by Bobby Akart
That was when the weight of the coaster began to shift. The machine was designed to remain on a certain balance. The weight of the riders was not relevant so much as the distribution. If a passenger stepped outside the ride’s protective compartment, it caused the ride to lean on the rails to one side or the other. The woman must have been heavyset, because the cars tilted slightly to the right on the rails.
“Stop! Now!” yelled Tyler. He was beginning to question his theory on whether the coaster could derail. “You can’t exit the car like that. Just sit down!”
“We need help!” yelled one of the college kids.
“You’ll be okay,” said Tyler. “Just find a comfortable grip and hold on. Let the weight of your body push you against the back of the seats in front of you.”
The cars started to sway again, and this time the lean was more pronounced to the right.
Now what?
“Jim, are you sure?” the woman asked her husband.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he replied defensively. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t. Do you think I wanna die? Just follow my lead.”
The coaster listed farther to the right as the man leaned over the side of the car and stepped onto the rail. Using the now broken safety bar to balance, he walked over to the blue pipes and support until he could reach them both at once. With a slight push off, he grasped the pipes and held on. For a moment, he stood there, maintaining his balance and gathering his courage. Then he addressed his wife. “See, baby? Piece of cake. Now, we bear-hug this support pipe and slide down toward that platform. It’s only about thirty feet. Heck, we could drop the last fifteen feet and make it just fine.”
“Um, okay,” the woman replied.
Tyler desperately wanted to see what they were doing, but his view was obscured. Looking to his left, he could see the support pipes as they stretched toward the platform.
The man was growing more confident. “Okay! See. We can do this.”
Tyler looked over the side of his car. The man was bear-hugging the pipe and inching downward.
“Look, it’s working!” shouted the younger man from earlier.
“Yeah, come on!” shouted another.
Soon, the coaster was shaking again as some of the other passengers were trying to force their safety bars open.
“Mom!” screamed J.C. as he began to cry.
“Everybody, stop!” shouted Angela as she became instinctively protective of her frightened child.
“Push harder!” was the response she received.
Tyler saw the man in full view now, and the legs of his wife were slowly descending into his field of vision.
The shaking continued until a loud crack occurred.
“We’re free!” shouted the young man. And then it happened.
The jostling of the cars caused him to lose his grip and fall over the top of the coaster. Instinctively, Tyler reached up to grab the young man’s arm as his body tumbled past, but it would’ve been impossible to save him
Sixty feet below them, where the track began its two-hundred-seventy-degree turn, a blue support crossed the track, which momentarily broke his fall, and his back. By the time his body flattened onto the concrete amidst the onlookers below, he was already dead.
That was just the beginning.
All the passengers screamed. Angela tried to calm her children but could only do so much with the safety bar restraining her.
The woman who’d followed her husband onto the pipe panicked. “My hands are slippery, Jim. I can’t hold on!”
“We’re almost there!” This grabbed Tyler’s attention as he looked over the side of the car.
The woman’s nervousness caused her palms to moisten and she was unable to hold onto the slick steel pipe. She began to slide and scream.
“Jim, catch me! I can’t—arrrggghhh!”
Her body suddenly twisted on the pipe and she sailed downward. Her husband grabbed for her leg, causing him to lose his grip, and he spun around on the pipe before dropping too.
The two bodies sailed helplessly through the air, periodically bouncing off the steel supports and platforms, breaking bones and rupturing internal organs. Unlike the first passenger, who fell already dead, these two were fully conscious when their faces met the pavement.
Everyone was crying now, including Tyler. It was so senseless. One man’s ignorant, misguided attempt to be the big shot caused his death and took the lives of two others. Tyler wiped the tears off his face and closed his eyes.
There was a lesson to be learned in all of this. He just didn’t know what it was.
Chapter 40
Metrorail System
Washington, DC
Hayden found herself in a vulnerable position. She moved toward the open doors and stood, somewhat shaky, in the center of the aisle. Listening in the pitch darkness. Outside the train, passengers were scurrying along the gravel bed that flanked the rails, some insisting it was quicker to return to the Navy Yard station while others were pushing forward toward the Anacostia station and Congress Heights beyond that.
A sigh escaped her as she held a metal pole in her left hand and the mace in her right. She switched the mace to her left hand as she sought her cell phone to provide some light inside the car. She powered up the display, revealing a picture of Prowler partially covered by her phone app icons. A slight smile came over her face as the familiarity of her best friend’s steely gray eyes fixed on her, encouraging her to be strong.
Hayden looked up and turned her phone around to illuminate the dark rail car. That was when she saw the man staring at her from the car behind hers, looking through the glass doors. His eyes narrowed as he turned the latch to open the door to his train car.
She froze, assessing her options. She wished she’d dressed differently. She’d have given anything to be in her Nike running shoes and sweats. The high heels were now a burden to her because she couldn’t jump out of the train with them on, nor could she run in the gravel with the heels digging into the rocks, or barefoot.
