Flight 3430

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Flight 3430 Page 9

by Druga, Jacqueline


  But in the time that Tom handled things in the back and talked to the pilot, Lance declined. He thrashed back and forth, groaning and spewing forth unintelligible words.

  Something was up.

  He exhaled in relief when he saw Delaney making her way up the aisle. While everyone else scoffed at her as the medical person, Tom had confidence.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Tom just pointed at Lance.

  Delaney glanced at Lance and then to Tom. “How long has he been like this?”

  Owen answered. “Not long. A few minutes.”

  There wasn’t much room in that space between the row and wall. Owen stepped out and Delaney slid in, crouching down by Lance.

  “Lance,” she said his name.

  Lance mumbled something.

  She reached up and touched his head. “He’s flushed and feels warm. 100.2, maybe 99.8.”

  Owen chuckled out in disbelief. “Like you can tell that.”

  “I was champ in my class, of course that was a while ago, but they called me the human thermometer. Tom.” she glanced up. “Find Trevor, I need the plane’s medical kit. It has an IV bag. I want to run a line and give him some fluids and fever reduction.”

  “What about pain?” Owen asked. “He looks in pain.”

  “He probably is,” Delaney replied. “Pain can cause a low fever especially if you have inflammation, anything high we would be thinking infection.”

  “Can you give him more morphine?” Owen questioned.

  “No, I gave him enough already.”

  “But you said you don’t know how much to give.”

  “I also said, I know how much not to give,” Delaney said. “Trust me, he has enough in him. The fracture is bad. I mean, without an x-ray or cutting him open …” She stopped when Owen cringed. “Sorry. It’s hard to tell how bad it is.”

  Tom asked, “Do you think it’s the leg?”

  “I had it stabilized,” Delaney replied. “He may have loosened it with all the tossing.” She lifted the blanket, staring at his feet. She had cut off his pant leg earlier to make it easier to stabilize it.

  “Remember,” she said. “I gave the disclaimer that healing bones was not my forte.” She raised the blanket more. “Oh, boy.”

  “Oh, boy what?” Tom questioned.

  “This.” She pointed to the discoloration of his leg that started just above the knee. It encompassed the side and was a reddish purple. “Decedent has significant …”

  “Decedent?” Owen cut her off.

  “Sorry. Habit. Patient … he has significant pooling.”

  “That bruise?” Tom asked.

  “Pooling. He’s not moving.” Delaney explained. “Like when someone dies, gravity takes over. But this isn’t caused by death.”

  “Obviously,” Owen said. “So is it odd for the bruise to pool?”

  “It’s not a bruise.” Delaney stood. “The femoral artery runs close to the femur, down the leg. It’s a major artery as you know. The deep femoral artery is located by where he had the break. One of the dangers of breaking the femur is internal bleeding. The artery punctures even slightly and blood flows into the limb.”

  “So … he’s bleeding internally?” Tom asked.

  Delaney nodded.

  “And you know this isn’t a bruise?” Owen asked.

  “It’s not a bruise. Something in his leg is causing blood to leak into the limb, more than likely in a few hours a clot will form and well ...”

  Owen’s voice squeaked. “And well what?”

  “I think …” Tom interrupted. “I think we both know what it means. Can you do anything? You said something about cutting into him. Will that relieve the blood from pooling?”

  Delaney shook her head. “No. Unfortunately, he needs surgery to repair the bleed and the break. There is no doctor on board and honestly, I wouldn’t attempt it. How could I?”

  “Is there anything that can be done?” Owen questioned. “Anything at all?”

  “Here’s the deal,” Delaney said. “All I can do is make him comfortable. I can’t give him anything else at least for another two hours. But right here, this situation is one we have to realize we’re going to face. If the world below is as bad as we all think and know it is, then sadly, from here on out, a broken leg can be a death sentence. The truth is, the only thing that can save him is to land this plane and find a surgeon. We all know the odds of that.”

  “And if we can’t?” Owen asked.

  Delaney dropped her voice to a whisper. “Then he will die.”

  Tom looked at Lance. Too much death had already happened all over, even on the plane. He didn’t want to see another person die. He knew he had to get a hold of Gene. If anyone could help figure out the logistics needed to save Lance, it was Gene. Not only that, Gene was on the ground and he had a much better idea of where help could be found than they did forty-thousand feet in the air.

  <><><><>

  Gainesville, FL

  Fascinating data was the term Dr. Alexander Armenov used for the information he had to share with Susan.

  Like anyone else, Susan assumed the word ‘fascinating’ would be good news. Why wouldn’t she? In an essence some of the news was good.

  They walked to the wing of the university where geological studies were located, talking as they walked down the hall.

  “Reston will have, we believe at least a two hour window,” Armenov told her. “If we can get a plane there, we can coordinate the times and get your family out and in the air.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “We already put the word out to Reston and they are working on it. They are not to leave or even attempt to leave if there’s not enough time.”

  “I would hope not. I just want my family,” Susan said. “I know that sounds selfish with everyone dying.”

  “I understand. We’re hopeful though these events will stop. But for now … a second eruption is definitely imminent.” He opened the door to the lab. “Maybe even a third.”

