Wolf's Head Bay (eBook)

CHAPTER ONE

The First Day...

One year later, Thursday, August 21, 2014

Sunrise, due west of Sleeping Bear Dunes,
over Lake Michigan

Wolf’s Head Bay, from where Jeremy sat, appeared to be little more than a speck on the distant northeastern horizon. Nestled along the western coastline of Leelanau County, the cool emerald waters of Lake Michigan, whipped into rolling whitecaps by a northwest gale, rushed ashore caressing an endless expanse of a caramel-colored sandy beach. A stone’s throw from the virgin shoreline lay fields of amber dune grass rippling across the lower bluffs. They in turn were greeted by a thick forest canopy of towering evergreens and pines, sugar maples, spruce and northern red oaks. From where Jeremy sat, comfortably dressed in his faded denim jeans and his Eastern Michigan University sweatshirt, he could just make out the boulder jetty extending out from the landscape encompassing the marina.

Turning his attention back to the interior of the cockpit, Jeremy drew in a determined, deep breath as he took the controls of the Longranger into his hands again. Gauging what he felt, he loosened the grip of his right hand on the cyclic pitch control stick between his knees, moving it in the direction of the wind. With equal timing, he made minute adjustments on the collective altitude stick at his side in his left hand, applying the slightest downward pressure. With coordinated ease, Jeremy gently shifted the directional tail rotor pedals with his feet. Correcting for the buffeting winds, which nudged the fully fueled 3,250 pound Longranger as it hung in the air over Lake Michigan, Jeremy began to relax when he nailed his position, holding her in the proper flight attitude, confirmed by the instruments before him.

Biting down gingerly on his lower lip, Jeremy’s steely eyes carefully scanned the airspace about the helicopter. Shifting his eyes back to the interior of the cockpit and the instrument panel before him, he checked the altimeter and heading indicator, fuel gauge and the rotor rpm. He ignored the small slip of paper taped over and covering one of the instruments, the turn-and-slip indicator. From his left-hand seat, he could feel, through his body, the smooth, rhythmical vibration from the whirling rotor blades overhead. It was like music to him. Avoiding the intense early morning sun shining brightly through a thin veil of cirrus clouds, Jeremy gazed downward for a moment, marveling at the vast velvet blue waters of the Big Lake spread out below them.

Jeremy was exhilarated.

“This is so freakin’ cool,” he muttered into his headset microphone, his voice crackling over the headphones.

The gentle overhead whoop-whoop-whoop of the rotor blades, partially muffled by Jeremy’s headset, was interrupted by a voice that crackled back over the flight intercom. “That’s it Jeremy, you’ve got it now. Just relax…and feel the helicopter.”

Jeremy’s focused concentration through the Plexiglas was unbroken. When he replied into his headset microphone, the intercom responded instantly to his voice. “Zen in the art of helicopter piloting?”

“Something like that. Now, close your eyes.”

Jeremy cocked his head, turned and stared Jeffrey Sumner squarely in the face. “Say again?”

Across from Jeremy, in the right-hand pilot’s seat of the cockpit, Jeff broke into an easy, confident grin, which could only come from his thirty-plus years of flight experience. The Bell 206 Longranger, its identification number N4071 clearly visible in large white lettering underneath and along the side of the sleek aircraft, color-schemed in a sharp combination of yellow and black, was outfitted with dual controls.

Though Jeff’s work with the regional power company consisted mostly of aerial inspections, corporate flights, and shuttling executives around the state, N4071 was occasionally used for training. The additional collective and cyclic sticks, kept in a rear storage compartment in the belly of the ship, were easily installed in a moment’s notice. Jeff had started out his day early in yet another trip to southern Michigan to pick up a collection of company corporate types. Though it was against company policy to take up non-company personnel, Jeff’s supervisor had given him the okay for Jeremy. Having time to spare this morning, he called Jeremy at first light, instructing the boy to meet him on the beach out in front of their house. Relaxing back in his seat, Jeff’s hands rested comfortably on his Levis. His voice once again crackled over the intercom. “You heard me, close your eyes.”

