Sunset Reflections

[Abe Kas 0]

It was sunset on Pacifica as Abe sat in a rocking chair on the porch of the rural airport's office, people and plane watching. He drank from a bottle of his seemingly never ending supply of root beer, which uncharacteristically he was supplying to John's friend and family, Dennis Lau, for free. A small plane floated down from the sky, flaps down, engine wind-milling at idle, its tires chirping as it touched down once, gently bounced once before it started to slow down as it approached the middle of the runway, and turned off to taxi back on the small taxiway to a tie down on the grass where others were parked for the night.

 

The shore leave was coming to it's end, and a wonderful week it was. The engineering department had only to serve stand-by watches, and since the native people of Pacifica, the Selkies, were part of the Federation, they supported whatever was needed for the Challenger. It meant that Abe didn't get any calls, and he was happy for that and the relaxation he'd gotten. They were an interesting people, with a life cycle that started out on land breathing air, a period of time when they were amphibious and decidedly attractive to humanoids, and then as maturity and responsibility grew to the point of them taking the responsibilities of leadership of their groups, strictly aquatic.

 

John's friend Dennis was a well traveled soul who, with his wife and kids, had settled on Pacifica a few years ago. Abe had been staying along with John at their home, since he didn't really care for the whole tourist thing going on at the resorts. Been there, done that, as the saying goes. It was one of those homes with pictures of people all over the place. Some were just of a person or two, some with airplanes in them, some with lots of people. John and Dennis were in some of them together, and some singularly. Besides, what could be better than a staying at a home on an airport, waking up to the sounds of airplanes coming and going? After all, he was an engineer, and engines sang a song that reached deep into his soul.

 

Dennis ran the airport's operations, which wasn't very much. Mostly giving tourist para-sailing rides down at the resorts, parachute jumping lessons, aerial tours and aerobatic flying lessons, airplane rentals, heck, he even pumped fuel when needed. In one of the two small hangers, John's airplane sat where they had reassembled it. John had insisted on helping with some of Dennis's duties, in part to be able to spend more time with him and his family.

 

Abe felt like he was back on his old family freighter, such was the welcome Dennis had extended to him as John's senior office and friend. There was something special about the friendship Dennis and John had. The stories he heard them recall while they were working together about their barnstorming days together were those of triumph, both in love and life, and some tragedy.

 

Last night, Dennis and John had been looking at a photo album, laughing at many of them, and telling stories of their jumps. There had been those with formation groups requiring great skills, some with prize winning results at competitions. There were stories of those they had fun with their practical jokes, the girls they had dallied with, couples they never expected to last that did, and ones they expected to last that didn't. John had talked some about H.G. Reed, hoping she'd have contacted him by now. Abe and Dennis lent an understanding ear, and friendly support to him since they could tell he was smitten with her. It was his time to mature, and come to understand that while some women love to be chased, courted, romanced, serenaded, or otherwise join in the falling in love scenario, some weren't ready to do that when the man was. When the time was right, Abe and Dennis told him, you'll know it, and it was a complete unknown as to when it would be or how he would know it.

 

It was one of those times when Abe could tell he should hang back and let Dennis and John have their time together. John's plane was crated back up for transport and storage aboard the Challenger, and Abe had enjoyed working on it with them. They had flown it a few times during the week, and John had flown some tourists, as well as some Challenger crew who had ventured out to the airport too. Abe and John were scheduled to return in half an hour, and it was good-by time for them.

 

They were standing over by a small monument off to the side of the airport. John put a picture on the base ledge of the monument and leaned it up against it, underneath a plaque. Then, he opened one bottle of Root Beer, and set it down next to it. The picture was the last one in the album they had been looking at last night, and neither of them were in it. It was of a twin engined airplane, and about 25 people with helmets and jump suits were standing in front of it, obviously ready to take off for a group jump. It wasn't a modern shuttle craft at all. The airplane looked like it had seen it's better days, the paint wasn't perfect, the tires didn't retract or have any speed fairings on them, the back door was missing altogether. Seemed like these daredevils and parachute fanatics abhorred modern conveniences.

 

They both opened bottles for them selfs, and silently toasted the picture, then took a long drink. With his toe, John tipped over the bottle on the ground, and then both John and Dennis slowly poured the rest of their drinks out into the same puddle. He could see them turn to each other, and both hugged each other tightly, with great sorrow and deep feeling, tears flowing from both of them unabashedly. A few moments later, they looked out toward the sunset just as the sun dipped below the horizon, wiped their eyes, and turned toward Abe. Dennis picked up the bottle, and the picture, and they began to walk back to Abe on the porch. Abe could see on the back of the picture in its plastic page protector from the photo album, was a newspaper article with the heading, "26 people Crash" he could make out. He didn't need to read the rest to know what had happened.

 

"All ready to go, Abe?" asked Dennis as John picked up both tote-bags from the office where they had put them earlier that day when they had gotten there to prepare the airplane.

 

Abe turned to a box on the ground and picked it up. "This is for you and your family. Drink it in good health, and keep the shinny side up on those planes of yours." Dennis nodded, took it, and turned to leave, "You can come back anytime, Abe. I like Greeks traders like you bearing gifts like this!" Dennis left to go take his case of root beer back to his home.

 

John chuckled at the classic good bye wishes Abe had bestowed upon Dennis. "I'm going to put these bags down with the airplane crates. Meet you at the transport site in a minute, Abe."

 

Abe walked out after John. "I'll be right there." Abe hadn't really seen the monument before, and he walked over to it. Even after a week of being there, it was small, and had gone unnoticed. He couldn't make out the plaque clearly from where he'd seen them in their silent memorial service of sorts, and was wondering what was written on it. He got there, and left a moment later after reading it. On it was:

High Flight

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds – And done a hundred things

You have not dreaded of – wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

Ive' topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew.

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God

John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

September 3, 1941

Edited September 6, 2009 by Abe Kas