“What? I don’t know how to fly one of these!” she announced, as if no one knew this fact yet.
“You can just sit there. Trust me, I can do this. In fact... if they talk to my dad, I’m pretty sure they’ll tell you guys to let me do it.”
“Forgive me Lord if I am making another stupid wrong turn,” Jahnni prayed out loud, looking up. Then Crutch and Jahnni walked toward the flight deck.
Chapter 46
Benson?
“Just wait right there you damn brat!” a voice said behind them. They stopped and slowly turned in unison, Jahnni recognizing the voice, but not placing it, at first. There, just inside the curtain that separated the cabins, stood a man in a tan floppy hat and holding a very short folded up umbrella, pointing the sharp end on Christopher’s neck.
What is this man doing in first-class? I thought I moved everyone. Where do I know this guy from? Work? No. Maybe he works in the airport somewhere? No, I just can’t place it. Where, do I.... she said in her head, running the ideas through her brain like a computer searching for data before the memory of Mr. Prattle’s office burst through the fog of yesterday’s events.
“Hey, what is this?” Christopher said when the tip of the umbrella shoved him a couple steps forward, as he placed his arms out to his side and raised them in a sign of surrender.
“Benson?” Jahnni said before she could stop the words from tumbling out. “I forgot about you. What are you doing? The airport debacle is over and your boss is dead. Give it a rest!”
“I have had enough of your mouth. Now, where is Arnad? I thought he was on this flight with you? Where is the key?” Benson said as the muscles in his jaw appeared to throb while forcing the words through his clinched teeth. His eyes darted around the cabin before landing back at Jahnni’s.
“Maybe,” Jahnni began as she felt the words spill out of her mouth if for nothing more than to stall while she thought further what to do, “you don’t understand. It’s over. Perry Prattle is no more. Craigs is under arrest, and for all that is holy man, THERE ISN’T A KEY! There never was a rock key! That rock was a souvenir for Prattle’s father... from Mr. Baptiste. It was a crazy convoluted idea that Prattle made up out of thin air because of unresolved emotional poppycock. Besides, Arnad, or rather Mr. Tropopoulis, isn’t on this flight.”
Rochelle was frozen but squeaked out, “Who is this? What key is he talking about?”
Jahnni responded to her but stared straight at Benson, concealing her complete fear of the escalating situation, “This is Benson, one of the... terrorists that wreaked havoc over the airport causing the evacuation and ground stop yesterday. He’s wanted by the... well pretty much wanted by everyone about now,” she warned, waiting for his response to her short summary.
Benson stood there not saying anything so Jahnni continued speaking to him, “One thing that I realized by the end of the day yesterday is that you don’t have a SIDA badge. Or, if you work at the airport somewhere, your job doesn’t allow bypass access. That means no access to the passenger manifests for the airlines either. So, how did you know to get on this flight?”
“Well,” he finally spoke, answering Jahnni, “like the incredibly astute and tenacious person that I am, I followed you when I fortuitously saw you walk into the airport this morning and was close enough behind you when you were in line at the ticket counter. I purchased a ticket on the flight you told the agent you were checking in for. I managed to flit right past you when I boarded. Now, really... where is the key? I know you’re lying to me.”
Jahnni stared at him, wheels turned in her head as she tried to take this entire muddled mess and understand it. Exasperated with his lack of hearing, she changed course, “Let me see if I understand this,” she said as she lifted her hand to tick off a list... as she walked slowly toward Benson. “One, you bought a ticket on our flight to somehow be near the person, or people, you thought had something you wanted. Two, you were the person that scooted past us after hanging out briefly in the galley earlier, aren’t you? And three, you think you are still supposed to find this mysterious missing rock key for a boss that is dead? What makes you tick, Benson? None of this makes sense.”
“Just stay right there, or I, I’ll stab him!” Benson said as he dug the sharp tip deeper into Christopher’s neck.”
“Oh, wait, did you poison the flight crew?” Jahnni asked, thinking that the obvious almost went right over her head, “Why would you do that? You’ll get us all killed. It escaped your notice that you are still on the flight that you disabled?”
