Lauren wanted to explode. Flight 880 was out there and she was trapped arguing with people who seemed more concerned with the politics of the situation than the reality.
“If you unnecessarily scare the hell out of those waiting, then you’ve done more harm than good,” Henry nearly shouted. “But then again, you do that on a daily basis; why would I expect this to be any different?”
“Gentlemen,” Leo finally intervened, he held up his wrinkled hands. “We all have different jobs here. Let’s just do them. Henry, you do whatever you can from your end. We’ll do what we need to from here. Now, let’s get to work, and Henry, we’ll expect constant reports.”
“Leo, I agree completely.” Cyrus glared at Henry, then turned to Leo where the angry expression quickly vanished. “I must admit to having some serious reservations about Henry’s participation in this crisis, especially with his wife being on the flight. Wouldn’t you agree it’s just not prudent?”
“To hell with your reservations,” Henry shot back. “I’m the best man to deal with this situation. I know the 737 backwards and forwards. Unless you’d like to speak with the crew yourself, give them some guidance?”
“You’re on thin ice, Mr. Parrish.” The CEO’s words came out as almost a hiss. “Frank Devereux is on his way; when he arrives, you will turn the entire operation over to him. He’ll make any decisions along with Leo and myself. Is that understood?”
“Devereux’s been Vice President of Flight Operations for almost three years. I’ll bet he hasn’t flown the line since then,” Henry said sharply. “Hell of a lot of good he’ll be.”
“I was right in calling him.” Cyrus turned to Leo, as if to give the aging Chairman the impression he was involved in the discussion. “He said he would be here in less than half an hour.”
“We’re sorry Audrey is on board,” Leo said quietly. “But I think Cyrus has a good point.”
“Well said, Leo,” Cyrus added. “It reflects how we all feel.”
“Look!” Lauren’s patience had vanished. “Time is running out! Henry and I are going to the tower.”
“Fine,” Cyrus replied, still staring at Henry. “But you will take no action that doesn’t go through Leo and myself. We’ll be here in Operations. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” Henry guided Lauren out past Glen, Tucker, and Matt, closing the door to the war room as he exited.
Lauren hated that the conversation with Cyrus had eaten up valuable time. She had no idea how far they were from the control tower.
“What’s going on?” Matt asked excitedly.
“Glen,” Henry said, ignoring his son. “Get an ID badge for Lauren. Then I want you to call the tower supervisor, tell them the two of us will be there shortly and if they could smooth the way as far as security is concerned, it would be appreciated.”
“What can I do?” David Tucker quickly offered.
“Get on the phone. Find the closest military field with an up-and-running PAR approach. Then find me a systems guy. I want the best 737 engineers you can find. I want a solution to this mess—and I want it now!”
“I’m on it!” Tucker spun and headed for a phone.
“What’s a PAR?” Lauren questioned. She knew she could quickly facilitate anything to do with the military.
“Precision Approach Radar,” Matt said, jumping into the conversation. “The military uses a totally ground-based approach system. Two radar beams are used to direct the airplane all the way to touchdown. All it takes is a communication link with the airplane. The ground guys do the rest.”
“But with all the base closings,” Henry added, “I’m not sure where the closest one might be.”
Lauren watched Matt’s expression turn from humiliation at being ignored, to anger at being so obviously excluded from the process. She wanted to say something, anything, that might assuage Matt’s feelings. But under the circumstances, she felt entirely out of place.
“Here.” Glen handed Lauren an ID badge affixed to a cord, which Lauren slipped over her head.
“We’re out of here,” Henry said. “Glen, keep line three open for me in case I need anything more from you. If you need to reach me, call on my cell phone. Oh, and make sure Matt doesn’t get into any trouble, okay?”
Lauren wished she could give Matt some encouragement. “I’ll be in touch.” She said, squeezing his arm as she hurried past.
Henry raced up the stairs to the main concourse level. Lauren was right behind him “We’re cutting it pretty close—we’re going to have to run.”
