As the clock ticked by, the levels in Nevada and Texas began to rise, slowly, but they still climbed.
Armenov had just took a sip from his sixth cup of coffee when Warren, with a wavering worried voice, called out, “Professor A, you need to see this. And hurry.”
In a swift movement, and rolling thunderous sound of wheels on the flooring, Armenov was shoulder to shoulder with Warren.
Warren was watching three computer screens, and it could have been anything. But it was the East Coast, of that Armenov was certain, because Warren had the east.
He thought for sure the young grad student was going to inform him of some immediate spike in the methane, another budding storm surge or a buoy from the NOAA was putting out a bizarre reason.
Armenov expected to ask for an explanation on what he was seeing, instead, as soon as he arrived, he knew.
He didn’t need Warren to explain any numbers, it was clear, or at least it seemed to be.
“Is that what I think it is?” Armenov asked.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Shit.” With another push, Armenov rolled back to his station and lifted his phone, dialed and put it to his ear. He cocked back some, confused and looked at it. “Warren are the phones down because of the incoming storm?”
Warren picked up his phone. “I got a signal.”
Armenov looked at his phone. “I do, too.” He tried the call again, only this time he placed it on speaker. He watched the screen of his phone read that the call was dialing, then it stopped and the call was dropped. “Warren see if you can make any calls.”
Warren immediately dialed. “It’s ringing,” he said. “Oh, hey, Bev, just checking the phone. Okay, thanks.” He hung up. “Are you calling Director Diel?”
“Trying. It won’t go through.”
“Maybe the towers are down, if power went it is possible. Try a landline.”
“Good idea, I guess I’m just not thinking.”
It wasn’t a number he dialed often, if at all, and Armenov, hating to take the time to do it, had to look up the number for the Reston USGA office. He wasn’t even sure he’d get a person or what the right extension was. He’d give it a try. He had to get through to Susan. After finding the number and calling he realized he didn’t need to know the correct extension.
Like with the cell call to Susan, the call to the landline didn’t ring. Instead it gave a weird busy signal for a few second before disconnecting.
Armenov would keep trying, but he knew, deep down, no matter how important and vital it was, there was no getting through to Susan. The window of opportunity to communicate closed before they even had a chance.
<><><><>
Reston, VA
It was her family and Susan wasn’t putting the responsibility or relying on anyone but herself to get them to safety. Although she had to rely on the pilot to fly her there.
Nineteen people were in the specialty room at a BSL lab next to the Institute.
A safe room brilliantly expediated to house those that could get in there before the eruption. When her assistant director received word from Susan, she immediately came up with the idea. Susan was beyond grateful.
She had her husband Bill and her three young children moved there before the levels rose sharp and fast. A guilt she carried with her because so many on the ground and Reston weren’t privilege to a warning that would help them stay alive.
She thought it was timed perfectly, but things didn’t always go as predicted. Following the time frame given by Gene and confirmed by Armenov, Susan had what she believed was four hours to make the flight, get transportation, grab her family and get back on the plane.
Easy.
Murphey’s law kicked in.
Just in case, because Susan always had a backup, she brought along a Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus for her and the pilot. Giving them a half hour to get to the safe room should things go wrong.
Upon landing, things were going too well, Susan should have known, Murphy's Law and all.
They took a truck from the apron and made it to Reston Rentals, grabbing a shuttle bus. Between the truck and van they had enough space for everyone.
No sooner did they secure the van, four miles from the institute, Susan got the warning.
Another eruption was imminent.
They had enough time to get to the institute, arriving there before needing the masks.
It was awesome to see her children. They raced to her, slamming bodily into her arms. Her youngest daughter, Maddy, who was only three didn’t understand all that was going on. She just wanted her mother and Susan was fine with that.
Her older children, though still young and under ten, were indifferent. They were emotionally resilient.
It was only a few hours and they’d be able to leave, get on the plane and head to Gainesville.
She spent those hours in the safe room, holding her family and grateful they didn’t have to go through another eruption episode without her.
There was no call or text from Gene or Armenov that it was safe. As the hours ticked, Susan wondered what the issue was. Had the levels not dropped after four or five hours like the other times?
It was Bishop, the tech at the institute that found the readouts and claimed it safe.
Then as they gathered their belongings, rushing to get from the building, the power went out.
It was local because the backup generators immediately came on. Not enough power though to keep the oxygen flowing.
They lucked out.
It was safe and time to leave.
As one large group they moved from the basement hall up the stairwell.
With not much light to guide them, Susan turned on her phone’s flashlight. That was when she saw there wasn’t a signal.
“Anyone have a signal?”
No one really answered her. It was as if her question was inane during that tense time of leaving.
Once they emerged from the stairwell, Susan followed Bishop as he led the group down a hall and through the main lobby.
She stopped at the reception desk.
