The Yellowstone Affair Chapter 3

[pactnmmt.livejournal.com]

Numbing cold nudged Napoleon into awareness. The right side of his face was numb with cold and he realized that he was lying on his side in a snow bank, his back pressed hard against a large boulder. The inky black of night was interrupted by the orange glow of the dying fire that left little of the jet’s fuselage recognizable.

The last thing Napoleon remembered was desperately attempting to open the rear door of the jet while the flames crept closer. He remembered making the decision to end his life by eating a bullet  rather than perish in the flames.  How he got out of the jet alive was a mystery to him, although he wasn’t complaining.

The injured man took stock of his condition. His entire body hurt like hell, although his back and legs hurt more than the rest of him. Carefully, he maneuvered his limbs, feet, and hands. Nothing appeared broken, however, any little movement sent sharp pains up his spine. His back had taken a beating from the strain of being tossed around while strapped to his seat.

Napoleon wondered how the pilot and copilot were or if they even survived the crash. "Ted? Sammy? Can you hear me?" His voice was raspy from the smoke. There was no answer. Fearing the worse, there was nothing he could do until daylight.

Napoleon knew that he needed to find some sort of shelter and quickly. He had no idea how long he had lain unconscious in the snow, but he knew that there was plenty of night time left before sunrise, and that the predawn hours were generally the coldest. The only insulating layer he wore was his suit jacket and it left much to be desired.  He looked around and could see the light of the dying fire bounce off a fallen log not more than ten yards away. Slowly, he pushed himself up using the boulder for support, then half walked, half stumbled over to the log. He knelt down and dug leaves and snow from the underside of the log creating a small space and crawled in, pulling some of the leaves in after him in an effort to protect himself from the biting cold. Shivering uncontrollably, he fought to keep his eyes open. Sleep could be dangerous  to someone who was injured and caught out in the winter weather.

The gray light of morning insinuated itself against the penetrating cold of the predawn dark. Napoleon Solo wasn’t sure what woke him. It could have been the stiffness and incredible ache of his body or the chattering of his teeth. It didn’t matter! He didn’t mean to fall asleep and knew that he had to get moving. Pushing the leaves and snow away from his hollowed out shelter, Napoleon crawled out and faced the horror of the scene before him. The night before, he wasn’t able to see any details except the flames and embers of the wrecked fuselage. In the morning light, the blackened shell of the small jet was a scar marring the pristine snow where it came to a rest on a fairly steep rise above Napoleon’s position. A debris field marked the jet’s path as it careened through the forest. Apparently, the plane had cart-wheeled before coming to a rest on it’s roof. Parts of the wings lay several hundred feet away where they were severed by tree trunks. Chunks of foam and fabric from the jet’s seats were strewn across the area. The smell of burned jet fuel and scorched plane parts permeated the air causing Napoleon to cough violently.




He picked up a fallen branch to lean on as he slowly made his way up the snow-covered  hill. As he neared the plane’s charred hulk he saw the snow that had melted from the flames and then refrozen over the night creating sheets of ice. His feet slipped causing him to fall hard exacerbating the strain on his back and legs. Damn it! Napoleon closed his eyes fighting the wave of pain that washed over him as he rolled over and crawled to where the ice ended. There he rested in the snow eyes closed and waited for the pain to subside.

Napoleon was tempted to just lie there and rest. Come on, Solo, get your ass in gear, that is unless you want to die here. No, he didn’t want to die, not here or anywhere. Opening his eyes, he pushed himself up and over a small snowbank and immediately back peddled with a gasp. He had come face to face with the vacant staring eyes of Sammy … or what was left of him. The copilot had been beheaded when he had been thrown through the gaping hole caused by the cockpit crashing into some trees. Shit!  Pulling himself together, Napoleon stood up leaning heavily on his stick. He saw Ted’s body partially covered by snow and debris fifty feet from the plane’s carcass. The agent made his way over to his friend.

He stood for a brief moment in respect before beginning the grim task of inspecting the body. The first order of business was to find warm clothing. He bent over to relieve Ted of his winter jacket but found that the pilot’s body was in full rigor mortis. Napoleon couldn’t bring himself to engage in the gruesome task of breaking limbs in order to retrieve the outer garment. Instead, he made his way around the wreck to see what could be salvaged.

Thirty minutes later, he had amassed a treasure trove of materials that could possibly give him a  chance of surviving until a rescue party could find him. Foam from the seats would serve as insulation from the frozen ground, a partially burned canvas tarp might serve as a lean-to or windbreak. Beyond all odds, a ceramic mug had survived the crash and fire. Napoleon explored the tail section which had broken away from the fuselage. It was there that he found the plane’s first aid kit, a jack knife, and a few items of food. His most prized find was a couple of wool blankets. They didn’t make it through the crash completely unscathed as they had multiple holes and tears. The edges were burned. It didn’t matter, they could still be used and Napoleon wasn’t going to let them go to waste. The last item he collected was a mess of tangled wires that he had recovered from the tail. Those wires would serve as ropes and fasteners. Gathering his booty into a pile on a piece of scrap metal he pulled it all across the snow to a the base of a large tree for safe keeping.

Comments

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I've been waiting for you to post the rest of this story, I hope you're getting ample time for that. It is another fine story from your wilderness minded imagination :D

[pactnmmt.livejournal.com]

Thank you, glennagir! I have seven chapters written, now have to start working on no. 8.