“Can you lower the chopper?”
“Working on it,” came pilot Weinstein’s voice.
Carson had no sense of descending. Instead, the Skylane seemed to rise toward him, still shifting, rocking, wagging its tail. He spread the loop of cable open with his left hand, his eyes on that tail section, looking for that one precise moment of opportunity. If he could loop the cable gently around the right stabilizer first, then over the tail, then the left stabilizer . . . if he could somehow get his body farther to the right . . . if he and the plane would hold still. . . .
He was close now, so close the tail fin was waving just below his face, swinging like a gate in the wind, back and forth, up and down. If he wasn’t careful it would knock his face shield off. “Good, good, that’s low enough.” He held the lasso ready, watching for his chance. . . .
An updraft! The tail came up at him like an angry shark fin! Instinctively he curled his body to the right and the tip of the fin struck his left shoulder, flipping him over on his back. Now he was facing backwards, the airplane behind his head. The rudder scraped across the top of his helmet as he kicked and struggled, trying to turn rightside up, trying to see where he was. A sudden and forceful jerk on the cable flipped him over again. Now he was facing forward, and to his horror he discovered the cable to his harness was snarled in a radio antenna on the top of the tail fin. “STEADY, STEADY! I’m snarled in the antenna!”
His weight brought the cable down hard on the tail fin, the tail section lowered, the airplane nosed up and started climbing, he and the cable held the tail section down so it nosed up even steeper. He could see the arc of the prop cutting ever closer to the cable.
Got to get the weight off this cable! His left hand went to his chest, found the quick release, pulled.
The cable came loose and he fell backward in a free fall. The cable, free of his weight, snaked and whipped above the Skylane.
Billings saw it all and hollered to the pilot, “Take her up, take her up! Abort! Veer to the left, the left!”
Weinstein pulled hard on the control stick, and the huge chopper clawed for more sky as the Skylane, its nose raised awkwardly, gained altitude but lost speed, fading back.
With great relief, Billings saw both Carson’s cable and the lasso cable whip free of the plane and trail in the wind harmlessly above it. Far back and far below, a brightly striped parachute popped open.
“Carson! You all right?”
Carson radioed back, “I’m okay. How’s the airplane?”
Even as Carson asked the question, Billings saw the airplane, its airspeed exhausted by the abrupt climb, nose over into a dive.
“It’s going down, Carson! It’s out of control! I think we crippled it!”
“NO!” Lila screamed as she saw the Skylane wavering and rocking nose down toward the treetops.
“No!” said a reporter from one of the choppers. “Something’s gone wrong! The airplane is out of control! A gallant rescue effort could very well end in tragedy!”
Aboard Eight Yankee Tango, Jay stirred slightly, but remained unaware that directly out the windshield were mountains, rocks, and trees, coming closer, faster and faster.
SIX
Everybody keep your distance!” Ben Parker commanded through his headset. “Back off!”
The news choppers kept their distance but kept their cameras on the action. The Coast Guard chopper kept climbing to try and stabilize above the struggling Skylane.
“Give it time,” said Brock, trying to reassure Dr. Cooper. “If that autopilot is still working and the control surfaces aren’t bent, it might recover.”
Even as they watched, Eight Yankee Tango dove downward until it gained enough speed to develop the lift necessary to pull it out of the dive, then nosed up into a climb. Then it climbed until it ran out of speed to maintain lift, nosed over into a dive again, then gained speed and lift and pulled up into a climb again, then slowed down and nosed down again, and so it went, like a roller coaster. Brock and Dr. Cooper got queasy just watching it.
Each successive dive was shallower and each climb less steep. Eventually, it seemed the airplane might stabilize.
“About fifty minutes of fuel left,” Dr. Cooper figured.
Brock called the tower, “Boeing Tower, this is Niner Zulu Mike. What’s the word on that Coast Guard chopper? Are they going to try again?”
