Surviving the Fall: How England Died

by Stephen Cross

  “When did we last hear from the Tower?” said Peter, looking over the instrumentation panel, a green and red glow from the numerous diodes and switches reflecting off his skin.

  “About twenty minutes ago. Something must be wrong. How busy is the airspace?”

  Peter looked over the radar. “They’re stacking high.”

  “Not just us then, must be something wrong. Who’s that?” He pointed at a small blip on the radar.

  “That’s WA-4657. Stewart and Mark.”

  “See if you can get them on the radio.”

  Peter turned a dial on his transmitter. “WA-4657, this is WA-1254. Stewart? Mark?”

  There was a short pause, then a voice, grainy and slightly distorted. “Hi, it’s Stewart. I guess you having trouble taking to ATC?”

  “Hi Stewart,” said Andy. “You think we have a situation?”

  “Possibly,” said Stewart. “Have you tried anyone else? We seem to be getting quite a stack here.”

  “Not yet. How’s your fuel?” said Andy.

  “Good. A few hours. You?”

  He looked at Peter who mouthed a number to him, “We got another fifty three minutes. We’ll have to start approach somewhere, soon.”

  There was loud knocking on the cockpit door, and a voice from the other side, “Captain, it’s me.”

  Andy glanced to the CCTV screen that linked to the cameras in the cabin. It was Jenny, the head stewardess. Andy had flown with her before, nice woman who had been flying for a good twenty years. Very capable.

  Andy nodded to Peter who got up and opened the door.

  Jenny looked flustered. “Captain, I think we have an issue.”

  “Ok, give me a minute.” He spoke into the radio again. “Stewart, I have to deal with something here. But see of you can start talking to any other planes - we’re going to have to start landing, or spreading to other airports. Going to have to get some order sorted.”

  “Sure thing, Andy. I’ll be back in touch.”

  Andy turned to Jenny. “What’s up?”

  “The passengers are getting very restless Captain, angry even. We’re running out of excuses.” She glanced at the radio. “Is something wrong?”

  “There could be. We have no contact with the Tower. We lost it about twenty minutes ago.”

  Jenny’s face scrunched into a worried expression.

  “It’s ok,” said Andy. “We’re going to sort out an approach pattern.” He smiled.

  “Ok, Captain,” said Jenny, but she didn’t look convinced. “What shall I tell the passengers?”

  “I’ll speak to them.”

  She looked relieved. “Another thing, we have an ill passenger.”

  “How ill?”

  “Very. The other passengers don’t want to sit next to him. They’ve been mentioning the virus.”

  “What symptoms is he showing?” said Andy.

  “Sweating, fever, coughing, floating in and out of consciousness. The passengers nearby are demanding that we move him.”

  “Ok.” Andy stared at the grey beyond the window, thinking. “We got any spare seats?”

  Jenny shook her head.

  “They’ll have to stay put. Can we move the ill passenger to the back? Put them in the galley?”

  Jenny paused. She looked scared herself. But she said, “Ok. I’ll do that. How long is it until we land?”

  “It’ll be within the next fifty minutes. One way or another.”

  Peter let out a small laugh.

  “Sorry?” said Jenny.

  “Nothing, don’t worry about it. You’d best get back to it Jenny, let me know if anything changes.”

  She nodded and left the cockpit. When she opened the door, Andy could hear raised voices. Anger. Fear.

  “I’d best chat to the passengers,” said Andy. He picked up the the intercom. “This is your Captain speaking, ladies and gentlemen. I would like to apologise for the delay. We have been in a holding pattern around Manchester for the last hour due to adverse weather conditions on the ground. We’ve had some pretty thick fog, making landing difficult. The weather has lifted, so we are now in a queue and will be making our approach soon. I would like to apologise again and thank you for your patience in this matter. If there are any changes I will let you know. We should be landing in the next forty minutes or so.”

  Andy put down the radio.

  “You think that will do it?” said Peter.

  “Let’s hope so.”

