James Aldridge
THE LAST INCH
It’s good if, having flown thousands of miles in twenty years, you still enjoy flying at the age of forty; It’s good if you can still rejoice at how artistically you planted the car; You press the handle a little, raise a light cloud of dust and smoothly gain the last inch above the ground. Especially when landing on snow: dense snow is very comfortable to land on, and landing well in the snow is as pleasant as walking barefoot on a fluffy carpet in a hotel.
But flying on the DS-3, when you lifted an old car into the air in any weather and flew over forests anywhere, was over. Working in Canada gave him good hardening, and it is not surprising that he ended his flying life over the deserts of the Red Sea, flying the Fairchild for the oil export company Texegypto, which had rights to explore for oil along the entire Egyptian coast. He flew the Fairchild over the desert until the plane was completely worn out. There were no landing sites. He parked the car wherever geologists and hydrologists wanted to get off - on sand, on bushes, on the rocky bottom of dry streams and on the long white shallows of the Red Sea. The shallows were the worst: the smooth-looking surface of the sands was always strewn with large pieces of white coral with razor-sharp edges, and if not for the low centering of the Fairchild, it would have capsized more than once due to a punctured camera.
But all that was in the past. Texegypto has given up on costly attempts to find a large oil field that would generate the same profits as Aramco in Saudi Arabia, and “Fairchild” turned into a pitiful wreck and stood in one of the Egyptian hangars, covered with a thick layer of multi-colored dust, all cut from below with narrow, long cuts, with frayed cables, with some semblance of a motor and instruments fit only for a landfill.
It was all over: he turned forty-three, his wife left him at home on Lynnen Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and lived as she liked: she rode the tram to Harvard Square, bought groceries in a store without a salesperson, visited her old man in decent wooden house- in a word, she led a decent life, worthy of a decent woman. He promised to come to her in the spring, but he knew that he would not do this, just as he knew that he would not get a flying job in his years, especially the kind he was used to, he would not get it even in Canada. In those parts, supply exceeded demand even when it came to experienced people; Saskatchewan farmers taught themselves to fly their Pipercabs and Austers. Amateur aviation deprived many old pilots of a piece of bread. They ended up being hired to serve mining departments or the government, but such work was too decent and respectable to suit him in his old age.
So he was left with nothing, except for an indifferent wife who did not need him, and a ten-year-old son, born too late and, as Ben understood in the depths of his soul, a stranger to both of them - a lonely, restless child who, at ten years old, felt that his mother is not interested in him, and his father is a stranger, harsh and taciturn, who does not know what to talk about with him in those rare moments when they were together.
Now it was no better than always. Ben took the boy with him on the Auster, which was swinging wildly two thousand feet above the Red Sea coast, and waited for the boy to get seasick.
If you feel sick,” Ben said, “get low to the floor so you don’t get the whole cabin dirty.”
Fine. - The boy looked very unhappy.
Are you afraid?
The little Oster was mercilessly tossed from side to side in the hot air, but the frightened boy still did not get lost and, fiercely sucking on a lollipop, looked at the instruments, the compass, and the jumping attitude indicator.
“A little,” the boy answered in a quiet and shy voice, unlike the rude voices of American children. - And these shocks won’t break the plane?
Ben did not know how to console his son, he told the truth:
If you don't take care of your car and check it all the time, it will definitely break down.
And this... - the boy began, but he felt very sick and could not continue.
This one is fine,” the father said irritably. - Quite a good plane.
The boy lowered his head and cried quietly.
Ben regretted taking his son with him. In their family, generous impulses always ended in failure: they were both like that - a dry, whiny, provincial mother and a harsh, hot-tempered father. During one of his rare attacks of generosity, Ben once tried to teach the boy how to fly an airplane, and although the son turned out to be very understanding and quickly learned the basic rules, every shout from his father brought him to tears...
Do not Cry! - Ben now ordered him. - There is no need for you to cry! Raise your head, do you hear, Davy! Get up now!
But Davy sat with his head down, and Ben more and more regretted that he had taken him with him, and looked sadly at the barren desert coast of the Red Sea stretching under the wing of the plane - an unbroken strip of a thousand miles, separating the softly washed-out colors of the land from the faded green of the water. Everything was motionless and dead. The sun burned out all life here, and in the spring, over thousands of square miles, the winds lifted masses of sand into the air and carried it to the other side of the Indian Ocean, where it remained forever at the bottom of the sea.
Sit up straight, he told Davy, if you want to learn how to land.
Ben knew his tone was harsh, and he always wondered why he couldn't talk to the boy. Davy raised his head. He grabbed the control board and leaned forward. Ben eased off the throttle and, waiting until the speed slowed down, pulled hard on the trim lever, which was very inconveniently located on these small English planes - at the top left, almost overhead. A sudden jolt shook the boy’s head down, but he immediately raised it and began to look over the lowered nose of the car at a narrow strip of white sand near the bay, similar to a cake thrown onto this deserted shore. My father flew the plane straight there.
How do you know which way the wind blows? - asked the boy.
By the waves, by the cloud, by instinct! - Ben shouted to him.
But he himself no longer knew what he was guided by when he was flying the plane. Without thinking, he knew to within one foot where he would land the car. He had to be precise: the bare strip of sand did not give a single extra inch, and only a very small plane could land on it. From here it was a hundred miles to the nearest native village, and all around was a dead desert.
It's all about getting the timing right,” Ben said. - When leveling the plane, you want it to be six inches from the ground. Not a foot or three, but exactly six inches! If you take it higher, you will hit it during landing and damage the plane. Too low and you'll hit a bump and roll over. It's all about the last inch.
Davy nodded. He already knew that. He saw an Oster overturn in Al-Bab, where they rented a car. The student who flew it was killed.
See! - the father shouted. - Six inches. When it starts to descend, I take the handle. To myself. Here! - he said, and the plane touched the ground softly, like a snowflake.
The last inch! Ben immediately turned off the engine and slammed on the foot brakes - the nose of the plane lifted up, and the car stopped at the water's edge - six or seven feet away.
The two airline pilots who discovered this bay called it Shark Bay - not because of its shape, but because of its population. It was constantly inhabited by many large sharks that swam from the Red Sea, chasing schools of herring and mullet that sought refuge here. Ben had flown here because of the sharks, and now that he was in the bay, he completely forgot about the boy and from time to time only gave him instructions: help with unloading, bury the bag of food in the wet sand, wet the sand by watering it sea water, provide tools and all sorts of little things needed for scuba gear and cameras.
Does anyone ever come here? - Davy asked him.
Ben was too busy to pay attention to what the boy was saying, but he still shook his head when he heard the question.
Nobody! No one can get here except by light plane. Bring me two green bags that are in the car and cover your head. It wasn't enough for you to get sunstroke!
Davy didn't ask any more questions. When he asked his father about something, his voice immediately became gloomy: he expected a sharp answer in advance. The boy did not try to continue the conversation and silently did what he was ordered. He carefully watched as his father prepared scuba gear and a film camera for underwater filming, intending to film in clear water sharks
Be careful not to go near the water! - ordered the father.
Davy didn't answer.
Sharks will certainly try to grab a piece of you, especially if they rise to the surface - don’t even dare step into the water!
Davy nodded his head.
Ben wanted to do something to please the boy, but for many years he had never managed to do this, and now, apparently, it was too late. When the child was born, began to walk, and then became a teenager, Ben was almost constantly on flights and did not see his son for a long time. This happened in Colorado, in Florida, in Canada, in Iran, in Bahrain and here in Egypt. It was his wife, Joanna, who should have tried to ensure that the boy grew up alive and cheerful.
