“Okay, people, we’ll need all shoulders to the wheel. Walt and I will work on getting the engine removed. Once it’s lighter, we can swing it around to face the cliff edge and then move it into place. We’ll also need a path cleared — Jenny and Emma, going to need you to clear away as much debris as you can manage.”
Ben’s mouth curved into a smile. “And watch the edge; it’s a hellova first step. Questions?” He waited; there were none. “Then let’s do this.”
Jenny and Emma set to shifting rocks, tufts of grass, and other debris, and he and Walt pulled off the panels of the engine housing at the nose of the fighter. Ben sighed and just shook his head. Walt leaned in on his elbows beside him.
“Never gonna get that all out.” Ben exhaled slowly.
“Never thought we would,” Walt replied. “So let’s just get out what we can. Besides, to get the engine fully out, we’d need to deconstruct the plane, and maybe take the whole nose off. Don’t want to do that as we’ll distort the aerodynamics of the entire bird.”
Ben reached in to tug on a few of the muscular-looking cylinders; several were already loose. “Okay, doable.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Walt pulled his hunting knife and started to work on some of the screw-heads.
The pair worked for several hours until Ben’s knuckles were grazed, and his hands orange and black from ancient rust. The metal clanged down as they dropped piece after piece, and they quickly grew into a pile.
Ben looked up to see Janus Bellakov watching them. The man nodded, and Ben did the same in return. Ben pointed at his eyes then to the jungle. Janus nodded and turned away.
Jenny and Emma had basically cleared a runway, or rather drag-way, to the cliff edge. If they managed to lighten the plane without destroying it, and then drag it to the lip, he still wondered whether he, or everyone, would be mad enough to actually sit in it and then let themselves tip over.
He laughed softly; of course they would. Because the alternative was dying up here, and by dying, that probably meant being eaten alive. Or somehow being trapped here forever. He frowned at the thought, still not understanding what his great, great grandfather had meant by that.
Ben looked at his watch — mid-afternoon — no wonder he was hungry. He paused, weighing up whether he should get Walt or Bellakov to try and catch some game. They’d given up on having Jenny scout for edible roots, nuts, or berries, as no one had ever seen any of the strange plants before, and as the creatures eating them had digestive systems far different from humans, then vomiting and diarrhea might be the least of their problems.
Ben looked at the pile of engine parts — not bad. The remaining engine block was refusing to give up any more odds and ends, and without a hoist, it wasn’t going anywhere — it’d have to do.
“I think we’re done here.”
Walt held up his knife, the tip and edge warped and blunted. “We certainly are.”
Emma and Jenny came and leant against one of the wings. “What now?”
Ben turned to look towards the cliff edge. It was a good two hundred feet and would take time to drag the plane to the lip without damaging it. Added to that, he didn’t want to make the attempt when it was getting dark.
“I think we might have missed our window for tonight. But we can certainly drag this baby closer so we have a dawn launch.”
“I vote we go now,” Emma said. “I don’t want to spend another minute up here.”
Ben turned to her and then the cliff edge. He had to squint as dust and debris blew up over the rim, and the clouds continued to turn around them like they were in the center of a giant whirlpool. There was no sign of the ground at all.
Walt scratched his chin. “Yeah, I hear you. But by the time we get the plane to the edge, it’ll be dark. Clouds are bad enough, but I reckon we can punch through those. But once we’ve done that, and if we do even make it that far, then we want to at least be able to try and glide to an open space. We need to see to do that.” He half grinned. “Rumor has it that big trees might not bother to get out of our way.”
Emma’s eyes sparked. “Still think we should go for it; let’s take a vote.”
“Then I vote we wait,” Jenny said, and sadness clouded her features. “Sorry, Emm, but if we can’t see, we can’t find a safe landing. And if we’re gliding, there’s no second chance.”
Emma stared for a moment, but then exhaled and nodded once.
“It’s settled,” Ben said. “Let’s turn this baby around.” Ben waved to Janus Bellakov and called him back in.
“Ready to take off?” Bellakov asked.
Ben shook his head and wiped his hands. “Not until tomorrow. For now, we’ll try and get it to the edge — take off first thing.”
Bellakov’s forehead creased and he put his hands on his hips. Ben ignored him and turned to Koenig.
“Maybe Walt here can show us some of that hunting prowess he’s been talking up.” Ben winked at the man, who was fast becoming an indispensable ally.
“Oh a challenge? Then you just place your order, big guy.” Walt grinned back.
Ben finally jumped down from one of the wings and stepped back to survey all their work. Satisfied, he set to organizing the group.
“We turn it clockwise. Janus, you get the tail, and the rest of us on the wings.” He held up a hand. “And please, take it slow; I don’t want to see the bottom ripped out of her.”
They each took their positions around the Corsair. “On a count of 3,” Ben said, and then: “And 2, and 1, and… heave.”
Janus lifted the lighter rear end of the plane, and the others swiveled the heavier nose. It slowly spun a little easier than Ben expected and immediately filled him with some hope. In another few minutes of starting, resting, and restarting, they had the nose pointed towards the cliff edge.
“Well, that was the easy part,” Jenny observed.
Ben slapped his hands together, and then wiped them on his pants. “Looking good, and we’ve all got tickets booked on a morning flight. Now, let’s get her to the edge.”
Each wing had a man and woman, with Janus lifting the tail section once more. They pushed, once again in fits and starts, moving the plane forward a few feet, and then stopping to rest and check they weren’t tearing the bottom out. In two hours, they’d managed to move it halfway, and without losing too much airplane or human skin in the process.
“Rest,” Ben said, turning and leaning back against the plane’s fuselage. Sweat streamed, and he sipped from the warm contents of his canteen. He felt a little lightheaded, probably from fluid loss, but also as he hadn’t eaten since the previous evening, and he knew his energy levels were flagging.
He looked up. The clouds were dropping and still turning like they were being stirred, and overall the light was fading. A gust blew grit into his eyes and he wiped at it. He estimated another hour of light left, and maybe two more hours of pushing — no choice but to just suck it up and get it done.
So they did.
The darkness fell, but the energy-sapping heat and humidity remained. As they got closer to the plateau edge, the breeze blew harder into their faces, at least drying some of their sweat.
Ben was heartened by the updraft, as it’d aid in the planes gliding ability. A down draft would have sunk them like a stone.
In another 30 minutes, the group had the plane with the nose on the cliff edge, and Ben knew that if they were all as tired as he was, it was as far as the plane was going that evening.
“Ah…” Emma looked from the plateau edge, to the Corsair, and then to Ben. “If we’re all sitting inside this death trap, how exactly are we going to launch it?”