REUNION is an original story, inspired by the U

REUNION is an original story, inspired by the U.S. T.V. series AIRWOLF.

Copyright refers to the author of this original material, and is not meant to supersede any copyrights held by Donald P Bellisario or any other persons or corporations holding rights to the television series AIRWOLF and its characters.

Chapter Fourteen

Airwolf sped on, eating up the miles, putting Cimbawe behind her, and at her flight controls, Stringfellow Hawke was fighting a losing battle to stay conscious.

There was only one option left open to him.

He had to find some place to set Airwolf down, before he buried her, nose first into the arid veldt.

He had no idea what their exact position was, but he knew that Dominic Santini hadn't managed to get off that Mayday before he had passed out, so wherever the hell they were, they were well and truly on their own, because no-one knew that they were out here.

If he set Airwolf down safely, Hawke acknowledged, desperately trying to hang on to reason and the flight controls, as his right hand ached with the strain of taking all of the aircraft's weight and his vision blurred, the edges growing slowly darker and darker, they would at least be safe inside for a while, protected from the heat of the day, the indigenous predators, of which he knew there were many, and the drastic temperature drop, to below freezing at night, and maybe, when his body had recovered a little, and he regained consciousness, for he was sure now that pretty soon he was going to black out, maybe he would have enough strength left to fly them to Johannesburg.

Even now, feeling the cold hand of death closing around his heart and his brain, Hawke refused to believe that this was the end, for himself, or Dominic Santini.

It couldn't be the end.

They were both just too damned 'ornery to go out like this, yet his fuddled brain suddenly presented him with an image, maybe ten or twenty years down the pike, when this part of Africa was more densely populated, some poor soul coming upon the rusted hulk that was Airwolf, and finding within, two desiccated skeletons clad in helmets and flight suits ….

Get a grip, dammit! He told himself sternly.

He wasn't going to die.

He had to get help for Dominic, for one thing, but he was simply too damned stubborn to die. He wasn't ready yet, so that was an end to it!

"Hang on, Dom. I'm taking her down."

Fighting back tears of pain and anger and frustration, Hawke fought with Airwolf's controls, reducing her altitude gradually, and struggling to maintain enough momentum to keep her aloft without stalling her out, but even as he did so, through the microphone in his helmet, he heard Dominic Santini emit one last, long hiss of breath.

"No!" Hawke wailed, desperately trying to keep Airwolf airborne, while spinning around in his seat to get a better look at Santini, ignoring the pain and the dizziness, and just out of the corner of his eye, Hawke could make out the older man, hunched forward over his console, and suddenly swallowed down hard on the lump that was in his throat, as he watched Santini's big paw of a left hand slide from the side of the console to hang lifelessly down beside him.

Suddenly Hawke's helmet was filled with another strange noise, so loud it almost deafened him, and it took him a moment to determine that the high pitched whistle and whine he could hear buzzing inside his head was actually coming from outside the aircraft, and he realised that Dom's hand must have brushed against, and activated, the external audio sensors button when he had lost consciousness.

It was like he suddenly had a raging tornado roaring inside his head, and Hawke clawed desperately at his helmet, trying to rip it off, before his head exploded, and was just about to toss it on to the seat beside him, useless now, when he heard something else over the earphones, and began to wonder if he had finally gone loco.

Auditory hallucinations?

Was that a symptom of brain death from lack of oxygen, due to extreme blood loss?

Hawke pulled the helmet closer to his ear, frowning, because he simply couldn't believe what he was hearing, and above the whistling and beating air outside, listened, a manic smile suddenly touching his lips.

He began to laugh out loud.

Hysteria, some part of his brain recognised, yes, he was definitely losing it now, and yet, he could not help humming along to the familiar tune.

Ah, what the hell, he'd be knocking at the pearly gates soon enough, maybe it wouldn't hurt any to sing the words out loud too?

What was that thing?

Oh yeah, Psalm 23. The Lord's My Shepherd ….

We'll see …. We'll see ….

