Night Rescue

By Zach Neal

Nathan Wyatt is flying the nightly mail from Chicago to Cheyenne when he has to make an emergency landing. Looking for a phone, he walks to the nearest farmhouse. Jenny Johnson is a beautiful woman, one who bears a terrible burden. Isolated and alone, a captive in her own home, only he can help her. After some thought, he has the perfect plan. If only he can trust her. If only they don’t forget anything. A short story of love and vengeance, set against the romantic backdrop of the early days of airmail.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zach Neal
• Release date: Sep 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781927957868

Zach Neal

Zach Neal has been writing ever since he can remember. A forestry management professional, he prefers the outdoors to the office. He lives in the Halton Hills overlooking the Greater Toronto Area. He studied at the University of Toronto. Zach’s a single father of two healthy and energetic children. Zach’s boys, Aaron and Jason, mean everything to him.

Book preview

Night Rescue

Zach Neal

Copyright 2014 Zach Neal and Long Cool One Books

Design: J. Thornton

ISBN 978-1-927957-86-8

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or deceased, or to any places or events, is purely coincidental. Names, places, settings, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. The author’s moral right to the proceeds of this work have been asserted.

Table of Contents

Scene One

Scene Two

Scene Three

About Zach Neal

Scene One

The big Liberty V-12 thundered away up front as Nathan Wyatt studied the map on his knee-board.

The next beacon should have been visible by now, but there was an unusual, elevated fog over the frozen northwest that night. It couldn’t really be called cloud, it was just moist air trapped under an inversion layer.

The moon cast its pale light over his left shoulder, its reflection blinding in the instrument panel when he had his head in the wrong place. He was getting a crick in the neck.

People talked about Hell and its fires. In Nathan’s opinion, Hell was very much colder than that. The only question was why he had never been able to quit.

He was following the meandering snake-track of a river, which really ought to be the North Platte. But if it was the North Platte, where were the beacons? Ten miles apart, there were hundreds between Chicago and Cheyenne where his ten-hour shift would end. The thing about the town of North Platte was that he was supposed to refuel there, and if he couldn’t find it, then he was in a heap of trouble.

Flying at an altitude of a thousand or twelve hundred feet, he really should be seeing either this beacon or the next. Turning his head as far around as it would go, he could still see the last one. Visibility