He’d been so focused he’d forgotten he had a passenger. His mind couldn’t register the fact Wayne not only praised him but hadn’t taken control of the situation. Although, in his peripheral, Danny caught his examiner’s hands hovering over his controls. He did, however, do as Wayne had said. Satisfied things were as they should be—with the exception of the necessary power and full rotor speed—he took a hasty glance at the control panel. They’d just passed below two hundred feet, and he couldn’t fight the pounding of his heart in his chest.
When a wind gust hit them, giving the aircraft a slight push, an all-encompassing fear nearly took over as he knew he hadn’t calculated for a change in the winds this close to the ground. If the wind kept gusting, it’d impact his split-second landing because he wouldn’t level out in time.
Refusing to fail himself and his goal, he pushed the fear away and kept his hold on being calmly controlled. He had less than a few seconds before they met the ground. Damn. So little time.
With an acute sense of survival, he murmured, “Time to land this bird.” The flare-out he needed to execute had to be somewhat dramatic. By bringing the nose up—not just level, but up—it put an immediate halt to his rapid descent before landing. The tricky part—extremely tricky—was making sure the rear of the helicopter didn’t hit the ground before he leveled the helo to land. He’d successfully completed the maneuver several times in training, but he’d always had the knowledge that the power failure was not real and could be increased at any time to prevent a crash.
With a surprisingly steady hand that had led him this far, he pulled back on the cyclic and held his breath as he performed the flare-out maneuver. His heart lurched, attempting its jailbreak from his chest, that he had the rear of the helicopter closing in on the ground faster than the front. On purpose.
He half-expected Wayne to grab control from him, but he didn’t. Danny suspected he had the reaction that many did when riding in a car with someone when they are catching up to a car too fast and automatically push on the passenger side floorboard as if engaging the brake. Self-preservation existed in everyone.
Almost wanting to close his eyes to concentrate even more on the hair’s breadth of altitude left, his mind registered there wasn’t enough clear land surrounding the field, so they’d land in the crop, but there was no other option. Slowly—yet rapidly, time wise—he leveled the aircraft and in what seemed like milliseconds, eased it down—foot by agonizing foot—until—with immense relief—the skids safely touched the ground with a small jolt.
Danny couldn’t relax and expel that breath of relief yet as it wasn’t over. “Go,” he said to Wayne. “I’ve got this.” Unclasping his seat harness with one hand, he fumbled with the controls with the other one, automatically shutting down the powerless engine.
As he shoved the belts, trapping in his shoulders, aside, he yanked off his headset, noted their location, and took a quick glance to ensure his passenger was exiting the aircraft. Of course, Wayne stayed to watch him perform the proper emergency shutdown procedures. At least he’d already rid himself of the harness. However, as the pilot-in-command, it was Danny’s responsibility to see to his passenger’s safety.
“Go,” he demanded, as he grasped the door handle and pushed it open with a force that almost sent it crashing back into him. Although probably unnecessary, Danny wanted Wayne to evacuate in case their problem was more severe than thought to be and the bird caught fire.
He and Wayne hastily exited the aircraft, and meeting a safe distance away, eyed the front of the helo.
After confirming Wayne didn’t require medical attention, Danny continued following procedure, knowing not only that Wayne still evaluated him, but because his responsibility hadn’t ended. After pulling his phone from his flight-suit pocket, he removed his flight gloves and called base operations. In a few moments, he’d relayed the nature of their emergency, souls on board, and their location via lat/long. After a confirmation of their response, he ended the call and expelled a breath of relief.
As the tense muscles in his shoulders eased, tremors overtook his body, and he didn’t care what Wayne thought of it. He fought it, but he couldn’t control the delayed terrifying reaction within him. He could’ve died. Strange how he’d never reacted this way when he’d been nearly killed in action with his employer Hamilton Investigation and Security, better known as HIS.
He hoped he’d be checked off on this procedure and not have to redo the actions in simulation. He never wanted to be a part of this nightmare again with the trapped feeling, knowing life or death settled with him, but he couldn’t fight his way out. There’d been too little time while having too much time to think about life. While his mind had focused on landing the bird safely, in the back of his thoughts was what was important to him. He’d regret not having a family.
“Ten seconds.”
Danny’s mind had a tough time wrapping itself around Wayne’s words. Ten seconds from the initial sound signaling a problem to setting them down on the ground? Impossible. Although he hadn’t kept count, it had to have been longer. Or had it? Maybe that was just how it’d felt since so much rushed through his brain at mind-warping speed. If he was right—and the FAA examiner was always right—it’d been the longest ten seconds of Danny’s life.
“You expertly handled the situation. And a nearly soft landing to boot. I never felt the need to take control.”
Danny didn’t know how the nearly soft landing happened—although that’d been his hope. The need to land before more trouble occurred had been his only requirement.
Thinking back, Danny’s heart fell at his failure in his emergency procedures. “The transponder,” he croaked.
