Oh my God, the engines! Wait, wait…can these engines run upside down? YES! They’re fuel injected! How about fuel supply? I remember something about fuel supply on these tanks that makes it okay…

  He banked left to adjust his course to the right again and realized the altimeter and rate of climb instruments were working fine. He checked the rate of climb, pushing even harder on the yoke.

  Finally the needle began showing a small, steady climb.

  There was a nine-thousand-foot range of mountains ahead of him, and his altitude was less than eight thousand. He tried to flip the memory of the topographical map of the area around and see it inverted, then decided that was even more confusing.

  South. He had to turn south and find the low spot in the mountains leading to Jackson Hole.

  Sam realized his finger had been pressing on the transmit button but he’d said nothing coherent. He forced the button down once again and tried to make his voice work, hearing nothing but a squeak in his headset.

  Oh…that’s me!

  He cleared his throat and tried again.

  “Ah…Tanker Eighty-eight, are you okay?”

  The answer followed a brief hesitation, and he could hear strain and complete puzzlement in the voice in his ear.

  “Sam? Sam? Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m…I guess roughly on the normal exit route, but…I’m trying to climb and turn south…and it’s hard to figure out.”

  “Wait, Sam, we see you now. Good God, you’re inverted.”

  “Yeah…that’s…the wing is staying on this way, but…I don’t think I can turn over. It was folding up…about ten, maybe fifteen degrees. It rolled me and then banged back into place.”

  “But you’re stable now?”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s against the stops or something.”

  “We’re pushing up the speed to join up on you, Sam. Hang in there.”

  There was a loud chuckle on frequency.

  “Yeah, hanging in here is exactly what I’m doing. Can you kind of help guide me toward Jackson Hole?”

  “Affirmative. Make gentle control movements.”

  “Absolutely I will make gentle movements. I don’t know how long this wing’s gonna stay on.”

  “You don’t…” the voice trailed off, but Sam knew precisely what the thought had been.

  “Negative, Eighty-eight…we don’t carry chutes.”

  A flurry of radio transmissions followed as the two other tanker crews tried to ascertain what was happening and Rusty tried to quiet them down with a burst of information.

  “Lead Four-Two has a major emergency, so everyone stand by while we escort him. His left wing is failing and he’s inverted, headed for Jackson Hole. Someone get on another frequency and notify Jackson and everyone.”

  “Tanker Eighteen will do it, and we’re gone,” an instantly tensed voice said. “Good luck, Sammy.”

  In the cockpit of the DC-6, Clark glanced at Rusty and tapped his microphone, indicating he wanted to take over the radio.

  “Sam, this is Clark Maxwell. You hear me okay?”

  “Yeah, Clark. Any suggestions?”

  “Well, for starters, you might want to change mechanics.”

  “Got that right!”

  “We’re about a half mile from you, Sam. You’re looking good and steady, but you’re going to need to change course a little bit more to the left…ah, which would seem to be your right.”

  “Give me a compass heading, Clark. Right and left are too confusing.”

  “Okay. You’re flying about two zero zero right now. Come to a heading of one eight zero.”

  “Got it,” Sam replied, banking the Baron very gently by rolling left and letting the course slowly come around.

  “Okay, when we’re almost clear of the peaks between us and Teton Village, I’ll have you come the other way to a heading of about two hundred and forty degrees.”

  “Roger…and then south to the airport, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Clark, you have…any wild ideas what I can do when I get there? I mean, I was just thinking I could probably ditch this thing in Lake Jackson, but the windscreen would probably break on touchdown.”

  The thought of a wall of water cascading through a failed windscreen at over a hundred knots flickered through Clark’s mind as it did through Sam’s. It would translate to certain death. He would stand a better chance skidding along a concrete runway upside down.

  Rusty’s right hand was waving around in Clark’s peripheral vision, and he looked over and punched the interphone.

  “What?”

  “There’s…something like this happened to an aerobatics pilot a few years ago, I think in a Zlin. His wing was failing, he flipped it over and the wing relocked, just like Sam’s.”

  “Did he survive?”

  “Yeah, but that’s what I’m getting to, Clark. It was the way he landed it.”

  Sam Littlefox’s voice was on the frequency, the tension palpable.

  “Any thoughts, guys? I…really don’t have a clue what I’m gonna do with this thing. I don’t even know why she’s still running.”

  “You’ve obviously got some sort of a flop line or an inverted trap in your fuel tanks, Sam. With fuel injection and that feature, the engines will keep going. Stand by on the ideas.”

  “Clark,” Rusty continued, “what the guy in the Zlin did was make the approach inverted, and when he was just about his wingspan over the concrete, he snap rolled it upright and plopped it down and rolled off in one piece.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, honest.”

  “He can’t snap roll that Baron! The roll rate’s too slow.”

