The Demons Of Casper: A Skydiving Story

By Gregory P. Robertson

Everything In Vicki’s Life Was Wonderful

Just when Vicki thought life couldn’t get any better, it took a drastic turn. It spiraled from bad to really bad. Then, it got worse.
Vicki has the life she had always hoped for. A job she enjoys, a boyfriend she loves, a peaceful desert in which to live, and skydiving to give her the freedom of the air.

Without warning, her perfect life falls apart. The drop zone owners announce they have decided to retire forcing her to think about what she will do next. Then Rick, her boyfriend, tells her he is thinking about taking a job in another state. If that wasn’t enough, Eddie, her nemesis from her hometown of Casper, shows up seeking revenge for her resisting him years before.

Eddie takes Vicki and her friends, Rick, Bob, and Nancy, hostage. He forces Rick and Bob to fly into Mexico to smuggle in drugs. Vicki remains back at the airport, tied to a chair, knowing that Eddie won’t release her or Nancy. He has plans for them. Evil plans.

She quietly works to save Nancy and herself all the while hoping that Rick and Bob can survive their part of the ordeal. When she hears the airplane returning, she knows that time is up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregory P. Robertson
• Release date: Oct 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370932375

Gregory P. Robertson

Soldier in the 60’s, Rock&Roll Roadie in the 70’s, Skydiving Instructor in the 80’s, Pilot in the 90’s, and Writer in the new millennium, Gregory P Robertson brings a wide and varied wealth of experience with him. Along the way, he found time to acquire an Electrical Engineering Degree, obtain Professional Engineering Certification in multiple states, and have a 27-year career with AT&T.His past writing works include the nonfiction history of the Staunton Military Academy and the first volume of a collection of humorous memoirs entitled “Life As A Cadet – How To Find Humor With A Black Stripe Down Your Leg.”His first Novel, a military based thriller entitled Southern Roadie, will be available soon.You can view his entire collection of writings at his website, www.gregoryprobertson.com.

Book preview

The external bell of the telephone echoed across the cavernous hanger breaking the silence of the midweek afternoon. Void of activity, except for Vicki on her back under the Twin Beech, the building seemed to shake as the klaxon-like noise resonated across the mainly empty space. Vicki stopped pumping the handle of the grease gun fitted to the upper retraction hinge as she looked toward the bell mounted high on the upper wall. The bell sounded a second time. A third ring was cut short. The hanger returned to its peaceful calmness that was broken only by Sally’s soft voice through the closed door of the office. She stopped speaking and, several long seconds later, opened the door.

Vicki. It’s for you. I think it’s the call you’ve been waiting for.

Okay. Tell them I’ll be right there.

Vicki laid the grease gun down before she pushed her legs against the floor to roll the mechanic’s creeper toward the front of the airplane. Buster, her cat, rose and ran out of the way as she scooted along the floor. When the creeper cleared the nose, Vicki hesitated as she stared upward at the bottom of the roof. A group of pigeons crowded in the rafters above her, their eyes staring down at her movement. With a quick tightening of her stomach muscles, she sat up and looked at the airplane. A second hesitation gripped her movements from advancing further toward the telephone. She planted her feet firmly on the dusty concrete floor before she leaned her body forward until she could stand. Her distorted reflection in the polished aluminum of the Beech’s nose stared back at her echoing her own distorted feelings about taking the call. With one last look at her image in the mirror-like finish, she turned toward the office and the fate waiting for her on the other end of the receiver.

Sally walked out of the office as Vicki approached. I’ll give you a little privacy. I’ll be in the Parts Room when you’re done if you want to talk.

Thanks.

Vicki moved slowly thru the doorway. Stopping at the edge of the desk, she stared at the telephone receiver. She started to reach for it but stopped her hand inches from the device as though it would strike like a snake when she touched it. Then, with a slow deliberate effort, she picked the receiver up moving it to her ear. Hesitating another few seconds, she listened to the distant voice in the earpiece as it talked to someone in that room so far away.

