"The Lost Flight" Part Two for Picfic Tuesday

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Part One


When the plane settled after the crash, Mrs. Waverly still had her wits about her when she released her seatbelt and she immediately to her grandchildren, Thomas and Susan. Though hysterical, they were unharmed.

Edmé wasn’t so lucky; she was dead, with her neck having been broken. Her lifeless body was still strapped in her seat.

Estelle glanced out one of the windows as she made her way up to the cockpit, calling out Illya’s name. They were surrounded by snow, white fluffy snow, which probably saved their lives.

She found him in the pilot’s chair, his head and shoulder bloodied but he was thankfully alive.

“Illya!” She tapped him on the cheek, but there was no reaction. Behind her on the wall she spotted a first aide kit; retrieving it, she found smelling salts. She broke the ampule beneath Illya’s nose and Kuryakin immediately sputtered as he came to.

“Illya, what happened?”Mrs. Waverly asked.

“You are all right...the children?”

“Yes, we’re fine. Sadly Miss MacDougall did not survive, as I see are our pilot and copilot did not either. What, may I ask again, happened?”

“They were taking us somewhere else, I suspect kidnapping you and the children. A gun was drawn on me and went off during the struggle…Mrs. Waverly, I am afraid to say that I am unable to see at the moment.”

She waved her hand in front of his eyes just to check. There was no reaction.

“Oh dear, most likely temporary from your head injury.” She wiped the blood as best she could, taping a square of gauze on his head laceration.He had a sizeable lump on his forehead as well.

“It’s that shoulder wound I’m concerned about as it must be tended to. Sadly the on board first aide kit has little more than some gauze bandages and tape...oh and the smelling salts. We need to find you some help. Now sit still dear whilst I tend to your shoulder…”

“No Mrs. Waverly, I will do it.”

“No such thing young man. Number one you’re unable to see and number two, you forget that I was a nurse during the Great War. That’s how Mr. Waverly and I met, “she continued talking as she cut away his suit jacket as well as the shoulder of his shirt and the one sleeve.

”He was home on a brief leave from his work in British Intelligence in France.” *

Illya’s eyes blinked slowly as he listened. There was no point in arguing with the woman as she was stubborn and single-minded when it came to getting her way. Illya greatly admired her tenacity.

He hissed as she probed the wound with her fingers. “The bullet isn’t too deep, but there are no forceps to get it. Best thing I can do is bandage it before we make our way out of here.”

“We are not leaving the plane,” Illya grimaced.” I was able to get out a mayday and… the radio?”

“It’s smashed,” she replied.“I’m afraid we can’t stay here dearest as we most likely will freeze to death. If you could see, you’d know we came down in snow which is probably why the plane didn’t break up into smithereens.”

Illya tried shaking his head no, but instead he moaned from a sharp pain that went shooting across his forehead.

“Where is my communicator?” He tried feeling his jacket pockets with his left hand, but it wasn’t there.

After a looking through the cockpit, Estelle was unable to locate it.

She made up a sling with the remnant of his shirt sleeve and carefully slipped his arm into it. “I wouldn’t move your head again like that if I were you,” Estelle warned.“Now slowly dear, let’s see if you can stand.

With Mrs. Waverly’s help he got to his feet, and was steadier than he hoped he’d be. She led him back through the cabin where he was promptly accosted by the children.

“Illya!” Susan cried out.” I was scared. Are you all right?”

He carefully knelt down, letting the little girl hug him. “I will be fine, and I am very thankful that you, your brother and grandmother are unharmed.”

“Miss Mac Dougal is dead,” the child whispered with a quivering lower lip.

“Yes I know mon petite chérie,” Illya hugged the little girl to him with his free arm before being helped into one of the seats. The Waverly grandchildren, like their parents were well schooled in French, Italian and Spanish; a fair number of the romance languages.

“Could you please help me Susan?” He asked. “ I need you to search the cabin for a silver pen. It it most important that we find it.”

“Oh you mean your communicator?”

“Umm, yes.” Why did it surprise him the child knew what it was; she was after all, a Waverly.

Unfortunately, after a thorough searching, the device was still nowhere to be found.

“Thomas,” Estelle turned to her grandson.” I need you to fetch our luggage in the rear of the plane and bring it here. We’re all going to need our warm clothes and wellies.”