“Just go!” Lauren said. Outside the window the blizzard was now in full force. Snow poured out of the diffused sky. She could barely see the snow-covered airplanes parked at the gates. The meteorologist in her knew that this storm was intensifying quickly. She wondered if this blizzard was shaping up to be far more than just the normal mid-western snowstorm. At the thought of Donovan up there somewhere, flying aimlessly in a crippled airplane, she ran faster.
CHAPTER NINE
“We’re going to give them fifteen minutes and then call back.” Donovan felt buoyed by the fact he’d spoken to Lauren. Thankfully, Audrey had returned to the cabin to check on the passengers. It was just he and John on the flight deck.
“I’ve got the airplane if you want to go—Audrey might need some help finding more phones,” John suggested. “Maybe, while you’re up, you could take a look around and get an idea of how much damage we have to this thing. I’m really anxious to know if we have any fuel leaks. But I’ll need you up here with me when we talk to Henry again.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Donovan unfastened his seat belt. “If something happens, just rock the wings gently, that can be our signal that you want me.”
John nodded that he understood.
As soon as Donovan stepped out of the flight deck, he stopped, staggered by the scene as he looked down the full length of the cabin. He had been in such a rush to get up to the cockpit that the extent of the damage hadn’t really registered. Above him, he could see the sky through what was once the roof of the plane. The stiff aluminum ribs and stringers fluttered in the slipstream; wrinkled and torn metal jutted out at odd angles. The roar from the wind buffeted loudly, he could feel the full force of it resonate deep in his chest.
Donovan decided the first item of business was to drag the copilot out of the way. He reached down and grabbed both ankles, pulling the body from the cockpit. The young man’s head twisted at an impossible angle as Donovan placed the body on the floor of what used to be first class.
Donovan straightened up and averted his eyes from the corpse. Dark stains were splattered over the gray carpet. Donovan forced himself to move aft, the icy rush of air blasting him as he ducked under the largest part of the rip in the fuselage. He needed to find a coat to stay warm or he would freeze. They all would. He momentarily lost his balance, steadying himself on one of the seats. He stiffened. Did the plane move… had John done something different? Had he rocked the wings? Donovan tensed, ready to turn and bolt back toward the cockpit. He studied the clouds out the small window. They were still flying straight and level. Had he just imagined it? He pulled his hand from the seat and recoiled at the icy blood and gore he found there. Filled with revulsion, he wiped it off as best he could on another section of the fabric chair.
The passengers seated in the first row behind the missing seats were all dead. Flying debris had inflicted massive head and chest wounds. Some were virtually unrecognizable; only their clothes hinted at whether the victim was male or female. Blood had frozen and congealed on the beige headliner and window panels. His stomach lurched as he quickly moved past the carnage.
Donovan moved a few rows, then stopped to examine a passenger near the over-wing exit. He recognized the man who had smiled and nodded at him as they’d taken their seats in Washington, DC. No oxygen mask hung above him.
All around him, people sat quietly in their seats, they looked to be asleep, but their bluish lips and gray faces told a different st
ory. Since it was Friday afternoon, Donovan knew that most were probably headed home for the weekend. Families would be waiting for them to arrive, to walk in for dinner, or a hundred other things taken for granted. To his right a younger couple sat together. He remembered them smiling and laughing. They were probably still in their twenties. Their hands were entwined; her head was tilted over and resting on his shoulder. Sickened by the waste of life, he forced himself to move on. He had to examine as much of the airframe as he could. The dead were beyond his help.
The rip in the top of the 737 began at the cockpit, and ran aft from there. A closer inspection revealed a slight movement of the metal on each side of the gash. The stresses from flight were forcing the two sides to move in opposite directions. Donovan shook his head in near disbelief. It was a miracle the airplane was still intact. As an afterthought, he looked at his hands. A small amount of blood remained. He reached up, fighting the wind rushing along the roof and made a red smudge on the aluminum where the crack ended. He now at least had a reference to where the split stopped. Hopefully, the tear in the metal wouldn’t expand.
