Wings

19

Desmond was called in the middle of the night, exactly twenty-two hours after they had left their last destination. The local authorities were absolutely sure by then that the North Star had disappeared, and probably gone down in the Pacific Ocean. But there had been no sign, no signal. And no one had any idea what had happened.

“Damn.” He called everyone in to help. They had an emergency plan to implement. The Navy was called, the foreign authorities, the Pentagon. The flight of the North Star had made world news, and now everyone who had ever heard of her, and some who hadn't, wanted to find her.

There was an aircraft carrier in the vicinity of where she was believed to have gone down, and they dispatched forty-one planes, and called in two destroyers. It was not unlike the search that had gone on four years before, and they were better trained, and better equipped now. They made every conceivable effort, and deployed every man possible. The President called Desmond himself, and then the O'Malleys in Illinois. They were in a state of shock when they heard. They couldn't believe they might lose Cassie. And Oona was particularly afraid for Pat's heart, but he seemed to be taking it fairly calmly. He was desperately afraid for his daughter, but he had a lot of confidence in the armed forces. He only wished that Nick were there to help them.

The search went on for days, in an area that covered hundreds of miles, and all the while Billy and Cass were trying to keep each other's spirits up and eating berries. Cassie had gotten a case of raging dysentery, and Billy had badly scraped his leg swimming over some coral the morning after they crashed. But other than that, they were in pretty good shape. They had whatever fruit they found around them, and enough water. But no sign of anyone coming to rescue them. No plane. No ship. Nothing had even come close. Because Cassie had changed course slightly before they crashed, and because of the winds that had pushed them still further off course before that, the search was being conducted some five hundred miles in the wrong direction. Their radio had gone dead just before they went down and then been destroyed in the explosion, so they had no way of giving anyone their location. And there had been no ship in the vicinity at the time, to hear them. They weren't even sure where they were now. But they had no way to tell anyone even if they had known it.

In LA Desmond was doing everything he could to keep the search going. But the press was beginning to question the shocking expense of the search, and began to turn on Desmond. They played up the futility of looking for them, and the likelihood that they'd been killed in the crash or would be dead by now anyway. The search went on at full steam for fourteen days, and then occasional sweeps were made for another week. The search was then called off entirely two days after that, one month to the day of the date they had left Los Angeles. It was over.

“I know she's out there,” Desmond insisted to everyone, but no one believed him. “She's too well trained. I don't believe it” But experts assumed that something went wrong with the plane. There could have been some unknown, fatal defect. No one questioned her skill, but there was always the element of fate, or good fortune.

Her parents were devastated once they knew the search was being called off without finding Cassie and Billy. It seemed impossible to believe that they had lost yet another child, and so cruelly. Her mother lay awake night after night, wondering if Cassie was alive somewhere and they just hadn't found her. But her father felt it was unlikely.

Cassie and Billy had been lost for six weeks on Thanksgiving Day, and it was a gloomy holiday for everyone that year. They barely celebrated it at all. They just had a quiet dinner in the kitchen.

“I just can't believe she's gone,” her mother sobbed in Megan's arms. It was a terrible time for them.

And for Desmond it was the end of a life's dream. He tormented himself constantly over what must have happened. If only they knew… if only they could find something… but there was no debris, no evidence, no piece of the plane or of their clothing. It led him to hope they were still alive somewhere. And he hounded the Pentagon constantly, but for them, the search was over. They were convinced that the North Star had gone down without a trace and they were certain there were no survivors.

Cassie's photograph was everywhere, in magazines, and newspapers. Even six weeks after they disappeared, her identity seemed as alive as ever. The press had been devoted to Cass. And appropriately, Desmond portrayed himself as the grieving widower. He had no Thanksgiving that year. And neither did Nick in England. He had heard about Cassie's disappearance about a week after the plane had disappeared. It was such a major event, it had made headlines in England. He couldn't believe it when he heard the news. He had volunteered for the most dangerous missions, until someone had explained the situation to his commander. They had given him a three-day leave and asked him to take some time off. It was obvious to everyone that something was bothering him and he was just taking too many chances. Nick had argued with them, but they didn't want to hear it. He thought about going home for a few days, but he knew he couldn't face Pat yet, knowing what had happened. What a blind fool he had been. What a coward. He knew he'd never forgive himself for not marrying her, and keeping her from Desmond Williams. It never occurred to him that maybe he couldn't have, or that she had wanted to fly the tour more than anything. It was her decision too, and she was very independent.