At first he tried to tie the boy to him. But how can you achieve anything in a short week spent at home, and how can you call home a foreign village in Arabia, which Joanna hated and remembered every time only to yearn for dewy summer evenings, clear frosty winters and quiet university streets of her native New England? Nothing attracted her, not the adobe houses of Bahrain, at one hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit and one hundred percent humidity, not the galvanized oil field villages, not even the dusty, shameless streets of Cairo. But the apathy (which was growing stronger and finally completely exhausted her) should now pass, since she returned home. He would take the boy to her, and since she was finally living where she wanted, Joanna might be able to become at least a little interested in the child. So far she hasn't shown that interest, and it's been three months since she went home.
“Tighten this belt between my legs,” he told Davy.
He had a heavy scuba gear on his back. Two cylinders with compressed air weighing twenty kilograms would allow him to stay for more than an hour at a depth of thirty feet. There is no need to go deeper. Sharks don't do this.
And don’t throw stones into the water,” said the father, picking up the cylindrical, waterproof case of the movie camera and wiping sand from the handle. - Otherwise you’ll scare away all the fish nearby. Even sharks. Give me the mask.
Davy handed him a mask with protective glass.
I'll be underwater for about twenty minutes. Then I’ll get up and we’ll have breakfast, because the sun is already high. For now, cover both wheels with stones and sit under the wing, in the shade. Understood?
Yes, said Davy.
Ben suddenly felt that he was talking to the boy as he was talking to his wife, whose indifference always caused him to adopt a sharp, commanding tone. No wonder the poor guy avoids both of them.
And don't worry about me! - he ordered the boy, entering the water. Taking the pipe into his mouth, he disappeared under the water, lowering the movie camera so that the weight pulled him to the bottom.
Davy looked at the sea that had swallowed his father, as if he could see something. But nothing was visible - only occasionally air bubbles appeared on the surface.
Nothing was visible either on the sea, which in the distance merged with the horizon, or on the endless expanses of the sun-scorched coast. And when Davy climbed the hot sandy hill at the highest edge of the bay, he saw nothing behind him but desert, sometimes flat, sometimes slightly undulating. She went, sparkling, into the distance, towards the reddish hills melting in the sultry haze, as bare as everything around.
Beneath him there was only a plane, a small silver Oster - the engine, cooling, was still crackling. Davy felt free. There wasn't a soul around for a hundred miles, and he could sit on the plane and take a good look at everything. But the smell of gasoline again made him feel faint, he got out and poured water on the sand where the food lay, and then sat down by the shore and began to see if the sharks that his father was filming would appear. Nothing was visible under the water, and in the scorching silence, in loneliness, which he did not regret, although he suddenly felt it acutely, the boy wondered what would happen to him if his father never emerged from the depths of the sea.
Ben, his back pressed against the coral, was struggling with the valve that controlled the air supply. He went down shallowly, no more than twenty feet, but the valve worked unevenly, and he had to forcefully draw in air. And it was exhausting and unsafe.
There were a lot of sharks, but they kept their distance. They never got close enough to be properly captured in the frame. We'll have to lure them closer after lunch. To do this, Ben took half a horse's leg on the plane; he wrapped her in cellophane and buried her in the sand.
This time,” he said to himself, noisily releasing air bubbles, “I’ll rent them for no less than three thousand dollars.”
The television company paid him a thousand dollars for every five hundred meters of film about sharks and a thousand dollars separately for filming a hammerhead. But there are no hammerhead fish here. There were three harmless giant sharks and a rather large spotted cat shark; it wandered near the very silvery bottom, away from the coral shore. Ben knew that he was too active now to attract sharks, but he was interested in a large eagle ray that lived under the coral reef outcropping: it also paid five hundred dollars. They needed a shot of bracken against a suitable background. The underwater coral world, teeming with thousands of fish, provided a nice backdrop, and the eagle ray itself lay in its coral cave.
Yep, you're still here! - Ben said quietly.
The fish was four feet long and weighed God knows how much; she looked at him from her hiding place, just like the last time - a week ago. She probably lived here for at least a hundred years. Slapping his flippers in front of her face, Ben forced her to back away and took a good shot as the angry fish slowly sank down to the bottom.
For now, that was all he wanted. The sharks won't go anywhere after lunch. He needs to save air, because here, on the shore, you can’t charge the cylinders. Turning, Ben felt a shark rustle its fins past his feet. While he was filming the bracken, the sharks came to his rear.
Get the hell out! - he yelled, releasing huge bubbles of air.
They swam away: a loud gurgle scared them away. The sand sharks sank to the bottom, and the “cat” swam at his eye level, carefully watching the man. You can't intimidate someone like that by screaming. Ben pressed his back against the reef and suddenly felt a sharp protrusion of coral dig into his hand. But he did not take his eyes off the “cat” until he rose to the surface. Even now, he kept his head under water to keep an eye on the “cat”, which was gradually approaching him. Ben stumbled backward onto a narrow shelf of reef rising out of the sea, rolled over, and made it the last inch to safety.
I don't like this crap at all! - he said out loud, first spitting out the water.
And only then did he notice that a boy was standing over him. He completely forgot about its existence and did not bother to explain to whom these words referred.
Take breakfast out of the sand and cook it on the tarpaulin under the wing, where there is shade. Throw me a big towel.
Davy gave him a towel, and Ben had to resign himself to life on the dry, hot earth. He felt that he had done a great stupidity by taking on such work. He was a good backcountry pilot, not some adventurer happy to chase sharks with an underwater movie camera. Still, he was lucky to even get such a job. Two aircraft engineers who served in Cairo American company Eastern air lines organized the supply of underwater footage filmed in the Red Sea to film companies. Both engineers were transferred to Paris and handed over their work to Ben. The pilot once helped them when they came to consult about flying in the desert on small planes. When they left, they returned the favor by reporting him to the Television Company in New York; he was given equipment to rent and hired a small Oster from an Egyptian flight school.
He needed to make money quickly more money, and such an opportunity arose. When Texegypto shut down its oil exploration, he lost his job. The money that he carefully saved for two years, flying over the hot desert, enabled his wife to live decently in Cambridge. What little he had left was enough to support himself, his son and a French woman from Syria who looked after the child. And he could rent a small apartment in Cairo where the three of them lived. But this flight was the last. The television company reported that its stock of film would last for a very long time. Therefore his work was coming to an end and he had no more reason to stay in Egypt. Now he will probably take the boy to his mother, and then look for work in Canada - maybe something will turn up there, if, of course, he is lucky and manages to hide his age!
While they ate in silence, Ben rewound the film of the French movie camera and repaired the scuba valve. Uncorking a bottle of beer, he remembered the boy again.
Do you have anything to drink?
No,” Davy answered reluctantly. - There is no water...
Ben didn’t even think about his son. As always, he took a dozen bottles of beer with him from Cairo: it was cleaner and safer for the stomach than water. But it was necessary to take something for the boy.
You'll have to drink beer. Open the bottle and try, but don't drink too much.
He hated the idea of a ten-year-old child drinking beer, but there was nothing he could do. Davy uncorked the bottle and drank a little of the cool, bitter liquid, but swallowed it with difficulty. Shaking his head, he handed the bottle back to his father.
“I don’t feel like drinking,” he said.
Open a can of peaches.
A can of peaches may not quench your thirst in the midday heat, but there was no choice. After eating, Ben carefully covered the equipment with a damp towel and lay down. Taking a quick glance at Davy and making sure that he was not sick and was sitting in the shade, Ben quickly fell asleep.
Does anyone know that we are here? - Davy asked his father, who was sweating while he slept, when he was about to go back under the water.
Why do you ask?
Don't know. Just.
Nobody knows we're here,” Ben said. - We received permission from the Egyptians to fly to Hurghada; they don't know that we have flown so far. And they shouldn't know. Remember this.
