Two Blackbirds by Garry Ryan

The fog thickened and she could no longer see the edge.
    Using her mental map of the airfield, she turned the fighter to the left, bumped onto the grass, swung the tail around with a burst of throttle, and shut down. More than thirteen feet of propeller rolled to a halt. She checked to make sure all of the switches were off before she slid back the canopy, stepped out onto the fighter’s gull wing, and jumped down off the trailing edge onto the ground.
    She stood still and listened.
    A whistle blew. The shrinking metal of the cooling engine ticked as she ducked under the belly of the Corsair and followed the sound. The whistle blew twenty more times before she felt the concrete apron under her heels.
    â€œI can hear ye, lassie.” The thick Scottish accent was like music. Sharon walked toward the voice, stepped inside the open door, and stood face to face with a sandy-haired man who was almost as tall as she was. He wore RAF blue and a smile. “A lucky Canadian, I see.” He pointed at the shoulder flashes on her battle jacket.
    â€œCould I please use the phone?” she asked.
    â€œRight over there.” The Scotsman pointed ahead and to her right.
    â€œI was supposed to make it to Glasgow this morning. I need to let them know where I ended up.” Sharon eased past him, intent on her call to Mother. I hope all of the other pilots are safe.
    The fog stayed the rest of the day. Sharon slept in her uniform on a cot that was reserved for occasions like these.

CHAPTER 11
    [WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1944]
    The engines of the duty Anson shut down. Sharon was first out the door. She carried her kit to dispersal, located in the red one-storey building at White Waltham. Mother greeted her at the door. The look on his face told her that her fears were well-founded.
    â€œHow many missing?” she asked.
    â€œOne.”
    â€œWho?” Sharon set her kit down inside on a table.
    â€œMolly took delivery of the Magister, but didn’t reach Upavon.”
    Mother waited for Sharon’s reaction.
    She looked out the doorway. “Is the Storch available?”
    Mother nodded. “I think so. Let me check.” He went out the door and around to the hangar.
    Sharon searched out a cup of coffee in the empty canteen as she planned a route in her mind, drawing a mental line from the pickup point to Upavon.
    Mother tapped her on the shoulder. Ernie and Edgar were pushing the Storch out of the hangar when she arrived at the open door.
    â€œI need another pair of eyes in the back seat.” Sharon put her parachute inside and helped push the single-engined aircraft out onto the grass.
    She did a slow, deliberate walk around to check the aircraft. Keep your mind clear!
    Ernie stepped into a fresh pair of coveralls. “Edgar says he’ll hold down the fort.”
    In five minutes, they were airborne and headed south and west.
    Ernie kept a lookout on one side while Sharon covered the other. They flew at eight hundred feet above ground.
    Forty minutes later, after flying over every shade of green imaginable, Ernie tapped Sharon on the shoulder.
    They found out later that the crash was on the northern face of a place called Milton Hill. The tail of the open-cockpit two-seater trainer was recognizable. The rest of the aircraft was a tangled mass of wreckage.
    Sharon eased back on the throttle and slowed the aircraft to make a low, slow pass over the crash site. The yellow underside of one wing was about fifty feet downhill from most of the rest of the wreck. Molly’s twisted body was visible in what was left of the cockpit.
    Sharon turned for another pass, glanced over her shoulder, and saw Ernie shake his head. They flew over the wreckage three times, hoping for any sign that Molly was alive, but there was no movement. Sharon dropped the flaps, adjusted the throttle, and swung around to land up the hill.
    She was on finals when she felt Ernie’s hand on her shoulder. “It won’t make