Chapter V ☯ Choices
Falls City, NE, Aug. 7, 1966, 04:00 CST
I think it takes a couple of hours, but I’m not wearing a watch, so I don’t really know. Eventually, we arrive in Falls City by walking on a side road, coming into town from the east. A street sign at a corner says we’re on 21st Street.
We walk a few blocks into the center of the small town, to the downtown shopping area. It’s quintessential America. There’s a town square, a courthouse in the center in a typical early 20th-century style. The square is surrounded on four sides by blocks of stores, the usual array of five-and-dimes, barbershops, department stores, a movie theater. It looks like a movie set.
The clock on the courthouse strikes 4 a.m. It surprises all of us. Jeannie, Samantha, and I stand rooted on the spot staring at the clock. We realize we’ve only been dead about four hours or so. It seems much, much longer.
We finally stir ourselves as Jeannie spots some other people, including a man wearing a uniform, standing near the courthouse entrance. She runs over to the man and hugs him. Samantha cries out, does the same. Molly, Sarah, and I walk closer. I see that it’s the flight’s first officer, whose name I didn’t remember. He’s good-looking and all, but you can see in his face he’s been through something that you really shouldn’t ask about.
There are two people dressed like Guides and the woman in black who was sitting behind me is now sitting on a bench by the front courthouse steps. She’s just sitting there, her hands folded in her lap, staring across the square, completely calm. Journalist that I am, I want to ask her some questions. But I leave her alone.
Samantha is explaining to the first officer that I was a passenger who helped her out, calmed her down. He extends his hand, but can’t meet my eyes. A sadness permeates his entire face.
‘I’ve forgotten your name, I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘Jim Hilliker,’ he says.
‘Sean Donnelly,’ I reply.
We stand there a bit awkwardly. The girls aren’t saying anything. Molly and Sarah are standing apart at a discrete distance, giving us space. What is there to say?
Surprisingly, Hilliker starts crying a bit.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he says to Jeannie, and turns to her. She hugs and holds him. Samantha puts her hand on his shoulder.
‘It’s okay, Jim,’ Jeannie says. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘Um, yeah,’ I say. ‘It was a tornado or something. I’m sure you did what you could.’
Can you say awkward? But really, it’s not his fault. He probably wasn’t even at the controls.
Nobody says anything else for awhile. This is new. Very new, very raw. As we stand there, I begin to wonder if he and the captain really did everything possible. Shouldn’t we have stayed on the ground in Kansas City until the storm passed? Hell, I was in as big a hurry to get home as anyone else, but it wasn’t worth what happened. I figure that’s what Hilliker is thinking. But I’m going to leave well enough alone. You can’t predict goddamn tornadoes. He surely wouldn’t have flown into it if he’d known, I decide.
Hilliker finally clears his throat.
‘So, they’ve told you the choices? What do you think you’ll do?’ he says.
Samantha speaks first.
‘Hanging around is kind of creepy. I’m no ghost. I think I’ll be on my way as soon as possible,’ she says.
Jeannie nods in agreement.
‘Me too. There’s nothing here for me,’ she says. ‘I’ve done my time as a servant of the people.’
Hilliker looks at me.
‘I’m moving on too, I guess. Like Samantha says, I’m no ghost,’ I say.
‘Yeah, I think I want out of here myself. I feel like I should hang around for awhile though. Maybe help out anybody from the flight or something,’ he says.
Sarah steps forward, touches his arm.
‘You shouldn’t feel an obligation, Mr. Hilliker. There are people here to help. Take care of yourself. You’ve been through a traumatic ordeal. You should do what’s best for you,’ she says.
I’m suddenly aware that there is a small group of four or five people standing on the periphery of the courthouse square. Among them is another man in a uniform.
Hilliker thinks for a minute.
‘I … haven’t seen the captain. We came here pretty quick. I’m not sure what to say to him,’ he says.
‘Well, I think he’s standing over there, if you do think of something,’ I say.
Jeannie lets out a little noise, and starts running over to him. Samantha follows. The Guides and I walk slowly after them.
I decide to ask Sarah, who seems to be full of good advice, what to say.
‘What can you say to the man who may have unintentionally and unwittingly caused your death?’ I ask.
She stops for a second, thinking.
‘I think you shake his hand, and then let him do the talking, ‘ she says.
As we walk up, Jeannie is hugging the captain and crying again, while Samantha stands close and has her hands over her mouth. The captain looks embarrassed. The other people with him are two guides and, I presume, a couple of voyeurs.
I decide it needs to be played diplomatically. I extend my hand.
‘Captain, I’m Sean Donnelly, one of the passengers. I’m not sure what to say, except, well, things will be okay, sounds like.’
Lame, I know.
He shakes my hand firmly, starts to say something.
‘I’m sorry. We didn’t know it was going to be so bad …’ he drifts off. Hilliker is coming up behind me.
They shake hands.
‘Jim, I …’ Pauly starts to say, choking off.
‘Don, it’s okay. How could we have known?’ Hilliker says.
And then we stand there. For what seems an eternity.
Finally, Sarah, god love her, clears her throat.
‘Anyone other than me want some brandy?’ she says.
Again, is the pope Catholic? ★
• 1053 Words written by Steve @ 14:29 | 10-Dec-07 in Death •
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