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Three Gorges Dam

Page 33

by Thomas V. Harris


  Things haven’t broken her way since he left the hotel. He regrets not seeing her off this morning. He would have learned about her car trouble, given her the keys to his loaner, and had a cab drive him to the dam. Diverting Teddy’s flight has also worked against her. If it had landed in Yichang, Kylie would have been on his plane when it took off again.

  The sky is ominous. He doubts that reservoir evaporation produced clouds this ugly. The incoming storm must have piggybacked onto the man-made disturbance. He can’t see the river and has virtually no forward visibility. The gloom extends to an altitude way above the helicopter. He decides that the only way to escape the heavy weather is by outracing it to the east, or breaching one of its flanks.

  He banks hard left and tests the northern perimeter. It’s a short trial. A violent tailwind slams the cockpit and forces him to abort the maneuver. Careful not to overcorrect, he stabilizes the helicopter— mostly by working the pedals—and stops its axial rotation. He opens a bottle of water. It never touches his mouth. Another microburst— stronger than the first—compresses the roof. Everything in the cockpit goes flying, including his drink. Cause and effect aren’t clear. But reducing the Bell’s airspeed seems more effective than fighting the elements. His adjustments work. The helicopter escapes the wind shear.

  The overall turbulence hasn’t subsided. Swirling winds are blowing the Bell all over the sky. Random squalls jerk the fuselage vertically and horizontally, often at the same time. The wind is too erratic for another attempt at a lateral escape. He’ll fly conservatively until he passes the storm’s leading edge.

  He gets Kylie on the phone.

  “I’m in the air.”

  “What’s it like up there?”

  “Bumpy but not too bad.”

  “How is the dam holding up?”

  “It’s a lost cause.”

  “Not the whole thing.”

  “It’s already coming apart.”

  “How long will it stay up?”

  “Minutes, not hours.”

  “What about the people?”

  “I made sure your guys left.”

  “Nigel told me. Thanks.”

  “Everyone is gone by now.”

  “Including Rocky?”

  “I’m sure he was last to leave.”

  “Haven’t you spoken with him?”

  “I’ve been trying since I took off.”

  He hears her sobbing. “Heaven help us.”

  “Don’t assume the worst.”

  “He would’ve answered.”

  “There are other explanations.”

  When she goes silent, he checks the line. They’re still connected.

  “Kylie . . .”

  “I’ll meet you in Hangzhou.”

  “Not a chance. We’re going together.”

  “That’ll slow us down. I’ll catch a ride.”

  “You said the terminal was empty.”

  “Not everyone is gone.”

  “I believed you the first time.”

  “Who put you in charge?”

  “The helicopter. It takes me where I want to go.”

  “Your son needs his father.”

  “The one who abandoned his mother?”

  “If something goes wrong—”

  “It won’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You can’t change my mind—”

  “What if—”

  “I’m landing in Yichang—”

  “Please don’t.”

  “—And I’m not leaving till I find you.”

  “Listen to me, Michael—”

  “You’d never leave me there.”

  “That’s different.”

  “You’ll have to explain that to me.”

  “I couldn’t bear losing you again.”

  “Unfortunately honey, I’ve got the same problem.”

  “If I could stop you—”

  “You can’t.” When she doesn’t respond, he worries her PTSD is acting up. “Kylie . . . You’re scaring—”

  “Promise you’ll be careful.”

  “I have two excellent reasons.”

  “You need to concentrate. I’m going to—”

  “Not yet. Give me a weather report.”

  “I’ve never seen clouds this—”

  When her voice cuts out, he hollers, “What’s the matter?”

  “A car just stopped.”

  “Who’s driving?”

  “A guy in coveralls.”

  Brannigan hears Kylie struggling to communicate.

  He breaks into the mishmash. “Give the guy your phone.”

  “I don’t understand a word he’s saying.”

  “Let me speak with him.”

  “Okay. But get ready. He talks fast.”

  Brannigan greets the driver in Mandarin. The man—he identifies himself as a mechanic—agrees to give Kylie a ride to higher ground. But first he has to go home and get his wife and children. Then he’ll go deeper into the floodplain to collect his in-laws. Brannigan ends the call when the driver acknowledges he won’t have room for Kylie after he loads his family into their midsize car.

  She’s back on her phone. “Should I go with him?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  “No. But his plan is.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Stay put.”

  Brannigan knows he’ll have to hit everything just right.

  The Bell can do upwards of 260 km/h in good weather. He won’t get anything close to that inside the storm. The conditions are awful, and no one else should be flying. But he can’t be sure. Despite the risk of a midair collision, he’ll push the helicopter as hard as he can, rely on his instruments, and hope for the best.

  The sky is on fire. Lightning has transformed the blackness into Times Square at midnight. That doesn’t improve his downward visibility. The billows are filled with moisture and he can’t see the Yangzi. A downdraft pounds the helicopter. Every joint in the cockpit shudders and creaks. The Bell is trapped inside the vortex and his inputs don’t affect its trajectory or speed. He knows it’s physically impossible, but Brannigan has the paradoxical sensation of being sucked into the floodwaters.

