Keith gurgled a reply. Then, before Donovan could stop him, Keith rose up and opened the door to the forward lavatory. The grisly sight of the dead passenger instantly pushed Keith over the edge. Donovan did his best to support the man while he emptied his stomach. Donovan felt his throat constrict at the pungent smell of vomit. It took a moment for Keith to try to regain his composure. Donovan closed the lavatory door and thought about the effects of stress, how it was affecting everyone aboard. Christy was not only hurt, but traumatized by being attacked. Wetzler was angry and combative. Keith was having what amounted to a major physical response. Ongoing stress could manifest itself in many ways. He wondered what it was doing to John, Audrey and even himself.
“I’m okay now,” Keith gasped, as he brought himself back up to his full height. He ran his hand across his mouth. “That caught me by surprise. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Are you better?” Donovan studied Keith’s watery eyes and drawn face. “You feel well enough to start this, or do you need a little more time?”
“I’m ready. Anything to get us on the ground and out of this thing.”
“I like your attitude.” Donovan was relieved to see a flicker of resolve in Keith’s expression. “Follow me.” They both ducked down out of the icy blast of air and carefully negotiated the narrow pathway.
“I’ve never been in the cockpit of a commercial jet before.”
“You still haven’t. There isn’t much of one left on this plane.” Donovan slid into his seat and motioned for Keith to come forward. “John, this is Keith. I thought maybe we could use some help up here.”
“Come on up.” John turned slightly in his seat. “Thanks for giving us a hand.”
Keith squeezed into the area just behind the two pilots, careful not to bump anything. “No problem.” He stiffened as he saw the lifeless instrument panel. He slowly let his eyes play over the twisted overhead panel; the severed wire bundles dangled near his head. “Holy shit!” He looked directly at Donovan. “I can’t believe it! How are you going to make any of this work?”
“We only need a little bit of it to work,” Donovan explained. “We’ve talked to some people on the ground and they’re working on a way to get some of this back online.”
“I’m a building contractor. I know a little bit about electrical systems—at least the ones in homes. Are there any gloves?” Keith asked. “I’d like to wearing something nonconductive if I’m going to be touching anything that might have current running through it.”
“Behind my seat should be a pair. They’re insulated,” John said. “See if you can pull out the jump-seat. It’ll give you a place to sit.”
“Okay. I found the gloves. They’ll work fine.” Keith slid the jump seat out and sat down.
“How is it back there?” John asked as Keith was trying to find his seat belt.
“Not good,” Donovan began. “Besides Keith and Audrey, we have Rafael, a medical student, a Mr. Wetzler, who wants to sue the airline, and one of the flight attendants, Christy, who’s hurt and maybe in shock. Everyone else is either missing, dead or unconscious. I asked Rafael to try to somehow identify the people who are alive, so the emergency people will know whom to evacuate first. He also said he’d take a closer look at them when he had a chance. We also have another small problem—we’re leaking oil out of the left engine.”
“There are only seven people awake?” John’s shoulders visibly sunk at the news.
Donovan knew a captain felt responsible for each and every passenger who’d boarded his airplane. From the devastated expression on John’s face, he knew the news was taking a heavy toll. Donovan glanced at his watch. They still had a few minutes before they were supposed to call the tower. As he scanned the carpet of clouds that stretched as far as he could see, it occurred to him that his wristwatch was by far the most sophisticated instrument on the flight deck.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lauren gently replaced the receiver and stared out the window. Even before Calvin’s assessment she’d felt that the weather was going to get worse before it got better. But the briefing she’d just received from DIA Operations had staggered even her expectations. She looked around for Henry. She needed to bring him up to date, but he was still on the phone. Her cell phone beeped in her hand and she looked down to see she had a text message. She quickly ran through the menu to display the text. Her heart soared when she saw it was from Donovan. She held the phone close as she read his words.
Henry from the past be careful. Love D
“More news?” Kate asked as she looked up from her position at the radar scope.