Can they find us?
Ben thought that the boy was afraid that they would be exposed in something inappropriate. Kids are always afraid that they will be caught red-handed.
No, the border guards won't find us. From an airplane they are unlikely to notice our car. But no one can get here by land, even in a jeep. - He pointed to the sea. - And no one will come from there, there are reefs...
Does no one really know about us? - the boy asked anxiously.
I say no! - the father answered with irritation. But suddenly he realized, although it was too late, that Davy was not worried about the possibility of getting caught, he was simply afraid of being left alone.
“Don’t be afraid,” Ben said rudely. - Nothing will happen to you.
The wind is rising,” Davy said, quietly and too seriously as always.
I know. I'll only be underwater for half an hour. Then I’ll get up, load a new film and go down for another ten minutes. Find something to do in the meantime. It’s a shame you didn’t take fishing rods with you.
“I should have reminded him of this,” Ben thought, plunging into the water with the horsemeat bait. He placed the bait on a well-lit coral branch and mounted the camera on a ledge. Then he tied the meat tightly to the coral with a telephone wire to make it more difficult for the sharks to tear it off.
This done, Ben retreated into a small opening, just ten feet from the bait, to secure his rear. He knew that the sharks would not have to wait long.
In the silver space, where the corals gave way to sand, there were already five of them. He was right. The sharks came immediately, smelling the smell of blood. Ben froze, and when he exhaled, he pressed the valve against the coral behind him so that the air bubbles would burst and would not scare off the sharks.
Come here! Closer! - he quietly encouraged the fish.
But they didn't need an invitation.
They rushed straight at the piece of horse meat. A familiar spotted “cat” walked in front, and behind it were two or three sharks of the same breed, but smaller. They didn't swim or even move their fins, they rushed forward like gray flowing rockets. Approaching the meat, the sharks turned slightly to the side, tearing off pieces as they went.
He filmed everything: the sharks approaching the target; some kind of wooden manner of opening their mouths, as if their teeth hurt; a greedy, dirty bite - the most disgusting sight he had seen in his life.
You bastards! - he said without opening his lips.
Like every submariner, he hated them and was very afraid, but he could not help but admire them.
They came again, although almost all of the film had already been shot. This means that he will have to go up to land, recharge the movie camera and quickly return back. Ben looked at the camera and was sure that the film had run out. Looking up, he saw that a hostile, wary cat shark was swimming straight towards him.
Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! - Ben yelled into the phone.
The “cat” turned slightly on its side as it walked, and Ben realized that it was about to attack. Only at that moment did he notice that his arms and chest were smeared with blood from a piece of horse meat. Ben cursed his stupidity. But there was no time or sense to reproach himself anymore, and he began to fight off the shark with a movie camera.
The “cat” had a gain in time, and the camera barely touched it. The lateral incisors were grabbed in a big way right hand Ben, almost grazed his chest and went through his other arm like a razor. Out of fear and pain, he began to wave his arms; his blood immediately muddied the water, but he could no longer see anything and only felt that the shark would attack again. Kicking and backing away, Ben felt his legs being cut: making convulsive movements, he became entangled in the branchy coral thickets. Ben held the breathing tube with his right hand, afraid to drop it. And at that moment, when he saw that one of the smaller sharks rushed at him, he kicked it and tumbled back.
Ben hit his back on the surface edge of the reef, somehow rolled out of the water and, bleeding, fell onto the sand.
When Ben came to his senses, he immediately remembered what had happened to him, although he did not understand how long he had been unconscious and what happened then - everything now seemed to be out of his control.
Davy! - he shouted.
His son's muffled voice was heard from somewhere above, but Ben's eyes were obscured by darkness - he knew that the shock had not yet passed. But then he saw the child, his face full of horror, bent over him, and realized that he had been unconscious for only a few moments. He could barely move.
What should I do? - Davy shouted. - See what happened to you!
Ben closed his eyes to collect his thoughts. He knew he couldn't fly the plane anymore; his hands burned as if on fire and were as heavy as lead, his legs did not move, and everything floated as if in a fog.
“Davi,” Ben barely said without opening his eyes. - What's wrong with my legs?
“I know,” Ben said angrily, without unclenching his teeth. - What’s wrong with my legs?
Everything is covered in blood, cut up too...
Yes, but not like hands. What should I do?
Then Ben looked at his hands and saw that the right one was almost completely torn off; he saw muscles, tendons, there was almost no blood. The left one looked like a piece of chewed meat and was bleeding heavily; he bent it, pulled his hand to his shoulder to stop the bleeding, and groaned in pain.
He knew that things were very bad for him.
But he immediately realized that something had to be done: if he died, the boy would be left alone, and it was scary to even think about it. This is even worse than him net worth. The boy would not be found in time in this scorched land, if he was found at all.
Davy,” he said insistently, struggling to concentrate, “listen... Take my shirt, tear it and bandage my right hand. Do you hear?
Bandage it for me tightly left hand over wounds to stop bleeding. Then somehow tie the hand to the shoulder. As tight as you can. Understood? Bandage both my hands.
Bandage it tightly. First use your right hand and close the wound. Understood? Do you understand…
Ben didn't hear the answer because he lost consciousness again; this time the unconsciousness lasted longer, and he came to when the boy was fiddling with his left hand; The son's tense, pale face was distorted with horror, but with the courage of despair he tried to complete his task.
Is that you, Davy? - Ben asked and heard himself pronounce the words inaudibly. “Listen, boy,” he continued with effort. “I have to tell you, all at once, in case I lose consciousness again.” Bandage my hands so I don't lose too much blood. Get your legs in order and take off my scuba gear. He's choking me.
“I tried to steal him,” Davy said in a falling voice. - I can’t, I don’t know how.
We have to steal it, okay? - Ben shouted as usual, but immediately realized that the only hope for salvation for both the boy and him was to force Davy to think for himself, to confidently do what he had to do. We need to somehow instill this in the boy.
I'll tell you, son, and you try to understand. Do you hear? - Ben barely heard himself and for a second even forgot about the pain. - You, poor fellow, will have to do everything yourself, it just so happens. Don't be upset if I yell at you. There's no time for offense here. You don't have to pay attention to it, okay?
Yes. - Davy was bandaging his left hand and did not listen to him.
Well done! - Ben wanted to cheer up the child, but he wasn’t very successful. He did not yet know how to approach the boy, but he understood that it was necessary. A ten-year-old child had to complete a task of inhuman difficulty. If he wants to survive. But everything must go in order...
“Get a knife from my belt,” Ben said, “and cut all the scuba straps.” - He himself did not have time to use the knife. - Use a thin file, it will be faster. Do not cut yourself.
“Okay,” Davy said, standing up. He looked at his blood-stained hands and turned green. - If you can raise your head even a little, I will take off one of the belts, I unfastened it.
OK. Will try.
Ben raised his head and was surprised at how difficult it was for him to even move. Trying to move his neck again made him faint; this time he fell into a black abyss of excruciating pain that seemed never to end. He slowly came to his senses and felt some relief.
Is it you, Davy?.. - he asked from somewhere far away.
“I took off your scuba gear,” he heard the boy’s trembling voice. “But you still have blood running down your legs.”
“Don’t pay attention to the legs,” Ben said, opening his eyes. He stood up to see what shape he was in, but was afraid of losing consciousness again. He knew he wouldn't be able to sit up, much less stand up, and now that the boy had bandaged his arms, his upper torso was also shackled. The worst was yet to come, and he needed to think things through.