  A young man turned in his seat. His hair slightly longish and in need of a cut. He stood when she walked in. “No more than a fourth,” the young man said.

  “Susan, this is Warren, my best and brightest student. He’s been working diligently since yesterday. Warren, this is Deputy Director Diel.”

  Susan held out her hand. “You can call me Susan.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “You were saying no more than four?” Susan asked.

  Armenov explained. “We have had our students in the field, making calls. The levels in key areas are building again, like they did right before the eruptions, but … they aren’t as high as the first time around.”

  Warren added. “And we expect the third to be even lower.”

  “Until,” Susan said, “The build up has all been released.”

  Armenov nodded. “There are a lot of release holes. Which is good. Warren’s friend was able to hack into the International Space Station system and get some great images.”

  “You didn’t need to hack,” Susan said. “Gene has them.”

  Armenov chuckled. “Warren sent them to him. Anyhow, as you know, finding the holes is difficult, but we located a lot. We found one hundred and seventeen holes, we know there are more but …” he pulled forth an image on the computer. It was of earth and red markings formed almost a dotted line across the northern hemisphere. “We marked some of the holes. During the Permian extinction, it was thought that one major eruption occurred in the arctic shelf and another in the oceans. If you look at where we marked this image you can see, a vast majority are across the north, they are nearly perfectly in line, creating an exhaust valve.”

  Susan’s finger traced the image. “That looks like it’s the circumference of the Arctic circle.”

  Armenov nodded. “Close. Seventy degrees, Thirty North. Perfect little cap. No pun intended.”

  Warren added. “We think, we hope, we won’t be seeing many more eruption si
tes. The vents are in place. There are enough to vent the methane.”

  “That is good news,” Susan said. “Fantastic news. That means if an area is safe now, it will remain safe.”

  “From methane,” Armenov replied.

  “What else would there be?” Susan gave a quirky look, then that partial forced smile fell. “What?”

  “The vents, the remaining eruptions … that is the good news,” Armenov said. “Again, look where the stream of eruption sites are. The arctic. It’s generating immense heat up there.”

  “Shit,” Susan said.

  Armenov changed the image. “Look at these storm fronts and surges. Ocean temperatures according to the data are rising.”

  “The ice is dropping in,” Warren said. “Suddenly, causing the ocean depth to increase, but even ever so slightly …”

  “Thermal expansion,” Susan said. “My God, this all just started. Do we have any idea how much or how fast they are rising?”

  Armenov shook his head. “We are waiting on that. We’ve tapped into NOAA, but data from some vitally positioned buoy stations aren’t coming in, so it takes time to put it all together.”

  “We are trying to get one of the tsunami stations, “Warren said. “They do sonic pings to measure wave swells.”

  “It’s early, yes, things could change. I doubt that. We believe even by what we’re seeing now,” Armenov said, “It’s happening fast. It’s a mess out there. Cold and warm temps colliding.”

  “Like our methane eruptions,” Susan said. “Wow, when Mother Nature decides to clean house, she goes full force and doesn’t waste time.”

  “Bottom line, what’s safe now won’t be for long,” Armenov told her. “We both know what this all means. If this continues on its current path, it won’t be long before …”

  Susan exhaled heavily, cutting him off and finishing his sentence. “We’ll be under water.”

  THIRTEEN – IMAGES OF DOOM

  Flight 3430

  Tom imagined and hoped for the moment when Gabe was sober, he just wished it didn’t happen at the end of the world.

  The flight attendants weren’t giving up any of the alcohol, not yet. After eight hours in the air, the snacks were running low.

  But Tom needed and wanted a drink. His day started twelve hours earlier when he arrived at the airport and he didn’t get much sleep.

  Saying he was stressed was an understatement.

  Gabe was getting a crash course in flying a 737 and as horrible as it was, Tom wasn’t confident. He was nervous. Something about a stranger flying a plane made him feel more at ease than his own flesh and blood. Maybe because he knew how Gabe was.

  That was one stress factor.

  There was nothing they could do about what happened on the ground, but in the air it was another story.

  It was real.

  Seven people were dead on the plane and the co-pilot clung to his life.

  Not to mention, the fuel situation.

  They needed to land again to refuel and they hadn’t heard from Gene on where that could be.

  Tom wondered how long they could keep going. Flying, landing, fueling, all in a rush, fearful that at any second while on the ground things could go south.

  They cut it close, too close when they refueled.

  What would happen the next time, or the time after that? One of those stops, time would catch up to them.

  He stood in that tiny area, right between the cockpit and the main cabin. The small galley and lavatory to his right and left. His eyes kept casting down to his phone, as if staring at it would make Gene reply.

  Again, not meaning to be a pest, Tom sent a text, ‘Anything?’

  He exhaled thinking, come on Gene, answer.

  “Dad?” Owen peeked around the corner. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I am … just tense.” He lowered his voice. “We have to land and soon.”

  “How much time?”

  “An hour, maybe. I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “How are you holding up?”

  “Good. Tired of being on this plane.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I keep convincing myself I’m just headed somewhere exotic.”