“Donovan!” Audrey yelled against the noise of the wind.
He turned to see Audrey and another man. Donovan was at first startled, then thankful, that someone else was up and around, maybe the first of many who would wake up. Carefully, Donovan stepped around the bodies of passengers who had collapsed in the aisle.
“Here.” Audrey handed him a coat. “You’re going to freeze.”
Donovan gratefully slipped on the heavy wool garment and was happy to discover that it fit him fairly well. He studied the newest member of their small group of survivors, and guessed the man was in his mid-to-early-forties. He was husky, about six feet tall, with a full beard and longish blonde hair. At first glance he appeared to be a little on the rough side, but upon closer inspection Donovan could see small refinements. He wore an expensive gold watch and shiny cowboy boots peaked out from beneath precision creased slacks.
“This is Keith.” Audrey made the hurried introductions. “Keith, Donovan.”
“Are you okay?” Donovan nodded at Keith as he quickly buttoned up the heavy coat in an attempt to retain his body heat. He hadn’t realized how cold he was. The effect was almost immediate. He felt in the pockets for gloves but found none, only some matches and half a roll of breath mints.
“I’m fine,” Keith said. “How bad is all of this?”
Donovan brushed off the question and turned toward Audrey. He hated that he had to have this much contact with her, but hopefully the situation they were in would divert her thoughts from the past “How many more survivors are there?”
“I don’t know yet; so far Keith’s the only one.” Audrey lowered her head and removed some strands of hair that had blown into the corner of her mouth. She pulled up the collar on her coat to ward off the freezing blast of air. “It’s too early to tell, but I do think we need to get these people out of the aisle. It’s hard to go back and forth to the cockpit.”
“Keith?” Donovan pointed to the people who lay on the floor. “Let’s see if we can untangle these guys.”
“This one first.” Keith moved toward a man in a business suit. His face was contorted in a mask of fear. They had to pry his dead hand from the wrist of another passenger. “Let’s get him up and put him in that empty seat.”
Donovan recognized the corpses; they were the men who had attacked the young flight attendant who had come to help them. They’d ripped her mask away, and had paid for their panic with their lives. He grasped the first one by the collar and pulled him into a sitting position.
“There’s a pilot up front, right?” Keith ventured as he kneeled to grasp the dead man’s twisted legs.
“Yes,” Donovan replied. He was thankful Keith was a big man. “Ready, lift.” Both men groaned as they heaved the corpse into a vacant seat. Audrey pulled the victim’s hands into his lap, and then strapped him in with the seat belt. “Now him,” Donovan said, indicating the next casualty. They wasted no time in clearing the aisle. Donovan’s revulsion at handling the bodies diminished as they worked.
“How long before we land?” Keith cupped his hands together and blew into them for warmth.
“I’m not sure.” Donovan said, vaguely. “But trust me, we’re going to land as soon as we possibly can.”
Audrey inspected several of the other passengers. Donovan watched as she felt for pulses and lifted their eyelids. She turned to him and shook her head. He could tell from her hopeless expression that all of these people were dead.
She looked up to where the oxygen masks should’ve dropped, but for some reason didn’t. “They never had a chance.”
“We were up at high altitude too long,” Donovan said to no one in particular. He knew he wasn’t responsible, but the fate of the passengers still weighed on him.
“You saved us all by getting up to the cockpit,” Audrey said. “We’d all be dead if it weren’t for you.”
“What about those people?” Keith tilted his head toward a section where the masks had dropped; rows of people sat motionless with yellow rubber cups still fastened to their faces.
“I only checked a few of them,” Audrey said. “Some are alive, but I don’t think all of them are. I tried to wake them up—but couldn’t. I don’t know what to think.”
Donovan shook off his feelings of helplessness and decided he should get back up to the flight deck with John as quickly as he could. “We need to organize a search for more cell phones.”
“I tried the phones back here,” Audrey offered. “John was right; they’re worthless.”