The only hope to save the boy was a plane, and Davy would have to fly it. There was no other hope, no other way out. But first we need to think about everything thoroughly. The boy must not be frightened. If Davy is told that he will have to fly the plane, he will be horrified. We need to think carefully about how to tell the boy about this, how to instill this idea in him and convince him to do everything, even unconsciously. It was necessary to gropingly find the way to the fear-ridden, immature consciousness of the child. He looked closely at his son and remembered that he had not looked at him properly for a long time.
“He seems to be a developed guy,” Ben thought, surprised at the strange train of his thoughts. This boy with a serious face was somewhat similar to himself: behind his childish features there was hidden, perhaps, a tough and even unbridled character. But the pale, slightly high-cheekboned face looked unhappy now, and when Davy noticed his father’s gaze, he turned away and began to cry.
“It’s okay, baby,” Ben said with difficulty. - Now it’s nothing!
You will die? - asked Davy.
Am I really that bad? - Ben asked without thinking.
Yes,” Davy answered through tears.
Ben realized that he had made a mistake; he needed to talk to the boy, thinking about every word.
“I’m kidding,” he said. - It’s nothing that blood is gushing out of me. Your old man has been in such troubles more than once. Don't you remember how I ended up in hospital in Saskatoon?
Davy nodded.
I remember, but then you were in the hospital...
Of course of course. Right. - He stubbornly thought about his own thoughts, trying not to lose consciousness again. - Do you know what we will do with you? Take a big towel and spread it next to me, I’ll roll over it, and we’ll somehow get to the plane. Is it coming?
“I can’t drag you into the car,” the boy said. There was despondency in his voice.
Eh! - Ben said, trying to speak as softly as possible, although it was torture for him. - You never know what you are capable of until you try. You're probably thirsty, but there's no water, huh?
No, I don't want to drink...
Davy went to get a towel, and Ben said to him in the same tone:
Next time we'll grab a dozen Cokes. And ice.
Davy spread a towel next to him; Ben jerked onto his side, it seemed to him that his arms and chest and legs were torn apart, but he managed to lie on his back on the towel, pressing his heels into the sand, and he did not lose consciousness.
Now drag me to the plane,” Ben said barely audibly. - You pull, and I will push off with my heels. Don’t pay attention to the shocks, the main thing is to get there as quickly as possible!
How will you fly the plane? - Davy asked him from above.
Ben closed his eyes: he wanted to imagine what his son was going through now. “The boy should not know that he will have to drive the car - he will be scared to death.”
This little Oster flies on its own,” he said. “You just have to put it on course, and it’s not difficult.”
But you can't move your hand. And you can’t open your eyes at all.
Don't think about it. I can fly blind and control with my knees. Let's move. Well, take it.
He looked at the sky and noticed that it was getting late and the wind was rising; this will help the plane take off, if, of course, they can taxi into the wind. But the wind will be headwind all the way to Cairo, and fuel will be running short. He hoped, hoped with all his soul, that the khamsin, the blinding sandy wind of the desert, would not blow. He should have been more prudent - stock up on a long-term weather forecast. This is what happens when you become an air cab driver. Either you are too careful or you are acting recklessly. This time - which did not happen to him often - he was careless from beginning to end.
They climbed the slope for a long time; Davy dragged, and Ben pushed off with his heels, constantly losing consciousness and slowly coming to his senses. He fell down twice, but finally they made it to the plane; he even managed to sit down, leaning against the tail of the car, and look around. But sitting was pure hell, and fainting became more and more frequent. His whole body now seemed to be torn apart on the rack.
How are you? - he asked the boy. He was out of breath, exhausted from tension. - You are obviously completely exhausted.
No! - Davy shouted with rage. - I am not tired.
His tone surprised Ben: he had never heard protest, much less rage, in the boy’s voice. It turns out that the son's face could hide these feelings. Is it really possible to live with your son for years and not see his face? But he couldn't afford to think about it now. Now he was fully conscious, but the attacks of pain were breathtaking. The shock wore off. True, he was completely weakened. He felt blood oozing from his left hand, but he could not move his arm, leg, or even a finger (if he still had fingers). Davy himself will have to lift the plane into the air, fly it and land it on the ground.
Now,” he said, moving his parched tongue with difficulty, “we need to pile up stones at the door of the plane.” “After taking a breath, he continued: “If you pile them higher, you’ll somehow be able to drag me into the cabin.” Take the stones from under the wheels.
Davy immediately got to work, he began to pile up fragments of coral at the left door - on the side of the pilot's seat.
“Not at this door,” Ben said carefully. - The other one. If I climb from this side, the steering will interfere with me.
The boy cast a suspicious glance at him and fiercely went back to work. Whenever he tried to lift a block that was too heavy, Ben would tell him not to overexert himself.
You can do anything in life, Davy,” he said in a weak voice, “as long as you don’t overstrain yourself.” Don't stress yourself...
He didn’t remember giving his son such advice before.
But it will soon get dark,” said Davy, having finished stacking the stones.
Will it get dark? - Ben opened his eyes. It was unclear whether he dozed off or lost consciousness again. - It's not twilight. This is the khamsin blowing.
“We can’t fly,” the boy said. - You won't be able to fly the plane. It's better not to try.
Oh! - Ben said with that deliberate gentleness, which made him even sadder. - The wind itself will carry us home.
The wind could take them anywhere but home, and if it blew too hard, they would not see any landing signs, no airfields, or anything below them.
“Come on,” he told the boy again, and he began to drag him again, and Ben began to push away until he found himself on a makeshift step made of a coral block by the door. Now the hardest part remained, but there was no time to rest.
Tie a towel around my chest, climb into the plane and drag me, and I will push off with my feet.
Oh, if only he could move his legs! It's true that something happened to the spine; he had little doubt that he would eventually die. It was important to reach Cairo and show the boy how to land the plane. It would be enough. He placed his only bet on this, it was his farthest aim.
And this hope helped him get on the plane; he crawled into the car, doubled over, losing consciousness. Then he tried to tell the boy what to do, but he could not say a word. The boy was overcome with fear. Turning his head towards him, Ben felt it and made another effort.
Didn't you see I pulled the movie camera out of the water? Or left it at sea?
It's down there, right next to the water.
Go get it. And a small bag with film. - Then he remembered that he hid the film on the plane to protect it from the sun. - No need for film. Just take the device.
The request sounded casual and should have calmed the frightened boy; Ben felt the plane tilt as Davy jumped to the ground and ran for the device. He waited again, longer this time, for his full consciousness to return. It was necessary to delve into the psychology of this pale, silent, wary and overly obedient boy. Oh, if only he knew him better!..
“Fasten your seat belts,” he said. - You will help me. Remember. Remember everything I say. Lock your door...
“Fainting again,” Ben thought. He fell into a pleasant, light sleep for a few minutes, but tried to hold on to the last thread of consciousness. He clung to her: after all, in her alone was the salvation of his son.
Ben didn't remember when he cried, but now he suddenly felt causeless tears in his eyes. No, he doesn't intend to give up. Never!..
Your old man is falling apart, huh? - Ben said and even felt easy pleasure from such frankness. Things were going well. He felt his way to the boy's heart. - Now listen...
He went far, far again, and then returned.
You'll have to take on the matter yourself, Davy. It's nothing you can do. Listen. Are the wheels free?
Yes, I removed all the stones.
Davy sat gritting his teeth.
Why is this shaking us?
He completely forgot about the wind.
This is what needs to be done, Davy,” he said slowly. - Move the throttle lever an inch, no more. Straightaway. Now. Place your entire foot on the pedal. Fine. Well done! Now turn the black switch near me. Great. Now press that button over there, and when the engine starts, move the throttle lever a little more. Stop! Place your foot on the left pedal. When the engine starts, give full throttle and turn into the wind. Do you hear?
“I can do that,” the boy said, and Ben thought he heard a sharp note of impatience in his son’s voice, somewhat reminiscent of his own voice.