“Sue,” Bill, her husband grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”
“I need to make sure we have time.” She reached for the phone. “I need to call Gainesville.”
Bishop back stepped and approached her, speaking low. “It doesn’t matter. We won’t survive another eruption. The power is down. No oxygen pumping. We have to go now.”
Scientifically, Susan knew there wasn’t a rush. The levels had returned to normal; it would need at least an hour before they would rise anywhere near eruption levels.
They’d be at the airport and on the plane long before an hour passed.
Yet, a certain amount of worry hit Susan the moment the large group emerged outside.
In the five hours they had been in the institute, the sky not only grew dark, the temperature had dropped and it was loud outside.
A deep howling carried in the air, one that sounded like a violent windstorm, however only a steady light breeze blew about and a mist pelted her in the face, reminding her of the time she went to Niagara falls.
“Get the kids on the van,” Susan told her husband.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Sue.”
She ignored him and sought out the pilot who waited by the pickup. “Can you fly in this weather?” she asked him.
“I don’t really have a choice,” he replied. “Do I? Besides it’s not dangerously windy yet and it’s not raining too hard. If it doesn’t get worse, we’ll be fine.”
“Let’s move them out quickly, just in case,” Susan said.
The pilot nodded.
Susan knew she was the one that would drive the van. Before getting in the driver’s seat she told Bill to keep the kids away from the window. There was a lot they shouldn’t see as they drove.
Cars abandoned, people on the roadways dead.
At least it was dark.
There was something ominous about the night, and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. It felt weird, the air, the sound, she had never heard the low hum of a storm in the distance.
They made it to Dulles Airport in under twenty minutes, taking the back road to the maintenance entrance and speedily driving across the grounds to the edge of the runway where their plane was parked.
The mobile staircase was attached and the door was open, just how they left it.
When Susan stepped from the van, she knew whatever killer storm brewed wouldn’t be long. The sky lit up with lightning, and seconds later came the fierce crash of thunder.
The pilot rushed to her. “I’m headed in, getting things ready. Get them aboard. We have to take off, fast.”
Susan nodded her understanding, as she waved her arm, guiding people from the van to the plane.
“It’s two miles away, Mama,” Brandy her nine year old daughter said.
“What?” Susan asked confused, trying desperately to just get people to hurry from the van and onto the plane, while trying to hear her daughter over the deep demonic wind sound.
“Two miles,” Brandy repeated. “You taught me. Count the seconds after the lightning, divide by five and that’s how many miles away the storm is.”
“You’re right.” Susan shielded her eyes, the fine mist still falling steadily. She turned to Bill. “Get the kids on the plane.”
Bill nodded and lifted Maddy into his arms, resting the girl on his hip. He took Brandy by the hand and seven year old Stephen stayed close.
She watched them get to the staircase and Susan looked up. It didn’t make sense. Lightning, thunder, wind and mist, yet, she could still see stars in the sky. Where were the storm clouds if it was only a couple miles away?
Susan took that as a good sign. Clear skies. Safe flying.
She made it up the staircase before the last of the people, and from the doorway, like a volunteer flight attendant, moved the remainder of the people hurriedly into the cabin of the plane.
The engines fired up and whirled. As the last person entered, the pilot emerged from the cockpit.
“I have the door,” he said. “Go sit. Tell people to buckle up. We won’t waste time. I don’t see it, but I can feel a hell of a storm.”
“I know. Thank you, I’ll tell them.” Susan stepped away, looking over her shoulder as the pilot secured the door and quickly returned to the cockpit.
As she walked down the aisle, she called out, “Please buckle up, we are taking off. Make sure you’re buckled.”
She spotted Bill and the kids seated midway. He held Maddy on his lap. Brandy was in the middle seat and Stephen in the middle.
The row behind them was empty. Susan took Maddy from Bill, gave a reassuring smile to her children and husband and took a seat in the row behind them.
She set Maddy in the middle seat and took the one by the window. No sooner did her rear touch the seat, the plane started moving.
The pilot wasn’t kidding. He wasn’t wasting any time.
Through the corner of her eye the lightning flashed and brightened everything. Quickly she buckled and secured Maddy’s belt, then her own as the plane picked up speed.
“Is it okay, Mommy?”
“Yes, baby.” She clenched Maddy’s hand. “It’s fine.”
The plane moved faster, then turned some, Susan guessed to get on the actual runway.
That gave her a sense of relief.
Not long, they’d be in the air.
Lightning flashed again and her eyes shifted to the window.
The plane moved faster, plowing down the runaway.
Holding her daughter’s tiny hand, views focused out the window, the lightning flashed again. Suddenly, an area lit by the moon was completely dark.
It looked like the night swallowed everything around them.
Nothing but black.
Susan was certain the storm clouds moved in until the lightning lit everything again. The long bright flash of light showed Susan it wasn’t a storm. The dark of the night didn’t encompass things and it wasn’t clouds.
