Day three began in dismal fog. Though the sun rose on schedule, it was not to be seen. Cassiopia emerged from the shelter into a haze so thick she could not see the cliff wall a few feet in front of the aircraft, nor could she see the drop-off on the left, or the steep hill on the right. The air was freezing, but there was no wind. The fog frosted her face. The moisture left a crispy layer atop the snow that made it a little more difficult to wade through. It had grown deeper overnight.
For Cassiopia, these things were of little concern. It was to be a day of preparation, a day for the creation of tools and assets for travel. She went back inside, checked the oil level in her stove, touched Markman on the cheek, and climbed over him to the torn luggage area. There was barely enough light, but with tools in hand, she crawled in as far as she could go. There were luggage tie-down rings and screw eyelets in the compartment. With patient persistence, she removed them and made them her own. A baggage net she had not noticed before came along as well.
The wire rope fabrication was going well. One sixty-foot line had already been completed, and a second begun. Her rope was not quite flexible enough to repel with, but it was perfectly adequate to support climbing with a friction hitch. She would make several thin trip lines and some shorter rope lengths for miscellaneous use. Other pieces of wire would be used for snowshoes. Metal rods found in the overhead could be shaped into snowshoe frames. Only one pair was needed. Markman would not be doing any walking. The satchels and bags from the baggage compartments were slated for backpacks and carry-alls. Fuel could be stored in the stove, but Cassiopia feared it would not be enough. She needed to find another container that could be stowed or dragged.
In early afternoon, the fog began to lift. It continued to conceal the mountaintops and sky, but the rest of the world came into hazy view. She left her work and went outside to appraise the drop-off. She stood as close to the edge as she dared. It appeared to be a smooth wall, covered completely by snow and ice, but it was nearly a ninety-degree drop. Forty feet below it leveled off in a wide ledge that led gradually downward to the right, disappearing around the dark black cliff wall. There was only one way down. It would need to be done with rope. With her makeshift climbing accessories, she would probably be able to make it. Markman would not. If there were any chance of leaving, he would have to be lowered. She guessed his weight to be one hundred and ninety pounds. That was too much. She was not strong enough. She would lose him if she tried.
But, there was a way. There was enough rope. She needed a good pulley. The landing gear wheel. Remove the rubber tire and it was a high-class pulley assembly. It could be anchored to the aircraft’s left engine. There was one other thing needed. She would have to figure that out, and she would have to climb down first to be sure it could be done.
Back inside, she looked at her rope building and couldn’t face it. She found the hacksaw blade and sat with the landing gear wheel and tire in her lap. The tire still had air pressure. She pushed on the little valve stem and sat patiently as the air hissed out. When it slowed, she began sawing the rubber with the hacksaw blade, a tedious, messy job. After forty-five minutes, she sat in a pile of black soot but was able to pull the shredded tire off the wheel. With her hands and face blackened, she positioned the bare wheel and spun it. It turned easily and coasted to a stop. Looking like a grease mechanic, she cleaned up her mess as best she could and stood at the stove, wiping away the tire-black.
Markman had been out all day. She made some tea, transferred it to the thermos, and gently rubbed his shoulder. He stirred but did not wake. She slid her hand under the clothing blanketing him and rubbed his chest. He turned his face to the side and briefly opened his eyes. Cassiopia sipped the tea and continued to massage his shoulder and chest. He opened his blurry eyes and looked at her. He tried to speak, but his voice cracked and stalled.
“How are you feeling?”
Markman tried to lift his head but quickly gave up. “The room is still spinning. It never stops.”
“How do your legs feel?”
“Better, I think. How long was I out?”
“Just last night and half a day today.”
“I take it we have not been rescued.”
“No, but tomorrow, weather permitting, we’re leaving.” Cassiopia slipped her hand behind Markman’s head, tipped it up, and held the warm tea to his lips. He drank, coughed, and drank more.
“I’ll stay and you’ll have a lot better chance of getting help.”
Cassiopia put down the thermos and wiped Markman’s mouth. “We’ve already been over this. You’re coming.”
“You’re crazy, Cass.”
“We’ve already been over that too. I need you to drink more. Tea or water?”
Too weak to argue, Markman drank. He watched as she turned her attention to the upholstery on the seats. With the knife, she began cutting the leather and foam from the nearest seat.
“What now?” he asked
“The seat foam is glued to the leather. I’m going to cut patterns and make you boots and a hat, and a hat for me. The foam is porous. It will hold body heat really well. I’ll wrap them around your feet and head and duct tape them in place. The greatest amount of heat is lost through the hands, feet, and head. If there’s enough material, I’ll probably make gloves.”
Markman slipped back into unconsciousness.
As the day’s end approached, Cassiopia gathered what she needed and began packing. On debris hill, she found a small bladder-type tank that would hold additional fuel. Inside, she sealed her canvas door and sat with the misshapen snowshoe frames, lacing and wrapping wire into a webbed pattern with loops in the center as footholds. When she was done, she crawled in with Markman and stared at the fire. Too tired to worry, she held him and slipped into merciful sleep.
Chapter 5