Ben Parker and Bob Konishi had just had a conference with Coast Guard Two Zero Bravo. Parker spoke into his headset. “Uh, negative, Niner Zulu Mike. The man who went out on the cable says it’s just too risky. We would have lost the aircraft if he hadn’t aborted.”
Dr. Cooper could see The Yank still making shallow climbs and descents. He realized what the tower chief was saying was true. They’d come terribly close to losing both the plane and the Coast Guard’s rescuers.
“So what’s the plan now?” asked Dr. Cooper, fearful of the answer.
“The chopper’s going to double back to pick up their man, and then they’ll follow Yankee Tango until . . . whatever happens, happens,” Parker replied.
Dr. Cooper looked at Brock, who muttered regretfully, “A ditch in the ocean, most likely.”
“Dad . . . ?” came a faint voice over the other radio.
Dr. Cooper’s heart skipped a beat. He was afraid to hope for too much as he switched radios and pressed his talk button. “Jay? Did you call?”
Jay was aware of his surroundings again, aware of the noisy cockpit and the stench of his own vomit and the sickening motions of the airplane. His head still hurt and he still couldn’t see, but strangely enough, he felt stronger and more aware. “Dad? Hello?”
His father’s voice was obviously excited. “Right here, Jay! How are you?”
Jay felt his forehead. The blood was drying. Apparently the bleeding had stopped. “Oh, not bad, considering.”
“You’ve been out for a while.”
“I feel like it. But I feel better. Maybe the nap did me some good.”
Dr. Cooper felt Brock’s joyous slap on his back as he replied, “That’s great. Jay, you’re out over the Olympic Peninsula heading for the ocean. How about a left turn on that autopilot to get you headed back toward Seattle?”
“I think I can handle that.”
With jubilation, Brock and Dr. Cooper saw Eight Yankee Tango begin a gradual, steady left turn.
“And how about a touch of power,” Cooper radioed. “You’ve lost a bit of altitude and we’d like to get you back up again.”
“Okay. Adding some power.”
“How’s Rex?”
“Still out,” came the answer.
A few cheers went up from the people gathered in the lounge as they saw Eight Yankee Tango turning back toward home, accompanied by Brock’s Skylane, the news helicopters, and the lumbering Coast Guard Two Zero Bravo. They’d heard Jay’s voice and were glad he was awake again, but they knew the danger wasn’t over.
“What do you think they’re going to do now?”
one reporter asked another.
“Probably ditch it in Puget Sound,” the other answered.
Lila didn’t like the sound of that. “Ditch it?”
Johnny Adair was on hand to explain, “Just have him land in the water, then they come down with the chopper and some divers and pluck them out.
Simple.”
Lila studied the television images. “Why don’t they just have Jay land it?”
Adair replied quietly, “That would be impossible.
Your brother can’t see.”
But the idea stuck in her head, as ideas in Lila’s head were often prone to do. She confided to her aunt, “I think he could land it.”
A reporter wearing a headset addressed the camera from on-board chopper seven, the Olympic Mountains visible through the window behind her, the whine of the helicopter audible behind her voice. “Fourteen-year-old Jay Cooper, who has been unconscious, is again conscious and coherent. He’s turned the airplane around, and now the airplane is headin
g back toward Seattle. According to a Boeing Tower spokesman, it is very likely the boy’s father, acting as a seeing-eye pilot, will try to guide his son to an attempted water landing in Puget Sound.”
Dr. Cooper and Brock were on the radio with the tower chief and a representative from the Coast Guard.
Dr. Cooper was feeling grim. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll see if he’s up to that.”
“He’ll have to be,” Ben Parker replied. “But you don’t have to tell him everything.”
“I understand.” Dr. Cooper switched to the other radio tuned to the Auburn frequency, the one they’d been using to talk to Jay all this time. But he didn’t call. He sat there, struggling within himself.
Brock offered, “You don’t have to tell him.”
“Yes I do,” Dr. Cooper protested. “I know Jay. He’s going to ask. It’s going to matter to him, as well it should.”
“So what are you going to tell him?”
