Code Black

by Donlay, Philip S.

  “In the middle of a blizzard?” Keith asked.

  Despite the legitimate concern, a small glimmer of hope began to etch itself on the faces of the survivors. Donovan didn’t want to even contemplate what it must be like for them to sit back here—with the dead and near-dead—waiting.

  “Yes,” Donovan said, to reassure them. “We’ll be able to see the other plane in the clouds.”

  “Keith?” Christy called out weakly.

  “I’ll be right there,” Keith answered, then turned back to Donovan and lowered his voice. “She’s in pretty bad shape. If I leave for more than a minute or so, she’s like that. She’s in a great deal of pain and every now and then she goes to sleep—or passes out. I’m not sure which. But I have to keep waking her up if she’s suffered a concussion. I do know she feels safer if I’m there with her when she’s awake.”

  “Then stay with her,” Donovan said, thankful that Keith was helping to hold everything together. “Once we start this, there won’t be anything to do until we come to a stop. All you have to do is open either of the aft doors and get away from the plane. We’ll be surrounded by emergency personnel within seconds.”

  “I was wondering…” Keith lowered his voice. “I’ve been kind of keeping tabs on the engine we looked at earlier. It’s still leaking oil. Maybe more than before.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Donovan had almost forgotten about the oil-streaked cowling. “To begin with, these engines hold a lot of oil. If it hasn’t shut down yet it’ll be fine. If everything works the way I think it will, we’ll be on the ground in less than an hour. It’s not a problem.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?” Rafael asked.

  “If the engine shuts down?” Donovan wasn’t exactly sure what Rafael meant.

  “No. What if flying in formation doesn’t work. Then what?”

  “Then we’ll go back to plan B, which is to ditch in Lake Michigan.”

  “Oh.” Rafael’s eyes went wide and unblinking. “I’m sorry—it’s just that I can’t swim.”

  “Rafael, we’ll get this airplane down on the ground.” Donovan had no intention of explaining that he doubted that the ability to swim would make any difference if they did indeed end up in the lake. “But what might help is if we could find at least one more phone. Is there any place you haven’t searched yet?”

  “We stopped at row 15,” Keith said. “After we found the first few phones, we figured it was enough. Forward of there it gets pretty gruesome, no one wanted to go much further. Those people are pretty messed up. And to be honest, that wind up near the front is nothing short of brutal. Living in Aspen I always hear people talk about how dangerous frostbite and hypothermia is, I know it doesn’t take long for it to do major damage.”

  “Keith, you stay here with Christy and keep an eye on Wetzler. Rafael, I’m hoping you don’t mind helping me search those people?” Donovan had seen the carnage, and Keith was right, it wouldn’t be pleasant. But he also knew they couldn’t afford to lose contact with the outside world.

  “I can do that.” Rafael held up a finger for Donovan to wait as he kneeled and pulled two sets of surgical gloves from the medical kit. “Probably be safer if we wear these.”

  Moments later, Donovan had his gloves on and slowly walked up the aisle toward row 15. It was the row with the woman he’d helped earlier. Rafael started on the other side. He noticed that she had her arm through the strap of her purse, which was why it hadn’t been sucked out of the airplane. She was next to the window, so he was forced to lean over before putting his fingers around the slender leather strap. He was momentarily startled when he tugged on the purse and the woman fell over on her side, her disheveled red hair parted to reveal a delicate face. Though she appeared to be sleeping peacefully, he knew better, the lack of a blanket marked her as one of the dead. Donovan gently freed her purse. He opened the main compartment and quickly searched the contents. He pulled out a large wallet that was on top and was rewarded as his hand closed around a small cell phone. As he attempted to gently replace the wallet, it fell open and exposed the woman’s Virginia driver’s license. Her name was Patricia Wheeler. She lived in Centreville, Virginia. Donovan gave it a closer look; he saw her address and knew it wasn’t far from where he and Lauren’s new home would be. Thoughts of Lauren and Abigail hammered him as he glimpsed a picture of a younger Patricia, in her wedding dress. The groom was tall and handsome; they both seemed to radiate happiness. Till death do us part. Donovan thought of his own impending wedding. Would he get the chance to make that same pledge to Lauren?

