by Jack Lance
On one end of the handle was a sharp blade, on the other end a pickaxe. It was a tool that every plane carried in the cockpit.
Sharlene planted her feet in front of the door and raised the axe.
‘Come on in,’ she murmured. ‘You’re in for a surprise.’
The demon on the other side could not possibly have heard her. But no … it had. The sounds died away. The shouting ceased. The demon was listening.
Sharlene had another brief reprieve. It was still night, and she was inside the unlit cockpit of a Boeing 747-400 that was bound for hell.
She had an idea. Quickly she unclasped her necklace and clutched the gold crucifix in the palm of her hand. It felt warm. It radiated heat. It was as though her mother were right there with her in this instant that would decide her life.
A cockpit door was impossible to open by brute force. But, as she had expected, this time it not only flew open, it happened in a heartbeat.
She heard a last inhuman, destructive crash. In the next moment the door was hanging by its hinges, crumpled and ajar.
Now there was nothing to stop whoever or whatever was behind the door from entering the cockpit. Sharlene gripped the axe with both hands and raised it high over her head. Wrapped around the shaft of the axe was the crucifix.
Like a viper seeking out its prey, she was ready to strike.
Then a shadow emerged in the open doorway.
She sliced down hard with the axe.
THIRTY
Ditching
At 5:47, Jim Nichols witnessed the end of the world.
A few miles ahead, where he would need to ditch the 747, he saw the leading edge of something that looked to be a black … nothingness.
He could still see the ocean in the silver glow of the moon, right up to the edge of …
… Of whatever it was. Not a shred of light penetrated inside it, and it stretched as far and wide as the eye could see. There was no avoiding it.
Jim’s first thought was that he had lost his mind, and with it any lingering sense of reality. What was out there hidden in that darkness? Was anything in there?
He fought to keep his wits about him. Maybe it was just a thick bank of fog. But no amount of fog could create the illusion that he had reached the end of the world – like ancient sailors who believed the earth was flat and that if they sailed far enough they would inevitably fall off the edge into … What?
So what in the name of God was this? Jim wondered as he stared rigidly ahead.
He was gliding at an altitude of 300 feet. Two minutes at most was what he had left to keep the aircraft airborne. But by then they would be swallowed up by the vast abomination that lay dead ahead.
There was only one way to avoid being swallowed up. He had to ditch and he had to ditch now. He had to slam the 747 into the water and damn the consequences.
Jim understood all too well the consequences of doing that. If the plane touched the water with the nose down, at this speed, it would break apart. Most passengers would be killed.
But if that darkness spelled certain death for all, ditching now was still a better option. At least some of the passengers and crew might survive.
Suddenly he remembered – why did he think of this now? – the promise he had made to Sharlene that night long ago, somewhere in Asia, when she had told him she had lost her mother in a plane crash.
I’ll get you home safely, Sharlene.
He had acted oversentimentally, but the hour was late and he had pumped aboard a few drinks. He didn’t want to think about that promise now, nor about a host of other promises made to those he once held dear. But one thing was certain: he was not going to get Sharlene home safely tonight.
What to do? What to do? Sweat beaded his forehead.
Jody kept quiet. Would she – whatever or whoever she truly was – be waiting for him inside that pitch-black darkness the plane was rapidly approaching?
He couldn’t act. His brain went dead. He knew he had to do something, he had to ditch and quickly. But he couldn’t. If he did, he would kill his passengers and crew, exactly as Jody had predicted.
Greg and Ben said nothing. Jim glanced askance at Greg and noticed his copilot, never much of a talker, staring ahead, mute and wide-eyed. Seated behind him, Ben seemed to be muttering a prayer, and he too only had eyes for what he could see coming at them through the cockpit windscreen.
But neither of them could see the nothingness. Jim was somehow convinced of that.
He checked the radio altimeter. Princess was now gliding 170 feet above the Pacific.