“What I’ve always told him: the truth.” He pressed his talk button. “Jay, as near as we can figure, you only have about forty to forty-five minutes of fuel left. Now, the Coast Guard tried to fly over and snag you with a cable, but that didn’t work and wealmost lost you. So the plan now is to get you back to the Sound, set up a safe descent rate, and land you in the water. The Coast Guard chopper will follow you and drop divers and life rafts to pull you out.
Does that sound like a plan?”
Jay had plenty of questions, but for now said simply, “Okay.”
“Now son . . . ,” his father purposely spoke evenly, clearly. “You need to take a careful inventory of your abilities. I won’t lie to you. When the plane hits the water, it’ll be a rough landing. It might flip over and you’ll be upside down. You’re going to get wet, because the cabin is going to fill up with water. You’re going to have to unbuckle yourself, get the door open, and swim out of there, and fast, because the airplane is going to sink. Do you have the strength to do that?”
Jay sat up straight and stretched a little. His arms were working, and so were his legs. He still couldn’t see, but his mind felt surprisingly clear. “If God will help me, I think I can do it.”
He could sense a warmth in his father’s voice when Dr. Cooper said, “Well, God has certainly helped you up to this point. I believe we can trust Him for the rest.”
Then Jay reached over and felt his uncle’s limp hand. It was still warm, and there was still a pulse.
“What about Uncle Rex?”
Dr. Cooper and Brock exchanged a look.
“Uh, we’ll get to that, son. It’ll be kind of tricky.” There was a moment of dead air. “Uh, Jay?”
“He might die, huh?”
That question came abruptly. Dr. Cooper swallowed. The same question had been at the forefront of his mind since all this started, but he kept pushing it aside. Now Jay was bringing it right out in the open. “Son, this is a serious situation involving an overwhelming degree of risk. By God’s grace you’ll survive, but . . . yes, there’s a good chance things won’t work out the way we wish.”
Jay came back, “Well, I just wanted you to know I was thinking about it. Sitting here in this airplane with no eyes, you start thinking about stuff like that.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure. I’ve been thinking about it too.” Dr. Cooper searched his own heart for the faith he’d always taught his kids to have. It was still there, but he knew it was being challenged this day. “I guess we’re in a real trust-God situation, aren’t we?”
“Oh yeah. But He knows what’s best. We just have to put ourselves in His hands and let Him take it where He wants to take it. Uncle Rex and I are ready, I know that.”
Dr. Cooper felt close to tears. “I’m proud of you, son.”
Jay couldn’t believe what he was saying and how calm he felt about it all, and yet it was true. He was only fourteen, but he’d faced death and walked with God enough to know who was really in charge and who controlled the outcome of situations like this. As he told his Dad, sitting in this airplane without sight, it was only natural to confront the whole issue and get it settled.
“Well, I love you, Dad. Always have.”
“And I love you too, son.”
“Tell Lila I love her.”
“You can tell her yourself. I’m sure she’s listening to our radio transmissions.”
“I love you, Lila.”
In the tower lounge, Lila broke into tears. “I love you too, Jay.” Suddenly, Johnny Adair reached through the crowd and handed Lila a handheld radio. She took it, swallowed back her tears, and spoke it again, “I love you, Jay.”
“Hi, Sis!” he replied. The joy in his voice was obvious. “How you doing?”
“Oh, just great!” she replied. “Guess you’ll be going swimming today.”
“That’s what I hear.”
“We’re all praying for you.”
“Well . . . then I can’t lose, can I? Is Aunt Joyce there?”
Lila handed the radio to Joyce, and Joyce said, “Hello, Jay. This is Aunt Joyce.”
“Aunt Joyce.” Jay’s voice wavered with emotion as he told her, “We’re going to be all right, both me and Uncle Rex. Don’t you worry.”
Joyce’s eyes welled up with tears. “Just do your best, Jay. Land it gently, and we’ll see you both real soon.”
“See you.”