“Are you serious?” Jeremy uttered back in an incredulous tone. Jeremy loved any opportunity to go flying with Jeff. The thrill he felt the first time Jeff took him up five years earlier, slowly lifting vertically from the ground then shifting gracefully into forward flight and climbing smoothly into the sky, had never left his memory. Since last winter, after Jeremy had expressed an interest in flight and an even keener interest in helicopters, Jeff had taken the boy up on several occasions, giving him the basics in flight maneuvers. Jeremy caught on quickly--he was a natural. Though Jeff’s request left an astonished look on his face, the boy was game. “Close’em, huh?”

Staring ahead, Jeff simply nodded calmly. “Yep. C’mon, close’em.”

“You gonna close yours too?” Jeremy asked wryly.

Relenting with a wider grin, Jeff shook his head. “Course not. Now come on, close your eyes.”

“Well...okay.”

Jeff leaned forward in his seat for a moment, checking on Jeremy, then settled back. “Your other eye, too, Jeremy, close it.”

Scowling momentarily, Jeremy relented. “Ohh…all right.”

Jeff laughed. “What are you afraid of? I’m right here at the controls in case you lose it.”

“I’m not gonna lose it!” Jeremy burst out. “But whoever heard of a Buddhist helicopter pilot? Is this what they mean by flying blind?”

“Not exactly. Now come on, are you ready?”

“I’m not sure. You’re not gonna do something crazy, are you, like you used to do in the Air Force? I mean, some of those stories you’ve told me about you and your buddies and the wild flight stuff you guys use to do…”

Jeff thought for a moment. “You mean like a backward autorotation?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Jeff straightened in his seat and prepared to take the controls. “Okay--”

“NO!” Jeremy shot back. “--I mean…let’s save that for another day, shall we? I’m supposed to go camping tomorrow, remember? I get to take charge of the motley crew for a few glorious days and nights. I promised to take’em, and if anything happens to me and I can’t go, they’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Jeff’s easy laugh crackled over the intercom. “Nothing’s going to happen, Jeremy. And may I add, you are a brave young man takin’ these boys camping.”

“I am anything but courageous, Jeff,” the nineteen-year-old replied with a raised brow. “It tends to clash with my cowardly streak. How I let myself get dragged into this venture...”

“I appreciate it, Jeremy.”

“Well, it’s the least I could do after last Christmas and my island excursion.”

“No one’s blaming you for anything.”

Jeremy laughed at himself. “Except for perhaps a lapse of common sense and sound judgment. As I recall, Ian’s parents were less than thrilled at my taking him and the other kids out on a night’s cruise on a very frigid Lake Michigan.”

“Everyone understood why.”

“Oh, sure they did. Queries into my sanity and comments like, ‘Are you stupid?’ and ‘What were you possibly thinking out there?’ still play in my mind.”

Jeff smiled without turning. “Well, Shelly and I understood.”

“Yeah, you did. And I appreciate that.” Jeremy said, sensing something was on Jeff’s mind as he watched him from the corner of his eye. His pilot friend seemed distracted.

Jeff scanned the airspace and horizon around the Longranger, then reached up to loosen the dress tie he wore. While he glanced at the instrument panel, the radio briefly crackled over their headphones with the voice of another pilot announcing his inbound approach to the Cherry Capital Airport in Traverse City. Just as the control tower responded, Jeff reached forward reducing the volume on the radio and said, “I think this camping trip will do Eric some good, at least I hope so. He’s had a rough last few months.”

Jeremy looked over at Jeff. “Yeah, I noticed. What’s going on with him anyway?”

Jeff shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine, Jeremy. His attitude at home with Shelly and me, the fights at school. Principal Carter has already said if he doesn’t clean up his act by fall, and it continues, they may consider holding him back, or expelling him altogether. Something’s eating at him. I’m his father and I can’t even get him to explain himself. Have Travis or Matthew mentioned anything to you about what might be going on with...