Jim decided not to ditch. Not this moment, at least. If the only way to avoid that awesome darkness was to recklessly crash the plane into the sea and maybe kill them all, he would have none of it. If he were about to die, then so be it. He would not be responsible for the death of his passengers, who had entrusted their lives to him. He may have reached the end of this world, and there was nothing for it but to discover what lay behind what he had always known to be the border of reality.
Everything that had happened since the turbulence had been pieces of a puzzle leading them to this destination.
‘I know you can do this, Jim,’ he heard Greg utter in a hoarse voice. ‘Do it.’
Until the very last, Greg stayed true to himself and to his fellow pilots.
The area in front of them – darker than the night itself – loomed ever larger.
Come to us! Jody yelled.
From whatever dismal, dark cavern she had disappeared to, she had now returned, her voice sounding more dire than ever. And this time Jim was convinced, without a shadow of a doubt, he hadn’t just heard her inside his mind. She had spoken loud and clear, to all in the cockpit, possibly because they had come so close to what might be her realm of existence.
In a panicked reaction, Jim almost shoved the nose down after all.
‘Shut up, bitch!’ he screamed, without thinking, surprising himself more than his colleagues. But it was a liberating outcry.
Jody said nothing in reply.
‘You’re the devil!’ Jim shouted out loud.
If that were true, his muddled brain told him, then in front of him was hell.
‘Jim!’ Ben also screamed, behind his back. ‘Keep your act together! For God’s sake, you have to now!’
Greg remained silent. He might be looking at him, confused about Jim’s outburst and questioning his state of mind, these final seconds before ditching, but Jim didn’t notice.
He saw nothing anymore, except for that darker than dark endlessness in front of him, which was now very close – and it did seem that neither Ben nor Greg were able to see it, as somehow he’d known. If that were true, they presumably hadn’t been hearing Jody either.
That which sounded like his possibly dead wife was talking only to him. And—
Too late. Suddenly, the blackness surrounded him and the plane. He had crossed into it.
As of this moment, Jim thought, he was in hell.
Where are you? Jody, where the fuck are you?
For the moment he didn’t hear or see her, and Jim did the only thing he could think of doing. Maybe Ben had inspired him with his last words, which he had almost spat out.
He started praying. ‘Dear God, help us,’ Jim murmured. ‘Deliver us from evil, Holy Father, save us …’
He checked the altimeter again. The Princess was no longer airborne.
‘This is it, guys,’ Jim said, his jaw clenched.
It was 5:49.
The tail of the 747 grazed something solid, and the frames of the cockpit windows shook slightly. The belly of the aircraft slid along the surface of what was down there.
Then everything seemed to happen at once. With a jolt, the Princess slowed dramatically. Jim heard loud banging noises, like cannons firing. He had no time to question their source; he could only hold on to the controls as tightly as possible to prevent the airplane from swinging wildly to the right or left and perhaps flipping over.
I need to k
eep this crate in one piece, he thought desperately.
‘We’ve arrived,’ he announced with a growl. ‘We’ve come to where you wanted us.’
He wasn’t addressing Greg or Ben, but who was he talking to? Jody? The Princess? It wouldn’t even entirely surprise him if they were one and the same. Nothing on earth could surprise him now.
‘God, help us!’ he yelled. ‘Please help us!’
Princess continued her wild bumpy ride, jerking and jolting. Jim braced himself, expecting the wings to crash into something and be clipped off.
Water splattered across the windscreen as if it was pouring rain outside.
Was that the Pacific? Jim wondered. Did the ocean continue on beyond the end of the world?
Strangely, he noticed even the minutest details of the gauges, lights, and numbers on the instruments on the display panels. Beside him, Greg sat squeezing his thighs in a braced position. Their speed was dropping swiftly. In a matter of seconds the 747 would come to a complete stop.
Suddenly the cockpit went even darker, as if a massive wave had washed over the plane and entombed it. Jim screamed. After a gut-wrenching jolt, the plane came to rest.
