The Last Pilot: A Novel (26 page)

When Harrison woke the next morning he swung his legs out of bed, lit a cigarette and called Grace.

Are you okay? he said.

Yeah, she said. You?

Yeah, he said. Sorry about before.

It’s okay, she said. Me too.

He said he wouldn’t be home for a few more days, perhaps even a couple of weeks.

A couple of weeks
?
she said.

Uh yeah, he said. Deke wants us to get familiar with operations while we’re down here; Von Braun came down for the launch too, so we gotta go meet him as well.

Jim, a couple of weeks though …

Probably be more like a week, no more. Don’t worry about it.

That’s easy for you to say. Guess I’ll see you, then.

Don’t be like that, he said.

I need you here, she said.

Kennedy—

I know what John Kennedy said, she said.

We’ve only got seven years, he said.

Sure sounds like a long time, she said.

Not if you want to travel a quarter million miles into space, it isn’t, he said.

Guess I should be thankful you’re only in Florida.

I miss you, he said.

I miss you too, she said.

I’ll be home before you know it, he said. Enjoy the peace and quiet. Enjoy having the place to yourself.

Sure, Grace said.

Invite the girls over, he said. Maybe do a dinner.

Good idea.

Okay then.

What about clothes?

I’ll pick up some new stuff down here.

Okay.

I’d better go, he said. I’ll call you tomorrow.

Okay then. Bye, she said.

Bye, he said.

In Houston, she put down the telephone and sat thinking for a minute, then got up and walked into the garden. She walked around and around, circling the perimeter, then sat down on the grass and cried.

Harrison was in Wolfie’s, in downtown Cocoa Beach, when he heard the news. It had been a good morning. Deke had called an unscheduled pilots’ meeting first thing. The conversation was lively as the men took their seats around the table and waited for him. Consensus was, he was going to announce the crew selections.

Gentlemen, good morning, Deke said, walking into the room. Let’s get to it. First thing. If I have a guy, and I keep him around, he’s eligible to fly. That’s it. Second, there are no
copilots
here. We have commanders, and we have pilots.

Harrison smiled.

All astronauts are created equal, Deke said. But some are more equal than others. And I gotta plan long-term. Fellas, we’re going all-up now. We don’t have time for Von Braun’s baby steps, so we’re getting rid of any dead-end equipment and tests. Coupla things before we go on. Glenn’s out of the running.

He retire already? Gordo said.

A few laughs.

Kennedy’s not gonna let him go up again, Deke continued, so he won’t be flying Gemini. Neither will Carpenter.

A few more laughs.

So that’s you nine, plus you Gordo, plus Wally and Gus.

What about Shepard? Borman said.

Grounded, Deke said.

The men exchanged glances.

You serious? Conrad said.

Serious as hell. Doctor says he can’t fly. He’s been having some problems with dizziness since May. Turns out he’s got something called M
é
ni
è
re’s disease. It’s an inner ear problem. He’s out, at least for now. But who knows.

Shit, Borman said.

We gotta do something, for Al, Conrad said.

Already did, Deke said. I’ve given him my old job. He’s now in charge of the Astronaut Office. I’ve resigned my commission from the air force and I’m now a civilian employee of NASA. Assistant director for Flight Crew Operations.

Deke? Harrison said.

General LeMay grounded me permanently because of this goddamn heart thing, so I quit. If I wanna go up someday, I gotta keep flyin. And as a civilian, I can fly NASA aircraft, as long as I’ve got a qualified copilot with me. And as long as that copilot isn’t Al.

More laughter.

That’s as good as I’m gonna get for now, he said. I’ll be keeping up my astronaut training with you fellas; see what the next few years bring. So. The first manned Gemini missions: Grissom-Young. We need to find out if a manned spacecraft can maneuver in space. Backup crew: Schirra and Stafford. That’s Gemini III. The first two will be unmanned tests. Next up, Gemini IV: McDivitt-White. We’re thinking, first EVA. Ed, you fancy taking a walk in space?

Guess I could give it a try, White said, folding his arms behind his head and sitting back.

You’ll have Borman and Lovell backing you up, Deke said. Gemini V, first week-long flight. Cooper and Conrad. A hundred and twenty orbits. Guidance and navigation. Backup: Harrison and Armstrong. Gemini VI, first rendezvous in space—we can’t land on the moon without it. We’ll be using an unmanned Agena that we’ll send up in advance. Give us something to rendezvous with. Schirra and Stafford; backup Grissom and Young. Gemini VII, long duration. Fourteen days in space. Borman and Lovell. That’s gonna be tough. Two weeks in a tin can with Frank.

Hey! Borman said.

All that, Deke said, is subject to change. We’re in the middle of selecting a third group of astronauts—fourteen more pilots—so we’ll come back to crew selections for the remaining missions after that. Bobby Kennedy wants a black astronaut, but we can’t find a black pilot that’s good enough. It’s not racist, just the way things are. A pilot either has it or he doesn’t. Nothing else matters. If anyone asks you about it, or mentions the name Ed Dwight to you, tell em to speak to me. Now. What else? Gemini is a manned system, start to finish. Laid out the way a pilot likes things. Gus did that, working with McDonnell. You can buy him a beer. That’s it, gentlemen, except for this: the program doesn’t need a scandal. I don’t give a damn what a pilot does in his spare time; if he plays around or not is his business. It’s not my concern unless it affects his work. Which is what a messy divorce would do. Land yourselves one of them and it’s a one-way ticket back to wherever you came from. It’s not a moral thing, it’s not a PR thing, it’s a practical thing. I don’t want anything distracting you from your job. Now, that all said, what say we head down to Wolfie’s and grab a bite?