But he figured Pat would never forgive him either. If he had married her, it might all have been different.

He had seen a photograph of Desmond coming out of a memorial service for Cassie, with a grim face and carrying a homburg. And he hated Desmond for giving Cassie the opportunity to kill herself, and the plane in which to do it. And he knew better than anyone that Williams had probably pushed her into the tour in the first place, all for his own glory. She had deserved better than either of them. He was more convinced of that now than ever.

And on the island with no name, Cassie served Billy berries and a banana and a handful of water for Thanksgiving. They had been living on the same diet for more than a month, and it only rained occasionally, but they were surviving. Billy had gotten an infection in the leg he'd scraped so badly on the coral reef, and he'd been battling with a fever. She'd had a few aspirin in their emergency kit, but they were long gone now. And she'd had some trouble with a spider bite, but other than sunburn, they were in pretty good shape, except for Billy's frequent fevers.

They had managed to keep track of the days since they'd crashed, and they knew it was Thanksgiving. They talked about turkey and pumpkin pie and going to church, and being with their families and friends. Billy was worried about his father being all alone. And Cassie kept thinking about her parents, and her sisters and their husbands and children, and how much she missed them. She talked about Annabelle and Humphrey, the two children from England. They made her think of Nick again. She thought a lot about him. All the time now.

“What do you suppose they all think has happened to us?” she asked as she shared a banana with Billy, and she noticed he was looking flushed again, and his eyes seemed very intense and a little sunken.

‘That we're dead probably,” he said honestly. Lately, he hadn't been joking as much. All they could do was sit and wait, and think, and eat the same kinds of berries over and over. There was nothing else to eat on the island, and so far they hadn't been able to catch any fish. But they weren't starving.

There was a storm two days after that, and the weather seemed to turn cooler than it had been. She was still wearing her flight suit, but it was torn and not very clean and Billy only had his shorts and a T-shirt. Cassie noticed the morning after the first chill that Billy was shivering even in the sun.

“You okay?” she asked, trying not to look as worried as she felt.

“I'm fine,” he said gamely. “I'll go get some bananas.” He had to scale up a tree to get them, but he couldn't even get off the ground this time; his leg was hugely swollen and oozing pus, and he was limping when he came back with one banana that had fallen.

She didn't know what to do for him anymore. The leg just kept getting worse, and she could tell that his fever was getting higher. She bathed the leg in salt water, but it didn't help at all. She had nothing else to give him. He dozed a lot that afternoon, and when he woke up, his eyes looked even more glazed than they had been. She laid his head on her lap after that, and stroked his forehead, and as the sun went down he began shaking from the chill again, so she lay next to him, and tried to keep him warm from the heat of her body.

‘Thanks, Cass,” he whispered in the dark of their cave that night, and she lay holding him, praying that someone would find them. But it seemed almost impossible now. She wondered if they would be there for years, or just die there. It seemed unlikely they'd leave the island. She knew too well that the search had to have been called off by now. They were presumed dead, just as others had been before them.

His teeth chattered constantly during the night, and the next morning, he was delirious as she bathed his head with cool water. There was a storm that day, and she drank too much of the rainwater herself, and wound up with violent dysentery again. Between the berries and the water and the leaves they ate, she had it all the time now. She could tell from the way her flight suit fit that she had lost a lot of weight since they'd reached the island.

Billy never regained consciousness that day, and that night, she lay holding him, crying softly. She had never felt so alone in her entire life, and to make matters worse she felt she had a fever now too. She wondered if she had caught a tropical disease. Billy had an infection from the coral, but they both were very sick.