"Yea though I walk through death's dark vale, yet will I fear no ill, for though art with me, and they rod, and staff me comfort still …."

And now, Hawke could hear other voices, angels singing out their praises, good and loud, if slightly off key.

A choir of angels wouldn't sound so flat, would they?

Surely not?

Hawke pulled himself together, giving himself a mental shake at such a ridiculous notion, still fighting with Airwolf's controls.

Think man.

Think!

And get a grip!

And then it hit him.

It was Sunday, and he was picking up some kind of religious service, coming from outside Airwolf's cockpit, and from not very far away, for it was getting louder, he could even hear the asthmatic wheezing of some ancient organ banging out the melody.

"Goodness and mercy all my life, shall surely follow me, and in God's house, forever more, my dwelling place shall be."

Follow the singing, dammit, ghastly though it is, follow it, because wherever it's coming from, it's your salvation ….

And tuneless and grating though it was, the sound filled Hawke's heart with absolute joy.

And then, as if by some miracle, Hawke saw it, like a giant mirage rising out of the shimmering heat of the desert, filling his windshield as it got closer and closer.

He was suddenly looking at a cluster of low buildings, at least three he could make out easily, built with brick and slate roofs, for crying out loud, in the style of single storey bungalows, each with a wooden porch surrounding it, all of which flashed by as Hawke flew over, almost skimming the roof off the largest building.

Oops.

How very Colonial.

Hawke was still grinning maniacally as he wrestled with Airwolf's controls, knowing that it would be very bad manners, at the very least, to literally drop in on them out of the sky!

Thank God.

Euphoria, not hysteria, then.

Relief.

Thank God, and just in the nick of time too.

Be careful, or you might just make a believer out of me yet….

Maybe I'm not so damned after all ….

Hawke simply physically couldn't hold on any longer, at the very end of his endurance, far from lucid and rational, and suddenly so tired he just wanted to close his eyes, but he knew that he couldn't.

He had to find some place flat to set Airwolf down, but first, he had to kick up enough of a commotion to get the inhabitants of the complex down there to come out and see what was happening, so he allowed Airwolf to sink lower, and turned her around and around, back and forth, her back wash and down draft kicking up a cloud of dust and debris, her engines roaring, screeching and whining in protest, and then he used what little strength he had left to pull back on the stick and gain enough altitude to pass safely over the buildings, even more timber constructions revealed as he passed over the main complex, staring down in stunned amazement at the sight of goats and chickens scattering from their enclosures and the other outbuildings.

Then he pointed Airwolf out beyond the complex of buildings, which he was beginning to realise must be some kind of religious Mission, just as people began to emerge, rushing out into the sunlight, shocked and confused and terrified by the uproar in their backyard, to see what was happening.

Thank God.

His lips pulling back in a broad grin as out of the corner of his eye he imagined he saw a very angry, red faced penguin, shaking his fist up at him ….

Mission accomplished.

And he hadn't had to let off one round from the chain guns either!

Hawke peered out of Airwolf's front window, desperately looking for somewhere to land, but all he could see was a rock strewn dried out lake bed and intermittent patches of scrub and spindly trees, and all the time he was getting further and further away from the settlement.

His only hope was that someone had had enough wits about them to watch in which direction he had gone, and realise that something was wrong.

At last, running out of strength, and altitude, Hawke finally found the flattest piece of ground he could, and came in for a heavy landing, feeling his grip on consciousness slipping away, as Airwolf finally rolled to a halt, and he reached up, straining to reach the overhead switches, closing off all the power, and then, not able to hang on any longer, his last act before falling into unconsciousness was to twist around in his seat and reach out for Dominic Santini's hand as it dangled limp, lifeless, beside the insensate older man slumped over his console, taking it into his own, and squeezing it gently trying to instil his own life force and strength of will into the older man.

"Hold on, Dom, hold on old friend," he implored. "The cavalry's comin'" And then his voice trailed away as he too finally succumbed and passed in to the black void of oblivion.

To be continued / ...