“What do you mean? It was meant for you and the kid. The first two settings of food or drinks are for the first two people... isn’t it? No one was in front of you, so aren’t you the first two to be served? Besides, there’s always an extra pilot onboard. A, uh, uh, what are they called?” he asked as he snapped his fingers at Jahnni. “You know... the, uh... Jumpers? Seaters? Seat jumpers? Oh wait... I know this one. Jump-seaters. Get one of those up here,” Benson ordered, although his voice sounded quite anxious.
“Are you serious?” Jahnni said. “You think they pack all the flights with pilots in case someone like you decides to do something stupid?”
“Well, they always have jump-seaters and stuff. Right?”
“Oh, sure, and they punch their tickets as they board too! Fly 10 and get one free. Are you really that dense?” Jahnni said, trying to get him riled just enough for confusion to set in. She walked a little closer.
“Uh, Jahnni, I need to get in there. I can see the F-16’s out the side windows,” Crutch said nervously behind her.
Jahnni heard Crutch, but she wanted to finish the last few words on the train of thought she was on before answering him. She continued speaking to Benson. “You know what Benson... I am going to do you a favor. I am going to give you the ‘key,’ the rock, number two. I can’t believe I just said that, but maybe now we can get this over with. I happen to have it with me. Let me get it, okay?” she said, hoping he would believe her lie while she stalled a bit longer. Then she spoke to Crutch without turning around, “Eddie, close the door behind you... with Rochelle. But don’t touch anything yet... Quick.”
In two seconds, they flew into the flight deck door that Rochelle had held slightly ajar with her foot, and they slammed it shut behind them.
“Hey! What are they doing!” Benson snarled.
“What does it matter? I am going to give you the key. You want it right now? Or do you want to wait until right before we crash? Cuz, you apparently have poisoned our pilots. I am not sure what you think you can do with the key when you are dead... like the rest of us,” she said casually, although there was no casual thought coursing through her veins. It was taking all her strength to keep fear from quivering in her voice.
“Wait. Wait, I can’t think. I want the key... ya... then, uh, maybe one of these people can land the plane. I saw on TV once how they can talk you through landing.”
“Oh, Benson, you watch too many movies. Here... Just be patient and let me get the key for you. I have it. Okay?” Jahnni said without breaking his gaze. She knew that Christopher had been slowly reaching for Crutch’s backpack that was left on the seat. It was so heavy from all his gifts from the airline.
Jahnni walked a little closer. “Christopher,” she said as she still locked eyes with Benson. “Isn’t there something you would like to do right now?”
Benson scrunched up his nose and gave Jahnni a questioning look. “My name’s not Christopher.”
The backpack came flying around from in front of Christopher and smashed into Benson’s head, throwing him down to the ground. He landed on his knees with his face pressed down on the seat. Jahnni grabbed the umbrella as it fell and Christopher leaned down on Benson, grabbing and pinning his hands behind his back. Benson struggled, but Christopher held his arms tight.
“Grab the zip ties in the medical bag,” Christopher ordered.
Dr. Robinson reached in to the emergency bag and handed them to Jahnni. Jahnni grabbed
the plastic ties and wrapped Benson’s wrists as Christopher held his hands tight together behind Benson’s back. She used two on his wrists and used two on his ankles for a little extra security.
“You got him, Chris?” Jahnni asked.
“Yep. He’s not going anywhere,” he said, then looked down at his first prisoner, ever. “Whew. I feel like Matt Damon!”
“Get off me, man. I can’t breathe! Do you have to press your knee on me so hard?” Benson mumbled in a breathy voice, most of his face buried in the seat cushion. Christopher allowed Benson enough space to turn his head.
“Where are the FAMs when you need them?” Jahnni asked no one in particular. Turning to Dr. Robinson, she asked about the pilots, “How are they? Are they going to be okay? Do you have any idea what they ingested?”
Dr. Robinson tucked the blankets tighter then said, “They are stable. I don’t detect fever, but they are in an extremely deep sleep. They moan and try to talk, then just... out they go. I’ve seen this before if it’s what I suspect. I think it is Rohypnol.”