In the morning, Billy seemed better again, and a lot more lucid. He sat up, and walked around the cave, and then he looked at her and said he was going swimming. It was chilly outside, but he insisted he was hot, and he suddenly became very argumentative, and very powerful. She couldn't stop him. He waded out into the water where the burned hull of their plane was. Even the storms they'd had hadn't washed it away yet, and it lay there like a reproach, and a reminder of all they had had and lost. For Cassie, it was a final reminder of Desmond.

She watched Billy swimming past the plane, and then back again, and when he came out of the water, she saw that he had torn the other leg, but he didn't seem to feel it. He insisted it was nothing, and she watched him scale up the tree, and eat a banana. He seemed to have unusual energy, but an odd kind of dementia. She could tell that he wasn't himself from the things he said, and the way he looked at her. He was very nervous and very wild-eyed, and by nightfall, he lay shivering in their cave, talking to someone she didn't know about a car, and a candle, and a little boy. She had no idea what he was talking about. And late that night, he looked at her very strangely, and she wondered if he knew her this time.

“Cass?”

“Yes, Billy?” She lay holding him close to her; she could feel his bones, and his whole body shaking.

“I'm tired.”

“That's okay. Sleep,” They had nothing else to do, and it was very dark there.

“Is it okay?”

“It's okay… close your eyes…”

“They are,” he said, but she could see that they were open.

“It's very dark in here. Close your eyes anyway. You'll feel better tomorrow.” Or would they ever feel better, she wondered. She could feel her own fever rising again too, and she was shaking almost as much as he was.

“I love you, Cassie,” he said softly after a little while. He sounded like a child, and she found herself thinking of her nieces and nephews, of how sweet they were and how lucky her sisters were to have them.

“I love you too, Billy,” she said gently.

He was still curled up in her arms, when she woke up the next morning. Her head ached, and her neck was stiff, and she knew she was slowly getting as sick as he was. Billy was already awake, she thought, he was lying very still and looking at her; and then she gave a small scream as she realized that his eyes were open, and he wasn't breathing. He had died in her arms in the night. She was alone now.

She sat there looking at him for a long time, huddled next to him, not knowing what to do, and not wanting him to leave her. She sat crying, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. She knew she had to do something with him, to’ take him away, or bury him, but she couldn't bear for him to leave her.

She pulled him slowly outside that afternoon, and dug a shallow grave with her hands, in the thicker sand near the rocks, and she laid him there. And all she could think of as she did was his telling her not long before that he wanted to end his life on an island. He had. But that all seemed so long ago. It was part of another life, in a place she would never see again. She knew that now. She knew she was going to die like Billy.

She kneeled down next to him, and looked at him, with his eyes closed, and his freckles so big on the thin face, and she touched his cheek for a last time, and stroked his hair.

“I love you, Billy,” she said as she had the night before. But this time he didn't answer, and she covered him gently with sand and left him.

She sat alone in the cave that night, hungry and cold and shaking. She hadn't eaten all day. She was too sick to eat, and too sad about Billy. And she hadn't drunk water either. And the next morning, she felt weak and confused and she kept thinking she heard her mother calling her. Whatever she had, it was killing her, just as it had killed Billy. She wondered how long it would take, or if it even mattered. There was nothing left to live for now. Chris was gone. Billy was gone. Nick was lost to her… her marriage was over… she had crashed Desmond's plane… she had let everyone down… she had failed them.

She staggered out to the beach and fell down several times, and she was too weak to go up to the rocks and get water. She didn't care anymore. It was too much trouble to stay alive. And there were so many people talking to her now. She saw the sun come out, and she heard them, and as she stood up again, she saw a ship on the horizon. It was a very big ship, and it was coming closer. But it didn't matter, because they would never see her.

The USS Lexington was in the area on maneuvers. It passed through these islands regularly, but it hadn't been there in a while, it had been assigned to other positions. But Cassie didn't bother with it, she went back into her cave and lay down. It was too cold outside… too cold… and there were too many voices…

The Lexington continued to cruise by, and there were two smaller ships with it. It was the lookout on the smaller one who spotted the burned hull of the North Star bobbing in the water half a mile off the island.

“What is that, sir?” he asked an officer next to him, who smiled. “It looks like a scarecrow,” It did, from that angle, in the distance. Part of it had gone down, but there was so little left that the skeleton managed to stay afloat, and with another look, the officer gave a series of rapid orders.