  The helicopter continues to lose altitude. When it gets below the next cloud bank, he has a shrouded view of the tsunami. It’s littered with vehicles, buildings, and huge pieces of concrete. The economic losses are staggering. They pale in comparison to the vast number of dead bodies. Many of the victims appear to be naked and dismembered. He shifts his attention to the instrument panel. He’s on the brink but avoids getting sick.

  The wind shear changes direction and he feels it petering out. He turns the helicopter to the east, munches on an energy bar, and confirms his location. The Bell is passing over what used to be Gezhouba Dam. Thirty kilometers east of its big sister, it has collapsed and washed away. The neighboring villages, farms, and people are gone. All he can see is total devastation.

  The Bell’s next landmark is Yichang. The city’s westernmost district is already inundated. He knows his window of opportunity is about to close. Once the tsunami destroys the river-straddling downtown, it will be on a collision course with Kylie. He locks in the airport’s coordinates—30° 33′ 23.3″ N by 111° 28′ 47.8″ E—and plots how to shorten his final approach.

  Everything may depend on a course correction. The floodwaters only have to travel laterally. The Bell has the disadvantage of having to land and become airborne again. He won’t be able to save Kylie unless he has a significant lead before his final descent. Brannigan is about to call her when his phone rings.

  “Can you talk, Michael?”

  “Yeah. I was just dialing your number.”

  “You shouldn’t be flying in this weather.”

  “The 429 is indestructible.”

  “You’re not used to these conditions.”

  “I am now. How’s my girl doing?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a change o
f scenery.”

  “You’ll like Hangzhou.”

  “As long as we’re all together, I don’t care where we are.”

  “What’s it like on the ground?”

  “The drizzle has turned into rain.”

  “What about the wind?”

  “Westerly at about twenty knots.”

  “Any sign of the flood?”

  “Nothing visual. But the noise has increased.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In front of the main building.”

  “Good girl. Don’t move.”

  “Let me know when you get close.”

  “You can’t miss me. I’m coming in hot and low.”

  The Bell is finally flying over dry land.

  Its route to the airport is more direct, and Brannigan expects to extend his advantage over the tsunami. He’s planning his endgame. His first decision is whether to perform an autorotation. A power-off descent would get him down faster. The tradeoff is a higher risk of crashing. He decides to play it safe. He’ll execute a traditional landing.

  The next thing he considers is their heading. The optimal direction is east by southeast. That’ll be difficult to achieve. They’ll have to battle the wind, wait for a break in the clouds, and make a run for it. He reevaluates his plan and concludes it’s sound. His only misgivings are about the pilot.

  He sees Kylie. She’s straight ahead, waving her arms, and jumping up and down. By the time the Bell lands, she’s running full speed toward the left seat. She crosses under the rotors, steps into the cockpit, and rewards him with a kiss.

  “You got my motor going.”

  “That was only a down payment.”

  Brannigan doesn’t let her linger. He substitutes her harness for his lips. The Bell ascends without transitioning through ETL. When Brannigan abruptly increases the pitch, Kylie grabs his knee. “Whoa! That was stout.”

  “Sorry about that. I should’ve warned you.”

  “I wasn’t complaining. Thanks for the lift.”

  His top priority is gaining altitude. Escaping the clouds will have to wait. Kylie’s curiosity is another matter. “What happened to your shoulder?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ll settle for the executive summary.”

  “A bullet through the bubble.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was waiting for the right time.”

  “You should be in the hospital.”

  “That would’ve been a death warrant.”

  “Didn’t they evacuate the patients?”

  “I don’t think they had time.”

  She watches him strain to read the gauges.

  “What’s wrong with your vision?”

  “Nothing permanent. Just a migraine.”

  “It’s a miracle you made it this far.”

  “Am I being sacked?”

  “Promoted.”

  “Who outranks the pilot?”

  “The navigator-in-chief.”

  Kylie takes over the controls. The clouds have retaken the lead and she’s flying blind. She taps Brannigan’s knee when the fuselage begins to shimmy.

  “How can we get out of this mess?”

  He’s studying a map on the inboard computer. “At the moment, we can’t. The storm has us trapped. It’s moving too fast.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “A southerly bend in the river.”

  “What’ll happen there?”

  “If we dogleg right, we’ll scrub off some wind.”

  “You’ll have to tell me when. I can’t see a thing.”

  “I’ll set our computer alarm.”

  “What’s my window?”

  “Ten seconds.”

  “Do you feel that?”

  “Yeah. Don’t force it. There are other places—”

  A downdraft scores a direct hit. Kylie tries to power through it. But the velocity is too strong. The Bell doesn’t come out the other side.

  “Was it like this on the way over?”

  “It’s worse now.”

  “How did you deal with it?”

  “I didn’t. I cut the power and rode it out.”

