Chapter Seventeen Rocks One Harder Than Sixteen

Thursday, June Sixteenth, Getting Pretty Close to Sunrise, over the Middle of the Pacific Ocean

Alex wasn’t exactly certain when they had departed from their visit with Colonel Klink and his merry band of misfit soldiers, and he wasn’t exactly certain what time they were finally going to arrive on Walli-wo, but he was exactly certain of how badly he needed to stretch his legs: very, very, very badly.

At the moment, Alex was doing his best to meditate and focus on his breath rather than the pain in his legs at the spots where the Cessna’s seat was digging in to him.

Breathing in, ow, fuck, one…

Breathing out, two…

Breathing in… Who’s idea was this, anyway?

Breathing out… Bruce and his damn hurry, and here I am stuck around 12,000 feet above the ocean in a pink bunny suit after not getting to tour a nuclear silo… Oops…

Breathing in… One…

Breathing Out… Two…

Breathing in… One…

Breathing out… Man, I could go for a beer… Is it too early for beer? 

Breathing in… Ow…

And so on.

Eventually, he noticed that the sun was getting brighter outside.  He was excited to watch the sun rise over the ocean for a few minutes, until he realized that the reason it kept getting brighter and brighter outside without the sun making an appearance on the horizon was because they were flying due west and the sun had risen behind them.

“Pfft… Shit,” Alex said to himself.

“What’s that?” Bruce said.

“Huh?  Oh, nothing.  Talking to myself,” Alex said.  “How long until we get to Walli-Wo?”

“Well, it should be just about any time now.   We’re in the right area, now we just have to spot the island,” Bruce said.

“In this day and age, with GPS and everything else, we have to look for Walli-Wo?  We can’t just follow the magic line on your GPS there right to it?” Alex said.

“Walli-Wo isn’t a big stop for the shipping industry,” Bruce said.  “And it isn’t of much military significance.  The last time it’s location was mapped was well before the kind of accuracy we can get with GPS now.  So the map could be off by a few miles.”

“How high up are we?  Are we going to be able to see it from here?” Alex said.

“We are right about ten thousand feet about sea level at the moment.  Lucky for us, it’s a nice clear morning.  We should be able to spot it without to much difficulty.  Then we’ll just have to scrub off the extra altitude and cruise on in for a landing,” Bruce said.

“OK, cool,” Alex said.  “Can I do anything to help?”

“Look for the island,” Bruce said.

“What does it look like?” Alex said.

“An island.  It’s kind of island-shaped, and mostly island-colored,” Bruce said.

“Well, I don’t want for us to land on the wrong island,” Alex said.

“No worries on that,” Bruce said.  “It must be one hundred miles to the next island in any direction.  That’s how they’ve managed to remain a peaceful island when they’re also one of the richest islands in the Pacific.  They’re going to know we’re coming before we do.  If you spot an island below us, it’s the right one.”

Alex looked down at the ocean below, and realized he had absolutely no idea how to go about searching an area so vast for a little island.  He wasn’t certain how many miles it was to the horizon from ten thousand feet up, but at a guess he would have said it was “a lot.”

It was, in fact, one hundred twenty two miles to the horizon from where they were at the moment, a fact Bruce was perfectly aware of.  He also knew which section of the ocean Walli-Wo was most likely to be hiding in at the moment, which is how he was able to spot it well before Alex.

Since searching for the island was keeping Alex quiet, however, Bruce kept it to himself when he spotted Walli-Wo and just started descending gently.  

Once they were down to about two thousand feet above sea level, Alex pointed with excitement out the window, and said, “There it is!”

“Yep, there it is!” Bruce said.  “I’m glad you finally noticed it over there.  I was worried you weren’t going to realize we were landing until we were already on the ground.”

“Realize we were landing?  How long ago did you spot the island?” Alex said.

“About eight thousand feet up ago.  Anyway, we’re going to fly over it a few times so I can get a feel for the landing strip and what the conditions are like at the moment.  Apparently, they have a windsock, at least,” Bruce said.

“Eight thousand feet up?” Alex said.  He took another look out the window, and said, “Holy crap!  When did the ocean get so close to us?”

“Pay attention and start looking down,” Bruce said. “We’ve got to see what kind of shape their landing strip is in, and if there are any weather conditions we can figure out from up here.  I don’t want to have to try to make a tailwind landing because we weren’t able to figure out which direction the wind is coming from.”

They flew over the airstrip for the first time.  Bruce noticed that it was in remarkably good condition for an airstrip that had been exposed to ocean conditions since World War Two.  He also noticed that there was indeed a windsock, and that the wind was currently still.  As they looped around to pass over the airstrip, he also noticed that there were no obstructions at either end of the runway.  

Remarkable, considered that it had been at least sixty years since that runway was built, and the rest of the island seemed to have plenty of trees.