  Donovan considered what Lauren had told him a few minutes ago, how Cyrus Richtman wanted this plane to crash. He was suddenly tired of death, sick and tired of the human destruction around him. He glanced over at Rafael who was going through the passengers’ possessions a few rows ahead of him. Donovan slipped Patricia’s wallet into her purse and carefully put everything back where he found it. He knew he’d made a mistake by connecting with one of the victims. At some level, deep inside him, he knew the carnage around him had just become personal.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Are we almost there?” Lauren felt like they’d been running forever. There were fewer and fewer people the further out the concourse they’d gone.

  “Just around the corner.” Henry stopped and waited for her to catch up. As he did, he cocked his head to one side, as if trying to listen to something in the distance. “Quick. This way!”

  Lauren, startled at the dramatic shift in Henry’s tone, was momentarily confused until she, too, heard the voices. He grabbed her arm and pointed toward the security door that led to the jetway. Henry pulled out his card, swiped it and frantically punched in his code. He threw open the door and motioned for Lauren to follow. Henry then eased the door closed behind them.

  “What’s going on?” Lauren asked. “Who are they?”

  “I think they might be airport police,” Henry whispered, he held his index finger to his lips to signal her to be quiet also. “It sounded to me like they were giving voice commands to their dogs.”

  “Are they looking for us? Or are they just making the rounds?”

  Henry shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re well past the initial security checkpoint. I have a bad feeling. This way.” Henry walked softly, yet quickly down the jetway toward the small landing that was connected to the airplane. “Stand here. You should be able to look out this window and see inside the terminal. Let me know how many guards go past that bank of windows to your left.”

  Lauren positioned herself as instructed. Through a dizzying amount of falling snow she could just make out a sliver of the terminal window Henry was talking about. Behind her she heard a soft click, followed by the unmistakable static of Henry’s hand-held radio. He adjusted the frequencies until he found the one he wanted. Lauren finally sorted through the nonstop chatter on the radio.

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Henry turned the radio off and hung his head. “The fact that 880 narrowly missed the buildings downtown has set off a full-scale security alert. They’re shutting down the airport.”

  “That doesn’t change what we’re doing does it? I mean we were stealing an airplane anyway—right?” Lauren kept her eyes on the terminal, waiting to catch sight of the security guards.

  Henry stood beside her and joined in the vigil. “It does complicate things. We not only have to keep our secret from the airline—but from everyone else as well.”

  “There they are!” Lauren watched as the two-man security contingent with a German shepherd passed the window. “Now what?”

  “We probably need to go the rest of the way outside. They might hear us if we slip back inside the terminal.” Henry put his hand on the door. “I wish I’d brought a heavier coat. Are you ready?”

  “Let’s go.” Lauren turned up the collar on her jacket and waited as Henry pushed the door open. Together, they carefully maneuvered down the snow-covered steps to the ground. The snow dampened all sounds except the
howl of the wind above them. Henry waded through the knee-deep snow, plowing a path for her as they continued their trek. It felt like an eternity before Lauren could finally make out movement around one of the airplanes. As they neared, she heard the low muffled roar of an APU. She knew enough from all of her experience flying on the Eco-Watch jets, that the auxiliary power unit was needed to get everything else running. Through the heavy snow cascading down from the sky, she understood they’d reached the airplane they were going to steal.

  “Go up those stairs.” Henry pointed at the jetway. “Get to the cockpit and tell Tucker we’re here, explain to him about the security issues. I’m going to try and get us some help de-icing this thing.”

