Wow! It's been a little while since I posted a story, or even a chapter. I've had a sore left arm due to a bone spur growing into a ligament. I finally got a shot to reduce the pain, and I've been able to type again.
Once more, special thanks to Malady for his help editing.

Chapter 2

August 27^th, 2021

9 AM

Because of her age, Gloria's doctor was keeping a close eye on her and her baby. Each ultrasound had shown a healthy child, but Gloria was still concerned.

She wanted this baby between her and Mike to be perfect. It was silly, she knew, but she and Chester had a wonderful son in Chet. How much better would a child from her and Mike be?

She tried to put that thought behind her. Chet was an incredible young man, and she was very proud of him. Marcia and Amber were wonderful girls too.

There was something about a child that was both hers and Mike's. It was a testament of their love. She knew, though, that it would be easy for her to favor the new baby over the others, even if only because he or she would need more care than the others, and while Marcia might understand, Amber probably wouldn't.

She was four and a half months into the pregnancy and it was getting noticeable to others. She'd only gained about ten pounds so far, but it was pretty much in one, very obvious location.

She was on her way to the kitchen, when she heard the door open. She smiled as she saw her son open the door, holding her grandson's hand. He also had a bag slung over his shoulder that would hold the necessities for the day. Sammy saw his grandma and pulled his hand out of Chet's. "Gamma!" The little boy yelled as he ran to her, his arms outstretched.

At the same time Sammy was hugging her, a bundle of energy rushed by Gloria, and ran to her big brother. Chet caught Amber and swung her up, tickling her on the way.

"You go work?" Amber asked when she stopped laughing.

"Yep," Chet told her. "I've got work."

"I help!" The little girl exclaimed.

“You bet!” Her big brother said. “I need you to play with Sammy.”

“We both help!”

“You'll both be able to come with me when you get a little bigger.”

“I big girl!” Amber declared.

“You sure are!” Chet agreed. “You need to be a little bigger to use my tools, though.”

Amber's lower lip pushed out, and Chet whispered something into her ear. She turned her head to look at Gloria, and then smiled. Chet put her down, and she walked over to her mom and took her hand.

She told Sammy very solemnly, “We help Mama. She pegnent.” She said the last word very slowly, and with determination.

Gloria raised an eyebrow and looked at her son. “Do you like your ear?” She asked him.

“Sure do,” he replied, “but I like you more -- you and that little baby brother or sister.”

She glared at him and told him, “I'll hold off on the ear twist till you pick up Sammy.”

Chet laughed as he headed out the door. Gloria went into the kitchen and listened to the two toddlers' chatter as they planned their day and how they would help her. She laughed to herself as she reflected that there was no doubt that all of her kids were wonderful -- each one a treasure to love.

11:45 AM

Marcia and Darryl were working on a backyard in North Pole. The teams alternated where they were working. Each week they switched “towns.” Chet and Margot were working in the base housing areas this week.

Chet had initially warned the younger couple about the house they were at now. The backyard was surrounded by a chain-link fence and the owner had a strange dog. It was a breed popularly known as a Dusky, or cross between a dachshund and a husky, and she was named Dusky Doxie. Actually, she was a very beautiful dog, taking her size and shorter legs from the dachshund side of her genealogy, and her markings from the husky side. Her coat was where the “dusky” side of her name fit well, as she was a gray and white husky. The gray covered her almost everywhere except for the white spots over each eye and on each side of her muzzle.

The yard was kept very clean, but the owner had installed a dog door into the opening of his glass patio doors.

Darryl and Marcia walked around the yard, making sure that all dog toys and rocks were out of the way, then just to be certain, Darryl went ahead while Marcia ran the mower.

At present, they were using a rotary mower. Chet was trying to find a good reel mower that he could put an engine on. He had the engine Marcia had gotten him for Christmas, and it would be perfect for what he wanted, but not many of the good, old, well crafted reel mowers were in existence anymore. Thus, in North Pole, a nice, self-propelled Toro was the mower they used, saving Chet’s restored antique mower for the base, where perfect yards were expected.

The mower was a nice one, designed to move at whatever speed the individual was walking at, and they were making good time. The yard was level, and the owner made sure it was pretty well free of obstructions. Out of the corner of her eye, Marcia saw the dog run by. She always had trouble keeping from laughing when she saw the dog running, because of the short legs. She was hoping they'd be able to see it in the winter. She really wanted to see it in the snow.

The dog lay down a little ways from them, and started gnawing on a bone it had carried outside with it. They made another row with the mower, then stopped as Darryl took the bag over to the compost pile. Marcia knelt down and petted the dusky, who rolled over and lay back in ecstacy, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, begging the girl to scratch her tummy. Marcia obliged and was rewarded by exuberant husky speak. Marcia loved petting her sister-in-law’s husky as well, as the hair was almost like fur on their ears and face.

