by Nova Rain
Chapter Nineteen
Jake
As it happens in such cases, the press caught wind of the incident within minutes. Like a pack of wolves, plenty of news vans soon arrived on the scene. A regular traffic jam formed on the road parallel to the levee. For the first time in my life, I had no problem chatting with them and answering their questions. I would have done so, had it not been for a phone call from United headquarters. The company had organized a press conference at the Sheraton. To that end, they sent two limousines to pick up the whole crew. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw those cars. The bosses at United were not famous for their generosity. Nevertheless, the rescue of the plane and everybody on board seemed to have given them the proper motivation to spend just a little bit extra.
During the drive to the hotel, I got even better news from the radio. Hurricane Alexis had weakened to a tropical depression, sparing the battered city of New Orleans from another, devastating blow. Of course, there would be some property damage, but the odds of it claiming more lives were minimal. Those proud people could rebuild what Mother Nature had destroyed. What they couldn’t do, was bring back their lost loved ones.
New Orleans was veiled in darkness when the limousines turned into Canal Street. The Sheraton Hotel was towering over neighboring buildings, its lush, exterior lights sparkling like precious gems. Dozens of reporters had gathered outside the entrance and in the adjacent parking lot. Their cameras were flashing before the limousines even came to a halt.
“Hat and jacket on,” I winked at Michael, stepping out of the luxurious car.
“I feel like a freaking movie star,” he chuckled, following me out.
I understood his point, because I was feeling the exact same way. Besides, the set wasn’t that different from the Academy Awards. Tons of press were around. People were reporting live from the spot, and… the flight attendants seemed to enjoy this more than we did. All four of them were standing next to each other, wearing bright smiles as they posed for the cameras. In essence, the only thing missing from all this was a red carpet. Still, as Michael and I headed for the entrance, they moved off towards us. With the flight attendants right behind me, I entered the lobby.
There were three TV’s in that hall, reports of the incident playing on all of them.
“That’s the man himself, everybody!” A stranger shouted, making all heads lift in my direction. With a round of frantic applause filling my ears, I started smiling.
“Cocky bastard.”
I heard Penny’s voice in my head, pointing out the obvious. She was right. When it came to my job, I was cocky, because I knew what I was capable of doing. That afternoon, I showed that to the whole world. If anything, I was entitled to feel that way, or so I thought.
My company had done a quite a thorough job organizing this press conference. There was a podium on the far wall, with four microphones next to one another. A middle-aged stranger in United Airlines colors was looking right up at me.
“Alan Pearson, regional manager,” he introduced himself and shook my hand. “You showed amazing airmanship in the face of terrifying conditions and almost certain disaster, Captain Turner. Please, be seated.”
“Thank you.” I nodded in appreciation, turning to face the hall. One camera was in either corner, reporters taking up most of the two hundred or so seats.
“I trust none of you have done this before,” Pearson presumed, sitting down on my left.
“That’s true.”
“I’ll be moderating this. I call out the reporter’s name, they pose the question, you answer it, and so on,” he explained, more camera flashes hurting my eyes.
“Okay.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming here on such short notice,” Pearson spoke into the microphone, drawing their attention. “Before we begin, bear in mind that the crew of flight one-fifteen just went through a terrible ordeal, so, I’d like to keep this short. Thank you. Mrs. Helen Murdock from ‘The Times-Picayune’ has the first question.”
“Good evening.” A lady in the first row spoke, smiling up at me. “Captain Turner, I know I speak for everyone in here when I say: ‘Wonderful job.’ Your impeccable flying skills saved everyone on board. However, I find it rather bizarre that you landed your airplane on a levee. Why did you do that?”
“Because it was either that or the water,” I answered, interlocking my fingers over the hard surface of the podium. “Our plane was severely damaged, Mrs. Murdock. It had suffered dual engine failure. We tried to start them, but they began to overheat. I had no choice but to shut them down.”
At the end of my sentence, a pandemonium broke out in the hall. Most hands were raised in the air, Pearson staring at me at a loss for words.
“People, that’s what happened,” I continued, raising my voice. “I know the odds of both engines failing are next to none, but it can happen. I believe the investigation will confirm it.”
“I can,” Linda interjected. “Passengers saw flames shooting out of the engines. One doesn’t have to be an aviation expert to figure out that those engines were badly damaged.”
“Mr. Dennis Carpenter from KNLD.”
“I know this might sound cliché, but were you scared?”
“I’m human, Mr. Carpenter. Of course I was scared,” I admitted. “I hadn’t trained for that situation, and the plane wasn’t cooperating. But, with the help of my first officer here…” I pointed at Michael. “I was able to sort it out and land safely.”
“Ms. Michelle Ryan from WUPL.”
“Captain Turner…” A young blonde in the second row spoke out my name, standing up. “You’ve been the center of attention lately. You recover from a stall, you save a woman from a python, and now, this. Do you consider yourself a hero?”
“No.” My negative response sparked some more chatter amongst them. “Recovering from a stall is easy, as long as there’s enough altitude and the aircraft cooperates. Today was…” I paused, “a lot more challenging. I had to land a two-hundred ton plane outside of an airport with no engines.”
