Sojourners of the Sky

by Clayton Taylor

  “Mark, Bill here…” he said before being interrupted.

  “Bill, come up here right away!” ordered Mark.

  Not waiting for an explanation, Bill hung up the phone and walked briskly through the upper deck to the cockpit door. As the concerned captain knocked, waiting for one of the pilots to get up and let him in, Doug opened the bathroom door and collapsed at Bill’s feet. Doug was dry heaving and sweating profusely. He seemed to be having a convulsion. The arrogant know-it-all copilot then curled up into a fetal position on the floor.

  A moment or two later, Mark opened the cockpit door and was stunned to see Doug writhing in pain and whimpering like a baby.

  Bill quickly stepped over Doug and then pushed Mark aside. When he looked into the cockpit he noticed Steve was slumped back in his seat. Bill gasped. It appeared as though Captain Hotchkiss was unconscious, or worse. Bill’s initial reaction was to don an oxygen mask, fearing there was something in the air. But then he stopped himself. He looked at Mark and then back toward Steve, trying to figure out what was happening. Something inside was sending him a warning, but it was taking its time getting through.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Mark. “About thirty minutes ago Steve started acting, uh, well, kind of weird. He said something about waking you guys up and when I asked him what he was talking about, he just mumbled something under his breath. Then he reclined his seat and put his head back. A couple of minutes later, he started breathing heavy. I figured Steve was tired and wanted to take a short power-nap, so I left him alone. But after a while, I knew something was wrong. That’s when I hit the emergency buzzer to wake you guys up.”

  “How are you feeling? Are you OK?” queried the confused captain.

  “Yeah, I’m OK, but Doug doesn’t look so good,” noted Mark.

  “Where are our flight attendants?”

  Mark shrugged his shoulders.

  With the cobwebs of sleep slowly clearing from the senior captain’s brain, Bill did what all pilots must do when things seem out of control: he took command.

  “Mark, sit in the right seat and strap in,” said Bill. “Make sure ATC hasn’t been trying to call us. I’m going to drag Steve back to the bunkroom and then I’ll see if I can corral Doug into a bunk, too. When I’m done, I’ll call you on the phone. If you hear the buzzer, do not open the door until after I’ve called you on the phone.”

  “OK, Bill,” said Mark.

  Bill un-buckled the junior captain’s seatbelt and began hauling his near lifeless body out of the left seat. After wrangling Steve into the lower bunk, Bill turned and pulled Doug into the bunkroom. The pilot’s sleeping quarters are barely large enough for one person to move around, so it was a tough, exhausting effort for Bill to transfer his workmates into the tiny room and then get them into a bunk.

  Bill was breathing heavily, trying to figure out what was wrong with his colleagues. Sweat ran down his face and dripped to the floor. As he was strapping Doug into the upper bunk, Bill had another flash of concern. He’d left Mark alone in the cockpit. Bill sincerely doubted Mark was responsible for what was happening, but at the same time he knew that he very well could have been. He also feared that Mark could suddenly come down with whatever was affecting the other pilots, leaving him unable to act. It was then that he fully realized his mistake.

  *

  “My love, what can I do?” whispered John to his wife.

  “John, I feel weak. I am so tired. The world is spinning and I’m dizzy,” murmured Liesel.

  “I’ve spoken to the crew. Don’t worry, my love, we shall find you a doctor no matter what it takes.”

  “John,” whispered Liesel, “there is one secret that I’ve kept from you--one that I must now share.”

  Tears filled John’s eyes. He knew the situation was dire. He placed his fingers over his wife’s lips and said, “Not now, Liesel. Save your strength. There will be time for this later.”

  She reached up and lightly brushed her husband’s hand aside, saying, “I was lonely, John. So lonely. I needed someone…”

  John closed his mind. Whatever it was that his wife was about to say, he did not wish to hear. There had been quite a few secrets she’d kept from him over the years, some worse than others. He long believed that he’d heard them all. The biggest and most hurtful secret left him devastated. To cope, he sealed it away in the aft reaches of his mind shortly after it was revealed to him--willing himself to never contemplate that revelation again. He could feel his face grow hot, fearing what was about to happen. As much as he adored his wife, there was no way he could bear the thought of her delivering yet another mortal wound.