It was water.
A huge wall of water.
It barreled their way, the brightness from the lightning afforded her the opportunity to see, even if only briefly, a huge ship in the wave that headed their way.
She wanted to scream ‘oh my God’, but she didn’t want to alert anyone.
The plane was moving, fast.
Go. Go. Go, she beckoned in her mind.
The pilot could do it. He could get them off the ground before the water arrived.
The speed in which the plane moved told her they were close to take off.
It was tense, her heart raced. She felt as if she were in some action movie in a race against time.
Her eyes went from the window to her daughter, then back to the window.
She squeezed Maddy’s hand so tight, then exhaled in relied when she felt the plane lift off.
Susan had been holding her breath, she exhaled when she felt the plane begin to rise.
Her relief was short lived.
“Mommy?”
Susan turned her head to her daughter.
CRASH.
The water slammed into the plane with such force they were like the baseball and the water was the bat.
The plane didn’t flip.
The force caused a quick impact jolt to the left then sailed the plane hard to the right.
She grabbed for Maddy, at the same time, she saw her husband and son shoot to the other side of the plane. Susan couldn’t look, she closed her eyes tight not wanting to see them hit anything.
Horrified screams filled the cabin of the plane, and Susan clutched her youngest daughter for dear life. The plane flipped to the side and a thunderous crack rang out. It was deafening, causing her ears to ring and Susan to open her eyes.
Maddy screamed long and shrill. A child’s cry out in fear.
The front part of the plane snapped off like a twig, shooting off a split second before the water rushed in.
Susan closed her eyes again and just held her child.
There was nothing else left to do.
In the last moments of her life, Susan held on to one of her life’s most precious commodities.
FIFTEEN – FROM A DISTANCE
Las Vegas, NV
The three hour stretch of sleep seemed like a full night to Gabe. He didn’t realize how tired he was and would have sworn, he never would have passed right out, stretched across two chairs in gate twenty-two.
The last they spoke to Gene, they had a good bit of time before they had to leave. Gabe and Jeff decided to let people rest as long as possible, grab food and then they would take off with enough time to spare.
With the power still being on, it gave them options for food and beverages. There weren’t that many bodies in the terminal, like Jeff had said, it was a rarely used one so that didn’t linger against Gabe’s appetite.
Actually, he was starving. Once calmed, his stomach twisted in hunger pains. It had been twenty-four hours since he had eaten.
He and Owen hit the sub shop, making a monstrous sandwich with the still fresh luncheon meats. His father didn’t eat much, that worried Gabe and his father also was drinking quite a bit. That too worried Gabe because he was the drinker in the family not his father.
Gabe knew a lot about liquid courage and since his father had to always be the strong one, he knew his father was hiding his worries behind a bottle.
Gabe was one of the last ones awake. His body was exhausted, his mind spinning through all he had learned about the plane. He was used to sleeping with white noise, but somehow the steady automatic playing of the slot machine music acted like white noise and he drifted off.
That same noise woke him. But it was louder and ringing a bit more.
Someone made coffe
e, he could smell it. He stretched the kinks out of his back, saw the time, felt refreshed and stood.
A café stand was a mere ten feet from where Gabe rested, and Trevor from the flight, stood there with Gary sipping coffee.
“Is that up for grabs?” Gabe asked.
“Absolutely,” Trevor said. “We were just talking about the time frame.”
“Shit.” Gabe paused in getting his coffee and checked his phone. “Let me make sure. Because I don’t have any messages.”
He quickly sent a text to Gene asking how much time they had.
Gene replied just as fast that they had a little under three hours. Levels were starting to rise.
“We have time,” Gabe held up his phone. “I’d say we start rounding people in an hour, get them on the plane and we can take off with plenty of time.” He poured a cup of coffee and took a sip. “Is my dad up? Have you seen him?”
Gary pointed.
Gabe turned following the direction of the point.
He saw the cloud of cigarette smoke in the center area, then he saw his father. He sat at a slot machine, a coffee in one hand and a cigarette dangled from his mouth.
After telling Trevor and Gary thanks, Gabe walked over. As soon as he did, the machine went nuts with music, animated coins erupted on the screen.
“Damn, again,” Tom said.
“Dad?”
“Oh, hey Gabe. How about this? I got the major jackpot. Again. Wouldn’t happen if the world didn’t go to shit. Who needs money?”
Gabe chuckled. “How long have you been …” he paused when he saw how much money his father had won. “Dad, that’s eight thousand dollars.”
“I know, right. Three hours, I kept hitting. I upped my bet to play it down and … look. I’m winning. But … money isn’t going to be any good for a while. Other things will be.”
“I concur.” Gabe sat down at the machine next to his father. He took another sip of his coffee. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Have you thought about what’s next?”
Flight 3430 Page 11