“Mr. Steve Copland from WGNO.”
“Sir, you mentioned that you hadn’t trained for dual engine failure. Do you think airlines should consider training young pilots for such a scenario?”
“Yes. Definitely,” I replied, spotting the aging reporter down the hall. “Aviation has always learned from its mistakes and its omissions. It took many lives for aviation to become as safe as it is today. I hope flight one-fifteen is used to make the industry even safer.”
“Ms. Diane Wells from KNOV.”
“Mr. Compton, what is it like to fly with Captain Turner?”
“A fucking blast.” The entire hall burst out laughing upon Michael’s response. “Seriously, it’s a blessing. Jake is a true professional; he makes working with him really easy. I’ve had the honor of being his friend for well over ten years. He’s never failed me. He’s a little too modest to accept he’s a hero. I’m not going to insist. I know him; he’ll never agree to that. I just think he’s one hell of a pilot, which is why we’re here talking to you, instead of at the bottom of the canal.”
“Thank you again, ladies and gentlemen,” Pearson addressed the press in a businesslike tone, before shifting his gaze over to me. “I need to have a word with you.”
“What is it?” I wondered, rising from my seat.
“What is it?!” He narrowed his eyes up at me, pulling me aside. “You just announced to the press that a major engine manufactured by General Electric is unreliable for God’s sake!”
“I shouldn’t have mentioned the dual engine failure,” I spoke in a low tone, understanding where he was with this. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, yeah!” He nodded, his voice but a whisper. “You should have just said you were facing mechanical issues. You should have left it to the investigators to figure them out. That’s what they do for a living.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I spoke through gritted teeth, s
truggling to maintain my composure. “You brought me straight here after a near disaster. You didn’t show any respect to the fact that I’d just been through hell, and you’re complaining about something I said?”
“The company set up that press conference, not me.” Pearson pointed out, his face hardening.
“Yeah, because I’m marketable,” I went on, a smile of bitterness forming on my face. “Hero pilot saves his passengers. And who does this pilot work for? United Airlines. I have to call my stock broker, and tell him to buy a truckload of United tomorrow, before its price doubles.”
“You’re missing the point. I…”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “So, this wasn’t a marketing trick. Headquarters decided to throw a press conference because they like me. They had no ulterior motive. They didn’t want to profit from this situation, right?”
“Son, I’ve been in the industry since you were in diapers.” Pearson claimed, his voice deepening. “I’ve seen hotshot pilots like you come and go. You did an amazing job out there; no doubt about that. But, trust me, you may have made a bad mistake. I hope I’m wrong.”
“Whatever…” I grumbled, spinning around. Executives… always counting money. Always taking dollars into consideration first. No regard for human life. No respect. I wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t angry, either. I had saved my airline from a major embarrassment, millions of dollars in settlements and a blow to their prestige that could cost them even more. It wasn’t enough for them, though. And if such a feat wasn’t enough, I had no idea what was.
Chapter Twenty
Jake
When I arrived at the Sheraton that night, I believed that I would talk to the press for a while, get drunk with the flight crew, and go to bed happy. It was a hard-earned reward for the pilot who had “spared his passengers from a horrific fate” as a reporter put it. I thought so, too, but my expectations were disproved.
Pearson’s comments had enraged me. He’d been lucky we were in a public place. I wasn’t a fan of violence, but for him, I would gladly make an exception and put his head through a wall. I had just made the absolute best landing of my entire career, in a place that wasn’t meant to carry the burden of a Boeing 777. All Pearson had to say about that was “you screwed up by mentioning what caused the emergency in the first place.” What a joke… What a big, goddamn joke. Maybe I should have told those folks that I landed there because I’d grown tired of runways.
Long after the end of that press conference, it dawned on me that the night was not over yet. Michael and the rest of the flight crew started to bang on my door. Letting them in was a mistake. They all barged into my room, demanding I go downstairs and celebrate with them. My friend’s argument was “we can go party, but it won’t be the same without the guy who saved our asses.” At first, I didn’t want to hear about it. Pearson had killed my mood. All the same, seeing the sadness on their faces affected me. I couldn’t disregard the flight crew’s crucial role in our ordeal. Yes, I did land the plane, but they had been in charge of the evacuation process. And my God, they had done an amazing job leading the passengers out of the aircraft.
My mouth dropped to the floor when we entered the hotel lobby bar. Red, blue, and white streamers hung from the ceiling, and almost all the tables were full of residents looking in my direction. A roaring cheer shook the room from end to end, just before a chant filled the air.
“Tur-ner! Tur-ner! Tur-ner!”
“What the hell is this?” I yelled at Michael. “You decorated the place, too? When?”
“I didn’t,” he claimed with a toothy grin. “That was the hotel staff. And I think you lost track of time. It’s almost midnight; you’ve been up in your room for four hours. It took them like thirty minutes to hang those streamers. Sweetheart…” He shifted his attention to the barmaid. “Bring us a bottle of your most ridiculously overpriced champagne. Each.”