“Could it be the plane that O'Malley and Nolan were flying, sir?” the junior officer asked excitedly.

“I don't think so. They went down about five hundred miles from here, give or take a few miles. I don't know what that thing is. Let's take a closer look.”

They advanced slowly on it, and several more of the men focused binoculars on it, but when they got there, the skeleton eluded them, and dipped in and out of the water. But it was obvious now that it was part of a plane. Half the cockpit was still there, and one of the wings had been blown off. The other had burned down to the frame and melted.

“What does it say?” one of the men was shouting to the other.

“Get some men in the water now,” an officer commanded. “I want that brought aboard.” And half an hour later, they had the remains of Cassie's plane spread out on the deck around them. There wasn't much left, but there was one piece that told it all. They had found it. It was painted bright green and yellow. Those had been her colors, they all knew, and the script read

“Star.” They called the captain down to examine what they'd found, and there was no question in his mind. They had found what was left of the North Star. It had been burned to a crisp, and it had obviously suffered a severe explosion. But there was no sign of life on it anywhere, or of human remains. They checked carefully. There was no sign of Cassie or Billy.

They radioed their companion ships, and still others in the vicinity, which by late afternoon were scouring the waters for bodies in life vests. They had radioed to shore as well, and there was a news bulletin in LA, which Desmond heard before anyone called him. Pieces of the plane had been found, but there was no sign of life anywhere. They had been lost for seven weeks now. It was unlikely they were alive, but not impossible. The search for O'Malley and Nolan had been reopened.

Landing parties were organized to search all the surrounding islands. There were three of them, two of them fairly good-sized, and one of them so small as to be unlikely. There wasn't enough vegetation to keep anyone alive for a week, let alone a month, they decided. But the officer in charge told them to search it anyway. There was nothing though. No sign of life, no scraps of clothing, or utensils.

And as Cassie listened, she heard noises again, and then more voices. She wondered if Billy had heard all the same things before he died. She had forgotten to ask him. There were whistles and bells and people calling, and then she realized she was about to die, when a bright light shone in her face. There were voices and people calling again, and that light right in her eyes. She drifted off to sleep again as she looked at it. It was just too much trouble to listen to them anymore. And then she felt them moving her. She was being carried somewhere, just as she had carried Billy…

“Sir! Sir!” The whistle shrilled sharply three times signaling for assistance, and four more men came running in the direction of the whistle. There was a small cave, and one of the men was standing there with tears streaming down his face.

“I found her, sir!… I found her…” She was barely conscious and babbling incoherently, and she kept calling Billy's name over and over. She was railthin, and desperately pale, but they all recognized the red hair and the flight suit.

“Oh, my God,” one of the officers said. She was filthy and smelled terrible, and she was obviously deathly ill, but she was alive, although barely. Her pulse was thready, her breathing was shallow, and he wasn't sure she was going to make it. He told the young ensign to signal for help. They put her in the boat quickly, and left three of the men to continue searching the island. They wanted to get her back to the ship as quickly as possible.

They were calling and shouting orders, and she was loaded onto the ship in a sling, and they signaled to the medical personnel on the Lexington to assist them. She wore an ID tag around her neck, which identified her correctly as Cassie O'Malley Williams. And within minutes, the Pentagon had the news, she'd been found, barely alive, but there was no sign of Billy Nolan.

But the search party left on the island took less than half an hour to find him. They took him back to the ship, and by then Cassie was already on the Lexington, though she was unaware of it. A team of two doctors and three medics were doing what they could to revive her. She was dehydrated and delirious and had an uncontrollable fever.

“How is she?” the captain asked the medical personnel that night.

“Nothing's sure yet“ the doctor said quietly, “but nothing's lost yet either.”

Her parents had just been called by the Department of the Navy. And Desmond was called shortly after that. It went out over the wire services that night. It was a miracle. The nation's prayers had been answered. Cassie O'Malley had been found, in a cave on an island in the Pacific, in critical condition. It wasn't known yet if she would survive. But it was already known that Billy Nolan hadn't. His father had already been called in San Francisco, and he was crushed to hear the news. Billy was a hero at twenty-six, but he was gone. He had died only a day or two before they found him, they believed, though Miss O'Malley had been unable to tell them anything yet. She was unconscious.