  “What other choice does he have? If he hits the concrete inverted, the tail hits first and then slams the cabin into the concrete and the windscreen’s going to fail, and even if the cabin doesn’t collapse on him, he’s got things coming in his face at a hundred knots, like broken prop blades.”

  “He could duck under the instrument panel, maybe?”

  “Maybe. But maybe this would work, too. The wing was bending, it didn’t break.”

  Clark punched the transmit button and relayed the idea. “You’d have to extend your gear while inverted, Sam.”

  “You’re serious? Roll it just above the runway and slam it on?”

  “We don’t know which one is a bigger risk. I know that bird doesn’t roll too fast.”

  “I…I can snap roll it with rudder, but at twenty feet or so…if I screw it up or the wing folds too fast, I’ll just roll it up sideways.”

  “Sam, you may need to experiment with your speed to see how slow she’ll fly like that. And start changing your heading now to two hundred twenty degrees.”

  “Roger. Two two zero degrees. Clark?”

  “Yeah, Sam.”

  “Ah…I think…maybe I…what if I slow down and test my stall speed like this?”

  “You just need to feel the burble, Sam. Not a full stall. Remember your wing produces lift upward normally, so upside down you’re at a much steeper deck angle to produce inverted lift, and I don’t think anyone knows how slow the wing can fly that way. It won’t be as slow as normal, of course.”

  “I’m holding one hundred and forty knots right now. Maybe when I get over the valley in a few minutes I can slow up.”

  “What’s your normal stall speed clean, Sam?” Clark asked.

  “Ah…clean stall is around eighty. Seventy-six to be exact.”

  “Okay, my best guess, Sammy, is that wing, upside down, will probably take you safely to a hundred knots. But before you go that slow, you’re going to have to test it. Wherever it begins to burble the airflow over the wing, you’ll need to add ten knots to that. But…the same winds that are blowing up the fire will actually help us over the runway. It’s kicking up nearly thirty knots down the runway at Jackson.”

  “Yeah. Clark? If I tried that snap roll, which way do you think I should roll? Left or right? My head’s swimming right now, and I can’t figure it out.”

  Rusty’s voice cut into the frequency.

  “You’d roll right, Sam. That way, if the wing starts to fold on you and creates a left rolling moment, you’re already rolling right.”

  Clark hit the interphone button. “No, man! That has the aileron putting upward pressure on the bad wing that wants to fail to the up position.”

  “Clark,” Rusty said, “the rolling moment is more important. The aileron pressure isn’t enough to be significant, and he’ll also need some right rudder as he comes through ninety degrees.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “My degree was in aeronautical engineering with wind tunnels. Trust me.”

  “Tell him, then.”

  Rusty repeated the instructions on the radio.

  “Okay,” Sam replied, walking through the steps slowly. “Roll right and push as hard as I can with heavy right rudder, unload the back pressure as I come upright and quick flare it right over the runway with power back.”

  The transmitter aboard the Baron remained open as Sam gripped the switch unconsciously, not aware his personal mutterings were being broadcast.

  “Yeah, right,” he was saying to himself. “I’ll screw this up and cartwheel down the runway in flames or collapse the landing gear and do the same thing. Jeez! What a cockamamie idea. Bob Hoover couldn’t pull that off.”

  Sam pulled his finger off the transmit button as he discovered the mistake, and Clark jumped in immediately.

  “You can do it, Sam, and Hoover would tell you the same thing,” he added, wondering what Hoover, the dean of aerobatic flying in light twins, would really say.

  “Sorry, guys…I’m just somewhere north of terrified up here.”

  “Bring your heading to two hundred forty degrees now, Sam. We’ll turn you south over the valley in about another five miles.”

  “Clark,” Rusty said, “take a look to the right. We’ve got company.”

  A giant Skycrane helicopter with a water snorkel hanging beneath was obviously flying at almost maximum airspeed to keep up as he angled in toward the DC-6B and the upside-down Baron.

  “Tanker Eighty-eight, this is the Skycrane to your right, Skycrane Eight Echo Romeo. We’re trying to figure out a way to get back on the ground and rig a sling. Maybe we could snag him and carry him down.”

  Clark and Rusty looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and Clark shrugged.

  “Skycrane Eight Echo Romeo, Tanker Eighty-eight, you have a sling strong enough to carry a Baron, and big enough to capture him? How the hell?”

  “Man, I don’t know, we’re just trying to figure out a way. We heard you talking about his slowing to a hundred knots and we thought maybe we could do it.”

  “Hey, Skycrane Eight Echo Romeo, Lead Four-Two…thanks, man, that’s a great idea, but I’d take you out tryin’ it, and even if I could somehow get the nose in the sling without chopping it up with my props, I’d probably slip out backward.”

  “No, no, Lead Four-Two. We could use two slings. Get you steady, we fly over and from behind, get the back sling around your tail and rear fuselage, then lower the forward sling and catch your nose before you shut down your engines.”