She was determined they head out, rather than freezing to death in the plane wreckage.  Snow was blowing inside through several broken windows.  Illya was in no position to countermand Mrs. Waverly’s decision, and that was they would wait here whilst she went out to look for some help.

Thomas did as he was told, bringing their bags forward. Luckily they hadn’t been stowed in the cargo hold, otherwise they would have been buried beneath the plane, and unreachable.

He helped Illya change into a pair of heavy brown corduroy pants. Illya managed, though hissing with the pain to get into a thick woolen turtleneck sweater.

Beneath it though, Mrs. Waverly folded a small towel over his wound, and fashioned a much more comfortable sling made from a Hermes scarf from her rather large shoulder bag. The last thing done was to change Illya’s footwear to a pair of black boots and heavy socks from his luggage.

He came well prepared for the cold weather of Finland and was prepared to wander about the wilderness for Christmas, though he was sure Napoleon would try to drag him into some sort of holiday celebration as was his usual modus operandi.

“Don’t you look quite chic, in your pale yellow Hermes sling,” Estelle laughed.

“Mrs. Waverly...please.” Illya groaned.

“Always so serious,” she clicked her tongue.

If he could have shrugged, he would have done so.

Once they were all dressed, they donned their heavy coats. Illya not being able to put one arm in a sleeve had his coat held closed with safety pins from Mrs. Waverly’s treasure trove of a purse. In there she had some sweets for the children, several rolls of LifeSaver candies, which she handed to them, and Illya as well.

He drew a red one from the roll, and as the sweet cherry flavor hit is tongue, he closed his eyes and savored it. Kuryakin wished she had a communicator hidden in her bag as well, but there was no such luck there.

Estelle gave them all a stern wagging with her gloved finger, telling them to behave. “And that includes you Mr. Kuryakin.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he saluted with his left hand. “Though I again lodge a protest against you leaving.”

“Duly noted.” After releasing the safety bar, she opened the door and stepping out into the snow. She slammed it shut behind her with a loud thud.

To pass the time, and keep the children occupied Illya again sent them hunting for his communicator pen.

“I found it!” Thomas finally called out.”But it’s broken.”He held up the pen for Illya to take in his hand.

The communicator had come apart and the bottom half was crushed, and the antenna broken off.

“Chyort!” Illya cursed. Still it was open, and maybe a weak signal might be picked up. If he could see, he probably could have repaired the device.

“Naughty naughty!” Susan chided him.”You said a bad word Mr. Kuryakin.”

“You understand Russian?”

“Some. Grandad’s been teaching us.”

“Really?” Illya smiled. The Waverly’s were indeed an interesting family.

…….

Estelle Griffin-Waverly had an excellent sense of direction, but just to be on the safe side she marked the trees as she walked onwards, slicing a small notch in the trunks with a pen knife.

As a young girl she was a member of the Girls Guides, which were a part of the British Boy Scouts.

With a public outcry over girls in the Scouts, the British Boy Scouts launched the British Girl's Nursing Corps under a Scout mistress reporting to the BBS executive and becoming a separate organization 1910...that was ancient history now as far as Mrs. Waverly was concerned.

It was getting colder and snow was now falling. Yet after some time, she saw a light in the distance and as she moved closer she realized it was an Orthodox church. It was an old one made of wood and it was definitely...Russian.

“Oh dear,” she said aloud as she realized they were somewhere in the Soviet Union. That could be quite a problem for Mr. Kuryakin.

Still there seemed to be a fire going as there black smoke rising from the chimney. Someone there was bound to be able to help.

Mrs. Waverly felt there was no choice. She had to save the children and Mr. Kuryakin.

* ref. “Home is where the Heart is”

Part 3

Comments

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

WOW! Just wow! Now you've got me impatient for the rest of it :-)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you thank you thank you! Those 'wow's' from you mean a lot. I'll be posting smaller chapters, as I have to find a natural 'break' in the story where it's appropriate... There's nearly more than 7,000 more words to go.

Can't believe I wrote this in a day and a half...holy cow. I hope you like the rest.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

If the rest is half as good as this, then I'll love it :-)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I'm thinking it's actually better...at least I hope it is.