When you taxi into the wind, push the stick forward. Get started! Start the engine.
He felt Davy lean over him and turn on the starter, and heard the engine sneeze. If only he didn't move the handle too sharply until the motor started working! "Did! By God, I did!” - Ben thought when the engine started. He nodded, and the tension immediately made him feel sick. Ben realized that the boy was stepping on the gas and trying to turn the plane around. And then he was completely swallowed up by some painful noise; he felt the tremors, tried to raise his hands, but could not and came to his senses from the too strong roar of the engine.
Turn off the gas! - he shouted as loud as possible.
OK! But the wind won't let me turn around.
Are we facing the wind? Did you turn against the wind?
Yes, but the wind will knock us over.
He felt the plane rocking in all directions and tried to look out, but his field of vision was so small that he had to rely entirely on the boy.
"Release the brake," Ben said. He forgot about this.
Ready! - Davy responded. - I let him go.
Well, yes, I let him go! Can't I see? Old fool... - Ben scolded himself.
Then he remembered that because of the noise of the engine he could not be heard and he had to shout.
Listen further! It's quite simple. Pull the handle towards you and hold it in the middle. If the car jumps, nothing. Understood? Slow down. And keep it straight. Hold it against the wind, don't take the handle until I say so. Take action. Don't be afraid of the wind...
He heard the roar of the engine intensify as Davy stepped on the gas, and felt the jolts and rocking of the car as it made its way through the sand. Then she began to slide, caught by the wind, but Ben waited until the tremors became weaker and lost consciousness again.
Do not dare! - he heard from afar.
He came to his senses - they had just taken off from the ground. The boy obediently held the hand and did not pull it towards him; They struggled over the dunes, and Ben realized that it took a lot of courage from the boy not to jerk the handle out of fear. A sharp gust of wind confidently picked up the plane, but then it fell into a hole, and Ben became painfully ill.
Go up three thousand feet, it will be calmer! - he shouted.
He should have explained everything to his son before the start: now it will be difficult for Davy to hear him. Another stupidity! You can't lose your mind and constantly do stupid things!
Three thousand feet! - he shouted. - Three.
Where to fly? - asked Davy.
First, go higher. Higher! - Ben shouted, afraid that the chatter would scare the boy again. From the sound of the engine one could guess that it was working under overload and that the nose of the plane was slightly raised; but the wind will support them, and this will be enough for a few minutes; looking at the speedometer and trying to concentrate on it, he again plunged into darkness, full of pain.
He was brought to his senses by engine failures. It was quiet, there was no more wind, he remained somewhere below, but Ben could hear how he was breathing heavily and was about to give up the engine.
Something happened! - Davy shouted. - Listen, wake up! What's happened?
Raise the mixture lever.
Davy did not understand what needed to be done, and Ben was unable to show him this in time. He turned his head awkwardly, placed his cheek and chin under the handle and lifted it an inch. He heard the engine sneeze, let out an exhaust and start working again.
Where to fly? - Davy asked again. - Why don’t you tell me where to fly?!
With such an erroneous wind there could be no direct course, despite the fact that it was relatively calm up here. All that remained was to stick to the shore all the way to Suez.
Walk along the shore. Stay to his right. Do you see him?
I see. Is this the right way?
According to the compass, the course should be about three hundred and twenty! - he shouted; it seemed that his voice was too weak for Davy to hear, but he heard.
"Good guy! - thought Ben. “He hears everything.”
According to the compass, three hundred and forty! - Davy shouted.
The compass was located at the top, and its scale was visible only from the pilot's seat.
That's good! Fine! Right! Now walk along the shore and stick to it all the time. Just, for God’s sake, don’t do anything else,” said Ben; he heard that he was no longer speaking, but was only mumbling vaguely. - Let the machine do its job. Everything will be alright, Davy...
So, Davy still remembered that he needed to level the plane, maintain the required engine speed and speed! He remembered it. Good guy! He will fly. He can handle it! Ben saw Davy's sharply outlined profile, his pale face with dark eyes in which it was so difficult for him to read anything. The father looked at this face again. “No one even bothered to take him to the dentist,” Ben said to himself, noticing Davy’s slightly protruding teeth; he bared his teeth painfully, straining from tension. “But he can handle it,” Ben thought wearily and conciliatoryly.
It seemed that this was the end, the summation of his whole life. Ben fell into the abyss, the edge of which he had clung to for so long for the boy. And while he fell deeper and deeper, he managed to think that this time he would be lucky if he got out of there at all. He fell too deep. And the boy will be lucky if he comes back. But, losing ground under his feet, losing himself, Ben still had time to think that the khamsin was getting stronger and the darkness was approaching, and it was not he who would have to land the plane... Losing consciousness, he turned his head to the door.
Left alone at an altitude of three thousand feet, Davy decided that he would never be able to cry again. His tears dried up for the rest of his life.
Only once in his ten years did he boast that his father was a pilot. But he remembered everything that his father told him about this plane, and he guessed about many things that his father did not say.
Here, at the height, it was quiet and light. The sea seemed completely green, and the desert - dirty; the wind raised a veil of dust above her. Ahead the horizon was no longer so transparent; the dust rose higher and higher, but he still did not lose sight of the sea. Davy knew his way around maps. It wasn't difficult. He knew where their map was, took it out of the bag on the door and wondered what he would do when he flew up to Suez. But, in general, he knew even this. From Suez the road led to Cairo, it went west through the desert. It will be easier to fly west. The road is not difficult to see, and he recognizes Suez because the sea ends there and the canal begins. There you need to turn left.
He was afraid of his father. True, not now. Now he simply could not look at him: he was sleeping with open mouth, half naked, covered in blood. He didn't want his father to die; he didn’t want his mother to die, but nothing can be done: it happens. People always die.
He didn't like the plane flying so high. This made my heart skip a beat, and the plane was moving too slowly. But Davy was afraid of descending and getting into the wind again when he came to landing. He didn't know what to do. No, he didn’t want to descend in such a wind, he didn’t want the plane to swing in all directions again! The plane will then not obey him. He will not be able to drive it in a straight line and level it with the ground.
Maybe the father has already died? He looked back and saw that he was breathing fitfully and rarely. Tears, which Davy thought were all dry, filled his dark eyes again, and he felt them running down his cheeks. Having licked them with his tongue, he began to watch the sea.
Ben felt as if his body was being pierced and torn apart by ice arrows from the shocks; His mouth was dry and he slowly came to his senses. Looking up, he saw dust and a dim sky above it.
Davy! What's happened? What are you doing? - he shouted angrily.
“We’re almost there,” Davy said. “But the wind has risen higher and it’s already getting dark.”
Ben closed his eyes to realize what had happened, but he still didn’t understand anything: it seemed to him that he was already coming to his senses, indicating the course for the boy, and then losing consciousness again. The pumping torture continued and intensified the pain.
What do you see? - he shouted.
Airfields and buildings of Cairo. There is a large airfield where passenger planes arrive.
The rocking and shaking cut off the boy's words; it seemed as if they were lifted up a hundred feet by a current of air, and then thrown down in a painful fall for a good two hundred; the plane swayed frantically from side to side.
Don't lose sight of the airfield! - Ben shouted through the attack of pain. - Watch him! Keep your eyes on him. - He had to shout it twice before the boy heard; Ben quietly repeated to himself: “For God’s sake, Davy, now you must hear everything I say.”
The plane doesn't want to go down, said Davy; his eyes widened and now seemed to occupy his entire face.
Turn off the engine.
I turned it off, but nothing happens. I can't lower the handle.
“Pull the trimmer handle,” Ben said, raising his head up to where the handle was. He also remembered the shields, but the boy would never be able to let them go, he would have to do without them.
