#SampleSunday

The following is an excerpt from The Salton Sea Chronicles: Sleepwalker. In this piece, the protagonist, an Air Force pilot named Daniel Shelton, is about to attempt a world record for a prop-driven plane at the controls of his XF-84-H Thunderscreech. At this point he is minutes away from death. This portion has been mildly edited given this is an all-ages blog.

Protocol demands I make one trial pass at three-quarters throttle with Hank chasing me in the F-84-F, while KK in the Thunderflash will take the pretty pictures the Air Force will say was of the record setting moment. Then, if everything seems ok, we will return to base, check specs, and restage, ready to tackle a full-throttle run for the history books.

After long minutes spent waiting, the radio cracks to life and the signal comes for us to stage ourselves for take off. I taxi down the tarmac toward the runway, the plane seething, wanting to convert air and fuel into venom. I am supposed to wait for take off clearance and to stay with Hank and KK once we take to the air. Fat chance.

“Don’t worry, baby. Daniel will push to your limits.”

At the end of the taxi lane, I make an arrogantly fast one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn onto the runway and without waiting for take off orders pull hard on the throttle catapulting the airplane down the runway heading south. Instantly, all hell breaks loose on the radio as the base scrambles to ensure the safety of air traffic. Unknown to me, a DC-3 heads to the base and prepares to descend for landing. Additionally, private pilots play touch and go at the Salton Sea Airport.

“Dammit, Shelton,” the radio squawks. “What the hell are you doing? Abort! A DC-3 is headed your way.”

Screw them!

Already Thunderscreech fights me for control wanting to sway right and left before the wheels leave the tarmac. I pull the nose up to let it have what it wants and soon we leave the mortal Earth behind us clawing air with its propeller scratching its way to Heaven.