. He may not have ever truly understood the man, but Kenneth respected him nonetheless.

As a teenager, Kenneth slowly came to see that his father’s inconsistencies were caused by the demons that haunted his mind. He spent the latter part of his youth trying to figure out just what it was that drove his father to act as he did.

Kenneth’s mom was quiet and patient, yielding to her husband on nearly every decision. Even if he tried to imagine it, he could not possibly think of anyone more loving and caring than she. Kenneth often wished while growing up that his mother would, just once, stand up to her husband when he was being unreasonable, but that was not her way.

Kenneth’s life was forever changed in the fall of his senior year at college. His father, for no explainable reason, flew into a fit of rage--telling him that he was not to come home ever again. The tirade went on for nearly thirty minutes. His sometimes incoherent ramblings sounded practically apologetic one minute, then laced with hate-filled fire and brimstone the next.

“You are no longer welcome here! There is no more love left in my heart for you!” his father shouted. The words wounded him deeply. Kenneth’s tears flowed freely as he could do no more than listen.

A week later he tried reopening the channels of communication, and though his mother was supportive, his father refused to back down.

There was a huge void in his life for which Kenneth had absolutely no explanation. Silent questions were asked but not answered. The unexpected rejection was impossible to accept, especially since there seemed to be no reason for it. He slowly and reluctantly came to understand that he would never again experience his mother’s love, nor would the wonderful guiding hand of his father ever return to his life.

Months later, after receiving a brief and quite unexpected note from his mother, Kenneth finally understood. Though only a handful of sentences in length, she explained his father’s shame and anger. It was then that he knew what had to be done.

With funds from home cut off, Kenneth took a full-time job. Working for Aeronautical Treats, the main supplier of inflight meals for airlines serving the Detroit Metropolitan Airport, Kenneth earned enough money to pay his bills and remain in school. It proved difficult, carrying a full credit load while working forty hours a week, but he made it work.

If there had been any doubt left in Kenneth’s mind regarding the possibility of ever returning home, it disintegrated the day his parents no-showed his college graduation. Nearly a year later, after quitting his job, the young graduate set out to make his way in the world.

As his eastbound flight traversed the skies of southern New York, along the northern border of Pennsylvania, Kenneth stared at his native land below. Basking in the sunlight, Kenneth thought of his mom and dad. He wondered how they were doing. He hadn’t seen or spoken to either of them in a very long time. His mom’s image popped into his mind. He recalled conversing with his mother in German whenever his dad was out of the house. She wanted him to be a man of the world, so she taught him her native tongue while growing up. It was their little
Geheimnis,
or secret. He was fluent in German and his dad had no knowledge of it whatsoever.

Kenneth wondered about his dad and whether or not he had slain his demons. He hoped so. After all, he took a big chance doing what he did. In any case, it was, at least for the time being, out of his hands.

*

“Where is he now, Grandpa?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know. From what your grandmother has told me, the kid just seemed to drop off the face of the planet. It’s really kind of sad.”

“Grandpa, what happened to the other pilots that were with you? Did anyone else die? Did they ever figure out if someone tried to poison you? Do they know who it was?” asked Jack in rapid-fire fashion.

“Slow down there. This old brain can’t keep up with you. No, Mrs. Tacker is the only person who passed away on that flight. In fact, she is the only passenger to ever die on one of my airplanes, and believe me that took some getting used to. I was told her immune system, the part of us that keeps us from getting sick, was weakened for some reason. I guess the food poisoning just got the best of her. As far as the crew meals: they tested my second copilot’s meal and didn’t find any signs of poison. At least that’s what they said. They told me it was likely that our particular meals, the ones for the pilots, contained salmonella. That’s something that can make you sick if you eat food that’s undercooked, or if it’s gone bad.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” asked Jack. “That sounds way too fishy. I mean, all the flight attendants ate their own meals and they were all right. The only difference was that two of them ate the pilot’s shrimp. That would mean the fish was bad, too.”

“I know; none of it makes sense. The story barely even made the newspapers. I think something happened on that airplane that none of us will ever know. What it was and why, I can’t say. But like you said, it sure sounds fishy.”

“Maybe it was the government,” suggested Jack, “and they covered it up.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You know, it could have been Mr. Tacker’s son,” said Jack.

Bill turned his head slightly and paused. It was something he’d previously never considered. He wanted some time to contemplate that thought further, but in the meantime, he decided he’d had enough of that memory and didn’t want to talk about it any longer. “I suppose it’s possible, Jack, but I doubt he’d try to poison the pilots knowing his parents were on board. But let’s talk about something else.”

“OK, Grandpa. Why do you think Mr. Tacker was so mean to his son?”

“Well, uh, Jack, I think pilots are the type of people who like to work hard and play later. They don’t like unfinished business. If they start something, they feel a need to master it or at least do it as best they can. I think many of them expect their sons to be the same. And if they’re not, well, I suppose they and their sons argue a lot and end up at odds with each other. I know I was a little hard on my son when he was a teenager. But thankfully, I had your grandmother here to keep me from alienating him completely. Uh, in other words, stay out of his hair enough so that he wouldn’t end up hating my guts.”

“I know about aliens, Grandpa. You don’t have to explain it.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.” After the words left his lips, his mind went back. He momentarily wondered if Kenneth had been trying to kill his father. He shook his head and dismissed the idea.

“Did Mr. Tacker go to jail? I mean, he lives next door.”

“Well, Jack, now that’s another story. That neighbor of mine simply refused to get on with his life. When they stuck him in that police car in Japan, I thought I’d seen the last of him, but I was wrong. Oh, boy was I wrong!”