Watchers

by S. T. Boston

  Chapter 20

  Sam shot up from his seat and clambered over Oriyanna. Reaching across Adam he flung up the window blind and stared out. “We're still about eight thousand feet off the ground!” he exclaimed, glancing at the dead engines in a cursory manner. “This bird will glide without its engines, but if we can make it safely to the ground from this altitude, I don't know.” He gazed down at the desert below; they might have descended a good twenty thousand feet from cruising altitude on their halted approach into Cairo, but they were still frighteningly high.

  “We have two hours,” Oriyanna cut in, seeming oblivious to the crippled state of the aircraft. “In two hours, the Tabut will hold enough power to achieve singularity. Once that happens, we lose all hope of stopping the virus and saving my home from that bomb.”

  “Yeah, thanks for adding to the pressure of the situation,” snapped Sam. “You might not even get to worry about the if's, but's and maybe's. The chances of anyone walking away from this when we do hit the ground are slim. You have a better chance than most, hell, you fell from fucking space and you're still here. The rest of us won't be quite so lucky.” The panic in the cabin was spreading; barely twenty seconds had passed since the EMP hit the aircraft. Flight attendants were trying to keep the situation calm, but failing miserably. Despite the lack of attention from their passengers, they continued to bark out crash landing procedures, as if they were nothing more than automated machines.

  “Oh well,” Adam said in a resigned tone, “at least I won't have to worry about dying from the virus.” It seemed strange, but it was almost a relief to know that the last two days of hell were coming to an end. Sure, the world would turn to shit over the next few weeks, but at least he wouldn't be there to witness it.

  “You're not dead yet,” Oriyanna reassured him, her eyes wide and defiant. “None of us are!”

  Sam could already sense a slight dropping sensation in the pit of his stomach as the 747 lost altitude. He unclipped his belt and climbed up onto the seat, studying the cabin. “There are seats right at the back, by the toilets. Follow me.” Climbing down off the seat, Sam grabbed Oriyanna and pulled her into the aisle. “This plane is going to go down nose first. The longer we glide, the further down the nose will dip. People at the front won't stand a chance,” he said hurriedly as they rushed toward the back, closely followed by Adam.

  It was strange to witness first-hand, how different people were reacting to their impending doom; the sick people in the cabin had been forgotten. Some families were frozen, clutching hold of one another, while other people prayed and still more cried. Dying was one thing, having time to actually think about what was going to happen was another. As they reached the back Sam was aware of plane angling forward, and the further he walked the more of an uphill struggle it became. The more the pitch changed, the more the panic around them grew. “Strap yourself in!” he shouted over the commotion. “When I say so, tuck your head between your legs and brace.” He wanted to say, kiss your ass goodbye, but somehow, the expression didn't seem funny anymore.

  Craning his neck to see, Sam glanced down the line of seats. From their position in the centre column, it was hard to estimate how high they were. He could just see the desert below; it was coming up to meet them fast. “We've got about thirty seconds,” he shouted. “Get ready!” The passengers who sat by the windows were transfixed, staring wide-eyed at the swiftly approaching ground. Daring one last look, Sam could see the tops of trees and houses. Oh shit, he thought, we're coming down in a built-up area. A shudder ran through the whole plane as the pilot desperately tried to make the most of the hydraulic pressure and apply the air brakes, but it was a fruitless endeavour. “Now! Brace!” Sam shouted, his voice almost lost in the mêlée of panicked cries which had reached fever pitch.

  The nose of the 747 hit the ground first, just as Sam had predicted. The impact tore through the cockpit, crumpling it like an old tin can and immediately killing the pilot and flight crew who'd been working bravely to try and save the stricken jet. As the aircraft screamed nose first along the ground, it collected up and smashed through a line of cars which had also been rendered useless by the EMP. One by one, their fuel tanks exploded around the fuselage. When the rear of the jet dropped, its massive wings sliced through the roofs of shops and houses on either side of the road, tearing off the silenced engines. The assaulting volley of masonry continued to pummel the plane until it tore through the airframe of both wings, ripping them off in a hail of sparks which instantly ignited the remaining jet fuel held in the massive tanks. Fire rained down like white hot hail, as the centre of the fuselage was engulfed in flame. As gravity took hold, the tail section slammed down into the ruined street, the impact immediately making it break away and come to an abrupt and neck-jolting stop when the tail fins wedged firmly between two shops at a crossroad. The remainder of the aircraft still had momentum and smashed over another road, sliding through a line of trees and splashing into the yellow-brown waters of the Nile where it came to rest, jet fuel spilling out onto the water, creating a river of fire around the fuselage as it burned.