Davy had to stand up to reach the handle on the wheel and slide it forward. The nose of the plane dropped and the car went into a dive.
Turn off the engine! - Ben shouted.
Davy removed the gas, and the wind began to forcefully throw the gliding aircraft up and down.
“Keep an eye on the airfield, make a circle over it,” Ben said and began to gather all his strength for the last effort that lay ahead of him.
Now he needs to sit down, straighten up and watch through the windshield as the ground approaches. The decisive moment was approaching. Lifting a plane into the air and flying it is not so difficult, but landing it on the ground is the task!
There are big planes there,” Davy shouted. - One, it seems, is starting...
Be careful, turn aside! - Ben shouted.
It was rather useless advice, but inch by inch Ben rose; It helped that the plane's nose was down. Leaning against the shaking door and resting his shoulder and head against it, he stubbornly, with the last of his strength, climbed up. Finally his head was so high that he was able to rest it on the board with the instruments. He raised his head as far as he could and saw the ground approaching.
Well done! - he shouted to his son.
Ben was shaking and sweating, he felt that out of his entire body only his head remained alive. There were no more arms and legs.
Levey! - he shouted. - Give me your pen! Bend it to the left! Move more to the left! Rot some more! Fine! It's okay, Davy. You can handle it. Left! Press the handle down...
I'll crash into a plane.
Ben could see a large plane. The plane was no more than five hundred feet away, and they were heading straight towards it. It's almost dark. Dust hung over the ground like a yellow sea, but the large four-engine plane left a trail of clean air, - this means the motors are running full power. If he started and didn't check the engines, everything will be fine. You can’t sit behind the airfield: the ground there is too uneven.
Ben closed his eyes.
Starts...
Ben forced his eyes open and glanced over the nose of the car, rocking up and down; the large DK-4 was only two hundred feet away; it blocked their path, but it was moving at such a speed that they had to miss each other. Yes, they will miss each other. Ben felt Davy pull the handle towards himself in horror.
It is forbidden! - he shouted. - Pull her down...
The plane's nose went up and they lost speed. If you lose speed at such a height, and even with this wind, they will be blown to pieces.
Wind! - the boy shouted; his face froze and turned into a tragic mask; Ben knew that the last inch was approaching and everything was in the boy’s hands...
There was a minute left before landing.
Six inches! - he shouted to Davy; his tongue seemed to be swollen from tension and pain, and hot tears flowed from his eyes. - Six inches, Davy!.. Stop! It is too early. It’s still early... - he cried.
At the last inch that separated them from the ground, he still lost his composure; fear took possession of him, death took possession of him, and he could no longer speak, or scream, or cry; he leaned against the board; in his eyes there was fear for himself, fear of this last dizzying fall to the ground, when the black runway approaches you in a cloud of dust. He tried to shout; “It's time! It's time! It's time! - but the fear was too great; in the last, mortal moment, which again returned him to oblivion, he felt the nose of the plane rise slightly, heard the loud roar of the engine that had not yet stalled, felt how, having hit the ground with its wheels, the plane softly jumped into the air, and a painful wait began. But then the tail and wheels touched the ground - that was the last inch. The wind spun the plane, it skidded and described a circle on the ground, and then froze, and there was silence.
Oh, what silence and what peace! He heard them, felt them with his whole being; he suddenly realized that he would survive - he was so afraid of dying and did not want to give up at all.
In life, decisive minutes often come and decisive inches remain, and in the tortured body of the pilot there were bones and blood vessels that were decisive for the whole matter, which people did not even suspect. When it seems that everything is over, they take over. Egyptian doctors were surprised to discover that Ben had an inexhaustible supply of them, and the ability to restore torn tissue seemed to be given to the pilot by nature itself.
All this took time, but what did time mean for a life hanging by a thread?.. Ben still was not aware of anything except the ebb and flow of pain and rare glimmers of consciousness.
It’s all about adrenaline,” the curly-haired Egyptian doctor laughed roaringly, “and you produce it like atomic energy!”
Everything seemed to be fine, but Ben still lost his left arm. (“Strange,” he thought, “I could have sworn that my right hand suffered more.”) He also had to cope with paralysis, which the curly-haired healer persistently called “a slight nervous shock.” The shock turned Ben into a motionless and very fragile fragment - the correction could not proceed quickly. But still, things were going well. Everything except Ben's left hand, which went into the incinerator, but this would have been nothing if his profession as a pilot had not gone there after it.
However, in addition to everything, there was also a boy.
“He is alive and well,” the doctor said. - I didn’t even get a shock. - The curly-haired Egyptian let go funny jokes on the beautiful English language. - He is much more mobile than you.
So, everything is fine with the boy. Even the plane survived. Everything was going as well as possible, but the meeting with the boy decided the matter: here it would either start or end again. And maybe forever.
When Davy was brought in, Ben saw that it was the same child, with the same face, which he had seen for the first time so recently. But the point was not at all what Ben saw: it was important to find out whether the boy was able to see something in his father.
How's it going, Davy? - he timidly told his son. - It was great, huh?
Davy nodded. Ben knew that the boy didn't think it was great, but the time would come when he would understand. Someday the boy will understand how great it was. It was worth putting your hands on it.
Your old man is falling apart, isn't he? - he asked.
Davy nodded. His face was still serious.
Ben smiled. But let’s be honest, the old man really fell apart. They both need time. He, Ben, will now need all his life, all the life that the boy gave him. But, looking into those dark eyes, at those slightly protruding teeth, at that face, so unusual for an American, Ben decided that the game was worth the candle. It's worth investing time into. He will get to the very heart of the boy! Sooner or later, he will get to him. The last inch that separates everyone and everything is not easy to overcome unless you are a master of your craft. But to be a master of his craft is the responsibility of a pilot, and Ben was once a very good pilot.
Year of publication of the story: 1957
James Aldridge's short story "The Last Inch" should be read according to school curriculum. It was included there back in the days of the USSR and since then has won considerable love in the hearts of our readers. The story “The Last Inch” was used to make a film of the same name, and the writer himself became famous in our country precisely thanks to this story.
The story “The Last Inch” summary
In the short story “The Last Inch” you will learn about a native of Canada – Ben. Back in his homeland, he became a good pilot and now flew over the shores of Egypt with geologists in search of oil. He was loved and respected because he could land a plane almost anywhere. But in Lately The management of the oil producing company gave up trying to find oil and Ben did odd jobs. At the same time, the wife, unable to bear it hiking conditions life, returned to her native Massachusetts. At the same time, she left their ten-year-old son with his father, which for Ben was comparable to punishment. After all, he never found a common language with his son, and, in fact, he didn’t really try.
Further in James Aldridge’s story “The Last Inch” you can read about how, in a fit of emotion, Ben decided to take his son with him on a flight to the Red Sea. Here Ben wanted to film sharks, because television companies paid well for each meter of film with such pictures. During the flight, he tried to teach his son how to fly the plane, until he brought him to tears with his next shout. But during the landing, he forced his son to watch the landing, insisting that it was all about the last inch.
If you continue to read the story “The Last Inch” briefly, you will learn how Ben started filming in Shark Bay. The sharks were quite aggressive, and one cat shark showed too much interest in Ben. Because of this, he hurried to get ashore. Here he decided to have a dinner during which he discovered that he had only taken beer for himself, without taking care of his son Davy. And his son’s questions about how else to get to Shark Bay did not move Ben. After all, he didn’t even understand that his son was afraid to be left here alone if something happened to him.
If you continue reading James Aldridge's story "The Last Inch" summary, then you will find out that despite his fear, Ben decides to dive again. After all, with the money raised from filming, he hopes to send Davy to his mother. This time he dives with a horse's leg. But the cat shark lunges at him, not his leg. Ben barely managed to get ashore. His right arm was almost torn off, his left was badly damaged, and his legs were badly chewed. Only now Ben realized that he must live for Davy’s sake, because without him he would be lost.
