(This is part of a serialized novel. Click MENU + Polaris Station to read and comment on latest revisions)
Mariposa Grove
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The drone filmed Kendall and Becca from a safe distance.
Exiting Yosemite Valley, they vectored south to Mariposa Grove. Each flyer glanced west, their eyes drawn as the sun flickered half below the horizon. Each glanced at their watches.
“We’ve got twelve minutes of fuel,” Kendall said.
They then banked southeast up the foothills to sweep the tops of two-thousand-year-old Sequoias.
“Okay Becca,” Kendall said. “How many earth science majors get this kind of view of their subjects?”
“It’s awesome, Dad.” Becca had insisted Mariposa be included. “Fly directly above me,” she called out. “Use your helmet cam to capture my encounter.”
“Will do, Becca.”
Moments later she said, “Breathe deep. What do you smell? Can you break down the cocktail?”
“The cocktail? What do you…”
“In prep for flight, I queried what it would smell like over Mariposa. They say it’s a warm cocktail of ancient trees baking in the sun floating in crisp mountain air.”
“That’s poetic,” Kendall responded. “To me it’s just sugar pines and ponderosa. With a hint of butterscotch.”
“How about the cinnamon?” Becca continued, “And can’t you taste that ‘sharp’ resin clearing the sinuses. And there’s just a hint of…”
“Six minutes of fuel.” Kendall interrupted. “Got’a turn back.”
Departing Mariposa, Kendall signaled and pushed his control bar left for a broad right-hand turn back toward El Capitan for a Leidig Meadow landing. Becca followed.
“That’s not right,” Becca heard Kendall say.
“Come again,” Becca said.
Kendall shook his digital compass. “Becca! Come alongside and tell me your compass heading.”
“What’s the problem?”
“By terrain, we’re headed for El Capitan, but my compass is bouncing around 275 degrees. It should be…”
“Shouldn’t it be…” She said.
“It should be about 340 to 350,” Kendall repeated.
In the deep tones of twilight, the two pilots used familiar terrain to get safely to Leidig Meadow.
“Dad, it looks like we have a greeting party.”
Kendall looked over his shoulder and noted a Ranger’s F-150 Lightning next to his Tesla Cyber-U as he made his approach in the meadow. He read the meadow wind sock perfectly and as his feet began to clip the milkweed and Lillies, he pitched and flashed up with a running foot landing. Becca followed suit but planted her knees abruptly but safely in the moist soil.
The drone had landed first and recorded their touchdown.
Suddenly the Ranger climbed into his truck, heard something in his radio, and spun his wheels in the grass as he left.
They removed their flight gear, disassembled the gliders, collapsed the drone, and loaded the truck and trailer. The sky was black as they drove to the park exit and headed for home.
Enthusiastic conversation was interrupted when they turned the truck radio on.
“We repeat,” the broadcaster said, “Northern pacific regions reporting sporadic HF broadcast interruptions, weather satellite dropouts, and GPS inaccuracies.”
Kendall instinctively lowered his head and looked up through the windshield to the west where the sun was now far below the trees. Then, fighting a triggered, he looked through his rear view mirror and up at the Moon, now near the tops of the trees.
Becca noticed his motion. “Dad. Do you think it was a CME?”
Kendall didn’t speak.
Becca continued, “The electromagnetic radiation would explain…”
Kendall pulled off the road and looked into the east sky again. As another car passed, Becca noticed headlight reflection on sweat that appeared on her father’s forehead.
Kendall shook his head. “I sure hope they…”
“Dad,” Becca grabbed her father by the arm. “You don’t think Grandpa Parker might be in trouble?”
“I don’t know,” His eyes glued to the moon. “Let’s hope they got the warning in time.” Kendall pulled back onto the highway and scanned various channels for five hours, all the way back to Santa Barbara.
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Reader comments requested – I appreciate suggestions on clarity, flow, dialogue, characters and engagement. I especially welcome technical subject matter expert discussion. Challenge assumptions and help improve realism and storytelling.