Lauren shook her head and erased the message.
“I’m not sure I heard what position you have with the airline,” Kate probed as she tried to read Lauren’s temporary security badge.
“I’m not with the airline actually,” Lauren said. “My fiancé is one of the people on 880.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said solemnly. “You seem to be holding up pretty well. I promise we’ll do everything we can to help them.”
Lauren suddenly wished there wasn’t this time to stop and think. If she stood around much longer she knew she wouldn’t be doing nearly so well. She both wanted and needed to stay in motion.
“Do you have the number for Wayfarer Operations?” Lauren asked.
“Yeah, sure.” Kate stepped to the phone and looked at a laminated sheet. “Want me to dial?”
“Yes, please.” Lauren moved closer and jotted her cell phone number down on a sheet of paper. She lowered her voice as she handed it to Kate. “In fact, I’d like you to ask for a David Tucker. I want him to give this number to Matt Parrish. Have Matt call me as soon as possible.”
“Sure,” Kate replied.
Lauren once again wished Michael were here. Whatever Henry and Wayfarer were planning, she knew she’d feel better if Michael were somehow involved. A gust of wind rattled one of the windows as a reminder of how terrible the conditions were outside. She wondered if Michael was stranded and if he’d even be able to make it to O’Hare.
“Done.” Kate hung up the phone and handed the paper back to Lauren. “I also gave him the direct line to the tower; I jotted it down for you, too. If you need anything later, please call me. I’m the only Kate in the tower.”
“Thank you so much.” Lauren tried to smile but instead felt hot tears try and push themselves to the surface.
“We’re all family here,” Kate said and reached out and put her hand on Lauren’s. “This whole airport is one big family. We’ll do whatever it takes to get them down safely.”
Lauren jumped as her cell phone rang. All eyes turned as Lauren answered.
“Hey, it’s Matt. You called me?”
“Yes.” Lauren shook her head at the others as if to say it wasn’t Donovan or Calvin. “Okay, sorry. I’m back with you. Hey, I wanted to share a few things and then ask you for a favor.”
“Okay,” he replied tentatively.
“First of all, I want to tell you your mother is fine. Your father is working on a way to get them down. So hang in there, okay?”
“If you say so,” Matt replied weakly.
“What I need to ask is, I’m waiting for a friend of mine to show up. His name is Michael Ross. He’s trying to get from Midway to O’Hare, but the roads are terrible. If he shows up, can I trust you to get him from Operations to wherever I am?”
“No problem,” Matt said swiftly. “But I doubt if he’s coming anytime soon. I’ve been watching the weather. It’s just getting worse out there.”
“I know. But he’s a pretty resourceful guy. All I ask is for you to keep an eye out for him.”
“Can I do anything else?”
“That’s it for now. Where are you? What have you been doing?”
“I’m in my Dad’s office. I opened up some of the intercom lines, it’s something I do sometimes, you know, when I’m bored. I’ve been sitting here listening to everything that’s been happening. Hey, if you leave
the tower can you give me a heads up so I can get the hell out of here?”
“Do you have a cell phone?” Lauren wasn’t surprised at all by Matt’s ingenuity at finding a way to monitor the situation.
“Yeah.” Matt rattled off the numbers. “Cool. Now we can stay in touch.”
“Thanks Matt.” Lauren saw that Henry was now off the phone. “I’ve got to go. If you need me, call the tower number. My cell phone battery is getting low.”
“Will do,” Matt said. “Thanks.”
Henry quickly stepped over to where she was. “You have a weather briefing for us?”
Lauren collected herself, glad to finally be back doing something other than thinking about Donovan. Lauren quietly cleared her throat as she became the center of attention. “As I’m sure you’re aware, you in the aviation community have the ability to request weather information from each and every airport you fly to. I, or should I say we, at the DIA have the resources to calculate the weather at each specific latitude and longitude. We just finished a detailed satellite analysis of the surrounding 600 miles. We’re in the middle of what I would describe as a classic Colorado low pressure system, but with a few twists I don’t think anyone has ever seen before.”
