Sins Past

Jenna was looking through her luggage one last time. She was on a trip to Nome Alaska, but the only available plane was a Cessna, and she didn't like the looks of her pilot.

He introduced himself as “Balto Mandrell, at your service I reckon.” then he burped loudly. He was unshaven, fur disheveled, a severe cowlick, and she could swear she saw two beer cans on the floor of the plane. They made quite a contrast. She was clean, wearing high heels and makeup, spoke with a gentle English accent, and had very good personal hygiene.

“Yew kin sit up front iff'n yu wanna.” he said. Jenna preferred the back. She managed to find a dry, clean spot on the back seat, and sat up straight, the whole time thinking “Remain dignified, even though you are in a pigpen masquerading as a plane.” As soon as they took off Balto grabbed an AC/DC tape and put it in, then cranked the volume up all the way. Then he turned around, without even a finger on the wheel, and started talking, trying to be audible over Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap.

“So why'd yu wunna go flyin' up tuh Nome fer?”

“Business trip. I really despise the thought of being up there with all those rednecks and hillbillies, though.”

“Aw, they ain't so bad. Look at me! I'm fruh Nome an' I ain't despisable!”

“You aren't despisable?” thought Jenna “Larry the Cable Guy has better manners and hygiene than you!” After she noticed the three huge shotguns under his seat she was glad she kept her mouth shut!

“So, uh, wutcher business up here?” asked Balto.

“Um, I work for an oil company. We believe that there's an oil well near Nome, and we want to buy it.”

“Oil near Nome? Hah! Thet's a good 'un!”

“Just what is so funny?” demanded Jenna.

“Oh, 'bout every other year some dude from an oil cump'ny comes a'lookin' fer some, but they never find it.”

Jenna refused to be disillusioned. She said “I will bet you that there is some, but those other 'dudes' just did not look hard enough. But I will find it.”

The trip ran smoothly, except for the constant turbulence and the blaring AC/DC tape. Jenna was treated to a variety of songs Balto loved, but Jenna viciously hated, such as Thunderstruck, TNT, and For Those About to Rock, We Salute You.

Balto took out the tape after is was over, and then turned around again. “Anythin' ya wunna hear?”

“Do you have Mozart?”

“Is 'e Rock or Heavy Metal?”

“Um, neither. He's classical.”

“Oh, classic rock? No, I don't got 'im. Is Queen close enough?” He didn't wait for a response, he just jammed in a tape, and Jenna was greeted by a blast of Bohemian Rhapsody. He even began singing along in a deep voice.

“I see a little silhouette of a man SCARAMOUCHE, SCARAMOUCHE, will you do the FAN-DANG-GO?! Thunder bolt and lightning, very very frightn'ing ME!”

“What kind of a nut is this guy?” Jenna thought. “I'm putting my life in the hands of an opera-singing, Alaskan redneck! I'll be lucky if I survive!”

“BIS-MIL-LAH! No, we will not you go LET ME GO! No, we will not let you go LET ME GO!” Etc.

But eventually, they got there alive, much to Jenna's surprise. As soon as they landed, Jenna set about work. But anywhere she looked, there was no sign of oil. Two weeks later, she was disgusted and disappointed. She had completely failed. She finally went off looking for Balto, hoping he wasn't off flying someone else, since he was the only pilot she knew nearby. Then, she found him. She couldn't believe she was actually happy about finding him.

“So 'dja find yer oil or no?”

She sighed. “No, you were right. There was none! It just does not make sense! All the signs are there that there is oil but I just can not find it!”

“Aw, it tain't so bad. There's still other places. So, are y'all packed 'n ready t'go?”

She smiled. “Yes. Take me back to California.”

Unfortunately, the flight back wasn't quite as smooth. Storm clouds surrounding them, worse turbulence than before, and AC/DC playing louder than before.

“Could you please keep that down?!” barked Jenna.

“No can do! It keeps me calm!”

Jenna didn't believe it. How could squealing guitars and cannons going off (you AC/DC fans know what song I mean) keep you calm?

“Oh, well,” she thought “At least we haven't crashed.” At that moment the engine went dead. The propeller stopped spinning, and they began descending. No, falling.

“You are never listening to AC/DC again!” she screamed.

Jenna woke up being shaken by Balto.

“What's the last thing ya r'member?” he asked.