  “Still alive, still alive, still alive,” Adam muttered repeatedly, his eyes tightly closed, his head buried deep in his lap. Oriyanna sat in an identical position beside him, clasping his hand tightly. Sam next to her was doing the exact same thing. The cries and screams of the other passengers were lost to the ear shattering sound of metal tearing and glass breaking. Adam felt the rear of the aircraft hit the ground; the force vibrating up through his body, shaking every bone. The abrupt halt in forward motion made him lurch painfully forward and the lap belt dug into his stomach, winding him and forcing his eyes open. The rest of the aircraft was gone, and two rows ahead of him nothing remained. The rest of the 747 lay in a crumpled heap at the end of a road, half of its massive bulk in the river. The street before him resembled a war zone which had just been carpet bombed. The cries of the dying and injured who spanned the gap between the two chunks of aircraft suddenly filled his ears as realisation struck him. They'd survived.

  “Are you hurt?” cried Sam over the hellish noise, his eyes open, frantically searching about and absorbing what had happened.

  “No, I don't think so,” Adam replied in amazement; though the sores and rashes were still there, he seemed otherwise uninjured. Buer's virus might just get to kill me yet, he thought. Those who weren't near enough to the crash to be killed or injured were starting to appear, rushing to help anyone shouting loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of noise. Somewhere below them a fire was burning in their part of the aircraft. “We need to get out of here!” Adam shouted. The tail section had wedged itself at a forward angle, almost hanging them out over the road below.

  “We need to try and climb down,” said Oriyanna, weighing up their options. The thirty or so other passengers who'd been lucky enough to be seated at the back of the 747 were all still sitting in their seats in shock, seeming unable to believe they'd survived the landing. “Let me try,” she added. With the dexterity of a cat, she unclipped her belt and slid down onto the back of the seat in front. Expertly she climbed over it and dropped down another row, bringing her to where the plane had split. Using the back of the seat and the floor of the cabin which formed a rough 'V', she scooted her way along until she reached the aisle. Positioning her legs in the walkway, she pushed herself out and slid down the carpet. Reaching the end of the makeshift slide, she dropped over the edge and fell the last six feet to the ripped up tarmac below. “No problem,” she called back confidently. “Just follow the same route I took.”

  A few onlookers who'd been watching her daring escape began unclipping themselves, all eager to get out of the plane. Sam helped a couple of stunned students out of their seats and down into the aisle; Oriyanna waited at the bottom and caught them as they dropped. It was going to take some time to get everybody down; a few people were still frozen in fear, too scared to even remove their belts. Feeling selfish, Sam pushed Adam forward and followed him d
own the carpeted aisle and onto the street below. As much as it pained him, there wasn't time to help everyone. Further down the road, smoke was billowing out of the main body of the plane. People were frantically trying to help, but the heat of the burning jet fuel kept them back.

  “We'd have been in there if you hadn't moved us,” Oriyanna commented, watching the nightmarish scene through wide blue eyes. One by one the other survivors were freeing themselves from the tail section, and as they reached the street they all stopped and stared in horror at the burning wreckage.

  “It's odd,” said Adam, watching with the rest, “there are no sounds of sirens coming to help. Unless the survivors here can get those people out, they'll die. We have to do something.”

  “There are no sirens,” replied Sam, “because that EMP fried everything. That's it, no more laptops, no more iPhones, no more cars. No more anything! Someone just pulled the plug on the planet.”