Main character James Aldridge's story "The Last Inch" gets to the plane with the help of his son. Ben could only help his son drag himself a little. And in order for his father to climb into the passenger seat of Davy’s plane, he actually had to build a ramp out of stones. Now their fate seemed to depend only on the boy’s ability to fly a plane, and Ben didn’t even know how to cheer him up. Nevertheless, the boy took off and, using a compass, flew to Cairo. Miraculously preventing an accident with a large plane, the boy managed to land. Ben survived, although he lost his left arm. But now his main task in life was to overcome the last inch that separated him from his son.
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Drawings by G. Filippovsky
James Aldridge
It’s good if, after twenty years as a pilot, you still enjoy flying at the age of forty; It’s good if you can still rejoice in how artistically you planted the car: you press the handle a little, raise a light cloud of dust and smoothly win the last inch above the ground. Especially when you land on snow: snow is an excellent bedding for the wheels, and good fit in the snow - it's as pleasant as walking barefoot on a fluffy carpet in a hotel.
But flying in the DS-3, when you lifted an old car into the air in any weather and flew over forests anywhere, was over. His work in Canada had sharpened him, and it was not surprising that he ended his flying life over the Red Sea desert, flying Fairchild for the oil export company Texegypto, which had oil exploration rights along the entire Egyptian coast. He flew the Fairchild over the desert until the plane was completely worn out. There were no landing sites. He parked his car wherever geologists and hydrologists wanted to go, that is, on sand, and on bushes, and on the rocky bottom of dry streams, and on the long white shallows of the Red Sea. The shallows were the worst of all: the smooth-looking surface of the sands was always strewn with large pieces of white coral, razor-sharp on the edges, and if it had not been for the Fairchild's low center of gravity, it would have capsized more than once due to a puncture in the camera.
But all this was already in the past. The Texegypto company abandoned expensive attempts to find a large oil field that would provide the same profits that Aramco received in Saudi Arabia, and the Fairchild turned into a pathetic wreck and stood in one of the Egyptian hangars, covered with a thick layer of multi-colored dust, all dissected at the bottom narrow, long cuts, with disheveled cables, only the semblance of a motor and instruments suitable only for scrap.
It was all over: he turned forty-three, his wife left him home on Lynnen Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and lived as she liked: she rode the tram to Harvard Square, bought groceries in a store without salespeople, visited her an old man in a decent wooden house - in a word, she led a decent life, worthy of a decent woman. He promised to come to her in the spring, but he knew that he would not do this, just as he knew that he would not get a flying job in his years, especially the kind to which he was accustomed, he would not get it even in Canada. In those parts, supply exceeded demand even when it came to experienced people; Saskatchewan farmers taught themselves to fly their Piper Cabs and Austers. Amateur aviation deprived many old pilots of a piece of bread. They ended up being hired to serve mining departments or the government, but both jobs were too decent and respectable to suit him in his old age.
So he was left empty-handed, except for an indifferent wife who did not need him, and a ten-year-old son, born too late and, as Ben understood somewhere deep down, a stranger to both of them - a lonely, restless child who For ten years he understood that his mother was not interested in him, and his father was a stranger who did not know what to talk to him about, harsh and taciturn in those rare moments when they were together.
This moment was no better than the others. Ben took the boy with him on the Auster, which was swinging wildly at an altitude of 2 thousand feet above the Red Sea coast, and waited for the boy to get seasick.
If you puke,” Ben said, “put your head down low on the floor so you don’t get the whole car dirty.”
Fine. - The boy looked very unhappy.
Are you afraid?
The little Oster was mercilessly tossed from side to side in the hot air, but the frightened boy still did not get lost and, desperately sucking on a lollipop, looked at the instruments, the compass, and the jumping artificial horizon.
“A little,” the boy answered in a quiet and shy voice, unlike the rude voices of American children. - And these shocks won’t break the plane?
Ben didn't know how to calm his son down, he told the truth:
If you don't take care of your car, it will certainly break down.
And this... - the boy began, but he felt very sick and could not continue.
This one is fine,” the father said irritably. - Quite a good plane.
The boy lowered his head and cried quietly.
Ben regretted taking his son with him. All generous impulses in their family always ended in failure: they both lacked this feeling for a long time - a dry, whiny, provincial mother and a harsh, hot-tempered father. Ben once tried, during one of his rare bouts of generosity, to teach the boy how to fly an airplane, and although his son turned out to be very understanding and quickly learned the basic rules, every shout brought him to tears...
Do not Cry! - Ben now ordered him. - There is no need for you to cry! Raise your head, do you hear, Davy! Get up now!
But Davy sat with his head down, and Ben more and more regretted that he had taken him, and looked sadly at the huge barren desert of the Red Sea coast stretching under the wing of the plane - an unbroken strip of a thousand miles separating the softly blurred watercolors of the land from the faded green of the water . Everything was motionless and dead. The sun burned out all life here, and in the spring, over thousands of square miles, the winds lifted masses of sand into the air and carried the sand to the other side of the Indian Ocean, where it remained forever: the desert merged with the bottom of the sea.
Sit up straight, he told Davy, if you want to learn how to land.
He knew that his tone was harsh, and he always wondered why he couldn’t talk to the boy. Davy raised his head. He grabbed the control board and leaned forward. Ben moved the throttle, waited until the speed slowed down, and then pulled hard on the trim lever, which was very awkwardly located on these small English planes - at the top left, almost overhead. A sudden jolt shook the boy’s head down, but he immediately raised it and began to look over the lowered nose of the car at a narrow strip of white sand near the bay, similar to a cake thrown into this coastal wasteland. My father flew the plane straight there.
How do you know which way the wind blows? - asked the boy.
By the waves, by the cloud, by instinct! - Ben shouted to him.
But he himself no longer knew what he was guided by when he was flying the plane. Without thinking, he knew to within one foot where he would land the car. He had to be precise: the bare strip of sand did not give a single extra inch, and only a very small plane could land on it. From here it was a hundred miles to the nearest native village, and all around was a dead desert.
It's all about getting the timing right,” Ben said. - When leveling the plane, you want it to be six inches from the ground. Not a foot or three, but exactly six inches! If it's higher, you'll hit yourself when landing and the plane will be damaged. Too low and you'll hit a bump and roll over. All. It's all about the last inch.
Davy nodded. He already knew that. He saw an Oster overturn in Al-Bab, where they rented a car. The student who flew it was killed.
See! - the father shouted. - Six inches. When he starts to sit down, I take the handle back. I pull her towards me. Here! - he said, and the plane touched the ground softly, like a snowflake.
The last inch! Ben immediately turned off the engine and pressed the foot brakes - the nose of the plane rose up, and the brakes prevented him from plunging into the water - it was six or seven feet away.
The idea for the novella “The Last Inch” arose from the outstanding English writer James Aldridge when he visited Shark Bay in Egypt.
However, inspired by this exotic location and the risky underwater filming, Aldridge dedicated his work to valuable human qualities - courage, bravery and inner strength, which pushes people forward.
The story “The Last Inch” is a story about the formation of personality and about overcoming fear for the sake of life, for the sake of love for yourself, your loved ones and the world around you.
"The Last Inch" follows professional pilot Ben and his son as they travel to Shark Bay to film a documentary. Ben is attacked by one of the sharks and is injured, now he cannot move.
But Ben is tormented not only by the pain he experiences, but by the realization that his ten-year-old son Davy may be completely alone and will not be able to find his way back if something happens to his father.