Her fingers twisted the end of her left pigtail. She finally spoke as she lowered herself into the seat. Hello. This is Vicki Fox.

The voice ended its side conversation and came full force into the earpiece. Good afternoon Vicki. This is George Gallagher. I wanted to let you know that we have reviewed the information that you send us. The Trustees are willing to continue to look into it. We’re going to have an auditor from an affiliated bank get in touch with Mr. Sparks to review his books.

Vicki hesitated again. She slumped down into the seat. Reality bit at her brain. Buster leaped from the floor onto her lap bringing Vicki a sudden sense of comfort. He curled into a tiny ball as he purred.

Hello. Vicki? Are you there?

Vicki caught her breath. Yes. I’m here. I drifted away for a second.

Understandable. I’m sure this is a big issue for you. Would you like a few days to think about it further before we contact Mr. Sparks?

No. I’ll tell him that you’ll be in touch shortly.

Okay. Tell him that he’ll get a call the first of next week to let him know who will be representing the Trust locally.

I’ll let him know, Mr. Gallagher.

How’s everything else going for you? Since you started working down there four years ago and stopped needing draws from the Trust, we barely hear from you.

I’m doing okay. I love living down here and working at the airport. I just try to keep Casper as far into my past as I can.

I can understand that. Have you heard from your Uncle Eb lately? I see him around town occasionally. Just to let you know, I have not spoken to him about your proposal.

You can talk to him about it. I wrote him a letter about it last week but haven’t heard back from him yet.

I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon. Listen, I’ve got to run now. I’ve got someone at my door. You take care. I’ll let you know when we’re done looking at Mr. Sparks’ books.

Okay. Thanks. Goodbye.

Goodbye.

The earpiece of the telephone receiver clicked as Mr. Gallagher hung up. The line went silent. Vicki continued to hold it to her ear. She stroked Buster’s back lightly as he stretched his legs forward until his claws touched her knees. His purr intensified until it vibrated her entire thigh.

She remained sitting letting her eyes take in the room around her. Aircraft manuals lay haphazardly piled on one of the easy chairs against the wall. The other chair, the one where Sally always sat, lay empty except for the tiny pillow that she used to support her back. The Federal Air Regulations in the bookcase filled it to overflowing with the extras on top in a precarious pile that leaned left. They would slide onto the floor the next time a strong wind slammed the door.

The stained drip coffee maker sat on a small table to the right of the bookcase in a position that gave it safety from the leaning pile of pamphlets above. Creamers, stirrers, and condiments peeked from a low box to its right. The dark light of the brewing switch betrayed the age of the dark substance in the pot, left over from the morning or maybe the day or week before. An electric tea kettle, the newest addition to the table, sat to the right of the condiment box with its own container of tea bags. A jar of honey sat to its right. Vicki stared at the tea kettle with the realization that she still thought of it as new even though it had sat on the table for over three years now. She still remembered the day she had cleared a spot for it six months after starting work at the airport.

A dial tone hit her ear. She stared at the earpiece almost as though she expected a voice to speak telling her that a mistake had been made. That things would go on as they had for the last four years. That the world would continue with the same normalcy that Vicki had come to enjoy and find comfort in.

Buster snapped her from her thoughts as he suddenly jumped from her lap to the top of the desk with an effortless leap. He scratched his chin against the telephone receiver and Vicki’s hand. Vicki replaced the receiver in its cradle before she pulled Buster into her lap.

What should we do buddy? What should we do?

Vicki looked up from the purring critter as footsteps approached the door. Sally peeked in. Are you done?

Yes.

Sally walked into the office. What did they say?

Leaning back in the chair, Vicki stared at the ceiling. He said they’re going to get an auditor to inspect your books. Someone will call next week with the name of a local representative.

You don’t seem very happy about it. Having second thoughts?

Vicki looked away from the ceiling and toward Sally. No. Well, sorta. It’s kinda scary when you think about it.

I can understand that. It’s a big step.

Maybe I just need to talk it out some more.