  “I needed someone to talk to, mein Liebling. I knew you would object, so I said nothing. But I must now tell you: Our neighbor…uh, oh dear…Lynn Pratt and I are friends. We talk all of the time. I am so sorry that I kept it from you, but she understood. She knows you well. She helped me. We helped each other. You should know this…” she said, her words becoming softer and softer until they could no longer be heard.

  Though he heard what she said, John forced his mind to block the words. He would not allow any more hurt to enter. But when his wife became silent, he knew right away that she was taking her last breaths. John knew if she left him, he would be alone forever. Life would become meaningless.

  *

  Bill hurriedly left the small bunkroom and closed the door behind him. As he turned to press the small button to let Mark know that he was ready to return, he flinched when he noticed John Tacker standing uncomfortably close. He was about to say something when out of the blue John grabbed Bill by the collar and threw him up against the wall.

  “Listen, my wife is dying. We need to land now!” screamed John.

  Struggling for air, the stunned captain said, “John, I know she’s ill, but I also have two very sick pilots on my hands. We cannot land in Russia. When I get back up front, I’ll divert to the closest airport in either Japan or back in the U.S. I promise.”

  “No, she can’t wait! She’s lost consciousness. You have to help me save her! You owe me. You owe me!” shouted John.

  “John, trust me, there are no medical facilities in eastern Russia. Liesel will be better off if we get her to a real hospital. I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on around here. I mean, half my crew is sick or missing. Hell, I’m not even sure where we are!” said Bill.

  It was like a bad dream. Bill momentarily wondered if he was really asleep in the bunk and having a nightmare. It was certainly plausible. But that notion left him the moment John Tacker’s fist struck his jaw.

  “As an Air Carrier Inspector I am empowered by the FAA to act as I see fit!” John screamed. “I demand that you land this airplane immediately! If you don’t, I’ll take over and land this thing myself!”

  Bill fell to the floor. When he tried to get up, his world was spinning around. He’d been having bouts of lightheadedness for a few months, but refused to tell anyone. It normally lasted for only a few seconds. But even as he shook his head back and forth, trying to stop the stars from spinning before his eyes, Bill could feel himself growing more and more disoriented. He felt like he might get sick to his stomach. In the background he could hear John Tacker screaming and threatening him with prison, but he couldn’t move. As hard as he fought, he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. In a brief moment of clarity he thought of Mark. The inexperienced copilot was alone in the cockpit, and suddenly Bill was overcome with regret.

  *

  On the other side of the locked door, Mark sat in the right seat gazing out over the vast wilderness of eastern Russia. Deep snow blanketed the Earth for as far as he could see. He knew that attempting an emergency landing in such a place would be suicide. There were many high mountains and virtually no roads. The forbidding landscape was covered with trees, rivers and large frozen lakes. The few airports that did exist were minimally staffed and quite far apart. Medical facilities would be consi
dered a joke by Western standards.

  Sitting alone in the huge B747 cockpit, Mark felt like he was sitting on top of the world. The blond-haired, blue-eyed, square-jawed copilot realized that he’d been put in charge of the whole shooting match. The thought of his situation put a smile on his face. The pleasant grin was something he’d recently been unable to find, and therefore had no reason to display. It felt good.

  It was only his fourth trip on board the big Boeing. The troubled copilot’s road to the B747 had been a long one. Though it was his wife who first put the aviation bug in his ear, she tried her best to convince him to give up on his dream once it actually seemed attainable.

  In his younger days, Mark loved cars and planned to spend his life around them. But soon after getting married, his wife pestered him to better himself and to do something more with his life. Wishing only to make her happy, Mark complied. Five minutes into his first flight lesson, however, he longed to be back on the ground. It took everything he had inside, but he stuck it out. By the time he soloed, Mark’s fears were behind him and the foundation was laid. Energized with self-confidence, he felt compelled to one day pilot the biggest airplane in the sky. He would stop at nothing less.