  Lauren nodded and with frozen toes began to climb the steps. Halfway up she stopped and looked at the airplane’s left wing. It’s polished metal surface was buried under a thick blanket of snow. Where the wing joined the fuselage, the drifts had risen up to the windows. She stomped up the remaining steps and let herself into the narrow jetway. A moment later, she passed through the main cabin door and into the cockpit where Tucker was seated.

  “We’re here!” she called out and blew into her hands to get rid of the chill. She stamped her feet to shake loose the melting snow that was beginning to seep into her shoes.

  “About time.” Tucker said, never taking his eyes from the checklist. “I’ve got us ready to start engines. Where’s Henry?”

  “He’s outside trying to get us some help de-icing.” Lauren scanned the cockpit of the airliner. It was bigger than the Eco-Watch Gulfstreams, but surprisingly, the layout was very similar. The glowing tubes had the familiar blue and brown display that would give the pilots their information about which way was up and down. In the center were the engine and various system read-outs. The center console housed the throttles and radios. She quickly felt at home in the 737.

  “I’ve got the heat all the way up.” Tucker adjusted a knob, then peered out the side window for any sign of activity.

  “Henry wanted me to tell you that Homeland Security has shut down the airport. He thinks it’s from 880’s near miss with the buildings downtown. We just saw some security men with their dogs patrolling the concourse.”

  Tucker gestured to the small headset that he had in his right ear. “I’ve been listening. I figured out which runway we’re going to have to use. We won’t have far to taxi, which will help. If this is going to work, we’ve got be airborne before anyone knows what we’re doing.”

  Lauren nodded, it had been nearly ten minutes since she’d spoken with Donovan. She couldn’t imagine what must be going through his mind right now. Was he angry with her for telling Henry his secret, or did he understand that it was the only way Henry would even attempt this? She also wondered if Cyrus and Leo had overheard any of the conversation. She thought of how devastated Donovan would be if the world once again knew who he was. In some ways, the attention would be worse than before—his guilt in the public’s eye would now be absolute.

  “Does 880 know we’re coming?” Tucker asked.

  “Yes. I talked to them a little bit ago. They’re waiting for us.” Lauren hesitated as a different noise invaded the cockpit.

  “De-ice fluid.” Tucker said as a fine mist blew past the windows on the right side of the jet. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

  Lauren left the cockpit and hurried out to the jetway. She opened the door just as Henry was coming up the stairs. He was covered with heavy, wet snow. Over his shoulder she saw another de-ice truck pull up behind the left wing. Soon, there would be two streams of heated fluid spraying down on the airplane.

  “Who’s in the trucks?” Lauren asked as Henry stopped and brushed the snow from his shoulders and head.

  “Matt is on the right side and Raymond, our field service supervisor, who is an old friend of mine, is on this side. Thank God he was willing to help; he just shaved precious minutes off of the job. How’s Tucker doing up front?”

  “He says we’re ready to start engines.” Lauren reached out and removed the last of the snow off Henry’s jacket.

  Henry glanced down at his watch. “I’m worried about the ramp. The snowplows have made some pretty big ridges out there. I hope the tug can push us back through that mess; otherwise, we’re not going anywhere.”

  “Dad!” Matt came barreling through the door, nearly running over his father.

  “What is it?” Henry stepped back to make room for his son in the cramped space.

  “I’m out of fluid. Raymond is still shooting. I checked the level on his tank and he’s down to less than fifty gallons. We used a lot earlier, before the flights started being cancelled. The nearest trucks are six gates down.”

  “Damn it!” Henry slammed a fist into his open hand. “We don’t have that kind of time. How much snow is still on the wings?”

  “I managed to spray the entire surface. It’s a slushy mess. I was just starting to blast it off when I ran out.”

  “It’ll have to work. Hopefully it’ll just slide off when we start our takeoff roll.” Henry moved Matt out of the way and opened the door. He squinted against the driving snow as he surveyed the condition of the wing. “It’s probably as good as it’s going to get. Tell Raymond to stop. I want him to shoot the rest of his fluid under the plane, so the tug will be able to get enough traction to push us back.”

