The Quest: A Novel

hesitated, then pushed the throttle in and the Navion began its run.
    The aircraft bounced badly over the broken concrete. The control panel vibrated, the Plexiglas canopy rattled, and the controls shook in his hands. The thumping sound of the nose gear strut filled the cabin as it bottomed out. He glanced at Vivian and saw that she was playing with her camera.
    The Navion ate up the runway at the rate of fifty miles per hour, then sixty. The end of the runway was shrouded in fog, but he knew it was also the end of the flat-topped hill that he’d noticed when he’d flown over it with Bocaccio. Purcell saw that the land dropped away to his sides into fog banks. He was on a ridge and there was no aborting this takeoff anymore.
    “Frank!”
    It was Mercado, but there was nothing to discuss.
    Vivian looked up from her camera, but said nothing.
    Purcell glanced at his airspeed indicator and noticed that the balky instrument read zero. The throttle was fully open, but Mia showed no signs of lifting.
    The runway suddenly ended and Vivian let out a startled sound, then reached out and put her fingers on Saint Christopher.
    The control wheel felt light in Purcell’s hands and the Navion hung for a moment, as though trying to decide whether to fly or drop into the valley.
    The nose dipped down, and Purcell pulled back slowly on the wheel and pulled the hydraulic landing gear lever. Mia lifted slightly. The adjoining hill went by off his left wing, and he noticed that it had more elevation than the Navion. The sound of the landing gear banging into its wells gave Vivian a start, and Mercado said, “Oh!”
    The aircraft began to climb. Purcell glanced at the altimeter. He was at seventy-eight hundred feet, which was not good considering he had started at seventy-nine hundred. Around him, the mountains rose ten and twelve thousand feet and seemed to hem him in. A peak rose up to his front.
    The aircraft continued to climb, and at twelve thousand feet he relaxed a bit. He turned to a northwesterly heading and asked, “Mind if I smoke?”
    No one seemed to mind, so he lit up. He asked, “Anyone need that carafe?”
    Vivian replied, “Too late for that.”
    Purcell asked, “How you doing, Henry?”
    No response.
    Vivian turned her head. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Would you like some water?”
    “I’m fine.”
    Vivian asked Purcell, “Did you do that yesterday?”
    “Yesterday we used the longer airstrip.”
    “Can we do that next time?”
    “We can.”
    “How did the landing go?”
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    “Can I have a puff?”
    He handed her the cigarette.
    They continued on a northwesterly heading and Purcell said to Mercado, “You should familiarize yourself with those terrain maps.”
    “I thought you had them.”
    “Are you joking, Henry?”
    “Oh… here they are.”
    Vivian laughed.
    Purcell settled back and scanned the instrument panel. He was happy to see that the airspeed indicator was now working.
    Mercado said, “The next time, I will volunteer to be the potential survivor.”
    “Happy to shed the takeoff weight.”
    They continued on and Purcell looked out his left side. It was a beautiful country from the air. This is what God had given the human race. In fact, the earliest remains of a human ancestor, over three million years old, had been found in the Awash Valley. And since then, it had been a long, hard climb toward… something.
    Vivian snapped a picture of him, then of Henry sitting on the coffee bean bags in the rear. Henry took her camera and said, “Turn around.”
    She turned, smiled, and Mercado took a picture of her.
    Vivian said to her companions, “We have begun our journey.”
    Mercado replied, “We almost ended it on takeoff.”
    Vivian assured him, “I felt Saint Christopher and the angels lifting our wings.”
    Purcell was about to say something clever, but when he thought about that takeoff, there was no aeronautical reason why it should have happened.
    Vivian again touched the Saint Christopher medal over the windshield. “Thank you.”
    “How about me?”
    “Next time, use the longer runway.”
    They continued on in silence as Ethiopia slid by beneath their wings. Somewhere down there, Purcell thought, was the thing they were looking for. And maybe that thing was waiting for them.

Chapter 37
    A n hour out of Addis, Purcell spotted the great bend in the Blue Nile. He banked right and followed it north. Their airspeed was one hundred fifty,