Hayden quickly turned and ran to the door that led to the next car. She hoped to find an ally or, at the least, make her way to the front, where the operator of the train was. Surely, he hadn’t abandoned ship like the rest of them.
She pulled the taut handle upward and the door slid to the side. Hayden glanced over her shoulder to see the man banging on the glass in an attempt to break it. Hayden knew better. During her many trips on the green line, she’d studied the operations of the train out of boredom. She knew there was a handle to the next car’s door concealed behind a panel near the bottom of the door. She’d watched DC Metro personnel access it many times. Once she was on the coupling between the two trains, she studied whether dropping to the ground was an option. The slope was steep, and her footing would be nearly impossible, especially against an assailant who could catch her within seconds.
She stuck to the plan and reached downward, using her illuminated phone to locate the handle. She ran her fingers along the door and found the seam. She pushed the panel in, it gave way before popping out, and the handle was revealed.
The man had broken through the glass. Now he was removing the bits and pieces that remained, so he could reach the inside handle. He would be upon her in seconds.
Hayden jerked the handle with all her strength, breaking the seal in the door and allowing her to enter the next car. She closed it behind her as she pushed her way forward in the dark. She immediately tripped over a body on the floor of the train.
She let out a gasp and scrambled to regain her footing. She used the light of her phone to see what she’d tripped over. That was when she saw it.
Blood smothered the train’s floor. The walls and ceiling were splattered in crimson. So were the seats. Everything and everywhere. And there were two more bodies on the floor, writhing in pain, incoherent but their pleas for help obvious.
Hayden tried not to be overwhelmed by the coppery smell of the victims’ blood or the sight of the dead body,
which lay at her feet. There was no time.
She raced ahead and efficiently opened the door to the exit of the train car. She heard a thump behind her as the man chasing her slipped and fell in the bloody mess. Quicker than before, she exited the car and searched for the handle of the next door.
“I’m comin’ for you, baby! Make no mistake, we’re gonna party!”
Hayden popped open the door, and then she came up with an idea. She quickly made her way into the next car, which was also empty. Everybody left the train? Were they playing follow the leader or blind leading the blind?
Either way, Hayden slammed the door shut again and closed the latch. She hoped to buy precious seconds to move forward toward the next car. This time, however, she planned to fight.
First, to trick her attacker, she opened the door at the far end to feign her escape. Then she quickly removed her heels, jacket and briefcase, and stowed them under a seat. Armed with her mace and her defensive skills, she vowed not to be a victim.
Just as before, the man decided to bust through the glass rather than find the exterior handle. This gave Hayden an opportunity to use the darkness, and surprise, to her advantage. He was using a large rock to crack the glass, and then he began to kick the window with the bottom of his boot. With the last final thrust, his boot and leg pushed through the glass.
Hayden was waiting for him. With her left hand, she grabbed the man’s pants near his ankle and pulled him forward, causing him to lose his balance and fall against the door. When his face hit the corner of the window frame, she doused his eyes with the pepper spray.
He was screaming in agony as he recoiled from the blast and spun away from the car until he landed on the coupling with his legs spread apart. The pain to his groin only surpassed the burning impact of the direct hit of the pepper spray to his eyes for a moment.
Hayden didn’t stop to admire her accomplishments. She swung around and gathered her belongings. Following the same procedure as before, she made her way to the front of the train until she reached the operator’s cab.
There was no operator tonight, as the trains were running on their computer programming from the central station. Hayden quietly cursed herself for not remembering this, but she had to keep moving. The door to the cab was locked and she had no way of breaking in. She had no choice but to make her way to the tracks and the railbed.
The groans and obscenities she heard from the man she’d left in agony two cars back could be heard as she stepped down a steel ladder to the railbed. She gingerly found her footing and then thought about the best way to travel under the circumstances.
One by one, she took her Bruno Magli pumps and snapped off the three-inch heels, leaving awkwardly shaped flat shoes, but ones that were better equipped for her long walk home.
Chapter 41
Mercedes-Benz Stadium
Atlanta, Georgia
Will started toward the exit, hoping his kids were waiting for him outside the stadium. Then, suddenly, there was darkness except for the faint glow of battery-powered EXIT signs and emergency lighting inside the arena’s concourse. The lights could barely be seen through the haze of smoke that filled the building.
Over a span of thirty seconds, the sights and sounds of cell phones coming to life resulted in phone calls being answered and placed as news of the stadium evacuation reached the outside world. In our interconnected society, the panicked mob just kicked it into overdrive.
“The news said it’s terrorism!”
“The whole country is under attack!”
“Get out! They say it’s a bomb threat!”
“Run!”
The voices rang through Will’s head. An already volatile situation just erupted like a supervolcano. Thousands of people crushed each other as they fought their way toward the exits. Will joined in the exodus when he felt his phone vibrate. It was Ethan calling.
“Where are you?” he shouted so he could be heard over the mass panic.
Ethan tried to respond, but all Will could discern was the word stage. Frustrated, he pushed himself out of the way and leaned against the plate-glass windows outside the exit. At least now he could breathe.