By way of comparison, Alex noticed that there was almost definitely an island underneath them, and he was reasonably sure that there was a big open spot where they would be able to land.  His concern of what could happen to him and Bruce if something went wrong during the landing was completely overshadowed by his desire to get the hell out of that airplane and move his legs around.  He had already forgotten his relief that they’d actually found Walli-Wo, and was already mentally debating between doing jumping jacks or squats when they finally landed.

Meanwhile, Bruce was making his third pass over the airstrip, and had determined that not only was it safe enough to land, but that it was going to be an exceptionally easy landing.  Especially considering that it was on an island that no one, except for the people who managed the money for extremely rich people, even knew about any more. 

He’d also noticed that the islanders were already gathering along the sides of the airstrip to welcome them.

“Prepare for landing,” Bruce said.  “Get your seatbelt on, make sure anything you wouldn’t want to catch with your face is secured, and shut up.”

Alex checked around himself for anything that could become a projectile, but it looked like everything had been stowed.

Bruce pulled the throttle back to idle, and Alex was shocked at how quiet the world could be.  After so many hours in the air, he’d become somewhat accustomed to the sound of the engine.  For a minute, he worried that Bruce had killed the engine, but the propeller continued spinning, so Alex assumed it was still running.

He noticed the islanders that had come out to greet them just before they actually touched down.

Bruce eased the plane down on to the landing strip.  As they rolled to a stop, he mentally patted himself on the back for greasing the landing.

“Oh my god, stop and shut this thing down so we can get out!” Alex said, by way of thanks to Bruce.

“Hold your horses, bunny boy,” Bruce said. 

One of the islanders had a couple of sticks that had been painted fluorescent orange.  He’d walked in front of the Cessna, and was now guiding them over to, presumably, their tie down area. 

As they followed along, both Bruce and Alex looked around at the scenery surrounding them. They both observed and commented at almost exactly the same time.

“Was that a bamboo control tower?” and “Are those bamboo and palm frond hangars?”

Alex and Bruce looked at each other, equally baffled.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, did you?”

“No.”

The man guiding them led them to one of the makeshift hangars.  Bruce rolled the Cessna to a stop just in front of it, and then started going through his shutdown checklist.

“Good lord man, can’t you just shut it off so we can get out?” Alex said, somewhat desperately.

“No.  What you’re feeling right now is exactly the reason we use checklists – so we don’t forget something in our haste to get out of the plane,” Bruce said.

As Bruce worked through his checklist, Alex noticed the islanders gathering around the plane.  He was mildly perplexed by their manner of dress – part tiki-caricature, and part Wall Street.  Alex had never realized you could wear a sport coat with a grass skirt.  But then, why not?  It’s a new millennium.

Then Alex noticed who he presumed was the King.  Lemmy.  He wore a white morning coat, starched shirt, bow tie, top hat and violently orange board shorts.  He was walking towards them with his arms extended, smiling from ear to ear.

“Uh, Bruce,” Alex said.

“Stop talking, I told you,” Bruce said.  He was working his way through his checklist, flipping switches and repeating to himself which switch he’d flipped.

“You might want to see this,” Alex said.

“I’m busy at the moment.  Whatever it is will still be there in two minutes,” Bruce said.

“Whatever it is look like King Lemmy to me, and he making his way over to us.  You might want to straighten yourself up a bit,” Alex said.

Bruce glanced up and said, “shit!”

He shut down the engine as quickly as he could manage (it still took a few seconds) and hurried through the rest of his checklist.

“Landing light off, Magnetos off…” Bruce mumbled to himself.

For his part, Alex hoped that he had the right statue (he was pretty sure, but he didn’t want to be overconfident) and that it had survived the trip in pristine condition.  Or that it was at least pristine enough.  He hadn’t been paid yet, after all, and at this point, having been on the wrong end of several firearms, stuffed into a pink bunny suit, and stuck in a flying station wagon for nearly twenty hours, he really didn’t want anything to go wrong.

King Lemmy had reached the front of the plane, and stopped there, smiling and waiting for Alex and Bruce to get out of the plane so he could welcome them to Walli-Wo.

“OK,” Bruce said, putting away his checklist, “We’re good.  Let’s get out and meet the king.”

“OK,” Alex said.

They both opened their doors, but Alex stepped out of the plane first.  He wasn’t exactly sure how to introduce himself to a king, but he guessed that, “It’s so good to meet you,” would go over well.

Unfortunately, the second his feet hit the ground and he tried to support his own weight, his legs rebelled and decided the best way to pay him back was to cause Alex as much pain as possible, and refuse to hold him up.

Which meant that immediately after disembarking, Alex felt to the ground yelling, “Ow, shit, shit, ow, dammit, ow, ow!”

King Lemmy’s face fell, slightly.  

Luckily, Bruce was able to recover for Alex.  He simply exited the airplane, strode over to King Lemmy and said, “Thank you for your gracious hospitality in hosting us, it’s so good to be here.”

“Oh, that was classy, way better than what I’d planned on saying,” Alex said to the ground.