Grounded?

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I would like to dedicate this chapter to Giovannie Storm (Amyscence). I have read a couple of stories and I found them amazing. I am reading right now one of the first stories which I relate to, since I moved from Italy to Canada when I was an adolescent. It is this kind of authors that inspire me to write more. 

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December 23, 13:00

We finally land in Lugano. The pilot had to stop in Lodrino first. It was the closest airport with fuel, and we were really running low. I was about to go to the car, when he suggested we just fly down, which would be faster. It takes less then 20 minutes to make the over 45 minutes drive, yet to me it feels like forever. As he clears me that it is safe to move, I get out of the helicopter. I go straight for the building that houses the Search & Rescue crews. Few journalists are standing outside; they know that not much will happen until later when the crews will come in to report. As I make my way directly to the door, someone calls from behind.

“John, John.” I recognize Markus’ voice. I stop to face him just as I am joined by my pilot.

“John, what’s going on?” Markus is excited.

“We found them!”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“No. We need to advise Capt. Engel right away.”

“Yes, come this way. I know another way in.”

“He takes us through the passenger terminal and to a door. A policeman is staying guard. As he sees us approaching he prepares to stop us. Markus speaks directly to him.

“Come on Franco, you know us, we have already been here.” I recognize him as the policeman that was on duty the early morning I first met the head of the search & rescue teams.

“You know you cannot pass without authorization.” The policeman just tells him.

“And you know that every time I come I am let in.”

“No I can’t let you in without calling it” He adds while picking his radio.

The policeman has a short conversation and just adds. “You know the way.” As he opens the door.

We enter, but instead of going in the war room, we go to another room where people are sitting at consoles looking over pictures and videos.

As Capt. Engel spots us he comes right away.

“Mr. Walter. What do we own the pleasure of your visit?” Even if his voice is very neutral, I am not sure he really is pleased to see us. “Mr. Casellano,” he acknowledges Markus, “and you are?”

“Peter Kunz, I am Mr Walter’s pilot.” They both shake hands.

“We have found the plane.” I just blurt out, since I am not in for pleasantries right now. The head of the search crews looks at each of us in turn.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, and I show him the flash disk.”

“May I?” I hand it to him.

He takes it and inserts it in the closest computer. The machine asks to import the pictures. He looks at me again.

“May I?”

“Yes, go ahead” I say impatiently. He presses ok.

Since the pictures are massive, the computer shows each picture thumb for a while as they are loaded. We see pictures of valleys and mountains and animals and the town, a lot of pictures of the town. I am getting impatient as is everyone else; since realizing what we said, everyone is around the machine loading. Finally the first picture of the plane appears. It is the rudder from far, and then picture after picture of the plane from every possible angle. The plane is buried, but you can see its outline in the snow and debris. “The area seems to be in bad shape. Can we land?” Capt. Engel looks directly at Peter.

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