The urge to grab her, to drag her away to some quiet place to talk, was so strong that he had to fight with himself, force himself to walk over to Thad and try to make conversation. Being around Thad was like sitting in a peaceful church, knowing that when you left, things would be all right.
{{{{{{{{{ CHAPTER }}}))}}}}
TWENTY-ONE fffnnn
The passengers were calm now that they were airborne, relieved that they would arrive at their destinations in time for Christmas. The plane was safely off the ground and climbing steadily above the storm. Chesney waited for calm to replace the stress she'd felt since awakening this morning. She did her best to relax, but the fact that the FASTEN SEAT BELT and the NO SMOKING signs were still on meant they weren't out of the woods yet. When they reached their cruising altitude of thirty-five thousand
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feet, maybe she would be able to relax. The spooky feeling, her premonition, was still as strong as ever. She wished she knew what the others were thinking. She stretched her neck to see Patty. Patty sensed Chesney's gaze, turned, and smiled wanly. She gave an infinitesimal shake of her head. Patty was still scared; Chesney could see it in her eyes.
The L1011 continued to bounce and rock in its upward climb. When it finally leveled off and the captain addressed the passengers, Chesney heard the relief in his voice. "We've reached our cruising altitude, so I suggest you all sit back and enjoy the ride. Miss Brighton and her crew will start serving dinner and drinks. This is Christmas Eve, so the drinks are on London Air. On behalf of the entire crew and myself, we want to wish you all a Merry Christmas."
"What's so merry?" Chesney muttered under her breath.
"I'm hungry and I want Gus," Molly Sanders whimpered. "I want Gus," she repeated.
"The girls are getting dinner ready, Molly. Did your mommy tell you that Gus had to stay in a special place till we land?"
"She gave Gus a pill to make him sleep. Gus can sleep on my lap. He won't pee. I'll tell him not to pee. Can you get Gus?" Molly's thumb went into her mouth as soon as she finished talking.
It was Christmas Eve and a time for special things to happen. Chesney wondered if the captain would okay Gus's release for the little girl. "How big is Gus, Molly?"
"This big," Molly said, holding her hands apart. "He fits on my lap."
In a child's mind, "this big" could mean just about anything. "What kind of dog is he, Molly; do you know?"
Molly bobbed her head. "He's brown." Chesney smiled.
"No, honey, I mean is he a poodle, a mutt, or Yorkie?"
The little girl's head kept bobbing. Her eyes filled with tears. Her thumb was still in her mouth. "He's Gus," she mumbled tearfully.
"Okay, let me see what I can do. Promise me to keep your seat belt on, okay?" Molly nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Chesney made her way back to the cockpit. She rapped softly and was told to enter. "Captain, could I speak to you a minute?"
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"Bored already? Nothing to do? The passengers behaving themselves?"
"All but one." Chesney grinned. She explained Molly's request, starting off with "This is Christmas Eve" and ending with "Captain, this is Christmas Eve."
"You made your point. I don't see what harm it could do. Why not? Send one of those boys from the ski team in here. I'll show him the layout of the cargo area and where Gus should be. According to this list, Gus is a seven-pound Yorkshire terrier. I guess we can all hold up if he decides to ... ah, pee." The copilot burst out laughing. Chesney tried to hide her smile, but when Captain Andrews chucked her under the chin, she laughed,too.
Chesney made her way through first class and into the galley separating the forward section from the tourist class. It was easy to spot the skiers in their green and yellow ski sweaters. She selected a young man sitting on the end of the row and crooked her finger at him. When he mouthed the word "Me?" Chesney nodded. When they reached the galley she explained the situation.
"No problem; I'm a dog lover myself, love. Show me the way."
A short time later, he had the pooch under his sweater. The skier crooned to the frightened puppy.
A sudden wail of distress from the midsection of the plane set the fine hairs on the back of Chesney's neck to dancing. It was Molly. The dog's ears went up, his eyes snapped open, and his tail started to wag, all at once. He was out of the skier's arms in a second, yapping and leaping his way over seats to get to Molly. There was a smile on everyone's face when Chesney announced, "Santa dropped that pup down the hatch for little Molly." No one questioned the word "hatch" or that the plane didn't have one. Everyone was laughing and staring as Gus licked Molly's face and even the teddy bear. It was obvious that Molly, the teddy bear, and Gus were a team. Rules were meant to be broken once in a while.
