“I see them too,” Henry said. “Tower, this is 31 Whiskey Alpha. We have the traffic in sight.”
“Roger, Whiskey Alpha.” Kate sounded relieved. “Maintain visual separation.”
“Here we go.” Henry pushed the nose down slightly and pointed the Boeing to intercept 880. He flew as fast as he could; daylight was disappearing in a hurry.
“Which side are you going to approach from?” Michael asked.
“I want them to see us, but I also want to take a quick look at the damage. I think I’ll come in from the left. We’ll be hard to miss. I’m bringing us in real close.”
What had been a sparkle on the horizon turned into the vague silhouette of an airplane as they rapidly closed the distance. Henry held the 737 just below the red line of 320 knots.
“Look at that!” was all Michael could say, as 880 began to take a definitive shape.
“I see it too,” Lauren said. Starting just above the flight deck, the entire roof section of the aluminum fuselage was ripped away. “My God, I can’t believe the damage. It looks far worse than the satellite image we saw earlier.”
“It’s no wonder they don’t have anything left in the cockpit.” Michael moved aside slightly so not to obstruct Lauren’s view. He affectionately gripped her hand and squeezed while flashing his winning smile. “Hang in there.”
Henry surveyed other parts of the stricken airliner. “Part of the vertical stabilizer is missing.” Henry reduced power as they descended even lower toward flight 880.
“How are they even flying?” Lauren said, as she released Michael’s hand and pointed. “Is that smoke I see?”
“You’re right. I see it,” Henry said. “It’s white. I’ll bet it’s coming from one of the engines. I’m going to swing underneath, then up around the other side. Let’s try to get a quick look at the damage.” Henry guided his jet below flight 880. The belly appeared to be intact, except for the white smoke streaming a narrow trail behind the number one engine.
“The smoke is from the engine burning oil,” Michael said as they pulled underneath Donovan’s 737. “I wonder how long it’s been doing that?”
“How bad do you think it is?” Lauren asked.
“I don’t know. They don’t have any warning lights or gauges to tell them the status of the engine. Let’s hope it holds together for a little while longer.”
“I pray it does,” Michael said. “Flying that thing on one engine, with that much missing from the rudder, might be too much to ask.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Henry remarked. “I doubt they could do it. The asymmetrical thrust would be tremendous. Unbelievable. I never would have thought an airplane could take that much damage and still fly.”
“What’s that?” Michael pointed. “Right there behind the left engine. It looks like something is hanging.”
Henry eased the Boeing closer. “I’m not sure. It’s got to be part of the flap, or the housing for the flap actuator.”
“I think you’re right,” Michael said. “I don’t see it fluttering, but it’s definitely out of position. If that piece lets go, it could create a control problem.”
Henry nodded. “If they put the landing gear down, that section could snap off. Good call. We’ll warn Donovan and John.”
Henry slid the airplane around to the right side of the other Boeing. Lauren couldn’t see anything obviously wrong. “It looks to me like the military airplane must’ve come from this side.”
“That’s my guess too,” Henry said. “On impact, the top of the fuselage must’ve peeled back, with flying debris damaging the tail and the left wing.”
With a smooth combination of rudder and aileron, Henry passed over the top of the mangled 737. Lauren’s stomach dropped as she caught sight of the yellow emergency slide through the hole in the roof of 880. Where was Audrey? Was she still alive? Lauren wanted so badly for Audrey to survive. Not only for both Henry and Matt, but she wanted to meet this woman from Donovan’s past.
Henry allowed them to drift back 100 feet above and behind 880. All of them could see the decimated rudder, as well as the extensive damage to the tail section. Streaks of hydraulic fluid flowed from the vertical fin. The left horizontal stabilizer was twisted slightly in relation to the other.
As they gradually moved up the left side, the damage to the left wing tip became evident. The hole just aft of the cockpit was enormous, and Lauren understood how those unfortunate passengers had been sucked out at impact.
“Come on Donovan. Call us back,” she said aloud.
Henry motioned to the waning light in the western sky. “We’re running out of time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“It all happened so fast,” Keith tried to explain, his face white and drawn. “We were all going to make one last call. You know, call our loved ones. Audrey went first. She called her son.”
Donovan put his hands on Audrey to keep her steady while Rafael worked on her. “Her pulse is getting weaker. There’s nothing I can do.” Rafael gestured to the airliner’s medical kit. “I just don’t have anything to help her.”