  Matt nodded his head that he understood. “Dad, you can go up front. I’ll move the jetway back and close the door for you.”

  Henry leveled his eyes at Matt. “You close it from the outside. Then go with Raymond. You’re not coming with us—I don’t want you on this plane.”

  Lauren watched as Henry’s words sunk in. Matt looked shocked, then just as quickly he converted it to anger.

  “What do you mean—I’m going with you!” Matt said in disbelief.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Henry said. “You’re staying here. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to get this thing off the ground.”

  Matt’s face contorted into an expression of anger, wordlessly he spun and fled back out into the blizzard.

  Henry started to say something else but the door slammed shut. He held out his hand to Lauren. “Give me your phone. Like I explained to Matt, this is dangerous and you’d be better off staying here.”

  “And getting arrested?” Lauren said as she held her ground. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Fine. Get inside. I’m going to get the jetway pulled back away from the plane.”

  Lauren stepped into the galley area. She watched as Henry went to the jetway controls located just inside the large accordion-like opening. First, the canvas of the awning retracted, then the entire steel frame began moving away, but it immediately ground to a halt only inches from where it’d started. Above the howl of the wind, the heavy electric motor strained noisily against the drifted snow. Henry slammed a lever back-and-forth, attempting to coax the structure away from the plane.

  “The snow is too deep. I can’t get it to move!” Henry cried out, “I have to get us some more help. I’ll be back.”

  Lauren’s frustration grew as Henry vanished down the stairs—it seemed like everything was taking far too long. Moments later, he reappeared and jumped across the small chasm between the jetway and the door of the plane.

  “Stand back!” Henry ordered as he began to pull the door shut.

  A massive crash and the sound of bending, twisting metal assaulted Lauren’s ears. The jetway crumpled and lurched away from the plane. Henry latched the door.

  “Let’s go,” Henry said.

  “What happened to the jetway?” Lauren asked as Henry peeled off his sport coat and threw it on a seat in first class.

  “Matt took the tug and bulldozed it out of the way. We’re clear. He’s getting hooked up to the tow-bar to push us back. I’d prefer you up front in the jump seat in case we hear from Robert.”

  “His name is Donovan,” Lauren warned. “You can’t make that mistake again!”

  “I’ll try,”
Henry said, as he headed for the cockpit.

  Lauren followed, and within moments the three of them were settled into their seats. Lauren strapped herself in the small jump seat, as Henry and David rapidly went through their checks.

  “Give him the signal to start pushing,” Henry instructed.

  The plane jerked sharply as it began to inch backward. It gained momentum, but just as suddenly it stopped completely. With agonizing slowness, Matt pulled it forward then reversed directions. Once again it started backward, but instantly bogged down in the deep snow.

  “Damn it!” Henry slammed his fist on the controls. He leaned forward and gave Matt the signal to disconnect the tug. A long minute passed before Matt was clear of the Boeing.

  “What are you thinking?” Tucker ventured.

  “I’m going to start the engines and back us out of here with the reverse thrust.” Henry settled himself into his seat as he mentally calculated the distances he had to work with.

  “That’ll be a first,” Tucker replied. “I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before.”

  “All kinds of firsts today,” Henry said.

  Lauren leaned forward until she could see Matt out of the side window. He was still sitting in the tug. Her heart went out to him. He’d done so much. She had no doubt he was numb from the cold. He’d wanted to go with them. Henry’s words had made sense, though she chafed at the harshness with which they were spoken. As a father, Henry would no doubt do everything he could to protect his only remaining child. For reasons unknown, Henry still viewed him as just a boy, but Lauren couldn’t help but consider Matt as someone more man than child.

  Lauren was still watching Matt when she spotted at least two security guards, guns drawn, race past a terminal window. A moment later more security people flashed by.

  “Henry! They’re coming. I saw guards coming our way!”

  “Shit!” Henry pivoted and scanned the terminal to gauge the threat.