Chesney forgot her fear for a little while as she set about clearing the dinner trays. From time to time her eyes went to Molly, who was sleeping with Gus in the crook of one arm, her teddy in the other.
Flight 214 maintained its cruising altitude. They were well into their flight when Chesney's nerves started to act up. She looked around to see if the passengers were doing something
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other than reading or dozing. Everything looked normal; for the moment it was like any other flight. Little Molly was starting to stir. Half the ski team was reading, the other half discussing their racing times and how they hoped to beat their competition when they reached Chamonix, their final destination. Her eyes searched out Patty Mclntyre. Chesney motioned for her to come to the back of the cabin.
"Everything under control?" Chesney asked quietly.
"Everything but me. I can't explain it, Chesney, but I've never felt so schitzy. I took Captain Andrews some coffee before, and he said there was a storm in Geneva that would make the one we left in London look like a flurry."
Chesney's heart thumped in her chest. Her mouth felt dry, as if she'd swallowed a tablespoon of peanut butter. "Keep your eye on Molly; I think she's going to wake up any minute. She'll probably have to go to the bathroom, and Gus, too. I have to do a walk-through. I'll join you in a few minutes."
She walked through the plane, stopping to speak to those passengers who were awake. She returned to the bulkhead section just as Molly sat up to rub the sleep out of her eyes.
"Hi, sweetie; did you have a nice sleep?"
"Uh huh. Gus wants a drink."
"I'll take care of it right now." She stooped down to fondle the dog's ears. He whined his pleasure, but snuggled closer to Molly. Molly was briskly rubbing his fat, pink belly, a look of absolute love on her face. Chesney wondered if the little girl ever looked at her parents in the same way.
Chesney was in the midsection of the plane when she experienced a feeling of light-headedness. She gave herself a mental shake to clear her head. She looked around; everyone looked relaxed and unworried. Whatever it was she felt, it was not noticed by the passengers.
"Miss, miss, could I trouble you for a Coca-Cola?" a thin, reedlike voice asked. Chesney looked down at an elderly lady with soft white hair, spectacles perched on her nose, an open paperback novel on her lap.
"Of course; I'll be back in a minute." Her name was. . . Chesney searched her memory for the passenger's name. Edith Neibauer from Akron, Ohio. She'd walked onto the plane with a cane. She'd been angry, stomping both her feet and her cane as she searched out her seat in the midsection— an aisle seat. Because her voice had been so thin and high, it
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carried backward to Chesney while the boarding was going on. "My son will never wait for hours in a cold airport. He was good enough to send me this ticket, but he isn't a patient man, and his wife is less patient." Later, on one of her walkthroughs, Chesney overheard Mrs. Neibauer talking to her seat companion, and her voice had been tearful. She was being shuffled from one child to the next, like flotsam. "No one wants you when you're old," she said tearfully. "Oh, they're all willing to pay for someone else to see to your wants and needs, but don't in
fringe on their lives." No one wants you when you're young either, Chesney's mind had shrieked. On her way back to her station a few minutes later, Chesney heard Mrs. Neibauer say, "My daughter, Alice, was sick of me, and she wants to spend the holidays with her in-laws. They don't want to shuffle me in and out of a wheelchair. My chair embarrasses them." Chesney had slowed her steps then and bent down to ask the other passengers if they wanted anything. Her ear was tuned to Edith Neibauer, however. "Getting old alone v. hen you know you have family who don't... give a hoot about you ... you might as well be dead." Chesney had flinched at the woman's awful words.
Chesney returned with Edith's soft drink. She bent low so as not to disturb the woman's seat companion. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Neibauer."
The woman was touched. "Bless your heart for saying that. You're probably the only one who will wish me a Merry Christmas. There should be love and warmth, but so many times ... I wish ... I wish ..."