  Chapter 2

  Jenny waited until the Captain began his announcement before making her way to the back of the plane. Passengers listening to the Captain were less likely to bombard her with the same questions about landing, the hold up, or the sick passenger.

  Her plan worked until she got near the back of the plane where the sick passenger was sitting. His name was Frank. He was man in his sixties, travelling with his wife, Tracy.

  Tracy was arguing with a passenger next to her, a young man with a neat haircut, white T-shirt and numerous tattoos.

  “I understand what you’re saying,” said the man, “but we cant really risk it can we? There’s nothing to say he hasn’t got the virus.”

  Those seated nearby sounded their agreement, their voices edged with an undercurrent of anger. Jenny looked over the surrounding passengers. Normal people, the people she saw everyday in her job. Probably saw most of them two weeks ago, happy, chirpy, excited about their holiday. Now angry, full of blame. Scared.

  “Where have you lot been?” A red faced man pointed at Jenny. His eyes wide open.

  Jenny ignored him and leaned over to speak to Tracy and Frank.

  Tracy was close to tears. She held her husband’s hand tightly, her faced screwed up in worry. Her breathing shallow.

  Frank himself was struggling to breath. Sharp, hard gasps. His eyes half open. Small dribbles of drool pooling on his chin.

  “Tracy, can you and your husband come with me please, we’re going to try and find him somewhere more comfortable.”

  Tracy nodded, looking relived, her eyes full of hope.

  The man next to the couple, slid out into the aisle. “Well, I think it’s for the best. Obviously sitting here isn’t going to be good for him. He needs more space.”

  The nearby passengers again confirmed what the man was saying.

  “He needs medical attention.”

  “It’s best that he gets somewhere to lie down.”

  “It’s too cramped and hot for him here.”

  Jenny nodded to Carl, another steward, to come and help.

  “Come on then,” Carl said to Tracy, helping her out of her seat. “Let’s get you into the back.”

  Jenny helped Frank up. It took a few nudges to get him to move, “Come on Frank, we’re going to get you somewhere more comfortable.”

  Frank looked at her with glazed eyes, seemed to realise that he was expected to move, and shuffled along the three empty seats into the aisle.

  The plane shook.

  More low cloud turbulence.

  Frank fell forward and landed on a woman in the seat opposite.

  She cried out, pulling back, trying to get away from Frank. She pushed him.

  “Get him off me!” her voice was tinged with panic.

  The woman’s husband gasped and pushed at Frank. Jenny caught Frank as reeled back into the aisle. Carl helped to steady Frank.

  Jenny gave a stern look at the two passengers, and then with Carl, walked Frank down the aisle the few yards to the galley section at the back of the small plane. Passengers edged away as they passed.

  Tracy stood in the galley, her hand on her mouth, watching her husband.

  Jenny and Carl manoeuvred Frank onto one of the steward’s seats and strapped him in. His head lolled from left to right. Jenny pulled the galley curtains closed.

  “When are we landing?” said Tracy. “We have to be landing soon, he needs a doctor.”

  “Would you like a drink?” said Carl.

  Tracy looked confused for
a moment, then said, “Yes, a coffee please. No, a gin. Gin and tonic.”

  “Coming up.”

  Jenny rested her hand on Tracy’s shoulder. “We should be landing soon, ok? I’ve just spoken to the Captain, and we will be approaching in the next thirty minutes or so.”

  Carl passed the drink to Tracy. She took it with shaking hands. “Do you think he has this virus?” she said in a hushed voice, her eyes glancing towards the curtains separating the galley from the rest of the plane. “I’m sure can’t be that serious. Probably something he picked up in Spain. He was fine only a few hours ago. We would’t have got on the plane otherwise. We haven't been eating anything funny either.”

  “Has he been-” began Carl, then he stopped himself. “Has he been in any fights?”

  “You want to know if he’s been bitten, don’t you?” said Tracy. “That’s what they say isn’t it, that people who are bitten get it?”

  Carl put on his most placating voice, the one Jenny usually heard him use with screaming toddlers, “It’s important that we know exactly what’s happened so we can get him the right treatment as quickly as possible, when we land.”