  Tom chuckled. “Yeah, the apocalypse.” He glanced to his phone.

  “Maybe he is texting Gabe and the pilot.”

  “And blowing me off?”

  “Yeah, Dad, he has better things to do.”

  “True.” Tom sighed. “I need a drink. Unfortunately, they aren’t serving.”

  “Well, Gabe’s stash is back at our seats.”

  “You’re right. I think I’ll go snatch up a bottle.”

  “I’ll go back to watching Lance.”

  “Should I bring you up a mini bottle?” Tom asked.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  After a pat to his son’s back, Tom walked down the aisle to his row. The plane was quiet. No one talked, and he could feel how tense things were.

  He glanced at the faces of the passengers as he passed them, each person looked as if drowning in deep heavy thoughts. A place, Tom avoided going. He didn’t want to think about what was below, who remained or people he lost. He couldn’t let his mind go there. He had to focus on his sons and the fact they were alive.

  For how long remained to be seen.

  As he neared his row, he heard the sluggish sniffling. Someone was crying or was stuffed up. He saw the tip of the plastic bag with the mini bottles. It was perched on the aisle seat of his row.

  Just as he reached for it, he saw Delaney.

  She sat in the window seat, leaning towards the window. She stared at her phone, curled up in the seat with her legs close to her body.

  “Hey,” Tom said softly, lifting the bag.

  She looked at him.

  It was her who was crying.

  Tom sat down. “I came for one of these.” He undid the bag. “Did you want one?”

  She shook her head.

  Tom pulled out a bottle, it didn’t matter what it was. His son had a variety of different types, which was slightly disturbing to Tom. He resealed the bag and grasped the top to the tiny bottle. He couldn’t open it, his fingers seemed unable to get a grip on it. “Goddamn it. My fingers never …”

  Delaney held out her hand and Tom gave it to her.

  With ease she opened it and handed it back.

  “Thanks.” He sipped it. “What’s going on? Why the … why the sudden change in demeanor? Not that it’s not okay, I mean things … things are …” He took another sip to stop any further stumbling over his words. He had his children with him, Delaney of course, was worried about hers. He forgot about it until that second, she had been so focused on helping Lance and the others.

  “I heard someone talking about social media,” Delaney replied. “Looking for posts. Everyone you know is fighting for the few charging ports on this plane. So when mine was done, I remembered the app.”

  “What app?”

  “It’s a tracking app.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tom said. “Keep in mind, even though I look savvy, I am the worst with tech stuff.”

  “It’s called FamTo. Family together. You create a circle, your family joins, and as long as their phone is charged, you can see where they are. My mom, husband, sisters, brother … daughter,” her voice cracked. “She just got her first phone. She’s ten. My son doesn’t have one yet.”

  “Why … I mean, I’m sorry, I just don’t understand why?”

  She shrugged. “It started as a joke and we all just kept it. I’d know when my husband was on his way home. When I worked nights, he’d know I arrived safe at work. It was helpful. We’d tease each other about where we were.”

  “Your entire family tracked each other?” Tom asked.

  “Yeah, we’re close. People didn’t understand it,” Delaney said. “It was our thing. Strange, I know. One of the funny things we talked about was how they were gonna track me and Jen in Vegas. My sister. She is getting married. It was her bachelorett
e party I was flying to. My husband joked he would know what bars and casinos we went to.” She sniffed, and then her voice cracked again.

  Tom knew she had started crying.

  “I forgot about this damn thing,” Delaney cried. “I forgot. How often we used it and I forgot. I wish I didn’t remember.” She leaned to him showing him the phone. “Vegas.”

  Tom looked at the screen, the word Las Vegas was on there and a tiny circle with a picture of a woman along with the name Jen.

  “She’s at her hotel,” Delaney said. “When I touch her picture.” Delaney touched it and a new screen popped up. “It tells me where she’s been. She went back to her hotel at two AM, see …” She scrolled the screen. “ … and she hasn’t moved since.”

  “That doesn’t mean …”

  “Yes, it does. She hasn’t moved. Her phone is fully charged, which means it’s plugged it. She hasn’t moved.”

  “Delaney, those hotels are huge. Maybe she’s somewhere in there moving about.”

  Delaney shook her head. “It tracked her from the casino floor to the Sixteenth floor. Which is off because she actually sent me a text that our room was on the fifteenth floor. She hasn’t moved in sixteen hours … no one …” she sobbed once. “Has moved. Not my husband, my daughter or my other sister. Nobody. My brother in Tennessee, his phone is dead, but he’s probably just like them.”

  “You can’t think this way.”

  “How would you think, Tom?” Delaney asked. “My babies. I keep wondering, did it happen in school? Did Dan decide to keep them home from school? Oh God, I hope he did.” Delaney broke down.

  “Come here.” Tom lifted the arm rests, scooted over a seat and reached out to her, pulling her close.

  She fell against him and cried.

  He didn’t know what to say, what to do for her. There was absolutely nothing that could come from his mouth that would make any difference at all.

  She probably was the only one on the entire plane that confirmed her worst fears.

  He held her for a few minutes before he heard Owen’s voice.

 

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