Last Flight from Flagstaff (Choices: Story Two)

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  The twin-engine plane swayed as a gust of wind caught at its wings. Donna gazed out the window at the dark green forest below. The deep green, interrupted here and there with groves of aspen trees just leafing out and occasional grassy meadows, spread across the hills. A few patches of snow were still visible even now that it was almost May.

  A quiver of excitement ran through Donna. This was Ross’s hometown, where he and Cindy had lived their life together. Flagstaff. The name brought images of Route 66 nostalgia, quaint tourist traps and old-fashioned diners to serve the people driving to the golden land of California. Now Donna was heading the other direction. The line of the old song ran through her head, “Get your kicks on Route 66.” The flight attendant’s voice came over the speaker. “Please return your seats and tray tables to their full, upright positions. We will be landing shortly.”

  A small bump and they were on the runway. The plane slowed to a crawl, taxiing toward the terminal. The door of the plane folded down to create a stairway. Donna descended with the other passengers, squinting in the bright sunlight. A breeze brought a whiff of pine as she collected her carryon bag from gate check and walked toward the small, handsome terminal building.

  Donna was the first in line at the rental car desk. Kristen’s travel agent had reserved a car for her. “Here are the keys to your Jeep Cherokee, Ms. Zimmer. It is parked in spot eighteen in the lot just outside those doors. Enjoy your stay in Flagstaff.”

  A jeep? Donna wondered just exactly what sort of driving she would be expected to do on this assignment. At the same time, she was excited. The jeep somehow seemed to go with the wild-west atmosphere of the place. By this time, luggage was pouring onto the carousel, and Donna was able to collect her suitcase quickly.

  Outside, Donna could see how tall the ponderosa pines were, dwarfing the single-story terminal. She had known that Flagstaff was higher in the mountains than the rest of Arizona, almost 7000 feet according to the fun facts on the rental car map, but she hadn’t expected this towering forest. The trees were so tall and spreading that the forest floor was relatively open, revealing occasional lichen-covered boulders. She had always pictured Arizona as a desert, with saguaro cactus and howling coyotes. Flagstaff looked more like Donna’s images of Colorado or even Washington.

  The rental car lot was just off the end of the terminal. A blue jeep awaited her. It was spacious inside, with all the latest gadgets. She pulled up the GPS and typed in the address that Kristen’s travel agent had given her. A woman’s voice with an Australian accent instructed her to make a right turn. “All right, Sheila,” Donna said aloud, “Here we go.”