  The microburst breaks up. But its wake increased the chop. The Bell is rattling so loud it sounds like a bucket of bolts. It’s more difficult to control than before.

  The increased turbulence hasn’t seemed to bother Brannigan. He’s been sitting motionless with his eyes closed. Kylie nudges him. “Is our turn coming up?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’re almost there.” Moments later the computer chime goes off. He waits a few seconds before asking, “Ready?”

  “Willing and able.”

  “Now’s a good time.”

  The Bell has just started to turn when a strong tailwind thwacks Brannigan’s door. The blast slingshots the helicopter forward. Still traveling east, it’s moving sideways, like a car in a broadside skid. The wind shifts and a diagonal shear wallops Kylie’s side of the cockpit. The helicopter is spinning on its axis. Unable to stabilize the nose, she looks over at Brannigan. “We’re still yawing. What am I doing wrong?”

  “Work the pedals harder.”

  “Is that enough?”

  “Too heavy on the left.”

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s working.”

  After several more pedal adjustments—and feathering the collective and stick—the spinning stops. “That’s my girl. Nice save.”

  Kylie pushes up the sleeves of her cardigan. “For all the good it did us. A rogue wind will eventually drive us into the water.”

  “What do you recommend?”

  “Testing the ceiling.”

  “It can’t be worse than this. Give it a try.”

  Grinding the helicopter higher, she fights for every meter. The change in her angle of attack produces the same result. A crosswind comes out of nowhere and rolls the helicopter over. The skids are facing the sky when Brannigan reaches for his controls. Kylie kisses his hand and lays it on her lap. “Thanks for offering, but I’ve got this.”

  Her initial corrections don’t work, and the helicopter continues to tumble. She keeps after it, and the cockpit turns—and ultimately remains—right side up. The Bell isn’t hovering in a technical sense, but it’s as stationary as wind conditions permit.

  “Forget my earlier comment. You’re the man.”

  “Either way, we’re in big trouble.”

  “If you could handle that—”

  “It’s time for a reality check. This helicopter is a great machine, but it can’t take much more abuse. I’m surprised it’s held together this long.”

  “What’s our Hail Mary?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “There has to be a way out.”

  “My suggestion box is wide open.”

  “What are the choices?”

  “None that are any good. Going higher didn’t work. Lower won’t either. There’s more turbulence down there. Traveling laterally is the worst option of all. We’re in an electrical minefield. Every shear knocks us into another one.”

  “What does that leave us?”

  “The first rule of holes. Stop digging.”

  “We can’t just sit here.”

  Brannigan hears the next wind shear before he feels it. This downdraft is far and away the strongest yet. It’s catapulting the Bell toward the tsunami.

  “I have no right to ask—”

  He detects the tension in Kylie’s voice. Based on what they discussed last night, he knows she’s worried about him, not herself. He doesn’t need to hear the rest.

  “Are we down to that?”

  “We don’t have much time.”

  “I don’t need any.”

  “Please, Michael. Don’t be stubborn.”

  “I’ve already done it.”

  “When?”

  “Just now.”

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “With this going on?”

  “A
re we talking about the same thing?”

  “I asked for absolution.”

  “Did you confess your sins?”

  “I only had time for the highlights.”

  She blesses herself. “Thank you, God.”

  The Bell passes through a broad hole in the cloud cover. Brannigan has his first wide-angle view of the tsunami. The human debris field—there’s no open water—sends a shiver up his spine. Closer to the horizon, he sees something he didn’t expect—a break in the weather. It’s still overcast to the south but the clouds are higher, lighter, and not as thick. He points at the clearing. “Check that out, Kylie.”

  “I’ve been watching that patch.”

  “Can we get there?”

  “Not at this trajectory. It’s two kilometers away.”

  “How long do we have?”

  “Fifty seconds. Plus or minus ten.”

  “How are the controls responding?”

  “Like a kamikaze diving into a battleship.”

  “Maybe the wind will blow itself out.”

  Kylie’s eyes jump from Brannigan.

  To the tsunami.

  And back again. “That’s it, Michael.”

  “What is?”

  “Have you ever flown a sailplane?”

  “I don’t go looking for trouble.”

  “Its fuel could be our solution.”

  “Wind?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t that the problem?”

  “Updrafts.”

  “We have the opposite.”

  “That’s about to change.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  “What’ll you do when it does?”

  “Pull up the nose.”

  “Better act fast or we won’t have one.”

  “This isn’t the right altitude.”

  “Do it anyway. You’ll have time to try again.”

  “Too risky. Bucking this gale could split us in half.”

  “What’ll be different when we’re lower?”

  “The tsunami will save us from the tsunami.”

  “I missed the first part.”

  “The flood is an aerodynamic step—same as a mountain. Ground winds move upward to get over it.”

  “The ups will collide with the downs.”

  “Yup. Best case, they cancel out.”

  “At the very least—it’ll blunt the shear’s impact.”

 

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