The next problem is the difficult relationship between son and father. They've always had a hard time finding mutual language, and the main reason for this was that his father never looked for him
But now father and son must cooperate in such difficult and life-defining circumstances. Ben has to overcome pain and torment, and encourage Davy, because he understands that the only way to save them is by plane. And a ten-year-old boy will have to fly the plane.
The hero overcoming his own fear and powerlessness
Ben understands that the most important thing now is not to lose heart and believe that everything will work out. These thoughts help him gain strength, get up and, with the help of his son, get to the plane and tell him what to do.
Aldridge creates a picture of a decisive moment in a person's life - when everything depends on courage and fearlessness. The main character of the short story “The Last Inch” does not remember how scared he is, does not think about all the dangers that await him and his son, and does not allow physical pain to control him.
Despite the fact that it will be very difficult physically and mentally for little Davy to fly the plane, Ben believes in him and believes in own strength. He is driven forward by his boundless love for life, his own and the life of his ten-year-old son, who can save them both.
Davy managed to do everything that was necessary - he brought the plane to Cairo and managed to land it on the ground. He accomplished a real feat and gave life to his father and himself.
But Ben himself accomplished the feat; he overcame his fears and depressing powerlessness, managed to start moving and charged his vital energy frightened son. It was thanks to him that Dani managed to give birth to fearlessness and courage, which are difficult to be born in adult men.
Human strength and fearlessness
James Aldridge's novella is a manifesto dedicated to human strength and fearless courage, which at the decisive moment can change or save lives.
The self-control of pilot Ben and the amazing courage of his son are vivid examples of the fact that a person is always stronger than circumstances. The writer shows that the most important thing is not to give up and believe in yourself and the strength of your personality.
At forty-three years old, Ben was an experienced pilot, but flying still brought him satisfaction. Unfortunately, this was over: after forty, real flying work was to be forgotten. In addition, his relationship with his wife did not work out, and his ten-year-old son Davy was a stranger and incomprehensible to both parents.
This time, Ben, flying on an old Oster, took Davy with him and soon regretted it: the plane, flying over the Red Sea, ruthlessly bubbled in the hot air. But the frightened boy behaved with dignity, and this pleased his father. Still, Davy could not stand it, he began to cry, and Ben once again thought that he did not know how to talk to his son at all. He answered the kid’s questions too harshly, although he promised to tell him how to park the car.
“It’s all a matter of timing... When you level the plane, you want the distance to the ground to be six inches... Exactly six. If you take it higher, you will collide during landing and damage the plane. Too low - you'll jump into a lump and spill over. It's all about the last inch."
Immediately the father showed the boy how it was done and skillfully landed the plane on the shore of Shark Bay, so named because of its “population.” Ben flew here in order to take photographs of sharks, getting as close to them as possible. Once in the bay, he seemed to completely forget about his son and only occasionally gave him orders to help with unloading.
“Does anyone ever come here?” - Davy asked him.
“Nobody,” Ben had to answer. “You can only get here by light plane.”
Having prepared his scuba gear and camera for underwater filming, Ben entered the water. He once again ordered Davy not to go near the water, not to worry about him, and again he felt that he was speaking to his son too harshly, as if he were a stranger.
The boy looked at the sea that had swallowed his father, and thought what would happen to him if his father never emerged from the depths of the sea.
And Ben was passionate about work. There were a lot of sharks, but they kept their distance. The pilot decided to lure them closer after lunch to film a film about sharks ordered by the television company.
Having risen to the surface, he ordered him to bring breakfast from the plane, and he began to prepare the equipment for the next dive. After eating, I lay down and immediately fell asleep.
Waking up, Ben began to prepare for a new descent under water. And Davy looked at him worriedly and again began to ask if anyone knew that they were here and could find them. Ben realized that the boy was simply afraid to be left alone, and tried to calm him down, promising to stay under water for only half an hour. He knew that he would not have to wait long for the sharks, because now he had taken bait with him - a piece of horse meat. The sharks rushed straight for the horse meat. The pictures turned out wonderful. When the film was running out, Ben noticed that his hands and chest were smeared with blood from the horse meat. Now the sharks were heading straight for him. The husband cursed his stupidity, but it was too late. Terrible incisors grabbed his right hand and passed along his left like a blade. Something cut my legs. The water was clouded with blood.
Miraculously making it to shore, Ben lost consciousness. Having recovered, he loudly called his son and a minute later saw his face full of horror.
"What should I do?" - Davy shouted. If only Ben knew! My hands burned as if on fire, my legs did not move, and everything floated as if in a fog.
The pilot knew that he would not be able to fly the plane. And this meant the death of both him and his son. Overcoming terrible pain, Ben ordered Davy to bandage his hands to stop the bleeding and get scuba gear. Losing consciousness again, he realized that in order to be saved, a ten-year-old child would have to perform a task of superhuman complexity. “The only hope to save the boy is the plane, and Davy will have to guide him. There is no other hope, there is no other way out... The boy cannot be scared.” The frightened child began to cry, and the father, gathering his last strength, tried to calm the baby, while he himself, meanwhile, was thinking about a rescue plan. New orders followed, and Davy, straining with all his strength, pulled his father towards the plane. “The boy shouldn’t know that he will have to drive the car, he’ll be scared to death,” Ben thought. “This little Oster flies on its own,” he said. “You just have to put it on course, and it’s not difficult.”
The wind rose, and they all gathered up the slope. Davy pulled, and Ben pushed off with his heels, constantly losing consciousness and slowly returning to himself. Twice he fell down, pain permeated his body, dizziness became more frequent. And here comes the plane: Ben ordered Davy to place stones near the door so that he could be pulled into the cockpit. Davy got to work. A pile of stones grew near the door. The hardest part remains - getting into the cabin. Ben no longer doubted that he would die, but no matter what, he wanted to save his son. “It’s important to reach Cairo and show the boy how to land a plane. It would be enough". Only hope helped him crawl to the car, only she, hope, held on to his fading consciousness. Now we need to calm down the frightened child... No, he will not give up, no matter what! Ben said cautiously to Davy, so he'll have to get down to business. The boy obediently followed his father's orders. And the wind grew stronger. “Pull the handle towards you... Don’t be afraid of the wind...” The roar of the engine intensified. And now they are already in the sky. Ben continued to explain what to do, and Davy seemed to calm down. Having leveled the plane, he flew it along the shore.
“He can handle it!” - Ben thought tiredly and conciliatoryly and fell asleep, half naked, covered in blood.
And Davy was flying the plane. Alone, at three thousand feet. He didn't cry anymore. His tears dried up for the rest of his life.
Ben woke up. "What do you see?" - he shouted to his son. - “Airfields and buildings of Cairo.”
Last efforts. The plane refuses to go down. The boy, obeying his father's command, turns off the engine. "Oster" is decreasing. New danger: a large plane is taking off from the airfield. Davy pulls the handle towards himself.
"It is forbidden! - Ben stopped him. “Roll her down!”
"Wind!" - The boy screamed in despair. There was a minute left before landing. Ben knew the last inch was coming and it was all in the child's hands.
"Six inches!" - he shouted to Davy; his tongue seemed to be swollen from tension and pain, and hot tears flowed from his eyes.
“At the last inch, he still lost his composure, he was overcome by fear... and he could no longer speak, or scream, or cry...”
And then the tail and wheels of the Oster touched the ground. This was the last inch. The plane froze and became quiet.
Ben survived, although he lost his left arm. But in the hospital he was not thinking about himself. Everything was decided by the meeting with Davy. Father knew they both needed time. And he, Ben, will now need all the lives, all the lives that the boy gave him... He will still get to the very heart of the boy!.. The last inch that separates everyone and everything is not easy to overcome. But he, Ben, was a master of his craft, not a bad pilot at all.