Ralph still seemed confused, but that slowly seemed to fade away. “Lieutenant Spivey!” he shouted.
“What do you want, Markham?” Ron shouted from across the crash scene.
“Pr-prepare a go-pack for a line search,” Ralph said rather weakly. “St-stand clear of the—”
“I can’t understand what the heck you’re saying, Marky.”
Ralph looked at Brad, silently imploring for help, but Brad said nothing — he just looked back at Ralph, telling him without words that he had to take charge, and do it quickly. “I… Lieutenant, I need you to—”
“I’m busy over here, Marky,” Spivey said. “Don’t bug me right now, okay?”
Brad looked at Bellville, who shook his head, silently telling Brad to take charge and get the search going. But just as Brad was going to speak, Ralph shook his head, looked over at Spivey, inflated his lungs to full volume, then shouted, “Lieutenant Spivey, get a go-pack and stretcher ready for a line search, right now ! And don’t you screw up any tracks in my crash scene!”
“What?”
“You heard him, Lieutenant,” Brad said. “This is an actual line search for a missing boy. Sergeant Markham is in charge.” Ron was still standing there, confused. Brad finally went over to him and said impatiently in a low voice, “Jeez, Ron, what’s your major malfunction? Ralph is trying to set up a line search to find the third victim and get his tracking sign-off. The seniors are waiting. Get with the program, would you? This is not an exercise.”
Ron finally seemed to catch on. He nodded at Brad, then said, “Well, why didn’t you say so, Sergeant? I’ll get the medical go-pack.”
“Okay, Sergeant, we’ve wasted enough time,” Brad said. “Sing out. What do you see?”
“Stand by, sir,” Ralph said. He quickly scanned the ground, starting at the right-side door. “The plane obviously slid quite a distance, judging by the smooth sand. I see your footprints right near the door… and I see a smaller set, soft-soled, not combat boots, and not as deeply set. Could be a child’s footprint.” He scanned the area. “They… they lead toward the victim in the windshield, close but perhaps not within touching distance, then…” He looked around, almost in a panic. “The prints are gone. I don’t see them anymore. I lost him.”
Ralph was obviously starting to panic a bit. “Easy, Ralph,” Brad said. “They couldn’t have just disappeared. What’s the boy thinking right now? Put yourself in his place.” He could see Ralph’s eyes grow large in horror and his lower lip tremble a bit. “Verbalize, Sergeant. We’re not mind readers.” The young cadet hesitated, his mind’s eye still filled with a horrific image of his own making. “You can do it, Ralph.”
“N-no, I can’t,” he said.
Brad nodded. “It’s okay, Ralph,” he said. “This is an actual, and it’s a bad one. We’ll wait for a SAREX or encampment to get your sign-off. No worries. Ron, take Ralph’s place and conduct the search.”
Just as Spivey started to move forward, the younger cadet said, “No… no, I’ll do it, sir.”
“You sure?” Brad asked.
Ralph looked at Brad warily, then nodded his head and looked off into the distance. “He’s… he’s just seen his dead mother,” he said in a low voice after a short silence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, immersing himself again in the image of the crash scene coalescing in his mind. “He’s probably already seen his dead father. Maybe he tried to awaken him, then realized he was dead. He didn’t recognize his mom at first, but he can tell something awful has happened to her. He climbed out of the plane. Now he can see his mom, or what’s left of her. He’s scared and alone, surrounded by death. They were… were swatted out of the sky by the angel of death, but he somehow survived, and… and he’s wondering how? Why? Why was I allowed to survive—”
“For Christ’s sake, Ralph,” Ron said perturbedly, “let’s not get so Twilight here, okay?”
Brad held up a hand to silence his friend. “He’s doing it his way, Ron,” he said. He turned to Ralph. “What else do you see, Ralph? What’s happening?”
“He didn’t stay with the plane,” Markham said curiously. “Why wouldn’t he stay? The plane wasn’t on fire, and except for the farm equipment, there’s no sign of civilization within sight. His parents are dead, but they are still his parents. Why didn’t he stay? Why…?”
Ralph swallowed, and Brad saw a tear run down his cheek. “He thinks it’s his fault his parents are dead,” he said weakly. “He’s running because he’s scared and… and he doesn’t want to be found.”
“What?”
“He thinks it’s his fault,” Ralph repeated. “He thinks he’ll get in trouble, maybe be arrested and put in jail if he’s found, so he ran and now he’s… he’s hiding.”
“What a load of crap,” Ron sneered.
“We need a direction, Ralph,” Brad said after shooting Ron another “shut up” glance.
Ralph scanned the ground, his head darting back and forth — Brad thought he looked like a golden retriever hunting for a faint scent. Finally, Ralph looked toward the west, away from the hay baler, and held out his arms out to his sides. “This way, sir,” he said. “Away from the crash site and civilization.”
“Verbalize what you want, Sergeant,” Brad prompted him again.
“Line abreast, six paces between,” Ralph shouted. He got out his compass and took a bearing on a distant mountain peak. “Initial bearing will be two-six-zero.”
“Let’s go,” Bellville said. They lined up, with Brad in the middle.
“Make a report to the air team, sir,” Ralph said. “We may have a survivor that doesn’t want to be found — that’ll make it more difficult.”
“Good call,” Bellville said, impressed with the young cadet’s procedures and growing confidence. He pulled out his portable FM radio. “CAP 2722 and Battle Mountain Base, this is Battle Mountain Hasty, we’re beginning a line search for the third soul, a boy. We believe he’s running and may be hiding from searchers. Initial heading from the crash site will be two-six-zero.”
“How confident are you in that bearing, Hasty?” Rob Spara radioed from base.
Bellville looked at Ralph, then smiled and nodded. “Very confident,” he replied.
“Very well, proceed,” Spara radioed. “CAP 2722, suggest you begin an expanding-square search just in case that’s not a good bearing.”
“Two-seven-two-two copies,” Patrick radioed from the Cessna orbiting overhead. John programmed the GPS aboard the plane to begin the search from the crash site, which would describe a square-shaped pattern that started at the crash site and got larger after each leg was completed.
Meanwhile, on the ground, the team began to move westward, staying roughly in line and carefully scanning the ground. After about a hundred yards, Ron shouted, “I spot a sneaker, and it looks fairly clean. How about that? Marky guessed right.”
“Good call, Ralph,” Brad said.
“Is it a left or right sneaker?” Ralph asked.
“What the hell difference does that make?” Ron asked.
“He’ll be favoring the other foot, which means he might start turning in that same direction,” Ralph said. “He’ll be taking longer strides with his right foot, which means he’ll be turning left.”
“Where’d you learn that, Marky — on a cornflakes box, or from a comic book?” Ron sneered.
Ralph looked hurt and didn’t reply, which made Brad immediately come to his defense, although he had never heard of that theory either: “It makes sense,” Brad said. “Which is it, Ron?”