Joyce was just about to hand the radio back to Adair when Dr. Cooper’s voice came over the scanner. “Boeing Tower, can I speak to my sister on this frequency?”
“Stand by,” they heard Ben Parker reply. “Adair, how about it?”
Adair realized Dr. Cooper was using the tower frequency, the one Jay would not be able to hear. He told Joyce, “Go ahead. It’s 121.5, same as your scanner.”
Joyce twisted in the new frequency. “Jake, this is Joyce.”
Her brother’s voice was gentle but grim. “We’re in a bad situation, sis.”
Joyce drew upon all the courage she had as she replied, “I understand.”
“Somehow . . . if we can just get Rex to wake up—”
“Jacob,” she said so strongly she was almost scolding, “I don’t expect any miracles from you, you hear me? That’s God’s department. You and your son just do your best. Rex belongs to the Lord, and the Lord will take care of him.”
Now Dr. Cooper’s voice was choked with emotion. “We’ll do our best. Talk to you soon.”
“Godspeed, Jacob.”
Joyce handed the radio back to Adair and then collapsed in tears.
“They’ll be all right,” Lila whispered as they embraced.
Dr. Cooper drew a deep breath and moved on to business. “Boeing Tower, where would you like us to ditch the plane?”
Ben Parker’s voice came back, “Just off Alki Point would work. Close to shore. We’ll have emergency vehicles on hand.”
“Roger, Alki it is.”
Dr. Cooper looked ahead and could see the skyscrapers of Seattle on the horizon. In just a few minutes they would be over Puget Sound. “All right, Jay, two things we have to do: slow down and start a descent. We’ll get the speed down first just like we did before.”
Brock told Jay how much to throttle back, and they both trimmed their airplanes, then repeated.
Time passed and Seattle drew closer as they went through the sticky, finicky process of getting both aircraft down to seventy knots—the airplane’s recommended speed for approaching a landing. That was slow for a Skylane, and Brock could feel the sluggishness of his controls and the shaky, swervy feel of his slow-moving airplane.
Dr. Cooper studied the chart in his lap. “About ten nautical miles to Alki from here . . . about eight and a half minutes.”
Brock did some figuring in his head. “We’ll have dropped seventeen hundred feet by the time we get there. We’re at twenty-six hundred now. That’ll do. Once we get there we’ll have him circle down the remaining nine hundred.”
Dr. Cooper radioed, “All right, Jay, we’re headed for Alki. You need to get read
y for ditching. Are there any loose objects in the airplane that could fly around and hurt you if the airplane flips?”
Jay sighed at the fact that he couldn’t see to answer the question. “Probably. We had some cameras and stuff. I don’t know what Uncle Rex has stowed in the luggage compartment.”
“How about your coat?”
“I’ve got that on the backseat.”
“See if you can reach back and grab that. You’ll want to wrap it around your head right before landing to protect your face.”
“Okay.” He reached back with his left hand and felt his coat. He pulled that through the space between the front seats and set it in his lap. “Okay, got it.”
“What about Rex? Is there anything to protect his head?”
“I think maybe I can reach his coat. Hang on.” Jay reached back again and felt Rex’s coat. He pulled that forward. “I’ve got his coat.” There was no answer. “Hello?”
Dr. Cooper hesitated, then said quickly, “Okay, stand by, son.” He spoke to Brock, “He’ll try to get Rex out.”
Brock nodded. “I know. An injured, weakened, and blind kid is going to try to pull a two-hundred-thirty-pound man from a sinking airplane that might be upside down. Jake, if it flips they’ll be hanging upside down from their seat belts with their heads in the water. If Rex doesn’t wake up—”
“Are you sure about the sink rate?”
Brock insisted, “You heard what Fleming and the tower guy said, and I agree. That plane will be so full of openings it’ll flood with water in seconds. Jay won’t have time to pull Rex out and save himself too. If he tries to pull Rex out, they’ll both go down with the airplane.”
“Dad?” Jay called on the radio. “Hello?”
Mayday at Two Thousand Five Hundred Page 6