Jim blinked. He was still alive. So were Greg and Ben.
Jim let go of the controls and stared slack-jawed at his colleagues.
‘Go,’ he yelled at them. Go, go!’
The three pilots quickly unfastened their seat belts. Ben opened the cockpit door and was the first one out, followed close behind by Greg.
Jim started to run after them, but on the threshold he hesitated.
Despite the unimaginable that had just occurred, he could not resist taking one last look around the place that had served him so well for so many years.
He knew this had been his last flight.
Much worse was the realization that he would never see his daughters again.
Where had he taken all the people on board – at least those still alive?
He glanced out the side window and, to his astonishment, saw the glow of the moon. He also saw silvery waves. He hadn’t expected that, but it didn’t relieve him. To him such visions no longer served as confirmation that they resided, after all, in the world he knew.
It didn’t matter. For now, he had to do everything he could to help get the survivors off the aircraft. Very soon the water would flood in and the plane would start sinking. He didn’t have time to stand there and do nothing.
They would just have to see what was outside the Princess.
At 5:51 he left the flight deck and ran after Greg and Ben. The Business Class section was empty. The passengers there had been moved to the main deck, as per his orders.
Jim hurried past Sharlene without realizing that she was lying unconscious under a trolley behind the galley curtain.
The three pilots ran down the stairs into the unwelcoming arms of a general panic.
Passengers crowded the aisles, desperate to exit the plane. Men and women, spurred on by a survival instinct, were jostling each other and shoving each other out of the way. It was dog eat dog, a stampede. A man’s fist lashed out and caught the jawbone of another man, who slumped down, semi-conscious.
Despite the reign of chaos, Jim was relieved to see that so many people had survived. At first blush he spotted no casualties except for the semi-conscious man.
And, despite it all, his head cleared a little. His thoughts about Jody and the end of reality seemed more distant. He felt his brain coming alive again.
Then terror struck with a vengeance.
THIRTY-ONE
Evacuation
After Aaron screamed ‘Brace, brace, brace!’ into the public-address system, an icy silence settled over the cabin. He held his breath. When would the end come? How would it come?
He was afraid to open his eyes. Pamela stood before him in the aisle. Her cold, deathly pale face was just inches away from his.
At 5:49, the Princess of the Pacific shook from the impact of an enormous crash. Aaron felt as though his head was about to explode. Then his entire body started trembling from the shock of impact. The seat belt cut into his skin and air was squeezed from his lungs.
He did open his eyes. His sister was no longer there. A black Samsonite bag flew through the air and struck the head of a passenger sitting across from him. The passenger slumped over. From inside the nearest galley a trolley rattled, upsetting dishes and glasses, which smashed into slivers and littered the floor. Oddly, he saw a pair of eyeglasses flying as if they were a bird. He didn’t know if Pamela was still somewhere here and he didn’t care. At that moment, he had only survival on his mind.
All the passengers, as far as he could see, were doubled up in their yellow lifejackets and braced against the backrests of the seats in front of them.
The nightmare kept on churning. Aaron’s stomach twisted. He gagged repeatedly as he rode out the pitching and yawing until either it stopped or the windows blew out, or the fuselage ruptured and the plane was destroyed. Somehow he had injured a finger and pain shot up through his hand into his arm. He cursed out loud, joining a chorus of other people moaning, screaming, and swearing – a cacophony of misery, fear, and horror.
Finally the worst seemed to be over. The plane continued to slide and shake, but it had slowed to a manageable speed.
And then Princess came to a complete standstill.
Aaron unfastened his seat belt and groped for the flashlight that, amazingly, was still in his pocket. He switched it on and rose from his seat. Passengers and other members of the crew slowly followed suit. With his free hand, he pulled the lever of the emergency exit in section B, but the door leading outside wouldn’t budge. Warm blood oozed from his nose on to his lips and he licked it away. Passengers in various stages of shock started crowding around him.