What does Rick think about it?

Averting her eyes from Sally and grabbing her left pigtail, Vicki looked toward the window that faced the open desert. I haven’t told him yet.

Moving over to her chair, Sally sat down. She looked at Vicki with a slight cock of her head. You haven’t told him? What are you waiting for? I thought you would have discussed it with him when Harry and I first brought it up.

I know. I should have. But the timing never seemed right. Plus, if things don’t get approved, telling him wouldn’t have mattered.

This is going to be a pretty big thing to spring on him.

I know. Vicki looked toward the hanger floor. I’m going to take a break for a bit. I need to go think.

That’s fine. Do you want me to keep Buster for you?

Thanks, but that’s okay. I’ll put him in the RV. I want to get an apple anyway.

Buster struggled slightly as Vicki picked him up, but he settled down as she flopped him over her shoulder. Why the cat liked to ride backward was a mystery to Vicki, but he moved his head side to side keeping a vigil on Vicki’s back. His true goal most likely was one of the mice or the desert bunnies he would chase but never catch. Nevertheless, Vicki believed his eyes helped protect her from any surprise from behind.

Making her way through the Tool Room and out the rear door of the hangar, Vicki breathed in the cool air. The position of the early afternoon sun created a large slice of shade that covered the east side in shadow. The lack of that warming ball of fire left the air with a chilled temperature like late fall rather than the summer warmth found in the sunshine. Vicki held Buster tight as she moved in the shadow until its abrupt end forty feet into the gravel parking lot. Reaching her RV, she dumped Buster thru the top hatch of the caged area before scooting in the door far enough to reach the almost empty fruit bowl and grab an apple. Rick would stop at the fruit and vegetable stand on his way up this evening to pick up enough apples and oranges to fill it to overflowing.

Vicki halted her movement as she stared momentarily at her camera. She dismissed the thought of taking it to look for a unique shot of a creature or cactus. She was going to her special place to think. The camera would only be a distraction to that purpose.

She bit into the apple as she shut the door. Waving a little goodbye to Buster while he tore at his cat stand’s carpet with his claws, she turned toward the advanced landing area. The apple juices refreshed her mouth as she chewed. The fleshy fruity meat turned first into a pulp and then almost a liquid before she swallowed that first bite. She continued to walk and chew as she made her way opposite to the direction she would rather walk.

Her true wish is that Sally would offer to take her up in the Cessna to let her make a jump. Sally would take her up if Vicki had asked, but Vicki didn’t want to abuse that favor that Sally or Harry would occasionally offer. Better it come from them. It was their airplanes and their gas. At least for now. Vicki thought about life on the airport without those two. A twinge of sadness bit into her mind at the thought of her family’s death back in Casper eight years before. Their deaths had left her alone in the world to decide her path in life long before most girls even have their first date.

Vicki wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She took another bite of the apple as she moved more purposely toward the landing area. She glanced toward the empty south end of the large concrete aircraft parking area. Soon, the DC4 would park there when it came back from its summer contract work in Alaska. The DC4, which had left in early April, would bring with it more distress for Vicki. She shuddered at the thought of Dean, the mechanic and newly rated co-pilot, returning for even a minute. His constant stares brought a level of discomfort to her soul. But, he would only be there for a month as they did heavy maintenance to the airplane before it left for air freight contract work in South America. A little too attentive toward Vicki, almost in a stalking kind of way, Dean’s presence on the airport caused Vicki to lock her RV door at night when he was there.

Despite his apparent infatuation with Vicki, he always was excited to leave for South America every fall and then Alaska in the spring. Vicki had to admit that he was a good mechanic keeping the huge four-engine airplane in tiptop shape. However, she guessed that was due to flying all the time over the jungles of South America and the icy empty expanse that was Alaska. Vicki knew she wouldn’t want to be forced down in either of those two places.

