They studied every aspect of the area, and though it was hard to tell from the images alone, there appeared to be an open spot, about a quarter mile down from the plane, where the helicopter could safely land. “Let’s hope this is as level as it looks,” he said.
In the morning, they hiked down to the helipad, where Julio was waiting. As usual, Sam asked after his wife.
“She’s feeling—what’s the word in English?—the ants.”
“The ants?” Remi said as they lifted off.
“Yes. Not when you feel them crawling on you but you feel like them. Moving.”
“Antsy.”
“That’s it. She is very antsy. Wanting to move around.”
“Not that I’m the expert,” Remi said, “but I’ve heard that if she suddenly starts wanting to clean and rearrange everything, it’s getting close.”
“I’ll make sure to check in on her after I get back to refuel. And have my brother be on standby to get you,” he said, aiming the helicopter to the northwest as light snow flurries hit the windscreen, quickly melting. The snow stopped by the time they arrived at the crash site, though the sun was hidden behind the clouds. Thankfully, the area Sam thought might be level enough to land was nearly perfect, and, before they knew it, they were waving good-bye to Julio as he lifted off.
“I hope that baby of theirs holds out for another day,” Remi said.
Sam’s attention was on the snowpack, above and on the right shoulder of the pass, just over the plane. “I hope that snow holds out for another day.”
80
Before Sam would let them climb up to the plane, he used his binoculars and examined the mountainside. Deciding that it looked stable, he gave the okay, and the three made the steep climb.
The snowpack beneath the belly of the plane was solid enough to make sure the craft wasn’t going anywhere. Unfortunately, the ice pack was also a good two feet above the base of the door, preventing easy access.
“What about around the back?” Remi asked. “Maybe there’s an opening at the tail.”
Sam had already looked, from the air. “If the tail is even still there, it’s buried under several feet of snow. This is our best bet.”
They had to use a combination of small shovels and ice picks, but they finally had the area cleared to get to the door.
Sam and Dietrich pushed and pulled together, and the hatch opened. Remi followed them in. Snow blocked most of the light coming through the starboard windows, and she shined her flashlight around. The impact from the crash had sent everything tumbling. That the plane landed relatively intact was a miracle in itself, she thought, looking at it in awe. The entire right side of the plane where the wing had been was now a wall of ice, as was the tail.
The bodies, though . . . Hard to see them and not imagine the terror. She tried not to look too closely past the ice crystals covering each mummified corpse as she counted. Six.
“Klaus . . .” Dietrich examined each body, quickly assessing, all clearly adults, then moving on to the next. “I don’t see him . . .”
“Could there have been survivors?” Remi asked. “Maybe they left the plane?”
“Anything’s possible,” Sam said, pulling aside one of the seats that had ripped from its bolts anchoring it to the floor in order to get to the cockpit ladder. He climbed up, disappearing from view. “But I doubt it. There’re more bodies up here. Fits with the unofficial report for the number of crew and passengers, or, rather, a sixth passenger . . .” He stepped down, looking back at them, his expression solemn. “I’d say one of them up here is about the size of a twelve-year-old. I’m sorry.”
Even though Dietrich had known the young boy was on the plane, he still looked stunned. “I don’t understand. What’s he doing in the cockpit?”
“Hard to say,” Sam said. “He could have ended up there on impact, depending on where he was sitting. Maybe they let him up there to observe. Young kid, planes . . .”
“May I?” Dietrich asked, nodding at the ladder.
“Of course,” Sam said, jumping down and moving aside.
Dietrich climbed up, entering the cockpit. Remi glanced at the frozen bodies strewn about the fuselage, then quickly looked away, grasping at Sam’s gloved hand, taking solace as he squeezed back.
“There’s a gun up here.” Dietrich climbed down. “Why would there be a gun?”
“A gun?” Sam said, glancing at Remi. “Where?”
“The floor. Next to the pilot’s seat.”