“Such as?” Henry said impatiently. “How soon until this thing blows past?”
Lauren shook her head gravely. “It’s not as simple as that. There is a huge dip in the jet stream—it digs way south, then up along the front range of the Rockies, from there it runs just along the low. That’s what’s fueling the huge line of thunderstorms to our south. Behind the front, all along the trough, is the worst snow event I’ve ever seen. In fact, with the trough where it is, this system isn’t about to blow over quickly. In my opinion we’ve only seen the first half.”
“Oh no.” Henry pinched the bridge of his nose. “So this thing could dump another foot or more?”
“Some are calling this the fifty-year blizzard. I say they’ve missed it by half. Right now we’re seeing as much as five to six inches per hour of snow accumulation. We could get another two feet of snow before it’s over. There are going to be drifts in excess of ten feet with the strong surface winds. Personally, I don’t think a meteorologist alive has ever seen anything like this.”
“What about any breaks in the overcast?” Henry asked, his expression seeming to indicate that his estimation of Lauren had just risen.
“We scanned a 600-mile radius around Chicago and the only partial break in the overcast is right here.” Lauren paused as she calculated how to explain what she knew. “Are any of you are familiar with the term heat island? It’s a phenomenon associated with large urban centers. The heat from these cities impacts and alters the weather downwind of the source itself. In this case, the heat from downtown Chicago and the temperature gradient from Lake Michigan has created a hole in the weather. It’s not big, and it’s constantly changing as the temperature fluctuates due to the snow accumulation, but it’s there. The only opening for 600 miles is just southeast of the Loop over Lake Michigan.”
“Show me,” Henry said as he processed the information.
They gathered around the radarscope. “We’re right here.” Kate pointed to the system of runways depicted on her screen. “These are the buildings downtown. We have that area permanently marked on the scope so we can help planes avoid them.”
“The opening in the clouds is east of them—right about here.” Lauren pointed with her pencil. “It’s entirely off-shore—out over Lake Michigan.”
“I think we have a plan that will put them right here at O’Hare,” Henry said. “I don’t think we have to worry about them trying to land in the lake.”
“Really?” Lauren embraced the words and the confidence in Henry’s voice. “How?”
Behind Henry, another man pushed through the door into the cab. She wasn’t sure who it was until Henry addressed him by name.
“Frank. Over here,” Henry called out half-heartedly.
Lauren could tell from Henry’s tone that Frank was a Wayfarer employee, but wasn’t a welcome addition.
“Cyrus briefed me on what’s happened,” Frank, winded, said as he drew near.
“I’m Dr. McKenna,” Lauren said.
“This is Frank Devereux,” Henry said without emotion.
Lauren nodded as she recalled Henry’s disdain for the man in the earlier, rather heated exchange with Leo and Cyrus. She tried to size up Devereux. He looked to be in his early sixties, a slender, short, nervous-looking man with thinning reddish-gray hair and quick darting eyes. His mannerisms gave Lauren the impression of a small nervous bird—a distinct contrast to the authoritative, decisive characteristics of all the other pilots she knew, including Henry.
“What have you come up with?” Frank exclaimed as he clasped his hands together. “Tell me what you’re thinking in terms of getting them down.”
“In just a second.” Henry looked past Frank and sought out Koski. “Right now I need to know which runway we can use and what the field conditions are.”
Lauren listened as Koski addressed the one person in the cab who had been quietly working with a determined fervor since they’d arrived. She saw Andy hold up a finger as he continued to pace as far as the cord on his headset would allow. He stopped from time to time and glanced at the surface radar. Lauren had the impression Andy choreographed the events in his head and didn’t really need the information on the scope.
“Andy. Got a minute?” Koski repeated.