He put the flashlight down and pulled the lever with both hands, but still the door refused to open. More passengers filled the aisle. An older man standing near Aaron was pushed over, and cried out in alarm and pain when he was stepped on by hysterical passengers pushing and shoving in close quarters. No one tried to help him up or offer assistance of any kind. It was every man for himself, and only the fittest or most cunning could hope to survive. Aaron again pulled down on the door lever, to no avail. It was as though the damn thing was rusted shut! Passengers were now climbing toward him across the seats. Even in the murky light he could clearly see the dread and terror etched on their faces. A few people had ignored instructions and inflated their life vests inside the craft; they were now jammed into their seats or blocking the aisles. The screams cut through Aaron like a butcher’s knife. Thank God, he thought, there didn’t seem to be many fatalities, at least as far as he could see.
Aaron kept pulling the handle, but the massive door refused to yield. Mara squeezed through the throng of people toward him.
‘Here, let me help you!’ she cried out to him. Together they pulled hard on the lever, with no results.
Then Jim Nichols appeared beside them. Passengers nearby gave him room, either in hope or in deference to his uniform, or both.
‘It’s not working!’ Aaron shouted at him. ‘I can’t get it to open!’
‘I can see that!’ Jim yelled back. ‘Move aside. Let me try.’
The captain started yanking the lever. Aaron felt the floor beneath his feet moving, as if he were on a ship at sea. But the plane was acting like a ship at sea, one that was about to flounder. There wasn’t much time. Only now did he realize that no one was getting out, not here and not through any of the other exits. Were they still closed as well? That was impossible, wasn’t it? He craned his neck.
Yes, everyone still seemed to be on board.
The Princess was not letting them go. It was as though the aircraft was cursed and was determined to take every last one of them down with her to her watery grave.
Suddenly, a shrill screeching sound echoed through the cabin. Aaron froze. It was the unmistakable sound of metal tearing apart. The nose of the Princess lifted into
the air, and the tail end sank deeper into the sea. Passengers toppled over, screaming.
Shaking off the daze that had momentarily engulfed him, Aaron gripped the door lever again and added his strength to the captain’s. The plane kept grinding and groaning, tilting up further and further. Passengers and crew members were standing, sitting, or lying down in the front three sections. There was no curbing the chaos. It was out of anyone’s control.
And then a great cheer rose up. Aaron let go of the lever, stood on tiptoe and saw that people were finally able to disembark from section C.
He stared at Jim. ‘Let’s try again.’
He gave another yank on the lever, and cried out when the heavy door finally gave way and the evacuation slide popped out behind it. Aaron inhaled the sweet scent of sea air and pumped his fist. He then beckoned to the passengers.
‘Jump! Jump!’ he shouted. ‘One by one! Easy now! Stay calm!’
A horde of people obeyed his first order and ignored the others. Almost knocking over Aaron and Jim in their frantic efforts to get out of the doomed aircraft, passengers fell and jumped on to the rubber slide serving as a raft afloat on the waves. Danny DeVito was among the first to bail out. The crew had given express orders to evacuate women and children first, but Danny and others of his ilk didn’t give a damn. Within seconds, twenty-five people were sitting on the slide, its maximum occupancy. ‘Hold on! Hold on, everybody!’ Aaron roared.
Jim disconnected the slide from the hull of the aircraft. After he pushed it off with both hands, it floated away into the darkness.
‘Here!’ Aaron heard someone yell. ‘Here!’
A large man was elbowing his way to the front. It was the Cessna pilot, now acting as an ABP. When he pulled the lever on a panel in the roof of the aircraft, a yellow package slid down. As large and brawny as he was, he needed both arms to catch it. Jim and Aaron took it from him, and pushed it out the door and on to the sea. An inflation cylinder automatically activated and transformed the yellow package into a hexagonal inflatable boat, with a small ladder and a towing line. Aaron quickly tied it to the hull.