"What, Mrs. Neibauer? What do you wish?" Chesney whispered.
"I wish, just once, that one of my two children would call me on the phone or write me a letter and tell me... and tell me they love me. I've always told them, all their lives, that I love them."
Tears burned Chesney's eyes. She reached out her hand to the old woman. "This visit might be just what you want. Everyone says Christmas is a time of miracles. Can I get you anything else?"
"No, my dear, you've done enough. Thank you for listening. How is the little girl doing?"
"Just fine. Mrs. Neibauer, would you like to go to the back and sit with her for a while? There are some storybooks on her
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seat. I don't think the child has had many people read to her. It might be good for both of you."
"I'd love to read to her. She won't set up a ruckus if I sit down with her, will she?"
Chesney smiled. "No, I don't think so. The dog probably won't let you touch her, so you might have to wing it."
The old lady had a purpose now. She rose with difficulty and followed Chesney down the aisle.
Molly smiled shyly and squeezed Gus to her chest. The little dog struggled to lick at her face. Molly's giggles made the old lady smile. Chesney was turning, to return to her station, when she felt it again, the light-headedness she'd felt earlier. The look of alarm on Mrs. Neibauer's face frightened Chesney. She forced a smile and muttered, "Turbulence."
Patty Mclntyre's face registered shock. She was too young, too inexperienced to cover the fright she felt. One of the skiers excused himself and crawled over his seat companion. "What's wrong?" he hissed.
"Wrong? Nothing. What could be wrong at thirty thousand feet?" Patty whispered over her shoulder.
"Don't give me that crap. I felt something—dizzy. I felt it a little earlier, too. We're losing altitude, right?"
"Turbulence. Only the pilot knows if something's wrong, and he hasn't said anything. You really should go back to your seat and buckle up."
"Why should I go back to my seat and buckle up if nothing is wrong? There's no turbulence at thirty thousand feet. Pilots don't take their passengers into their confidence until it's too late," he said ominously. "And another thing; my brother is a pilot, and I've logged almost as many hours as he has. We've dropped about five thousand feet in the past twenty minutes. Maybe the others aren't aware of it, but I am. Aware, Miss Mclntyre. Now what do you have to say?"
"I say you should return to your seat and buckle up," Patty said quietly. "Now!"
"Yes sir, ma'am," he said, saluting smartly. "Whatever you say, ma'am." His voice was sour, almost as sour as Patty's face.
The skier plopped down into his seat and fastened his seat belt, then leaned over and instructed his teammates to do the same. Chesney noticed that he was whispering to the man sitting next to him.
Chesney and Patty watched from the galley in the first-
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class section as the whisper traveled across the aisle and into the next. They had no way of knowing the message was a terse, harsh alert that the plane had descended five thousand feet, and there was something wrong somewhere in the plane. They watched helplessly as the whispered message was repeated over and over. The whispers had a snowball effect. Twenty minutes later, the entire midsection of the cabin was alerted and aware that something was wrong.
"I'm scared, Chesney," Patty whispered.
Chesney put her arm around the young stewardess's shoulder. "We've all felt tremors and light-headedness before. The captain hasn't alerted us to any kind of malfunction. We're the first to know. I think it's our imagination, and I say we start another round of drinks. Plenty of coffee and tea, too. Smile, Patty."
The soft ping of the FASTEN SEAT BELT sign flashed overhead. The passengers were stirring now, looking at one another... silently. Three pings sounded, the signal for Chesney to go to the flight deck. She turned the cart over to Patty and walked nonchalantly through the midsection to first class and then to the flight deck.
"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Chesney asked quietly. Her heart was thumping so loudly, she thought it would leap out of her chest.
"We're experiencing a spot of trouble. We've blown a duct. I've descended six thousand feet, so if any of the passengers
"They already know, Captain." She told him about the whispered message.
"There's always one wiseass aboard," the captain said tersely. The second officer nodded sourly. He was only twenty-seven and his heart was pounding in his chest. He wondered if his eyes mirrored the fear he was seeing in Chesney's eyes.