“You looking for an update?” Andy called out over his shoulder. “One second. Standby Snow One, I’ll get right back to you. You’ve got time for at least one more pass down 32 Left.” Andy studied the screen for a moment before he turned and faced Koski. “What do you want to know?”
“Which runway is in the best shape?” Henry asked.
“Usually you can take your pick, but right now I’m struggling to keep 32 Left as well as 27 Left open. I’d say with the wind, 32 Left is your best bet.”
“What about emergency vehicles?”
“Already making sure they can get out of the fire stations to their staging areas.” Andy keyed his microphone and began talking rapidly. “Yeah, Snow One. Make one more pass on the parallel taxiway for 32 Left. Yes, sir. All the way down taxiway Tango. We’ll get back to 27 Left in a bit. Let’s get this 737 down first, then worry about that, okay?”
“Who is he talking to?” Lauren whispered to Kate.
“Andy talks to the person designated as Snow One. He’s in a truck and is the supervisor down at field level. Snow One in turn issues orders to the fleet of plows and blowers. Right now on 32 Left, a staggered line of vehicles, one blower truck just behind one plow, is making his way down the runway. A 200 foot-wide-swath is being cleared with each pass. It’s amazing to watch. These guys are the best in the world.”
“How much snow have we had?” Frank asked no one in particular.
“We went code black almost two hours ago,” Andy adjusted his headset. “It’s the highest level we have, meaning this is as bad as it gets. With the wind blowing like this, some of the drifts are already as high as five feet. I think the official total is 16 inches so far, and it’s still coming down at five inches an hour. It’s worse than the storm in ’79. In fact, from where I’m sitting, it’s by far the worst blizzard I’ve ever seen.”
Henry nodded. “We’re going to set up for 32 Left then. They could be here inside the next half hour. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Don’t worry,” Andy replied confidently as he ran his hands through his dark hair. “I’ll make sure 32 Left is plowed full length and width. There are patches of wet snow and ice. It’s coming down so fast there could be another three inches of snow or more by the time your guy gets here. We’re having trouble with the drifting, but we’ll handle it. Touchdown zone lights are visible, but some of the runway edge lights are buried. It’ll be as good as we can possibly make it.”
“Thanks,” Henry said sincerely. “Keep up the good work
.”
“Any time.” Andy gave Henry a small nod of appreciation, then resumed his task. “Snow One, I hear you. If you want to, stagger the group and hit several of the high-speed taxiways onto Tango. That would be great. When I give the mark, I want all vehicles to reposition to the emergency assembly locations. We’re about to have an emergency landing and I want everyone to stay sharp!”
Henry turned to Devereux, “32 Left it is. But right now the runway is the least of our problems.”
“What do you mean?” Frank nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What is it you plan to do? You know, of course, we’ll need to run everything past Leo and Cyrus before we commit to any specific action.”
Before Henry could answer, the shrill sound of a phone sounded from the middle of the room. Koski looked at the incoming number and took a deep breath. He glanced at Henry as if to say that the call was probably 880. He picked it up and put it on speaker.
“O’Hare Tower.”
“It’s 880,” Donovan said. “What have you folks got? We could sure use some good news up here.”
“I think we’ve got some,” Henry said, ignoring Frank and stepping nearer the phone. “Donovan, can you put John on the phone?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Henry wants to talk to you.” Donovan handed the phone over to John, then took over the task of flying the 737. He wished he could hear both sides of the conversation, but it wasn’t his airplane, or his airline.
“Henry. What’s the weather now?” John said quickly as he placed the small receiver to his ear.
Donovan knew from the grim expression on John’s face that the weather hadn’t improved.
“Okay, I see.” John then examined the circuit breaker panels. “About half of them, maybe more. Okay, I follow you so far. That makes sense.” John’s face was a study in concentration. “We tried that. The smoke was almost instantaneous.”
The suspense for Donovan was unbearable as John rolled his eyes in disbelief at what he was hearing.
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