  “We don't have time to help those people,” Oriyanna cut in, already working out the direction they needed to head in. “We have to get moving.” She rushed over to one of the panicked locals, who seemed frozen to the spot, unable to work out who he should try to help first, “How far is it to the plateau?” she asked the stunned man. The confusion on his face wasn't from the scene before him, or from the fact that despite all that was happening, one of the survivors was asking for directions to one of the area's main tourist attractions. He simply didn't seem to understand English. Oriyanna realized her mistake and immediately switched to his native tongue, asking the question again in perfect, unbroken Arabic. The sudden change in language seemed to surprise him even more. Sam watched on as the confused man eventually managed to give Oriyanna the information she needed. “It's about six or seven miles,” she said, hurrying past them. “We need to head this way.” She waved her arm down an adjoining street, away from the wreckage. “The nearest road bridge over the river is about a mile upstream.”

  “What about Xavier?” said Sam, remembering they were due to meet him at the airport.

  “I don't know,” she replied sadly. “We have to assume he's out of the game. We don't have time to go to the airport and try to find out.”

  Sam nodded and turned his attention to Adam, who was looking worse by the minute. “Can you make it?” he asked, noticing the dazed look in Adam's eyes. A feverish sweat had broken out on his forehead.

  “Only one way to find out,” Adam replied, following Oriyanna. “I know one thing, we didn't come this far and go through all this for me to just sit down and give up when we're so close.” Sam tucked in behind them as they picked their way through the debris and rounded the back of the broken-off tail section. The scene behind the aircraft was just as disastrous. The straight road leading down toward the river was more like a demolition site than a suburban street. For a good three hundred meters, the houses and shops on both sides had been sliced away at the roofline. Around a hundred meters behind the rear of the jet, the tangled and crumpled wings lay almost directly opposite each other, wedged on top of two demolished buildings. Sam couldn't even begin to make out what the buildings had once been. Among the vast array of mangled, man-made materials were other more organic parts. People who'd been unlucky enough to be caught in the street when the 747 hit the ground hadn't stood a chance. It was far worse than anything he'd ever witnessed, in any of the war torn countries he'd served in. The worst of suicide bombing scenes couldn't hold a candle to the chaos and devastation caused by the downed Boeing. Sam found himself wondering about the thousands of other flights which would have been in the air when the EMP struck. The scene before him wouldn't be a unique one; all over the world, aircraft must have literally fallen from the skies.

  The smashed wreckage of a dark blue Nissan pickup caught his eye. The vehicle was securely planted in the front of what had once been a hardware store. “Hold up a second,” he called, “we may have something here.” Crunching over the broken glass, Sam climbed into the wreckage. The two police officers in the vehicle were well and truly dead, both slumped over the top of each other.

  “What is it?” called Oriyanna. “We don't have much time, Samuel. Please, we need to get going!”

  “Feel free to crack on,” he called back, “that is, if you fancy going into this thing unarmed. I know I certainly don't.” Using his right leg as a pivot, Sam gained as much purchase on the passenger door as he could muster and tried to pry it open. After a few good, hard tugs, the door finally gave and opened with the reluctant sound of metal grinding over metal. “Adam, give me a hand here,” he shouted, leaning in over the dead passenger. Sam felt like kissing the corpse at the sight of his Smith & Wesson M&P 537 pistol, still secured in its holster. Unfastening the weapon from its harness, Sam slid out the clip. All fifteen rounds were there, as well as one in the chamber, ready to go. “Here, take this,” he said, handing the weapon back to Adam who was standing behind him, watching with interest. “These guys were in the right place at the right time,” he commented, climbing further into the cab and reaching over the driver.

  “I guess it depends on whose point of view you look at that one from,” said Adam, examining the gun. “Are there any more?”

  “Yeah, the driver has an identical weapon,” Sam replied, using both hands to lever the body toward him. “I just need to free him a little to— there we go.” The limp body finally moved, and Sam almost fell back out of the cab. Reaching over, Sam unclipped the pistol and slid back out into the shop. “I need to check the rear cab,” he added, handing the second gun over. “Is there anything else we need?” Pinning his body flat against a display cabinet full of door locks and other household security items, Sam shimmied down the side of the police pickup.