“Who is she? How’d she know that?” Benson mumbled, with the side of his head pressed against the seat.
“She’s a doctor,” Christopher said. “Just you never mind.”
Then Christopher turned to Jahnni, “When you trade places with Rochelle, I’ll have her get everything collected and secured here in first-class and Kristy and Vanessa can take care of coach. Just, call us as soon as there is some kind of plan for the no-pilot issue. Maybe the kid does know something. I’m willing to try anything at this point and since we can’t parachute a plane full of people out of here, what choice so we have? We need to land.”
“Land?” Benson mumbled as he struggled with Christopher, “I thought you said there weren’t any pilots on board?”
“Oh, this is your lucky day. The kid says he can land the plane. Isn’t this game you invented fun? What a great plan you thought through,” Christopher said, leaning into Benson’s ear.
“You gotta buckle me up man! You gotta buckle me up!” Benson ordered, thrashing his face back and forth across the seat, “we’re gonna crash!”
Christopher leaned down again to speak into Benson’s ear and said between gritted teeth, “I guess you should have thought of that.”
Jahnni called the flight deck. She then traded places with Rochelle, and left it to her and Christopher to keep Benson down and do whatever it is that flight attendants do. She knew they had numerous responsibilities, and coupled with today’s mayhem, she knew better than to tell them how to do their jobs. They’ll know what to do. Delegation at its finest, I suppose. Dr. Robinson is taking care of the pilots, Christopher is taking care of Benson. Three FA’s left to finish the flight…as long as the flight doesn’t finish us. She took one last look into the first-class cabin then secured the door. The F/O had given the door code first to Christopher, before he passed out, probably knowing no one else could’ve possibly had it. Against all rules, each of them had inherited the flight deck door code as they traded places for one important reason or another. I guess it’s too late to worry about security procedures at this point. We just want to live, she told herself.
Chapter 47
Good Things Come in Small Packages
As soon as Jahnni made it into the flight deck, Crutch jumped into the captain’s seat and said to her right away, “We’re cruising at 32,000 feet.” He put on the headset and Jahnni watched as he switched the dial to 121.5.
“What are you doing? What’s 121.5 mean?” Jahnni asked, trying to hold back her anxiety at his every move.
“That’s the emergency channel. Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Crutch answered quickly.
“First Class 6-1-9, on 121.5 calling you guys in the F-16. First Class 6-1-9 calling the F-16, escort aircraft.”
Jahnni put her headset on and turned hers to the same channel she saw Crutch turn his to. Staring at all the instruments, she was dizzy with confusion. Everything was glowing and beeping. I can’t do this! she thought. What if he doesn’t really know what he’s doing? I can’t believe I’m sitting here... with a kid. Oh, my God, what have I done? What if he doesn’t know what channel to put it on? What if he doesn’t know who to talk to or what to say? What if...”
“First Class 6-1-9, you need to turn immediately to heading 2-7-0,” came the disembodied voice speaking in Jahnni’s headset.
Crutch froze, staring at the instruments as his chest heaved up and down. He looked out the windows at the two fighter jets on either side of them. His face turned flushed and he tapped his forehead over and over as if in deep thought. He took a big breath then began talking very forcefully to the person on the other end in a fast pleading voice, “My name is Crutch Link. I mean Eddie Link. I know why you are escorting our plane. I have hundreds of hours, of full-motion simulator time. My dad is Edward Link, our family designs and builds the simulators. I have been flying them since I was three years old. I know how to land this plane safely. I guarantee you that I can do this. Again, I have seven hundred and seventy-six hours to be exact, of full-motion simulator time. Please, please, Don’t. Shoot. Us. Down! I can land this plane. I can even put it on auto if they don’t understand that I can land safely. If you give me the control frequency I can talk to them!”
“Standby, First Class 6-1-9,” came the reply.
The longest ninety seconds of Jahnni’s life was suspended in the radio silence as she waited to hear what was going to happen. She could see the pilot in the F-16 out her side window. She stared at him, thinking that she could read some type of body language, but realized that she wouldn’t know what to look for anyway.
