Ширли Мерфи - The Flight Of The Fox

Now, with the condenser finally there, the Fox was nearly ready to fly. "The new points are in, sonny. The gas lines're attached. The gas tank's full. The controls work smooth as silk, and the new windshield went in real good. She's almost ready, this baby's almost ready to take on the world! Why, if it hadn't been for you, sonny, I'd not be nearly so far along. Why, I'd have been until Christmas getting her in shape."

The leather upholstery cut from a wrecked car was soft and smooth on the seats. The seat harnesses were snug and secure. The little plane had had a coat of wax over her paint, and when Charlie removed the plywood from the hangar, she seemed to be waiting impatiently to be off.

When finally Rory tightened the last bolt on the condenser and fixed the cowling over the engine, the three stared at each other with wonder. The Fox was really complete. A real, honest-to-goodness flying machine! Rory climbed into the front cockpit and nodded to Charlie.

Charlie spun the prop.

She caught. She died. She caught again and purred. She purred smooth as silk; she ran like a dream, like a brand-new engine—better than new. She strained to be free of Charlie's grasp, tugging eagerly toward the sky. There was a tear of joy in Rory's eye as he killed the engine and climbed down from the cockpit. "Come on, you two, let's get this baby out on the runway."

Charlie hesitated. A row of starlings was staring down at them from atop radiators and refrigerators and old tires, their purple sheen catching the sun. Rory followed his gaze.

"Hang the starlings, sonny! Grab a handful of rocks and come on!" The kangaroo rat began to push the Fox down the path, and Crispin ran to help.

"Well," Charlie said, "at least I can carry her." He picked up the Fox and, with the kangaroo rat and the lemming walking in front, headed for the airstrip. It would be wiser to wait—but wait for what? The starlings might be there forever. And he knew how Rory felt, that it was impossible for the kangaroo rat to wait one flappin' minute to get the Fox in the air.

When they reached the strip, he set the Fox down on the asphalt; she looked very small there. The lemming and the kangaroo rat looked even smaller.

"Okay, sonny, I'm going to learn just the way I told you the first pilots learned. I'm going to weight her down until I get used to the controls. Then I'll take some of the weight out, so I can learn to take off and land.

They loaded the Fox with stones, and Rory climbed into the front cockpit. This time Crispin spun the prop. Charlie held his breath as the lemming gave a mighty spin, another, and ducked away just as the prop took hold. The engine roared, then settled into a sweet purr as Rory retarded the spark. Charlie got a good grip on a rock, just in case. Rory tightened his seat harness and began to taxi down the strip. Charlie watched with apprehension, Crispin watched eagerly, and the starlings came flying low overhead and landed at the edge of the airstrip.

Rory was pretty excited. He taxied to the end of the strip, turned, and taxied back. He worked the ailerons and the elevators and the rudder to get used to each. He felt the Fox strain to lift herself; but the rocks held her earthbound.

When at last he threw out half the rocks, the Fox was able to lift into the wind—but not very high. She pulled upward only to be forced down with the weight. He was busy then, trying to bring her down as smoothly as he could. The first few landings were bumpy, which annoyed him considerably.

At last his landings smoothed out and became more coordinated. His takeoffs smoothed. He was getting the feel of the controls, of turning and directing the wind. When finally he taxied her to the side of the strip to dump the rest of the stones, he felt good. And a little nervous. He tossed out the rocks, twitched his whiskers, and sent the Fox down the runway into the wind for a full takeoff. He gave her power and right rudder, eased back on the stick—and she leaped skyward. She flew up into the wind as nice as any plane ever had.

She was flying! Really flying! She lifted, buoyed by the wind.

And at once she was surrounded by starlings pushing close to her wings, crowding her tail. Rory's blood went cold. If they wrecked this plane, he'd kill every one of them.

Below he could see Charlie running out onto the field waving his arms, trying to drive them away. But he knew Charlie wouldn't throw a rock and risk hitting the Fox, and there was no other way Charlie could help him. Rory banked without thinking how he knew what to do, and put her in a steep dive that he must have learned from the books because, if he had thought about it first, he wouldn't have tried it. He pulled her out close to the ground and near to Charlie, giving Charlie a perfect shot at the starlings that flew thick on his tail. He saw Charlie raise his arm and let fly, saw the starlings behind him explode, screaming. But they regrouped again at once and were all over the Fox, wings in his face, feathers flying. Starlings dove at him face to face, beaks open.

Rory stared at them and suddenly he was too mad to think. He swung the Fox around and dove her straight at the birds. They paused in midair, hissing a long scream. They were not agile fliers, and the Fox was right on top of them. They broke away left and right, and Rory knew if she hit them she would go down—knew he was acting foolishly, but was too mad to stop.

He glimpsed Charlie staring up, shouting something, but the words were lost. Rory dove at the flock again, and they fled in all directions. The prop had nearly touched them—but the Fox continued to purr. Luck. Pure blind luck. The air was full of feathers, but the little Fox flew evenly through them. The flock hung below for some time, keeping its distance, the birds whistling to each other as if in conference. Rory was about to land while he had the chance when suddenly they clustered again and swung—not toward the Fox but toward Charlie so fast he could only duck sideways. They swept low over Charlie and snatched up the helpless lemming. They had Crispin aloft, dangling between two of them. Rory felt sick. He could see Charlie leaping and shouting. A starling dropped Crispin from a terrible height. He fell, twisting. Another starling caught him. The little ball of fur was dropped again, snatched out of the air, and hung limply from the beak of a third starling.

They tossed the lemming higher and higher, flipping him back and forth like a limp ball.

Rory circled. There was nothing he could do without hurting Crispin, nothing Charlie could do. He heard the lemming scream, a thin, terrified voice in the sky.

Then Rory saw something sweep fast through the sky, a strong, undulating flight that overtook the starlings and plowed into their midst. They exploded in every direction as the flicker's beak jabbed at them. The old flicker caught the lemming in midair, wheeled, and dove down with starlings close on his tail. Rory swung the Fox around and took off after the starlings. When he glanced back, the flicker had made it to Charlie, was perched on Charlie's arm with the lemming safe beside him. Then the flicker leaped into the sky, again after the starlings, jabbing cruelly with his long beak. Rory dove. Between Rory's dives and the flicker, the birds soon abandoned the chase and headed back toward the garbage dump.

Rory landed the Fox feeling shaky and weak.

Charlie was kneeling in the middle of the runway holding the lemming in his hands. The little creature lay very still. Rory and the flicker stood staring as Charlie tried to feel a heartbeat and could not. The flicker hopped onto Charlie's arm and cocked his head next to the lemming's chest. He listened, then looked up at Charlie. "He is alive. His heart is beating very fast and very faintly. It is shock. You must keep him warm in your hands until he comes around. Shock, and fear. Keep him very warm."