  “No, man,” Sam replied, his voice calmer. “Nice try, and I appreciate it a lot, but there’s just no way.”

  “Hey, Four-Two,” the Skycrane pilot replied, “you were right about the cockamamie reference to the snap roll at twenty feet. You won’t make it. At least this gives us a fighting chance.”

  “Skycrane Eight Echo Romeo,” Clark interrupted, “you don’t actually know that rolling it upright on short final won’t work. It worked once before. The problem with your idea is you’re not going to be hovering. At a hundred knots your slings would be streaming behind you, and even if you could get one around his tail section, how in hell could Sam get the forward sling around his nose without catching it in the props? Your slings, if I recall, are all hung from the same place. You’d have no control.”

  There was a telling hesitation from the helicopter crew and a new voice from the ground coming in on a different radio not audible to the other aircraft.

  “Lead Four-Two, Jackson Helibase on AM. We’ve been listening to you on an aviation scanner down here, and Skycrane Eight Echo Romeo alerted us. We’re looking for slings and we’ve got a second Skycrane on the ground. But one of our guys has another idea, and we’re working it. How long can you stay airborne, Four-Two?”

  Sam keyed the transmitter and hesitated before speaking. “Ah…I have no reason to think these engines will keep running past the next thirty seconds. I have no idea what my usable fuel is while inverted. I had about a half tank, but…God only knows in this condition.”

  “Sam, how’re you doing?” Clark was asking on the air-to-air frequency, unaware of the conversation on the air-to-ground radio.

  “Stand by a second, Clark. I’m…talking to Jackson.”

  “Okay, look,” Helibase continued, “we’re trying to get a big flatbed eighteen-wheeler. If we can make this work and get him up to a hundred on the runway, you could set down still inverted right on his flatbed. That’s the idea.”

  “Okay…thanks…hang on.” Sam switched back to the air-to-air. “Ah…Jackson Helibase has an idea, guys, about getting a flatbed truck to run down the runway and have me land on it inverted. What do you think?”

  “This is Skycrane Eight Echo Romeo…that runway’s only a bit more than a mile long. Can a big truck accelerate that fast?”

  “Hold on,” Sam replied, switching back and repeating the question to Jackson.

  “We don’t know, Lead Four-Two. But if you can stay up there and orbit awhile, we’ll do our damndest to find out.”

  “Can you guys come up on a regular aviation radio?”

  “We’re…hold on…someone’s bringing a handheld.”

  Suddenly the air-to-air frequency exploded in competing transmissions as several other pilots tried to jump in with ideas.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Clark interjected. “Hold on, everyone! This is Tanker Eighty-eight. We’re escorting Lead Four-Two along with Skycrane Eight Echo Romeo. Take it one at a time, please, and let Sam direct the traffic since it’s his neck. And Sam, before you answer, we’re coming out over the valley now and I see you’re already turning south. Come to a heading of one seven zero degrees.”

  “Okay. Roger. Jackson Helibase, are you up on the air-to-air?”

  A weaker version of the same voice came back. “Roger. We’re on the handheld and monitoring.”

  “Roger,” Sam replied. “Look, everyone, I…I need to test my stall speed first. Please keep working on ideas, but quietly, and I’ll call you back in a second. I’m slowing now, Clark, to a hundred.”

  “Just feel it along, Sam. Don’t fixate on the numbers.”

  “Thank God it’s clear, except for the smoke,” Rusty added in the interphone. Clark had extended the DC-6’s flaps to the ten-degree position, but he called for flaps twenty now to be able to stay in formation with the stricken Baron as it slowed. Clark watched as Sam increased the angle of his Baron, the inverted nose describing a greater and greater angle above level as the wings tried to hang on to level flight. He saw the Baron begin to shake as Sam pushed his throttles back up and stabilized himself.

  “Okay…well, that was scary.”

  “What’d you get on speeds, Sam?”

  “She wanted to stall around ninety-five. So one hundred five is my slowest approach speed.”

  “Hey, Sam? Skycrane Eight Echo Romeo again.”

  “Yeah. Go Skycrane.”

  “We’ve got a better idea. We think there’s a big cargo net in the hangar that would hold you, and all you’d have to do is slam into it. Like a Spiderman catch. We’re gonna peel off to base, dump this load, and see if we can rig it in time.”

  “Might work. Thanks, guys,” Sam said. “Man I’m getting one hell of a headache up here hanging like a bat. I can’t believe people used to pay money for a rack in the basement to do the same thing.”

  The fright was clearly audible in his voice and Clark knew he was fighting hard against the debilitating tendency to hurry up and end the suspense regardless of the danger.

  “Sam, Clark here. You’re going to want to think about orbiting north of the field in case you lose power.”

  “Yeah, good point. I’ll start a gentle turn here. Ah, Clark?”

  “Yeah, Sam.”