Vicki reached the edge of the concrete and stepped onto the cleared smoothed patch of desert that defined the advanced skydiver landing area. In the center, a low mound of pea-gravel, twenty feet in diameter, beckoned her. Looking like a pitcher mound lost in the desert without three bases and a home plate surrounding it, the mound was the official target for the accuracy jumpers. Raked smooth with a red two-inch target disk poking through the center attached by a cord buried in the ground, it was also her special thinking spot.

Vicki never aimed for the disk. She never even wanted to land in the pea-gravel, though she did on most jumps. She actually never wanted to land. She always wished she could stay in the air suspended from her parachute forever. The ride under the canopy was the still the only time she felt totally safe, totally free. Even laying in Rick’s arms at night when he stayed with her on the weekends didn’t bring the same sense of security.

On the nights that Rick was not there, Eddie and Bud still invaded her thoughts. Visions of their attempted rape of her would leave her in a cold sweat from the nightmare of that time so many years ago. It still made her check out the windows of the RV before opening the door at night. Hopefully, they were dead or forever in jail back in Casper.

But, the pea-gravel landing mound was the closest she could come to the air during the week. Sitting or lying down in the gravel relaxed her. It allowed every problem she had to move away for a short time. The nirvana lasted around five minutes, about the same length of time of her canopy rides after a freefall jump. After that, an antsiness that bordered on uneasiness crept in. That same antsiness crept in if she ever opened high giving a canopy ride longer than normal. It was like her mind kept her fixed to only a set time of freedom and she could never feel free forever.

She lay down on the gravel. The sun-warmed rocks pushed heat through her t-shirt. The individual small pieces of the smooth granite slid until they conformed into her back like the old beanbag chair in the Rec. Hall. As she looked up into the sky, her mind’s eye filled the space above her with canopies. All of her friends raced across the sky. Rick, with his blue and gold parachute, spun twisting his way racing toward the ground. Bob, the browns and pale yellows of his desert themed parachute stark against the blue sky, moved slower, gentler, as he set up for a practice accuracy landing as part of his path toward a demonstration jump rating. Judy was there, as was Kevin. Nancy followed Frank as they practiced some part of their freestyle competition performance. And, above them all, Vicki’s own earth-tone multi-colored canopy flew lazily across the sky, never turning too quickly or too steeply, always taking every opportunity to make the ride last as long as possible. She would ride above the line between the concrete and the desert, looking for a thermal to slow her descent even more. Ever reaching toward her desire to never come down. To be free in the sky forever.

A feeling of total relaxation came over Vicki as her parachute became the only one left in the sky of her imagination. When she closed her eyes, she transported herself up to her imaginary canopy catching a thermal that lifted her higher and higher into the sky. No one was left in the sky around her. The desert stretched out in all directions beneath her. Peace touched her inner soul.

Chapter 2

The bit broke through the creosoted wood pole with a sudden jerk. Rick pulled back on the drill handle as he twisted it to remove the long shaft from the hole. When it came free, he reached around with his gloved hand to clear the splinters from the newly opened end. Then, he looped the free end of the rope around the drill, cinching it tight before letting the rope slide through his fingers.

Drill coming down, he shouted to alert Sam, the junior groundman below, of the approaching brace and bit.

Rick leaned back in his lineman’s belt while keeping a slight tension with his fingers allowing the rope to slide at a safe speed. He tilted his head backward to shift his gaze to the clear sky above him. His imagination filled the empty blue sky with parachute canopies of a dozen colors. His own canopy zoomed by before it spiraled down toward the earth. The canopy colors of all his friends were there. Bob, Vicki, Judy, Kevin, Frank, Nancy, and the rest laughed as they completed another wonderful skydive. As soon as the workday finished, he would head to the drop zone that he called home on the weekends.

When the rope went slack, Rick released all tension from his hand while still keeping the rope in it. The rope jerked as Sam loosened the loop to release the drill. All movement on the rope ceased while the groundman dropped it to get the tool bucket.

Rick lifted his hard hat from his head and wiped his brow with his sleeve. The monsoons of the summer had broken, but the mid-September afternoon temperatures still hovered above ninety. He seated the hard hat back on his head before looking down at Sam below him approaching the rope.