It was Lovell who first noticed that something was wrong. The men sat at a long table drinking beer and eating sandwiches. Wolfie’s had a radio, usually tuned to WXBR. But the music had stopped.

Listen, he said to Harrison, holding up a finger. That’s Kennedy, isn’t it?

Harrison stopped eating and listened.

Yeah, John Young said. Hang on.

He called over to Stan, the owner, standing behind the counter.

What’s goin on? Young said.

You haven’t heard? Stan said.

Heard what?

Stan came over. Cuba, he said. Last night.

What about Cuba? Harrison said.

Come out back, Stan said. I got a television. You’d better see for yourselves.

The men left their lunch and followed Stan through a set of doors near the back, through a minuscule kitchen into a small office with no window where a woman sat hunched over thick scarlet accounting books, smoking and sighing to herself. He turned on the set and changed it to NBC.

Hold on, he said. They’ve been playing it all morning.

They just had it, the woman said. I turned it off. Try ABC.

Stan turned the dial round and the president appeared on the screen.

 …
policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile launched from Cuba against any nation in the Western Hemisphere as an attempt by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union.

Jesus Christ, Harrison said. What happened?

Soviets installed nuclear missiles in Cuba, the woman said. In secret. Weren’t you listening? A U-2 spy plane snapped pictures of the damn things.

Cuba’s only ninety miles away, Harrison said.

Oh, that’s where Cuba is? the woman said. I’d been wondering.

Holy shit, Borman said.

You see? Stan said.

How the hell did no one call us, Deke said. Gilruth must have known. We must be at DEFCON 3, at least.

To halt this offensive buildup, a strict quarantine—

What the hell’s a quarantine? Borman said.

—
on all offensive military equipment—

Fancy way of saying blockade, Conrad said.

Legal way of saying blockade, Lovell said.

—
under shipment to Cuba is being initiated.

When did this go out? Harrison said.

Seven last night, Stan said.

All ships bound for Cuba will, if found to contain cargoes of offensive weapons, be turned back.

Something tells me these ships ain’t gonna stop for some blockade line, Conrad said.

Damn right, Young said.

Why the hell aren’t we launching a strike against them? Borman said. Christ, did that kid not learn anything from his father?

Jack Kennedy’s got a cool head on him, Harrison said. And his brother’s a smart guy. I need to make a phone call.

Yeah, me too, Conrad said. The others nodded.

Thanks, Stan, Young said.

Don’t mention it, fellas.

They shuffled out.

Finally, said the woman as Stan pulled the door shut behind him.

Back at the Holiday Inn, Harrison tried calling Grace, but she wasn’t in. It was hot. He stunk. He sat for a moment, then stood and changed his shirt. Then he went down to the bar. He called again early evening.

Hello? Grace said.

Hey, he said. It’s me.

Jim, she said.

I called earlier but you weren’t in.

Where the hell have you been?

Where have
I
been? Where have you been?

I’ve been trying to get ahold of you since last night!

What? I’ve been right here. Who did you speak to?

I don’t know—some woman.

Well that makes things easier.

She didn’t say and why would I ask? She told me you weren’t staying there.

Harrison sighed.

Henri’s given us our own rooms; we’re off the guest booking sheets. What time did you call?

Right after the broadcast, she said. About seven-thirty.

We were downstairs, he said. I’m sorry. I’ll sort this. We only just found out. I called as soon as I got back.

I’m scared half to death, Jim, she said.

I’m coming home, he said.

Really? she said. When?

We all are. First thing.

Thank God. Jim, she said. I haven’t been doing too good.

Are you sick?

I don’t know.

Well, you’re either sick or you’re not.

Jim—I—can we not do this now?

Grace—

Please. Just come home.

I already said I’m coming home.

Please, Jim.

What?

Nothing. I miss you.

I miss you too. Sorry it’s been a couple of days.

Are you okay? she said.

Yeah, we’ve just been so busy. And we just got our crew assignments.

That’s good, she said. Do you want to tell me now?

I’ll tell you when I get home, he said.

Okay.

I’d better get packed, he said. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?

Jim? she said.

Yeah?

I love you.

I love you too, he said. Everything is going to be okay.

Okay, she said.

Stay in the house. Don’t go out unless you have to. Keep the radio on. I’ll be home real soon.

The following night they sat together on the sofa and watched news reports of the blockade and of the ships turning around and of the
Marucla
, which didn’t, and were frightened. They went to bed and didn’t talk. When he was sure she was asleep he turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling which was white from where the curtain cracked in the middle and let pale moonlight in. He lay awake for a long time. It felt to him as though the world had paused. The only sound was that of his wife sleeping alongside him. He realized with acute clarity that the past was nothing, it did not exist; it could not be
lost
, and the future was merely an abstract concept. He lay very still. Then he turned over and slept till morning and in the morning he rose early and dressed quietly and went for a run in the rain. When he got home she had fixed a pot of coffee, and eggs, and they sat together and listened to the radio in silence. Then he left for work. In the evening he took her out to the pool and said sorry for how things had been and they held each other. Then they went inside and Harrison called a few friends he had higher in the air force who told him the country was now at DEFCON 2. He told her what it meant and she sat down at the table with her head in her hands.

I’m going for a walk, she said. I need to get some air.

Don’t go far, okay? he said.

I won’t.

Want me to come?

No.

Do you want to take Milo?

No.

When she got back he said, where did you go, and she didn’t answer so he asked again and she said Clear Lake. They sat up and watched the news on CBS and Grace asked him what DEFCON 1 was and he said
nuclear war imminent
and she said I wish I hadn’t asked.