Suddenly the radio squawked back to life. Crutch and Jahnni both jerked.
“First Class 6-1-9, you may switch to NORCAL 135.15. Do you copy?”
“Yes, I copy. Switching to NORCAL 135.15,” Crutch responded before reaching for the dial he used before. Jahnni switched hers after watching Crutch.
Jahnni could see he was slightly more relieved, which in turn brought down her anxiety a notch or two.
“NORCAL. First Class 6-1-9 flight level three-two-zero,” Crutch spoke clearly into his headset. Then he waited.
“First Class 6-1-9 NORCAL. Squawk indent.”
“This is Eddie Link the fifth. I’m on First Class 6-1-9. I can land this plane, sir.”
Again. Waiting. Jahnni felt as though she was waiting for a jury verdict while sitting helpless in the co-pilot’s spot. She wasn’t sure what words she was waiting to hear, but she knew she would know if it was good or bad by watching Crutch’s reaction. Then the voice spoke in the headset, like a head-juror citing their sentence.
“First Class 6-1-9, we understand. Now contact San Francisco approach on 127.15,” the voice in her headset boomed. She turned slightly to observe Crutch’s face. He simply blinked and turned his lips up in a small smile, and inhaled a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh that certainly sounded like relief to Jahnni.
“Approach, First Class 6-1-9. Three two zero. Descending to one, zero, ten thousand,” Eddie informed whoever was on the receiving end.
“Eddie, this is approach. Your F/A spoke with Oakland and we received word that your pilots are disabled. Can you see your escorts out your window?”
“Yes, sir. I know the protocol. I know what they are for and it isn’t to escort us. You are going to eliminate the threat of our aircraft over the city. But I can do this! I have seven hundred and seventy-six hours of full-motion simulator time. My dad is waiting in the terminal. He can explain to you that I can do this.”
“Eddie, your escorts have spoken to us about your experience and your insistence that you can program the autopilot and land safely. Your dad is being escorted to the San Fran tower as we speak. Standby.”
Crutch waited to hear back. Instead of sitting idly, he already began entering the information into something on the center panel. “This is the FMC, the flight management computer, and this is the CDU or computer display unit. Sorta like a l
ittle desktop and the computer screen,” he mumbled to Jahnni as she sat frozen in the seat next to him. His hands moved deftly around the dash in front of him, then he reached for other things beside him and above him. He worked quietly as his methodical movements took control of the plane.
“Approach, I already programmed the FGC to runway 28 left. Flight Guidance Computer is programmed to 28 left.”
“Son, read me the FMC screen,” the voice firmly asked.
Jahnni sat still listening to Crutch mention numbers, letters, and directions. She heard the words he was saying as he had explained some things to her and simply spoke others to the person on the other end of the radio, but she did not understand what he meant. Words went in one ear and became jumbled as she sat quietly. She kept glancing out the window at the fighter jet to her right, seemingly tethered to them in the air. She looked out Crutch’s side and the other was bouncing sunlight rays into the flight deck. Whatever the numbers and letters Crutch was saying, didn’t make sense so she didn’t bother to try to figure it out. And she didn’t dare speak a word yet, fearful that it would trigger 13-yr-old Crutch back. As she listened to him converse with the professionals on the other end, she felt a surprisingly calm sense of comfort coming over her. Several minutes of silence passed when she realized no one was chattering on the radio to them. Then she felt the plane begin gradually descending.
“First Class 6-1-9 approach,” came the voice over the radio to Crutch.
“First Class 6-1-9 go ahead.”
“First Class 6-1-9... here we go son. Proceed direct to initial approach fix. Descend to 3,000 feet.”
“Already in our descent going direct to IAF.” Crutch responded.
“First Class 6-1-9, cleared for ILS two eight left.”
“Roger, cleared for ILS 28 left.”
Crutch had already told Jahnni he entered everything in the FMC. She assumed by him mentioning things as he did them, was his way of assuring her everything was going to be okay. They sat in silence. Crutch did not look at Jahnni as he concentrated on his job. Jahnni thought he looked so calm and professional, watching his instruments and doing what Jahnni assumed all pilots did.
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