Hatchet PDF Book by Gary Paulsen

Hatchet-PDF

Click here to Download Hatchet PDF Book by Gary Paulsen having PDF Size 400 KB and No of Pages 69.

Brian felt his eyes beginning to bum and knew there would be tears. He had cried for a time, but that was gone now. He didn’t cry now. Instead his eyes burned and tears came, the seeping tears that burned, but he didn’t cry. He wiped his eyes with a finger and looked at the pilot out of the corner of his eye to make sure he hadn’t noticed the burning and tears.

Hatchet PDF Book by Gary Paulsen

Name of Book Hatchet
Author Gary Paulsen
PDF Size 400 KB
No of Pages 69
Language English
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 About Book – Hatchet PDF Book Download by Gary Paulsen

The pilot sat large, his hands lightly on the wheel, feet on the rudder pedals. He seemed more a ma- chine than a man, an extension of the plane. On the dashboard in front of him Brian saw dials, switches, meters, knobs, levers, cranks, lights, handles that were wiggling and flickering, all indicating nothing that he understood and the pilot seemed the same way. Part of the plane, not human.

The big split. Brian’s father did not understand as Brian did, knew only that Brian’s mother wanted to break the marriage apart. The split had come and then the divorce, all so fast, and the court had left him with his mother except for the summers and what the judge called “visitation rights.” So formal. Brian hated judges as he hated lawyers.

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Judges that leaned over the bench and asked Brian if he under- stood where he was to live and why. Judges who did not know what had really happened. Hatchet PDF Book Download Judges with the caring look that meant nothing as lawyers said legal phrases that meant nothing. In the summer Brian would live with his father. In the school year with his mother.

That’s what the judge said after looking at papers on his desk and listening to the lawyers talk. Talk. Words. Now the plane lurched slightly to the right and Brian looked at the pilot. He was rubbing his shoulder again and there was the sudden smell of body gas in the plane. Brian turned back to avoid embarrassing the pilot, who was obviously in some discomfort.

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Must have stomach troubles. So this summer, this first summer when he was allowed to have “visitation rights” with his father, with the divorce only one month old, Brian was heading north. His father was a mechanical engineer who had designed or invented a new drill bit for oil drilling, a self-cleaning, self-sharpening bit.

He was working in the oil fields of Canada, up on the tree line where the tundra started and the forests ended. Hatchet PDF Book Download Brian was riding up from New York with some drilling equipment—it was lashed down in the rear of the plane next to a fabric bag the pilot had called a survival pack, which had emergency supplies in case they had to make an emergency landing—that had to be specially made in the city, riding in a bush plane with the pilot named Jim or Jake or something who had turned out to be an all right guy, letting him fly and all.

Except for the smell. Now there was a constant odor, and Brian took another look at the pilot, found him rubbing the shoulder and down the arm now, die left arm, letting go more gas and wincing. Prob- ably something he ate, Brian thought. His mother had driven him from the city to meet the plane at Hampton where it came to pick up the drilling equipment.

A drive in silence, a long drive in silence. Two and a half hours of sitting in the car, staring out the window just as he was now staring out the window of the plane. Once, after an hour, when they were out of the city she turned to him. He turned back in the seat, feeing the front, and put his hands—still trembling—on the control wheel, his feet gently on the rudder pedals.

You pulled back on the stick to raise the plane, he knew that from reading. You always pulled back on the wheel. He gave it a tug and it slid back toward him easily. Too easily. Hatchet PDF Book Download The plane, with the increased speed from the tilt down, swooped eagerly up and drove Brian’s stomach down.

He pushed the wheel back in, went too far this time, and the plane’s nose went below the horizon and the engine speed increased with the shallow dive. Too much. He pulled back again, more gently this time, and the nose floated up again, too far but not as violently as before, then down a bit too much, and up again, very easily, and the front of the engine cowling settled.

When he had it aimed at the horizon and it seemed to be steady, he held the wheel where it was, let out his breath—which he had been holding all this time—and tried to think what to do next. It was a clear, blue-sky day with fluffy bits of clouds here and there and he looked out the window for a moment, hoping to see something, a town or village, but there was nothing.