“Uh, the plane started falling and...” She looked around. They were on a beach, with a wrecked Cessna on fire next to them.

“We crashed?!” she cried. “Oh no. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my...”

Balto smacked her. “Snap out o' it! It won't do ya any good moanin' 'bout what happened!”

At that point the plane started making odd noises.

“Aw crap.” said Balto. “RUN!”

He pulled her off her feet and began yanking her away from the plane.

Balto started quietly singing “For those about to rock, we salute you...... fire.” Then the plane exploded.

“Well, what do we do now?” asked Jenna. It had been about two hours since the plane exploded, and she had just started getting over the shock.

“I ain't got no idea.” replied Balto. “I reckon we could try'n start a signal fire, but I don't think no one'd see it. Ya see, we're purty dang far from regular flight paths. I'm the only 'un that uses it.”

“Maybe after people realize we crashed, they'll come looking for us. Did you have one of those transceiver things or something?”

“It busted five years ago, an' I could never afford tuh have it repaired or nuttin.”

“Well, maybe they'll fly your flight path, you know, to try to find remains of the plane.”

“I'm the only 'un that knows the path. I never told nobody what path I took.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I just never thought any'un would need tuh know.”

“Supposing we get rescued, do you have any other jobs? You know, to fall back on?”

“Nope. An' I only got about seventy bucks in my savings account. All the rest went tuh gas for the plane and rent.”

“Oh. At least you'll get some insurance money for the loss of your plane.”

“I ain't got no dang insurance on my plane. I had to get rid of it 'cause it got too expensive.”

Jenna was beginning to feel sorry for this guy. Parts of his plane broke and he couldn't get them repaired, he had no other jobs and little money, and wouldn't even get insurance coverage for this mess!

“I reckon you're a bit better off'n I'll be.” he said. “You work fer one o' them oil cump'nys, so I'll reckon ya get a bunch o' money from that.”

Jenna was silent. It just wouldn't seem right telling him about the $100,00 dollars a year she made, especially after all he had told her.

“Well, I reckon we oughta find sum food 'er somthin. It's bad enuff we got stranded on some dang island, it'd be even worse if'n we starved tuh death here.”

“What in the world could we eat here? It's a desert island! We sure won't find an Applebee's here!”

“Ya learn a few survival tricks bein' a pilot in 'merica's final frontier. Evah heard o' coconuts? Or wild onions? Or fish?”

“OK, I get the idea. Yes I've heard of them but... what do they look like in the wild?”

Balto smiled. “Why don't I show you?”

Fifteen minutes later, they had gathered a day's supply of food. Not only had they gathered some wild edibles, Balto had fashioned two spears out of palm tree branches he had sharpened with a knife he (fortunately) had in his pocket when the plane exploded. Using the 'spears' they had managed to kill a small boar and three fish.

“Where did you learn all this stuff?” Jenna asked Balto while he cooked the meat over a fire he had built earlier. At first Jenna had given up the prospect of building a fire when she realized they didn't have any matches. Balto, however, took the lens off two different watches Jenna had, then he put water in between them, then sealed them together with some clay he had found. He used that to focus the sun's rays and burn some dry bark he found. After they caught fire, he built the fire up from there.

“From a lotta different places. Experience, fer one. This ain't the first time I crashed. Five years ago m' plane stalled 'n smacked a snowbank fifty miles from the nearest town. I was stuck in the wilderness fer seventeen days in the middle o' winter afore I was found. I learned a lotta techniques from that. Readin', fer another. Ever read Mysterious Island by Jules Verne? Er Stalkin' the Wild Asparagus by Euell Gibbons? Ever watched LOST or Survivor?”

Jenna was more in awe now than before. Not only did he know all these survival techniques, he read! Jules Verne, none the less. She had tried reading one of his books before, and got about fifty pages into it and gave up. “So what else do you know? I mean, you can fly a Cessna, you can survive in Alaskan wilderness, and on an island. What else can you do?”

“Well, I can speak French 'n Chinese, I can fly things like 747's as well, I know a bit o' advanced Physics...”

“Whoa. If you know all that stuff, why aren't you working in a different field? Why don't you move to New York City or Chicago and become a CEO for a company or something?”

“Why? Lemme ask ya somthin'. How long do you work?”

“From 9 to 5,

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