  Jenny glanced uneasily at Carl. Earlier that morning in a pre-flight briefing they had been told to look out for passengers with bite marks, flesh wounds, or any sort of skin trauma. These passengers would not be allowed to fly. They had also had to ask all the passengers if they had been bitten or attacked in the previous week.

  “It’s ok, Tracy, you won’t get in any trouble.” said Jenny. “Sometimes we forget things, and only remember them later on. What’s most important is that we find out what’s happening.”

  Tracy downed the rest of her gin. She looked at the thin curtain separating the galley from the cabin. She turned her back on it, drawing Carl and Jenny in closer.

  “He had an argument, last night, at a restaurant,” she said quietly.

  “Go on,” said Carl.

  “It was a Spanish man, he was being rude to people, pushing and shoving. Shouting. Frank is usually very placid, he’s not an angry person, but this man, he pushed me over.” She fought back tears. “And Frank grabbed him and pushed him away. They had a bit of a scuffle.”

  Tracy folded her arms and let out a small cry.

  “Come on Tracy, almost there,” said Jenny.

  “It’s on his shoulder. I think the man scratched him maybe, or something, it’s on his shoulder.”

  Tracy couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She sucked air in and out, trying not to cry out loud.

  Jenny hugged her and looked over her shoulder, nodding to Carl.

  Carl leaned over to Frank and pulled his T-shirt to the side to reveal a ringed bite mark at the base of his neck. Red and swollen. White pus crusted around the bite.

  “Shit,” said Carl.

  Jenny had once been in an emergency landing, a few years ago. The plane had lost an engine. Emergency oxygen masks, fire engines on the runway, passengers in tears, panic.

  She had felt sacred then, but that fear was nothing to the cold anxiety that gripped her on seeing the bite.

  “Carl, do you want to look after Tracy? I’ll just go and see the Captain.”

  Tracy leaned down to hug Frank, crying.

  Jenny rushed down the aisle, ignoring the shouts of the passengers.

  Chapter 3

  Andy clicked on the responder. “Hey Stewart”.

  “Andy, You sort out the passenger issues?”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  The plane shuddered. Andy glanced out the window, but of course saw nothing but water droplets on the windscreen and the monotonous thick nothing of the clouds. It was habit though, looking out. Human’s couldn’t seem to get entirely used to switching their perception over entirely to machines and dials.

  “Got some bad news, Andy.”

  “Shoot.”

  “It seems no airports are answering anyone.”

  Andy paused, looked at Peter. Concern.

  “Say again, Stewart.”

  “No airports are talking. Everything is dark. We’ve been trying everywhere nearby. Liverpool, Doncaster, Rotherham, Leeds, East Midlands. Nothing. And now we have a jumbo jet joining us from down south. London has gone dark and they have headed up here hoping for somewhere to land.”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Peter, running his hands through his thinning hair.

  “Ok Stewart, I guess we need to get some sort of approach in order,” said Andy.

  “We’re working on it. Give us your fuel times and we’ll put you in the queue.”

  “Forty seven minutes.”

  There was a moment’s silence, presumably as Stewart made a note.

  “Ok, you’re fourth down. We’ve got the most fuel, so we’ll be acting as traffic control. Any questions, come through us, save the airwaves going crazy.”

  “Sounds like you got a good handle on this Stewart.”

  “We try our best,” said Stewart, the smile apparent in his voice. “Ok, you should be starting your decent in about fifteen.”

  “Got it. Just give me the shout.”

  “Will do. Good luck.”

  “You too. Don’t hang on too long. Out.”

  “Out.”

  Peter shook his head slowly. “What the hell is going on down there?”

  “You think it’s the virus?” said Andy.

  “I don’t know. Surely it can’t be that serious?”

  “I guess it may be. Anyway, let’s not worry about it for now. We have to think about landing. We don’t have much time. Let’s go through the checks.”

  “Sure.”

  Peter leaned forward to adjust a dial, and then there was a knock on the door.

  “Captain, it’s Jenny.”