“Ethan, I can’t hear you. Watch for my text!”
Will disconnected the call and quickly sent a text to his son. Did you say stage? Are you near the stage?
Will rubbed his hands through his hair, nervously tapping the display of his iPhone. “Come on, son. Where are you?”
Ding! The phone announced a response.
Yes. Front of the stage. I got hit on the head. I’m bleeding.
Will didn’t hesitate in his response. Stay! Don’t move!
He caught his breath and glanced up at the entrance signs to get his bearings. He looked to his left to assess the obstacles in his way. He was at the south side of the stadium. In order to avoid the crowds on the floor, the most accessible access point to the stage at field level was from the east.
Will tucked away his phone and began to push his way along the perimeter of the stadium. His job was made easier by the fact that the crowd was running away from the exits as soon as they hit the open air. At each exit, he pushed through them and then was able to scamper to the next one.
He and his son texted each other one more time to confirm nothing had changed before Will forced his way back inside and into the dark, secured stairwell leading down to the field level. Using his SureFire tactical flashlight, he lit up the stairs and scurried down, being careful not to slip.
The smoke pouring out of the air vents had begun to dissipate. He cursed himself as he realized he’d not taken any precautions to cover his mouth and nose. As he reached the bottom, he shook his head, chastising himself for not warning the kids to cover their faces either. It was too late now.
He used his flashlight to find his way along the base of the stage.
“Dad, is that you?” He heard Ethan’s voice.
Will rushed past a couple of stragglers, who seemed disoriented. He shouted at them as he passed, “Get out of here, now! What are you waiting for?”
“We’re lost, man.”
“And we can’t see.”
Will shouted back at them over his shoulder, “Just go behind the stage and look for the exit signs. Hurry!”
He turned back around and immediately crashed into Skylar, who’d run toward him. He lifted her up, and she wrapped herself around him, squeezing so hard that he asked her to loosen her grip so he could breathe.
“Baby girl, are you okay?”
Tears streamed down her face as she managed a smile and a nod. “Ethan’s hurt, Daddy.”
He set her down and walked over to his son, who was still bleeding from his forehead. Will removed his uniform shirt and turned it inside out to avoid the garbage stains from earlier. He used it to dab the blood off Ethan’s cheeks and chin.
“Dad, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know—”
His son looked downward in a gesture of genuine remorse. He smelled like marijuana smoke, but then again, so did Skylar, although not quite as strong. His son’s demeanor was far different than what Will had seen in the airport and during the ride over to the stadium. Perhaps his son was high, not that it mattered at this particular moment. That was a conversation for later.
“Not now, son. Let me take a look.” He turned to Skylar for assistance. “Honey, can you light up Ethan’s face for me?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
He handed Skylar his flashlight and patted her on the head. Will placed the palm of his left hand on Ethan’s face and gently dabbed at the wound on his forehead. Ethan winced slightly.
“Well, son, I predict a gnarly bruise and maybe a slight scar. More than that, you’ll have a heckuva headache.”
“I can deal.” His son seemed to feel better.
“Yeah, you can. Now, let me ask you a few quick questions so I can make sure you don’t have a concussion, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Did you pass out after hitting your head?”
>
“No.”
“How about ringing in your ears?”
“Dad, it’s hard to tell. The music was so loud that, um, I don’t know.”
Will wiped some more blood off his son’s face and then folded it over. He applied gentle pressure to the wound and held it there. “Can you hold this firmly in place? You know, keep pressure on it?”
“Yeah,” Ethan replied as he took over for his dad. Will took the flashlight back from Skylar and illuminated Ethan’s face slightly. His eyes were already dilated, a possible sign of being under the influence of marijuana, or the lack of light might have caused it. Will was unsure and decided not to pursue it.
“Okay, do you feel nauseous, or have you vomited?”
“No.”
“Dizzy, confused, or just generally in a daze?”
“Um, no,” replied Ethan, and then he hung his head again. “Dad, I am very sorry. Um, I smoked a little weed.”
Will sighed. He knew that already, but hearing Ethan admit it caused him to be conflicted. He couldn’t decide whether he should be furious with his son for shirking the responsibility of protecting his sister. Or should he be angry that his fifteen-year-old was smoking marijuana in light of the difficulties he’d had at home with drug and alcohol use? Will adopted the third alternative.
He hugged his son and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay, buddy. I love you.”
Chapter 42
Delta Flight 322
Upon impact, the passengers were tossed violently around their seats. Most didn’t have the strength or concentration to hold their brace position. Heads were slammed against seat backs and windows. Necks were thrown back and forth in a whiplash effect. And a few passengers who were caught off guard by the timing of the crash had their seatbelts unbuckled, which forced them out of their seats and into the aisle upon impact with the water.
The overhead bins, primarily designed for ease of passenger use, failed to remain latched and were all flung open. Heavy bags, hard aluminum briefcases, and laptop computers became dangerous projectiles, pummeling the passengers, including Cort.