Loud, beating music began to reverberate through the bar, with red, green, and blue spotlights flashing on the ceiling. Cheers and whoops of excitement were all around me, accompanied by sounds of champagne corks popping.
“To my friend, my Captain, the guy with the biggest pair of brass balls I’ve met in my whole life: Jake Turner!” Michael cried, raising his glass in the air. Our glasses clinked off one another as the flight attendants cast glances of admiration at me. Downing the expensive beverage, they turned away, and joined the bystanders. I smiled to myself, watching them pull out some of the funniest and awkward moments I’d ever seen.
“Man, look at all that,” my friend urged, his gaze sweeping the bar. “I can feel the vaginal activity coming.”
“Knock yourself out.” I advised, sipping some champagne.
“You’re not going to?” He squinted with a smile. “Are you crazy? Every woman in this bar is hot and wet for the heroes of flight one-fifteen. All you have to do is reach.”
I let my gaze roam, the idea of a comeback not thrilling me. Michael was looking out for me, but I wouldn’t debate this with him. He was happy to be alive and wanted to celebrate in a way he believed to be right. And, as my eyes stopped at the entrance, I found the reason to not join him in that celebration. Penny’s hourglass figure was standing in the middle of the wide entrance, perfectly still. The shapes of people passing in front of me blocked her for a moment, and then let me enjoy the view.
“You’re welcome,” Michael’s voice in my ear puzzled me. “I had to tell United she was your fiancée, because all of our flights to New Orleans were overbooked. They even sent a limo to pick her up.”
“Thank you,” I said in a loud voice, catching the sound of Penny’s footsteps on the floor. With a frantic dash, she closed the gap between us. I reached both arms out as she jumped onto me. Her chin pressed down on my shoulder, and I held her close. At that moment, the dance music ceased altogether. In its stead, came the guitar intro of an old tune: Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game.” The entire room went silent. I could hear the rustle of her coat against my shirt. I eased Penny back, my heart thumping in my chest.
“I thought I’d lost you…” she whispered, pools of tears forming in her eyes. “Let me look at you,” she added, sliding her fingers up my neck and then across my face.
I didn’t speak. Besides, it wasn’t the time for words. I tilted my head forward, until I felt the softness of her skin on my lips. Holding her in my arms, I locked my mouth with hers, the first lyrics of Chris Isaak’s ballad caressing my ears. Penny squeezed two tears out of her eyes, “awwws” and cheers rising above the sound of music. Her fingers slipped up and into my hair, her kiss sending tingles up and down my body. I moved my lips up and kissed her forehead, opening my eyes. Even then, I had no desire to speak. I just looked deep into her reddened eyes, while my lips curled into a smile of bliss.
“All right,” Penny said on an exhale. “Now please, tell me how in the hell you pulled that off. Aviation experts and veteran pilots said it was an unbelievable feat.”
“Answer me this first,” I requested, setting her back down on the floor. “How did you get here so fast?”
“I took the first flight to New Orleans,” she declared, her tone steady. “How else did you think I’d get here?”
“Miss ‘afraid-to-fly’ got on a plane for me?” I teased, reaching for an empty glass on the counter.
“I wanted to get to you as fast as I could.” Penny shrugged as I poured champagne into her glass. “By the way, I watched that press conference in the departure lounge in JFK. I thought you did pretty well.”
“My regional manager wouldn’t agree with you,” I remarked, clinking my glass with hers. “According to him, I shouldn’t have mentioned the exact cause of the crisis.”
“Excuse me?!” She exclaimed, her brows shooting up. “What were you supposed to say?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I continued, my voice losing volume and nerve.
Penny sipped half the champagne and lowered the glass from her mouth. “What a moron… Don
’t listen to him, honey. You did the impossible today. I’m very proud of you.”
“Yeah, he did, bitches!” Michael cheered, lifting a bottle of champagne over my head. The next thing I knew, the liquid was dripping across my scalp and down the sides of my face. Penny and I burst out into loud, hearty laughter, with my friend curving his arm around my neck. Michael pulled me into a side hug and rubbed my head, the hall chanting my name yet again. I looked around at the happy faces, my chest swelling with pride. The face I enjoyed staring at most was within a foot or so. I didn’t know all those other people. Most likely, I’d never see them again. On the other hand, Penny represented the familiar, the woman who had overcome her fear of flying, just to be with me. And her praise meant so much more than all those chants.
Chapter Twenty-One
Penny
Watching Jake relish his newfound fame, the same words replayed in my head over and over.
“I’ve never wanted you more.”
He was the man of the hour. Without him, the whole country would be grieving the loss of more than three hundred people, including himself.
In all honesty, though, I had been thinking about that since I read about the near catastrophe in New Orleans. I had come very close to losing him. A simple mistake from him or his first officer would have taken him from me. Forever. I would never see that sparkle in his eyes again. I would never sneak into that huge embrace. I’d never witness that calmness in his demeanor or feel powerless under his sensual touch. In other words, I would have lost the man who had managed to move me more than anyone ever could.