When Marcia started the mower again, Dusky Doxie ran back to the house, and in through the dog door. Darryl spotted the bone that had been left in the grass and put it in his pocket.

The rest of the afternoon went by without any problem. Once they were through, Marcia ran the mower over to the compost pile and Darryl emptied the bag. Marcia went out to the pickup and got a couple of shovels, and brought them out to the back yard. They turned the compost over a few times, then went back toward the front yard. They stopped at the cabbages, and gazed at the size. The largest was nearly two feet in diameter. Darryl guessed that it was somewhere around 75 pounds. Marcia pulled a few weeds from beside the enormous plants and shook her head. As they left, she quipped, “That’s a lot of coleslaw.”

They took their equipment back to the pickup, loaded it up, and got into the cab. Darryl evidently felt something odd in his pocket, and looked thoughtful for a second. “Hang on, Foxy. I’ll be right back.” He jumped out, and hurried to the door. He was about to ring the bell when the door opened. Mrs. Smith, the owner of the house, handed him a rather large box, overflowing with produce. Marcia watched as they said a few words, then Darryl pulled something out of his pocket. It was Dusky Doxie’s bone. He handed it to Mrs. Smith, and she laughed. The dog was standing beside her, and as soon as she saw the bone, she started giving husky speak, begging to be handed the treat.

Darryl picked up the box that he had set on the porch to hand over the bone, and hurried back to the pickup. He put the box in the bed, turned, waved to Mrs. Smith, and got in the cab. “It’s a tip for all our work. She gave some to Margot and Chet last week, so this is ours. Lots of zucchini, carrots and radishes.”

“Okay. Zucchini, I can understand, but carrots and radishes? Why would she give those away?”

Darryl chuckled. “Yeah, everyone gives away zucchini in the fall. Carrots I can understand too.”

“I like carrots,” Marcia declared. “Just because you don’t.”

“Well,” he replied. “There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Really?” Marcia questioned him. “My taste includes you as very important.”

“You’ve got some good taste, and some bad,” he teased.

“Do I?” she asked, folding her arms and glaring at him.

“Did I just dig a deep hole?”

“Very.”

Darryl nodded and grinned as he steered down the street to their next yard.

2:47 PM

Mike stared at the report on his desk. He had read it three times already, and couldn’t believe it. Well, he believed it, but it didn’t really make sense. Why was a Kawasaki K-10 biplane just a few miles out of Fairbanks? He had googled the plane, and found that it was the last biplane used by the Japanese in World War II. The type of plane was beyond doubt. It was definitely a K-10, but how had it ended up here?

He picked up his phone, and called Bob.

“Hi, Mike,” he heard as soon as Bob picked up his phone. “I’m looking at the report.”

“What do you think?” Mike asked.

“I’m really not sure what to think. I’m pretty sure this had to have happened around World War II.”

“Yes, but how did it end up underground, Bob?”

There was silence for a moment. “I don’t know,” the CO confessed after a moment.

“I think we need to get a survey of this area. Also, we need to contact the World War II History Center and see what a K-10 was doing in this area.”

“Until I get the go ahead from the brass, I can’t do that.”

Mike chuckled. “It’s so tempting to ask Marsh to get all the information she can on all the planes that were in this area in the time frame.”

Bob laughed as well. “She could probably get what we need, knowing her. But she’d also know that our ‘artifact’ was why we were asking.”

“I know. She’s too smart for her own good.”

Bob thought for a moment. “I don’t think finding out about planes in this area would help though.”

“How do you figure?”

“There’s no reason for a biplane like that in this area. Plus the report says it ran out of fuel. The pilot was wearing civvies. I don’t think it was the normal pilot. Anyone familiar with that plane wouldn’t have let it run out of fuel.”

“I agree. So it was in the hands of a civilian. How?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to see if I can disclose some of this information, so we can contact the History Center.” He chuckled. “Maybe we can get Marsh and Chet teamed up to figure it out.”

Mike laughed as well. “Don’t forget Margot.”

As Bob hung up his phone, he thought about how he was going to ask for a release of information. “I suppose it’s nothing to worry about. It’s quite a ways after the fact. There shouldn’t be any reason to keep it secret now.”

Mike also was looking for other information. He suspected that the plane went down elsewhere. There didn’t seem to be any indications of previous repairs. Did the pilot defect? That seemed very unlikely. The plane would never have gotten into the hands of a civilian, especially during the war.

So had the plane landed on Allied soil? If so, what happened to the official pilot? While he agreed with Bob that the official pilot would not have made such a mistake as low fuel easily, it was a possibility, given unfamiliar terrain and wind patterns. But would he have flown his fighter so blatantly over Alaska?

So many questions.

Please don’t forget to leave kudos and comment!

– Rosemary

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