“What do you need?” Donovan asked. “What would you do for her if we were on the ground?” Audrey had held things together. She had made clutch decisions that had perhaps saved them all. He thought of her last wishes for Henry and Matt.
“She needs fluid, she needs to stay warm to help fight off the shock. We need to somehow replace the blood she’s losing,” Rafael said. “I think her spleen has been punctured. It’s an area of high vascularity. It’s only a matter of minutes before she bleeds out completely.”
“Would a transfusion work? Can one of us give her blood?” Donovan asked. “It might be a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”
“I don’t know what blood type she is, even if we could figure that out, trying to locate an artery and run a line under these conditions well, well it would be too little too late I’m afraid. She could have a reaction that would kill her.” Rafael turned to Keith. “Go get as many blankets as you can find. I’ll have to stay up here with her, we don’t dare try to move her.”
Donovan was growing impatient. He couldn’t stand the sight of Audrey just lying there, dying in front of him. “How long can she hold on?”
Rafael lowered his eyes. “Hard to say. She could die any minute, or she could hold on longer—but if we don’t get on the ground fast, I think we’ll lose her for sure.”
Donovan rubbed some warmth into his hands and noticed that some of Audrey’s blood had already frozen in the brutal cold. He eyed the hole in the roof, his mind trying to wrap itself around something that had been said earlier.
“Keith said something earlier about hypothermia and how quickly it takes effect. What if we let her freeze?” Donovan said. “I’ve read stories about when people drown in ice water, their brains survive longer than usual—right?”
“I have the blankets.” Keith announced. He slid to the side, avoiding the worst of the slipstream. He unfolded them and began fighting the wind to cover her and try to keep her warm.
“Does what I said make sense?” Donovan desperately needed to hear what Rafael thought.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Rafael slowly began to nod his head as the idea began to take hold. “It’s very clever actually. In heart transplant surgery they often cool the patient to minimize the risk of brain damage when they stop the heart. It could work. Do it—get her out of her clothes right now.”
“Pull the blankets off!” Donovan shouted. Ignoring the numbing cold, Donovan moved next to Keith and began removing Audrey’s clothes. Despite fingers that felt more like stubs than anything useful, Donovan and Keith pulled off her clothes until Audrey was lying in her bra and panties, her bare skin exposed to the harsh elements of the cabin. Her hair blew in the wind, nearly covering her shock-white face. During the entire procedure, Rafael kept one hand planted around her shoulder to steady her, the other hand was placed firmly on her wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
/> “Pack as many blankets as you can between the two of us and the bulkhead. I have to stay with her to keep pressure on the wound. What I want is for neither one of us to slide forward when we land.” Rafael placed his free hand on her neck. “Her pulse is slowing rapidly. We may have bought her some time—but not much.”
Donovan looked from Rafael to Keith then down at Audrey. She seemed so small and fragile; he could just make out the bluish tinge that began to discolor her lips. Rafael and Keith had identical helpless expressions locked onto their faces. Each of them knew that Audrey had probably saved their lives, yet they couldn’t do anything but lay her out in the arctic blast pouring from above.
“I’ll be right back.” Donovan ran up front and stuck his head into the cockpit. He was relieved to find that John had the 737 back on top of the clouds. “Audrey’s hurt, she’s in bad shape. I just need a few more minutes back here. You okay?”
John turned and nodded. “Hurry Donovan. I’m serious, we’re losing our light.”
“Hang in there. We’re about to have company.” Donovan noticed one of the leftover portable oxygen bottles behind the seat and quickly grabbed it. With no time for further explanation, Donovan hurried back to where Rafael was waiting.
“Here’s what little 100% oxygen we have left. Is there anything else we can do for her?” Donovan knelt and opened the valve on the bottle. “Should we try CPR, try to keep her blood moving?”
Rafael shook his head as he carefully placed the mask over Audrey’s nose and mouth. A faint wisp of condensation blurred the clear plastic as Audrey exhaled, welcome evidence that she was still alive. “We’re doing what we can. It would take two of us, and we don’t really have the room up here to do it right. Her core body temperature is going to drop fast. She gave us a chance to get to the airport instead of crashing in the water— the best thing you can do for her is to get us on the ground—now.”
“What the hell?” Keith pointed a bloody hand up toward the gap in the roof.