What did you load into the bucket?

Sam looked upward toward Rick while shielding his eyes with his hand. A twelve inch bolt, two washers, a nut, and a strand clamp.

Put another washer and nut in it. This late in the day I have a habit of dropping little things like washers and nuts.

It’s not just in the afternoon you drop things, it’s all the time, shouted Red, the other lineman.

Rick looked toward the truck parked three poles down the line on the other side of the fence. Red sat on the open rear hatch with his feet propped up on the sidewall.

Rick called down to him. I thought you were going to clean the truck.

I was cleaning it. But it was fun watching you drill that pole with the hand drill. I still think you should have driven the bucket truck around the field so you could use the generator to power the impact drill.

That would have taken an extra hour to get it in and out. Quicker to climb and hand drill.

Seems like a lot of work to me.

It is. Now, since you’re not doing anything, get you gaffs out and do the next pole.

Don’t be like that. You’re doing fine climbing all by yourself. Anyway, I thought you were going to have Sam climb the next one with you.

I was. But now I want to let him watch you work for once today.

Red jumped down from the truck as he grabbed his climbing belt. I knew that you being senior lineman would eventually go to your head.

The rope danced in Rick’s hand. He looked down as Sam clipped the bucket to the loop in the rope. Just then, Mr. Ryan, the line supervisor, pulled up in front of Red’s truck.

Hey Red, I just saved your ass from another chewing. Mr. Ryan just pulled up.

Red quickly grabbed his gaffs. He slid between the strands of barbed wire of the cattle fence and then moved to the bottom of the next pole in line before attaching his left gaff to his lower leg.

Sam called from below. Bucket ready.

Mr. Ryan walked over toward the fence line as Rick lifted the bucket by the rope. Grabbing the strap of the bucket, he clipped the strap to his belt. He dropped the now free end of the rope. Removing the strand clamp, a washer, and the bolt from the bucket, he assembled the three parts before slipping the bolt into the hole.

Mr. Ryan called up to Rick. How’s it going?

Rick answered while he reached into the bucket for a washer and the nut. Fine. We’ve just got these three poles left to prep. We’ll be ready to run strand on Monday.

Good. Listen, I got a radio call from dispatch that Mr. Hope wants to see you in his office. After you finish what you’re doing up there, I want you to head into the yard.

Rick reached around the pole, slipped the washer over the end of the bolt, and then started the nut. Did they say what he wants to see me about?

Nope. Dispatch didn’t say, just that you were to come in as soon as I could free you up. I’ll stay here to help Red and Sam finish this.

Sam called up. Strand Roller ready.

Rick looked over at Red climbing up the next pole. Sam, take the drill over to Red. Mr. Ryan can hand you the supplies over the fence.

Rick tightened the nut with his wrench before pulling the Strand Roller up until he could hook it over the strand clamp. Then, he grabbed the pole with one hand, unhooked his belt, and started climbing down. Reaching the ground, he slipped his gaff guards over the pointy ends without a second thought before unstrapping the climbers. Even without the climbers around his feet and legs, the hours on the poles caused him to walk stiff-legged over to where Mr. Ryan waited.

Have you got any idea why Mr. Hope wants to see me?

Nope. He didn’t mention anything at the morning meeting or before I left the yard. With the exception of your hair, he has never had anything bad to say about you.

What should I do after I see him?

Just clean your truck and resupply for Monday. I’ll find you when I get in so you can let me know what he wanted.

Okay. Rick headed toward the bucket truck parked six poles down on the other side of the fence.

* * *

Rick slowly stepped into the office area. He quietly walked up to Mrs. Smith’s desk. A Dictaphone headset hung from her ears while her fingers flew over the typewriter keys. She smiled at Rick as he approached before she seemed to reach a stopping point in her work. Moving her hands from the typewriter keys, she clicked the Dictaphone off and set the earpieces of the headset around her neck.

"Hi,