Adam's Flight

Adam looked through the twisted remains of the window to the moon- bright and round tonight in a clear sky dusted with stars. He marveled for a minute how perfect it looked- how wonderfully normal in the sky. But the smell of aviation fuel, fresh broken wood and blood filled his senses. The pain in his back mocked the normalcy of the starry stillness of the night.1

He relaxed against what was left of his seat in the wreckage of the small Cessna. The single engine had been shoved into his lap, crushing his legs and pinning him where he sat. He took a deep and painful breath and went over again in his mind how he had come to rest in such a ridiculous position.2

He had decided, against better judgment perhaps, to take out the plane that belonged to the best friend of his dad. Jack had been a mentor of sorts, at the encouragement of Adam’s father. He had paid for flying lessons and taken him out in his Cessna until Adam had earned his license and logged enough hours to fly it alone. Jack was supposed to meet him tonight to go for a short night flight. He must have stayed late on business, so Adam took the plane out on his own- the flight plans had already been filed, all had been set.3

The moon reassured him that he was still on Earth, that he had not been thrown out of dimension and all was right side up- very real concerns after the violence of the crash- the horrible scraping sounds and whining screeches of metal. The shattered glass flew in all directions and the front end assaulted him as it crushed in on him as the plane skidded horribly to a halt. His ears rang in the dead silence that followed, choking in the shock of it all. All he could guess was that he’d misjudged the horizon info and had come in too low over the mountain, clipping some trees and losing control. Whatever happened, he sat for a long while listening. There was a slight hissing sound, but at least the plane hadn’t caught on fire.4

He struggled to wriggle free from the front of the plane lodged on his lap. The side stick jammed under his ribs on one side. He struggled but pain flared in his back and nothing was budging. 5

He had thought of where he might be and how long it would take a rescue party to find him. He’d been in scrapes before, some a lot more embarrassing than this. He could do this. He smiled at the irony of how he had watched so many videos of people wrapped in blankets, thanking the Lord to be alive; now it would be him in one of those videos. There was water, blankets, flares and a first aid kit in the compartment just behind the seat. Jack had supplied his plane well. It had been an unusually warm summer but up here in the mountains at night it could get chilly. Adam tried to reach around to the back where the compartment should be, but his mobility was limited and every twisting effort sent spasms of intense pain up his back. Oh well, he’d be alright. He took a mental inventory of his body. The warmth he had felt in his legs had drained and he realized that he couldn’t feel them at all now. He tried to feel for his legs with his free hand. The other was pinned under what could be the folded-in frame of the front window. All he could feel was metal jags, sharp edges and buttons at odd angles. He felt to the floor- scrubby carpet that was spongy with a warm, sticky liquid. The smell of blood was strong. 6

He wouldn’t be able to get to the flares or the blankets. How long would it be before someone noticed that something was wrong? The flight plan that Jack had filed claimed 2 on board. Jack would call tomorrow to apologize for the no-show but would leave a message, not thinking anything of it. No one at work would miss him until Monday, two days from now. He hadn’t talked to his parents in a while. Jack should’ve come tonight and this all would’ve been avoided. Damn Jack. Adam shook his head. He was angry at his mother too, for not being more forceful in forbidding him to learn to fly. And at his father for being so pleased and encouraging him, against his mother’s hesitance. And at himself for, yet again, jumping into something without thinking it through. His anger made him try to push the wreckage off again until wracks of pain took his breath. He was shaking, mostly in his stomach. It was a little chilly, but he couldn’t seem to calm the shivers. He laid there and steadied his breath. He would just have to hang on until sunrise when the plane would be visible and they would come for him. 7

He closed his eyes, trying to think of things to distract himself. He thought of his no-where job and the rut he had been in the last two years. His parents had been disappointed when he dropped out of college. He had switched majors, like stale shirts; mostly when the courses got too hard or boring. They worried about him but didn’t push the issue, at least he supported himself. If he could get out of this mess, he would look into finishing a degree and take Jack up on the apprenticeship he offered last year. A knot grew in his stomach as he contemplated all the missed opportunities and wasted time, just coasting along waiting for something. Now, he couldn’t figure out what it was that he had been waiting on. He would definitely be making some big changes when he got out of this.8

Adam again searched for the moon. It had drifted farther to the right now, on the edge of what he could make out of that side of the plane. He wondered how long it would be until morning. He fumbled around on the carpet beside his distorted seat. His fingers met bits of shattered safety glass and unidentifiable twists of metal. He felt a thin cylinder. He upended it, felt along its skinny shaft to a point. Ah, Jack’s pen. He always kept a pen and notepad to jot ideas for business and the odd statistic. He hung onto the pen. It was becoming a struggle to stay awake. Fear began to take over the knot in his stomach. What if he didn’t make it? It was the first time he allowed himself to think it. He let his hand rest on the soggy carpet. He was losing a lot of blood. He swallowed. He was so thirsty and the shivering was uncontrollable. 9

The moon shone on the edge of the seat next to him. It was wrenched sideways like it wanted to jump out. He thought of all the things he would miss. He had had girlfriends, but nothing real special. Certainly not a soul mate like people talked of. He smiled remembering Gail. He had tried to impress her by sounding discriminating and witty. He told her he liked candied apples but not cotton candy, enjoyed the occasional play, but despised poorly acted Shakespeare; that he was a runner, not a jogger (athletic, not pathetic). His smile faded. Gail would wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, going on with her life. Maybe she would hear about him on the news. A wave of pain accompanied a wave of sorrow. 10

Life would go on without him. The moon would still shine; the dawn would still come. He thought of the old man he passed on his way to work everyday. The man wore a bright orange vest and walked his dog every morning. Adam gauged how late he was to work by where he passed the orange-vest man. He wondered if he’d even made the effort to wave at the old man. Tears welled in his eyes. Sadness was penetrating his soul.11

What would his mother do? His father would take it like a man, no doubt. He had never seen him cry or show any weakness. He was driven and serious, always with a quick solution to any problem. Except this one, possibly. No, he had gotten himself into this one, his father would just shake his head. 12

His eyes felt so heavy. He glanced around at what he could make out in the dark- tangles and scraps. What would he look like when they found him? He moved his hand, dropping the pen. He fumbled again for it, strengthening his grip on it. Of course, he thought, I should write a note. What would he say? “Sorry mom and dad for wasting your money and my life”? No. He searched the small area again for the notepad, but didn’t find it.13

He had always wondered what it would be like to die. Was there an afterlife? Surely not angels with harps. He hadn’t paid too much attention in Sunday School class and had quit going altogether as a young teen not seeing the point of it all. He thought about God. He had never particularly believed in a higher power, but then, he’d not given it much deep thought. He regretted this too.14

He felt dizzy and shaky. He looked once again for the reassurance of the moon. It had moved out of his view; moved on without him. He gripped the pen, remembering he was going to write a note. He thought of his mother. He would tell her that everything was alright, and not to worry and that he loved her. He didn’t want her to cry. He was so tired he couldn’t focus anymore. He would just rest for a while then he would search again for something to write on- the seat or perhaps his arm. He closed his eyes just for a small rest. 15

A few seconds later the pen slipped from his fingers as they relaxed.16

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~17

Whitman County Gazette, January 25, 200918

Obituaries.19

Adam J. Billington20

Adam J. Billington, 25, of Colfax, WA died on January 23, 2009 when the Cessna SkyCatcher 162 he was flying crashed into the Umatilla National Forest. Adam is survived by his parents Brandt and Amanda Billington, sister Natalie Forsman and 2 nieces. Memorials may be addressed to the Billington family. PO Box 723, Colfax, WA 99111.21