  “Some flashlights,” called Oriyanna from the gaping hole in the front window. “We might also need some rope.” Passing the guns out to her, Adam jumped over the counter and landed on the dead body of the shop owner, who was sprawled out on the floor, a large knife-like shard of broken glass wedged tightly in his neck. Ignoring the gruesome scene and with his shoes slipping in the sticky blood still seeping from the wound, he reached up and ripped three torches from the display and placed them on the counter. “Why do we need rope?” he asked.

  “No time to explain now. Trust me,” she shouted, as an explosion shook the air, causing some of the remaining intact window to shatter onto the ground. “Just be quick, we only have a few hours.”

  Following the line of the counter, Adam was making his way to the back of the shop, when a sudden wave of nausea washed over him. He doubled over and vomited onto the floor. Clutching hold of the worktop for support, he continued to retch repeatedly. Cold sweat started running from his already clammy brow.

  “Are you okay?” Oriyanna's concerned voice came to him as she joined him in the store, resting a supportive hand on his back.

  “I'll be fine,” he said breathlessly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “If I get too sick, promise me you'll go on with Sam,” he added.

  Oriyanna nodded her head in understanding, “It won't come to that,” she reassured him. “You will make it.”

  “Let's get that rope and get out of here,” Adam said, changing the subject. “Every second counts, right?”

  “Right,” she agreed.

  Shakily, Adam reached the stand that held a variety of different thicknesses of rope. Each one was hung on a rail so customers could reel off their required amount. “How much do we need?”

  “A couple of hundred feet,” she replied, trying to convert the measurements in her head. “That should easily do it, get some thick enough to take your weight.” Selecting one which looked as if it could lift a small family car, Adam hastily began reeling the thick, white rope off the roll, wrapping it around his arm the same way he would usually roll up the lawnmower cable. Not bothering to measure it out, he kept going until the roll spun empty.

  “Got it,” he said, clambering back behind the counter and stepping over the contents of his stomach, which had joined
the dead clerk's bodily fluids. “Sam, are you done?”

  “Almost.” Sam's voice came from the back of the pickup. After squeezing his way behind the vehicle, Sam had managed to jam open the crumpled tailgate, giving him access to the back cab. Reaching in, he slid out a large black canvass holdall and zipped it open. “Hello, beautiful,” he whispered, staring wide-eyed at the contents. Had he not known better, the turn of good fortune might even have made him reconsider his lack of belief in the big man upstairs.

  * * *

  Xavier wiped the sweat off his brow and sat panting in the sand. With his back pressed hard against the limestone base of the Sphinx, he looked out across the plateau toward the Great Pyramid which loomed ominously against the night sky. The plateau, usually bathed in an awe-inspiring array of floodlights now lay silently beneath a blanket of darkness. Following the EMP, he'd had to cover the last few miles on foot, navigating the panic-ridden streets. While the loss of the world's constantly running media machine had halted incoming reports of the virus, word of mouth was still at work, prompting a widespread vein of fear to run through the population. Those who had chosen to stay out on the streets were there for no good reason. Over the last few miles, Xavier had seen widespread looting and an array of vicious attacks which thankfully, he'd managed to stay clear of. It was truly frightening to witness how in just a few short hours, law and order had broken down, giving way to outright anarchy. Thinking through his options, he turned his thoughts briefly to Oriyanna and the two who had been travelling with her. Not long after the invisible pulse which crippled the planet, he'd heard one plane come down a few miles to the east. In the distance, far off over the desert, he'd seen a second aircraft on its fatal and final descent toward the ground. He'd been too far off to hear the impact, but the rising plume of thick black smoke that soon followed confirmed his fears. There was no telling just how many people had been killed by the activation of the Tabut; it made him wonder if Oriyanna would have actually been able to bring herself to use it. In the old days when it had first been placed on Earth, there had been no complicated electrical systems to worry about, but at the present point in the Earth-Humans' technological evolution, they relied heavily on such things. Unfortunately, unlike the electrical systems on Arkkadia, the ones on Earth were not immune to the powerful EMP that was produced.