  The low pay and long hours early-on in his career with Northwest Orient made life difficult. He often told himself to forget about it--that it was too hard and that ultimately it wouldn’t be worth it. But the determined pilot refused to listen to his inner voice. And right at that moment, he was glad he hadn’t. He accomplished what he was meant to do. And while doing so, he’d triumphed over his fears.

  Though Mark thoroughly enjoyed his time alone in the cockpit, he knew it would not last for long. So, with a smug expression on his face, he savored every second. His job as a copilot onboard the B747 was about to end. And surprisingly, the thought of that put a tear of joy in the corner of his eye. Yup, things were about to change.

  Twenty Nine

  He could hear a woman’s voice and could feel someone jostling his shoulder, but it seemed distant, almost as if it were happening to someone else. He willed his mind to comprehend, but the cobwebs refused to clear. He opened his eyes and looked up. It was dark, making it difficult to see. He could just barely discern the outline of a young woman’s face, positioned just a few inches from his own. As the seconds passed, he concluded the woman was a flight attendant. He then noticed someone standing a foot or two away, hunched over with fists clenched. Suddenly, the memory of being sucker-punched by his neighbor, John Tacker, came flooding back. A few more seconds passed before he remembered where he was. He slowly stood up, bracing himself against the wall with his left hand while holding his right arm in front of his face to block any more punches that might be directed his way.

  “I think you’d better sit down, John,” muttered Captain Pratt. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.”

  “I’m telling you my wife is dying. You have to do something!” exclaimed John, still angry and equally frightened.

  Having regained his composure and standing squarely on his own two feet, Bill asked, “What would you have me do, John? We’re over Russia and half my crew is sick. I’m telling you there is absolutely nowhere for us to go. To land here would endanger the lives of every single person on this airplane.”

  “I don’t care about any of them; I care about Liesel. She needs help!” cried John.

  “I know she does, but there isn’t a worthwhile medical facility within a thousand miles. Our only hope is to press on,” pleaded Bill. “As soon as I get up front, I’ll check the weather in Chitosi: it’s north of Tokyo on the island of Hokkaido. If it’s good, we can land there. But for now, you’ve got to let me do my job.”

  “No, no, we need to act now!” declared John. “If we don’t, she might die. If, if she dies, Bill, her blood will be on your hands. I’ll be--I’ll see to it that you never fly again. I’ll do everything in my power to destroy you!” he shouted, visibly shaking as he spoke. Large beads of sweat poured down the side of his face and off his chin, accentuating the depth and scale of his passion.

  Bill turned to Stella. “Get the medical kit. Do what you can for her. I’ll go up front and see if I can get a phone patch to the Mayo Clinic.”

  “OK, Captain,” said Stella.

  “John, step back. I’m going to open the cockpit door and I don’t want you standing anywhere nearby,” ordered Bill.

  “She won’t wake up. Do something!” pleaded John.

  John Tacker was an emotional wreck. He was furious and terrified at the same time. He didn’t want to back away; he wanted to beat the captain to a pulp. At the same time, an even stronger voice inside was telling him to do whatever it took to save his critically ill wife. He looked back through the darkness and could see Liesel lying motionless. John didn’t want to be alone. Liesel had always been his cocoon of comfort. Whenever the stress of life overtook him, he knew he could emotionally curl up inside and find solace and comfort in her presence. Just the thought of losing her was beyond comprehension. Without Liesel, he knew there was no reason for him to live. No, he thought, I have to do everything I can to save her!

  Suddenly, something inside the angry, anxiety-ridden man snapped. Long believing he’d been getting the short end of the stick, John decided that it was time to take that same stick and jam it into someone else’s backside. He’d had enough. It was time to push back. Though the aging Fed hadn’t piloted a real airplane for many years, he knew it was like riding a bike. John told himself that he could land a B747 on a strip in Russia if he had to. After all, he’d flown the B747 simulator. Yes, he decided, I will do whatever it takes.

  John backed away from the cockpit door. He held his hands up as if he was surrendering, giving the impression that all the fight was out of him, but he had no intention of giving up. He decided that if it meant surrendering his life for Liesel’s, then so be it.