Just the green of the trees, endless green, and lakes scattered more and more thickly as the plane flew—where? His hands began trembling again. Hatchet PDF Book He did not want to touch the pilot, did not want to reach for him. But he had to. Had to get the radio. He lifted his hands from the wheel, just slightly, and held them waiting to see what would happen.

The plane flew on normally, smoothly. All right, he thought. Now. Now to do this thing. He turned and reached for the headset, slid it from the pilot’s head, one eye on the plane, waiting for it to dive. The headset came easily, but the micro- phone switch at the pilot’s belt was jammed in and he had to pull to get it loose.

When he pulled, his elbow bumped the wheel and pushed it in and the plane started down in a shallow dive. Brian grabbed the wheel and pulled it back, too hard again, and the plane went through another series of stomach- wrenching swoops up and down before he could get it under control. When things had settled again he pulled at the mike cord once more and at last jerked the cord free.

It took him another second or two to place the headset on his own head and position the small microphone tube in front of his mouth. He had seen the pilot use it, had seen him depress the switch at his belt, so Brian pushed the switch in and blew into the mike. Hatchet PDF Book Not quite in front but slightly to the right he saw a lake.

L-shaped, with rounded corners, and the plane was nearly aimed at the long part of the L, coming from the bottom and heading to the top. Just a tiny bit to the right. He pushed the right rudder pedal gently and the nose moved over. But the turn cost him speed and now the lake was above the nose. He pulled back on the wheel slightly and the nose came up.

This caused the plane to slow dramatically and almost seem to stop and wallow in the air. The controls became very loose-feeling and frightened Brian, making him push the wheel back in. This increased the speed a bit but filled the windshield once more with nothing but trees, and put the lake well above the nose and out of reach.

For a space of three or four seconds things seemed to hang, almost to stop. Hatchet PDF Book The plane was flying, but so slowly, so slowly… it would never reach the lake. Brian looked out to the side and saw a small pond and at the edge of the pond some large animal—he thought a moose—standing out in the water.

All so still looking, so stopped, the pond and the moose and the trees, as he slid over them now only three or four hundred feet off the ground—all like a picture. His clothes were wet and clammy and there was a feint chill. He pulled the torn remnants of his windbreaker, pieces really, around his shoulders and tried to hold what heat his body could find.

He could not think, could not make thought patterns work right. Things seemed to go back and forth between reality and imagination—except that it was all reality. One second he seemed only to have imag- ined that there was a plane crash that he had fought out of the sinking plane and swum to shore; that it had all happened to some other person or in a movie playing in his mind.

Then he would feel his clothes, wet and cold, and his forehead would slash a pain through his thoughts and he would know it was real, that it had really happened. Hatchet PDF But all in a haze, all in a haze-world. So he sat and stared at the lake, felt the pain come and go in waves, and watched the sun come over the end of the lake.

He pulled the torn pieces of his windbreaker over his head and tried to shelter in it but the jacket was full of rips and it didn’t work. In desperation he pulled his T-shirt up to cover his face, but that exposed the skin of his lower back and the mosquitoes and flies attacked the new soft flesh of his back so viciously that he pulled the shirt down.

In the end he sat with the windbreaker pulled up, brushed with his hands and took it, almost crying in frustration and agony. There was nothing left to do. And when the sun was fully up and heating him directly, bringing steam off of his wet clothes and bathing him with warmth, the mosquitoes and flies disappeared.

Almost that suddenly. One minute he was sitting in the middle of a swarm; the next, they were gone and the sun was on him. Vampires, he thought. Apparently they didn’t like the deep of night, perhaps because it was too cool, and they couldn’t take the direct sunlight. Hatchet PDF But in that gray time in the morning, when it began to get warm and before the sun was mil up and hot—he couldn’t believe them.

Never, in all the reading, in the movies he had watched on television about the outdoors, never once had they mentioned the mosquitoes or flies. All they ever showed on the naturalist shows was beautiful scenery or animals jumping around having a good time. Nobody ever mentioned mosquitoes and flies.

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