Falling from the Delta Sky

This is sequel to the short stories “Above the Delta Sky” and “Beneath the Delta Sky” From the book, Fried Chicken & Wine.

A tiny lone yellow crop duster soared above the dark green fields of the Mississippi Delta.  Its pilot pulled back on the plane’s stick and finished its daily aerial ballet. The crops below were now sufficiently dusted; his day’s work was done.  He loved the flight home.  It was when he could just let his mind go and fly. No worries about power lines or trees. It was just him and his Air Tractor 301.  And Angie.

Angie was the love of his life, his wife and the mother of their son. Cancer had taken her physically from him years ago. But her spirit protected him every time he flew.  He smiled as he looked at her picture taped to the instrument panel.  Next to it was a picture of the another girl who held his heart — their granddaughter Angie. She was named for the woman she so closely resembled.

And he had named his plane Angie, too.  Some felt he loved the plane more than people. He wouldn’t argue. Planes were more dependable than people anyway. Besides, he had aviation running in his veins — He had flown since he was a small boy. A long career in the military and commercial aviation had taken him around the world.  But his family brought him back home to Mississippi.  After a long estrangement, he and his son could now almost tolerate each other. Almost.

He smiled as he thought of his granddaughter.  His mind drifted off again as the setting sun cast haunting shadows across the fertile land.

And then it happened.

Sputter. Cough. Sputter.

His mind snapped back to reality. The Air Tractor’s Pratt and Whitney radial engine died.  It’s loud roar suddenly fell silent, turning the plane into a 7,800 lb. gliding brick.  He had crashed twice in his life — once when he hard-landed his father’s Piper Cub and rolled off the end of the runway. He spent most of his sophomore year in a cast after that adventure.  The other was when he had nursed his shot-up A-1 Skyraider back to Pleiku Air Base in South Vietnam.  Rescuers had pulled him unconscious from his burning aircraft. His arm looked like pork rinds from the painful burns.  Now, he was about to experience his third crash.

He probably should have panicked, but he didn’t have time. He spend his remaining seconds airborne looking for options.  There weren’t many, though. He was too low to the ground. His mind raced as he tried to figure out where he could put the plane down. To the left was a tree-line that he couldn’t clear. To the right was the river.  Straight ahead was another tree-line — but did he have enough altitude to clear it? On the other side of the trees was a soybean field. If he could just keep the plane from stalling. The silence in the cockpit allowed him to hear his beating heart.

“Protect me, Angie.”

“I’m going to make it,” he thought as the plane grazed the tops of the trees. And he was almost right. But right as he reached the edge of the field, the landing gear snagged a giant oak. He heard the snapping of limbs and groan of metal. The plane flipped and fell like a stone to the waiting dark soil below. The pilot screamed as the plane tumbled and then crashed. There was a bone-crushing crack. And then blackness.

The yellow plane fell from the Delta Sky.

When he awoke, he felt the sting of blood in his eyes. What was left of the plane’s crumpled cockpit was covered in his blood.  He looked down at this arm.  It was gray from  his loss of blood.  His eyesight began to blur. He looked down at his leg and saw his femur sticking out of his pant leg.  The world went gray and then black.  Then he saw a brilliant light.

He had seen specials about near-death experiences and figured that he must be having one.  He felt a peace like he had never felt before. And then he saw her.  Glowing brightly with white flowing robes, Angie came out of the light. She was more beautiful than he remembered. She looked like she had the day they married.  He heard her voice, yet her mouth did not move.

“Will you stay here or come with me?”

This was the moment he had dreamed about for  years. He had been tempted to fly his plane into the ground so many times just so he could see her again. So he could get this choice.  Now he had gotten it. He started to head toward the light.

But he could see little Angie, too. He could see her crying at his funeral. He saw her flying to be closer to him. She saw her marriage. Her baby boy named for him.  He saw the life he’d miss if he died.

And then he looked back at the love of his life. He felt her warmth radiating from her glow. He felt a peace he had not felt in so many years. His heart melted thinking of her love.

Then saw little Angie again.

He made his choice.

————————

He opened his eyes again and wasn’t familiar with his surroundings. He blinked, tried to adjust to the whiteness of the room and then heard beeping and whirring.

“He’s awake.  Daddy, Grandpa’s awake.”

“I thought we had lost you, old man.” His son looked down at his father. “And as much as this might shock you, I’d have been devastated. I know Angie would have been, too. She needs her grandfather. I mean, c’mon — who will teach her to fly?”

“Oh, and sorry about your plane.  There’s not much left of it — but that was a heck of a piece of flying you did, dad. Doctor said it was nothing short of a miracle that you survived the crash. Your guardian angel was working overtime, that’s for sure.”

The pilot then saw his wife’s spirit standing in the corner of the hospital room. He began to talk quietly under his breath. “I’m sorry honey. I promise I’ll spend eternity with you. But right now, our little girl needs me. I know you understand.”

His wife nodded quietly and turned around. She faded into mist, revealing a little girl standing at the foot of his bed.

“I’m glad you’re OK, grandpa.”

“I’m better than OK,” he rasped. “I’m with you.”

For years he dreamed of seeing and being with his beloved Angie again. But he made the choice to keep on living. All after falling from the Delta sky.