“We figured as much,” Donovan forced himself to tune out the bodies as he decided what to do next. “We’ll have to do this the hard way. I think we should start in the back of the plane and work our way forward. That way we’ll keep it organized and not have to do this more than once.”
“I have a cell phone in my briefcase,” Keith said. “Why do you need it?”
“The radios in the cockpit are damaged. They don’t work.”
“You’ve got to kidding!” Keith exclaimed. His eyes grew wide. “I’ll have to go look for it; I couldn’t find my briefcase after I woke up.”
“Donovan, are you coming?” Audrey had started aft with Keith.
“I’ll be right there.” Donovan knelt and used the back of his hand to wipe away the frost that had formed at the edges of the plastic. He carefully studied the right wing, and then moved to several different windows to get a complete view of both the wing and engine. With a single-minded effort, he ignored the bodies and focused his attention outside. He found nothing out of the ordinary, which was a relief. But when he moved across the aisle to the left side, the damage was obvious. The leading edge of the wing, out by the wing tip, was smashed. The outer six feet looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. It was no wonder the airplane flew so poorly. Thankfully, he found no fuel leaks.
Donovan finished his appraisal of the wing and moved aft. He passed another section of the cabin where the masks had dropped. As before, the passengers sat in their seats, eyes closed, perfectly still. The rubber jungle created by the dropped masks swayed and danced in the wind. It gave Donovan the impression of some sort of bizarre hospital room. He spotted the woman he’d helped before he’d gone to the cockpit. She was sitting with her head against the side of the plane, the male passenger who had tried to rip the mask from her was slack-jawed, his face gray and lifeless.
Donovan could almost picture the scene. Those passengers with masks would have had a minimum amount of oxygen at first. But after the canisters depleted, they simply passed out. Audrey was right; some of them were probably still alive, but perhaps in body only. There was every possibility that they’d suffered brain damage. He turned away and tried not to think about the fact that the damage was most likely permanent. With a good idea of the damage to the Boeing, he joined the others at the back of the 737.
“Find one yet?” The wind was less of a fa
ctor back here. Donovan had to raise his voice only slightly above the slipstream. It also felt warmer. He guessed that the normal hot air used to heat the cabin wasn’t affected by the electrical system. They wouldn’t be able to adjust the temperature, but at least there was some heat.
“I’m still looking.” Keith was down on all fours, searching.
Audrey leaned in close so Keith couldn’t hear her. “How’s John? Do you think it’s a good idea to leave him up there alone?”
“I think it’s okay. He seemed to be pulling himself together.” Donovan hated the proximity with Audrey and moved away from her to help Keith look for a phone.“ I found it!” Keith held his phone up in the air as he got to his feet. He flipped it open and checked that it still worked. “Sorry. I’m afraid there isn’t much battery left. I used it a bunch before we took off from Washington.”
“It’ll get us started,” Donovan said. He looked over Audrey’s shoulder, surprised to see a figure moving in the rear of the plane. The small frame was covered with a blue blanket. As he moved closer, Donovan could see that it was a young woman. She turned and looked at them, it was the flight attendant he’d saved earlier. Donovan could still picture the brutal assault she’d suffered at the hands of the crazed passengers.
“She’s hurt pretty badly,” Audrey offered as she turned to see what he was looking at. “I think maybe her collar bone and shoulder are both broken. She can’t move her arm at all.”
Donovan was unsettled by the pain-filled expression on the flight attendant’s face. She couldn’t be a day over twenty-five. She looked up at him; and struggled to focus. The fat lip and the swollen bluish marks on her young face testified to the trauma she’d endured. Donovan moved back to where she sat, Audrey following close behind.
“Christy,” Audrey began. “This is Donovan. He’s the one who saved you.”
“Thanks,” Christy mumbled through swollen lips, blinking as tears overflowed and raced down her face, her pretty features nearly hidden by her tousled blonde hair. “I don’t remember much of what happened.”
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