In the O'Malley house everything was still, as Oona and Fat sat staring at each other, unable to believe what they'd been told. Cassie was alive. And the Lexington was steaming toward Hawaii with her at that moment.

“Oh, Pat… It's like another chance,” Oona said breathlessly, “like a miracle…” She smiled through her tears, praying for Cassie silently, her rosary beads in her hand, and her husband patted her hand gently.

“Don't get your hopes up. We already lost her once. She may not make it, Oonie. She's been out there for a long time, and you don't know what kind of shape she was in when they crashed. She may have been pretty banged up then, and that was more than a month ago.” She'd been on the ground for seven weeks since they went down. It was a long time to live on rainwater and berries.

They had none of the details yet, and even Desmond had had a hard time prying anything out of them at the Pentagon. They just didn't know enough yet to reassure him.

But the news the next morning from the Lexington wasn't very hopeful. She was still unconscious, her fever hadn't gone down, and there were complications.

“What the hell does that mean?” Desmond shouted at them. “What kind of complications?”

‘They didn't tell me, sir,” the woman on the phone said to him politely.

Cassie's fever didn't respond to any of the medication, and she was dehydrated to the point of death. She was still delirious, and had violent dysentery, and she had started passing blood, which the medics told one of the men was a sure sign it was all over.

“Poor kid,” one of the midshipmen said. “She's the same age as my sister, and she can't even drive a car yet.”

“Looks like Cassie didn't drive so hot either,” one of the men joked, but he had tears in his eyes as he said it. The entire ship was talking about her, and praying for her, and so was the entire country, as well as the world.

In England, Nick had been called into his commander's office at Hornchurch. Word had gotten out eventually that he was extremely close to Cassie O'Malley, though no one knew the details. And he had been in rough shape since her disappearance in October. They'd sent him back to flying missions eventually, but he'd been hard on all his men, and dangerously willing to take unnatural risks for too long now.

“I wouldn't get my hopes up excessively, Major Galvin, but I thought you ought to know. We've just heard that they found her.”

“Found who?” Nick looked confused. He'd been asleep after flying two night missions over Germany back to back, when they'd told him to see the commander.

“I believe the O'Malley woman is a friend of yours, isn't she?” Gossip was everywhere in the Army, all the way to the commander's office.

“Cassie?” Nick looked as though he'd gotten an electric shock as he realized what the commander was telling him. “Cassie's alive? They found her?”

‘They found her. She's in critical condition on one of your warships in the Pacific. It sounds as though she might not make it, from what I've seen so far. But we'll keep you informed of any developments, if you like.”

“I'd appreciate that, sir,” Nick said, looking pale, as the commander watched him.

“You look like you need a break, Major. This might be the right time, depending on what happens.”

“I wouldn't know what to do with it, sir,” Nick said honestly. He was afraid to go home now. For him, there was nothing to go home to. Cassie would be with Desmond if she survived… and oh God, he hoped so… he would be willing to sacrifice his own life to make that happen. He would have been willing to do anything, if she just lived… even see her with Desmond Williams for the rest of her life. Anything was better than knowing she had died, or fearing it as he had for the past seven weeks. He had given up hope in the last month. It was just impossible that they'd still be alive somewhere in the Pacific. “Any word of her navigator?”

The commander nodded. They were all used to losing friends now, but this was a hard way to do it. “He didn't make it, they found him on the island with her. I'm afraid I don't know the details.”

‘Thank you, sir.” Nick stood up to leave, looking exhausted but hopeful. “Will you let me know if you hear anything else?”

“As soon as we do, Major. We'll call you at once.”

“Thank you, sir.” They saluted each other, and Nick walked slowly back to his barracks, thinking of Cassie. All he could think of, as he had a thousand times since May, was the night they'd spent at the airstrip in the moonlight. If only he'd held onto her, if only he'd been able to keep her from going… if only she'd live… for the first time in twenty years, he found himself praying, as tears rolled down his cheeks, and he went back to his barracks.