  Bill pushed a small recessed button adjacent to the cockpit door twice. The tiny doorbell was so inconspicuous, if a person didn’t know it was there it would go unnoticed. The second push activated a buzzer in the cockpit, alerting Mark to remotely unlock the door from his seat, located eight feet forward of the flight deck entryway. Or, if Mark desired, he could climb out of his seat and activate a double bolt mechanism that would prevent anyone from entering.

  Bill heard the buzzer going off in the cockpit, but Mark didn’t respond. The captain desperately hoped that Mark was busy on the radio or sending a position report to the company and would respond when he could. Bill waited a few seconds before trying again.

  By the time Bill signaled for the third time that he wanted to gain access to the cockpit, he was dripping with both perspiration and fear. He cringed, knowing he had left a new guy alone in the cockpit. The B747 was Mark’s first checkout to fly international routes. He’d only been on the airplane for a few months. Bill wondered if the copilot was overwhelmed with the workload. He also speculated that perhaps Mark had never heard the cockpit buzzer and didn’t know what it was.

  Unlike most airplanes, the B747-400 emits a number of different sounds to notify the crew about various alerts, cautions and warnings. Pilots new to the airplane sometimes find them practically indistinguishable.

  Did he consider it an aircraft system warning? Bill wondered. Is he busy looking through the emergency checklist, trying desperately to figure out the problem?

  Bill knew he was reaching. The captain was well-aware that no pilot makes it to the cockpit of a B747 without having thousands and thousands of hours of experience. Most copilots he flew with had already served as captain on a narrow-body aircraft. They often bid to fly the “Whale” simply to get a better quality of life.

  No, he concluded. It was the elephant in the room that he didn’t want to admit was there. Bill forced himself to acknowledge that it was quite possible Mark had passed out--himself a victim of whatever it was that was making everyone sick.

  Captain Pratt’s mind was racing far too much to put two and two togethe
r. He hadn’t stopped to consider why two of the pilots were sick, but he wasn’t. The jury was still out regarding Mark, at least as far as he was concerned. All Bill knew was that he had to get up front--and fast. In his mind’s confusion, he’d forgotten that he’d left explicit instructions for Mark to follow prior to unlocking the door.

  Mark heard the buzzer each time it went off, but was hesitant to let anyone in. He couldn’t simply get out of his seat to see who was at the door. After all, he’d been ordered not to. Besides, doing such a thing would leave the aircraft controls unattended. On the other hand, he was reasonably sure that Bill had forgotten his instructions. Nonetheless, it was dangerous to unlock the door without knowing who was on the other side. So he sat gazing out at the unforgiving landscape below, enjoying the silence of sitting alone with the bright sun warming his bones. After a few minutes of fun, knowing that he was going to forfeit his job anyway, he glanced down at the door activation switch.

  Bill pushed the tiny doorbell button for the fourth time, holding his breath as he did. He heard the buzzer go off again in the cockpit and waited. He leaned hard against the door, unconsciously trying to force it open with his own strength. The captain was breathing so heavily, spittle shot from his mouth and onto the door.

  Suddenly, Bill heard a click and the door unlocked. He’d been shoving his body so intensely against the locked barrier that when it unexpectedly flew open, he lost his balance and crashed to the floor at the base of one of the three cockpit jumpseats. He landed face down and was momentarily dazed. After only a few seconds, Bill regained his bearings and put his hands on the nearest jumpseat to pull himself up.

  Out of nowhere, John Tacker rushed into the cockpit and kicked the aging captain back to the floor. In a flash, John slammed the cockpit door behind him and rushed forward toward the copilot.

  The commotion caught Mark by surprise. He turned to see what was going on just as John Tacker grabbed him.

  John swiftly placed the stunned copilot’s neck inside the crease of his elbow and then tightened his choke hold on the young man. John stood with one foot on the floor and the other firmly planted on Bill’s chest. As he pulled with all his might on the copilot’s neck, John screamed in Mark’s face, “OK, I want you to take this airplane to the closest airport where there’s a hospital! If you don’t, I’ll kill you first and then your captain! Do you understand?”