Chesney was halfway through the first-class section when she felt a third wave of dizziness. She turned and headed back to the flight deck and spoke to the captain again. When she returned to her station, her face was chalk-white. She alerted first Patty and then the other attendants to return to the midsection.
The hospitality carts were quickly shoved into their proper places, the cabins cleared of all loose objects. The entire crew rushed up and down the aisles, reaching for glasses and cans, shoving them into their trash bags regardless of the passengers'
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protests. Chesney was the last to hit the jump seat and buckle up when the captain's voice came over the p.a. system. She tried to force herself to swallow past the lump in her throat as she listened to words she'd heard minutes ago. "This is the captain speaking. As you must have noticed, the Fasten Seat Belt sign is on, and I've just turned the No Smoking sign on. It's just for a while, so please bear with me and the crew. We're experiencing some pressure problems, but nothing to be alarmed about at this time. Staying in your seats now is for your own protection. Our cruising altitude is now twenty-four thousand feet. Forty-five minutes ago it was thirty-one thousand. We're heading into a storm, and there will be some rough turbulence. I'll keep you advised of the storm conditions every fifteen minutes." The captain signed off to total silence.
"How much is forty-five minutes?" Molly Sanders chirped to Mrs. Neibauer.
The old lady's eyes were on Chesney when she replied. "Not long, honey. Maybe as long as it takes for you to have a bubble bath. Did you ever give Gus a bubble bath, Molly?"
"No, the soap gets in his eyes. Gus doesn't get dirty. He has a bib. Do you want to see it?" Molly asked as she rummaged in her shiny black purse. "See?" she said, holding up a small plastic bib with goldfish on it.
"I'll bet he doesn't like that very much," Mrs. Neibauer said in a shaking voice. Chesney was unable to tear her eyes away from the old lady and the little girl. Youth and old age, and where was she? Somewhere in the middle. As alone as each of them. If. . . she wondered who she would help if something happened —providing she was able to help. Every manual she'd read, every lecture she'd attended on crash safety, emphasized the crew first. The crew was to take care of itself first, passengers second. If there was a crash, the passengers would forget the brief demonstration of the oxygen masks. It was never mentioned to passengers that if decompression occurred, only fifteen seconds of life remained. Even in five seconds, withou
t the aid of oxygen, a degree of lessened judgment would occur. Five seconds after that, a state of euphoria would take place. In that state many passengers would opt not to use the masks and lapse into unconsciousness.
Chesney ran the captain's last words over in her mind. "We've blown a duct. It's a slight opening in one of the joints, but it's enough to cause us to lose altitude. We're descending as slowly as we can, but we're picking up some heavy ice. We
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can't maintain our altitude. The faster we go down, the faster the ice builds up. We're losing our deicing ability. Get back to your station and... pray," the captain had finished grimly. He'd said he was changing course to 240 degrees.
"Oh, God!" Chesney moaned as pandemonium broke out in the cabin. The skier was shouting now, alerting the other passengers. She picked up the microphone and began speaking.
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please. The captain has just informed me that we're experiencing some difficulty with our air pressure. We're also experiencing some icing on the wings, which makes the plane heavier. We're descending slowly so as to take care of that problem, and the captain has changed course. Please buckle your seat belts and remain calm. You must remain calm. The captain will advise us shortly." Chesney no sooner put the mike back into its niche when the skier hopped into the aisle, his face a mask of fear.
"You can't get rid of the ice," he shouted. "There's no way the captain can get this plane down." The boy's voice was shrill and hysterical. Chesney and the other attendants looked on helplessly as he continued his tirade. It was Edith Neibauer who unbuckled her seat belt and limped her way to him.
"Young man, that's just about enough! You are terrorizing these passengers, and I will not tolerate it. I'm too old to die of a heart attack in midair. The law says you're a man, so act like one! The captain will do what he can for all of us. I'm ordering you to sit downl" Edith raised her cane threateningly. At the sight of the raised cane, the Yorkie leaped off Molly's lap and tore down the aisle after the skier. The dog bared his teeth, growling as ferociously as only a small dog can do. Passengers were in the aisles, some helping Edith back to her seat.
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