Manny smiled and patted Bill’s shoulder. “That’s a grand plan. If you have some paper and pens around here, I’ll bring notes from my people in the morning. We’d done similar things over the Twin Cities when we still had a pilot with us. Though, I’m guessing Bill would be more than happy to ride along if you have room for an extra passenger.”
Tyler looked to me to answer. I didn’t like taking people I didn’t know on a flight, especially one as desperate as Bill. Too many things could happen in the air that could turn everything to shit. I’d learned that lesson by watching my dad. He’d been a doctor and an avid volunteer in the Doctors Without Borders program. He had learned to fly to get into some of the world’s most inhospitable places. He’d taken me with him one summer, where I became hooked on flying but also learned first-hand how easily a single passenger with a panic attack could nearly crash a plane. Now, I never flew anywhere without having someone I trusted on board to handle any passenger.
“Okay,” I said and Bill’s face lit up. “You can ride in back only if we have an extra seat. Jase is my co-pilot and rides shotgun. We’ll try for tomorrow morning. If Clutch isn’t up for it or the weather doesn’t look perfect, we’ll try again for the next day. If any other Fox scout wants to ride along, you lose your seat.” I pointed a finger at him. “I’m in charge. You do everything I say. No questions asked. No arguing. I will not risk my plane or my life because you decide to do something stupid. Got it?”
Bill gave a fervent nod, smiling widely. “Yes, yes. I’ll do whatever you ask.” He cupped my hands. “This means so much. Thank you, I mean it.”
I gave a weak smile. “Listen. There are no guarantees on this trip. Chances are, even if we make it to Marshall without having to turn around, there won’t be any safe landing strips, so we’ll only manage to make a bag drop. You’re signing up for what will likely be a dull three-or four-hour flight.”
“I understand,” Bill replied, his eyebrows high. “We had a road cleared at the university for our pilot to land. You can land there.”
“I’m not making any promises,” I cautioned.
“Even if you can’t land, I can at least get a note to my family,” Bill quickly replied. “They’ll know I’m safe and on my way back to them. They’ve got to be so worried right now.” Bill reached into his pocket, grabbed a pen and notepad, and started drawing something.
“Much obliged, ma’am,” Manny said. “Bill’s been riding my back ever since we pulled out of Marshall.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said with a smirk. “And the name’s Cash.” I watched Manny for a moment. “What can you tell me about these herds? How are you so sure the zeds are moving south?”
“A scout told us he’d followed the herd for fifty miles before he figured out they were heading straight south. One of our radio contacts in North Dakota noticed zeds all started walking the same direction about the same time the birds started migrating. We put two and two together and figured they’re migrating for the winter.”
I shook my head. “The zeds around here aren’t showing any signs of migrating.”
“You’re farther south. It’s warmer here, so they might not have gotten the itch yet. Or, maybe they’re just waiting to join up with other herds.”
I thought for a moment. I dreaded seeing if this pair was telling the truth, but I also wasn’t going to be an ostrich with my head in the sand. If there was danger headed our way, we needed as much advance warning as possible. Flying was the safest and most efficient way to do that. I sighed, came to my feet, and grabbed my tray. “Well, if I’m going to do this, I better start my flight planning.” I turned to Bill. “Be at the park gate by sunrise. Don’t bring more than five pounds of gear with you. I like to keep the plane as light as possible when we head out.”
“Here.” Bill handed me a piece of paper. “Here’s a map of the university.” He pointed to a long line. “Here’s where our pilot used to land.”