  She sounded even more harassed than she was five minutes ago. Scared even.

  Andy got up and opened the door. The noise from the cabin was much louder.

  Jenny rushed in, her face flushed.

  “What is it?” said Andy, closing the door.

  “The ill passenger, I think they have the virus.”

  Peter swung round, “What? Oh shit.”

  “Hang on,” said Andy, “let’s calm down. Tell me what you know.”

  Jenny took a few deep breaths, fanned the air around her face. “Frank, he’s called, we moved him to the galley, the other passengers were getting angry. After talking to his wife, she admitted he had been bitten by someone last night.”

  “My God,” said Peter, “and they still got on the plane, even with all the warnings?”

  “Where are they now?” said Andy.

  “Still in the galley, with Carl. We’ve got the curtains drawn.”

  “Did any of the other passengers hear you?”

  Jenny shook her head. “No, they were too busy moaning.”

  “Good. Ok, well done Jenny. We’re going to be landing in fifteen minutes, so we just have to hold on that long. You think you can manage that?”

  Jenny nodded.

  “I’ll put on the seat belts sign, you make an announcement, let them know we are landing.”

  “Ok, leave it to me.”

  Chapter 4

  Carl poured himself a drink of water. He was hot, he was feeling anxious. It was a difficult flight and he would be glad when they were on the ground again.

  Tracy kneeled next to her husband.

  The loudspeaker beeped into life.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your chief steward Jenny speaking. The Captain has turned on the seat belt sign. If I could ask all passengers to return to their seats and store away all hand luggage in preparation for landing. We are about to make our descent to Manchester very shortly. Thank you once again for your patience.”

  Carl heard the unified sighs of relief from the passengers beyond the curtain. Tracy looked up at Carl. “What do I do?”

  “Here, have my seat.” Him and Jenny could take Frank and Tracy’s seats.

  “Are we landing now, really?” said Tracy.

  “That
’s what the Captain said.” He knelt down next to Tracy. “You sit yourself down, and I’ll buckle Frank in.”

  Tracy sheepishly sat down in Carl’s fold down seat and took her place.

  Carl reached for the buckle behind Frank. Frank lolled to the left, then to the right.

  “Come on know, Frank, let’s stay still.”

  “Is he all right?” said Tracy.

  Carl didn’t respond, he was having trouble keeping Frank on the small seat. Frank was unresponsive, his eyes closed.

  The plane shuddered and Frank fell forward, on top of Carl. Carl lost his footing and fell back, hitting his head on the metal food drawers behind him. Frank’s heavy body pinned him to the floor, his face inches from Carl’s.

  Frank opened his eyes.

  Jenny replaced the loudspeaker phone. The passengers seemed to have taken the news well and were buckling in. A multitude of clicks rang out throughout the cabin.

  She should go down and join Carl, but her feet wouldn’t move. For some reason she was scared. She was scared of the virus.

  She stared at the curtain at the far end of the cabin. The plane shuddered. The garish green and orange curtains swung from left to right.

  She heard a scream. Numerous heads turned to the back of the plane, where the scream had come from. Some turned back to Jenny, their eye’s questioning.

  And then another scream, this one louder, more terrible. A gurgling scream, like someone being murdered. The passengers joined in, and a chorus of yells echoed around the plane, travelling from the back to the front like a macabre Mexican wave.

  The curtain shook, then fell from its rungs, pulled by a bloody hand. Tracy stood there, her mouth contorted in agony. Frank appeared behind her and sunk his teeth into the back of her skull and pulled, ripping her scalp clean off, stretching the skin on her face until it ripped apart, revealing a gleaming and bloody white skull.

  Jenny screamed, too.

  Carl stood in the corner of the galley, his mouth hanging open, unable to make a sound as he watched Frank gnawing into the neck of his wife.

  Although shocked when Frank had opened his eyes, he had managed to push him off. Only he had pushed him directly towards Tracy. Frank had reached out his arms and grabbed his wife, who made the fatal mistake of pulling him towards her. Her husband repaid her love by sinking his teeth into Tracy’s neck.