Donovan turned to see what Keith was talking about. Coming in fast from behind was another 737. He could just make out the blue-and-gold paint scheme of Wayfarer Airlines. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more wonderful sight.
“What are they doing?” Keith asked, as the other plane moved closer.
“They’re here to help us.” Donovan headed for the cockpit. “Keith, you’re in charge back here. Assist Rafael. Do whatever needs to be done for Audrey and get ready for an emergency landing.”
“What’s going on back there?” John said the moment Donovan entered the flight deck. “Is Audrey all right? Why in the hell was she up?” John gasped at the sight of Donovan’s coat and hands. “Good lord, you’re covered with blood!”
“It’s Audrey’s,” Donovan said, sliding into the left seat. “It’s too soon to know if we got to her in time. She was running up here when we were in the steep bank. I saw the debris she probably stumbled over. Something hooked the bar and deployed the emergency slide inside the cabin. The force of the inflation threw her into the shards of metal. Rafael thinks her spleen is punctured.”
“Oh my God, that’s awful.”
Donovan looked across at John. “She may have saved us. She managed to call her son. It’s why she was trying to get up to the cockpit.”
“She made a call?”
“We have company.” Donovan pointed out the left side of the plane. The other Boeing seemed to float there. Its speed was perfectly matched to their own.
“What?” John leaned over to see the twin of their own aircraft positioned above and off to the left
“It’s Henry Parrish. They made it. You were right about his being a fighter. I was talking to them when we were cut off. We need to get him back.” John rocked their wings gently to let them know they were in sight. The wings on the other 737 rocked in return. Donovan exhaled slowly. Their problems were far from over, but at least they weren’t alone.
“Coming up,” Keith called from the passageway. “Rafael is keeping up the pressure on Audrey. He says we’ve bought some time, but not much.”
Donovan nodded. He grabbed the phone, the one Audrey had used. He studied it for a moment until he figured out how to re-dial the last number. A moment later it rang.
“Donovan? Is that you?” Lauren said the moment she answered.
“Hi there,” Donovan said softly.
“Oh, thank God,” Lauren said in return. “Are you okay? How’s Audrey?”
“Not good,” Donovan answered. “We need to hurry and get this thing on the ground. Let me see if I have this right. You’re with Henry and Michael?”
“Yes. We stole a plane.”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. Let me talk to Henry. He and I need to get a few things figured out before we start.” Donovan wished he had time to say more.
“I’ll talk to you later?” Lauren framed it as a question.
“You bet. We have a date for next weekend. I promise I’ll be there, but we might have a little problem,” Donovan said, then lowered his voice so John couldn’t hear. “Cyrus knows—he mentioned Abigail. Whatever happens, make sure she’s safe.”
“How? Oh no,” Lauren said, her voice breaking. She instantly pictured the open office door right after she’d told Henry who Donovan was. Cyrus had overheard their conversation. She’d truly opened up Pandora’s box. It was no doubt how he knew to send security in search of them. “I’m so sorry.”
“We’ll deal with him later,” Donovan said. “Let me talk to Henry.”
“Here he is,” Lauren replied, sick to her stomach at the growing implications of her mistake.
“Donovan,” Henry said sharply as he came on the line.
“Let’s get this thing on the ground,” Donovan said to the man who used to be his friend.
“That’s the plan. You ready to do this?”
“I want to go over everything once, just to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Henry dispensed with pleasantries, challenging the pilot directly. “I’m counting on you to fly that thing in perfect formation with us, all the way down to the runway.”
“Exactly what I was hoping you’d say,” Donovan said.
“Hang on for a second, we’re talking with the tower.”
Donovan could hear both Henry and Michael in the background as they coordinated with the tower.
Henry once again spoke into the phone. “Donovan, the RVR is up a little, but we’re still going to have to shoot a Category III approach. Most likely runway 14 Left.”
Donovan carefully constructed the scene in his mind. The CAT III approach would be flown by Henry’s autopilot. The sophisticated lighting system on the ground was twice as visible as the regular ILS instrument approach. There was a massive array of lights that stretched out far before the runway threshold; high-energy strobe lights fired in sequence to help lead an aircraft to the touchdown zone.
“But that means landing downwind,” Henry cautioned.
“John and I discussed this earlier. The only CAT III approaches at O’Hare are to the parallel runways 14 Left and Right. We ruled it out because the wind would be directly on our tail.”
“I know, but we just took off from there, and I can tell you I think it’s the only way we have any hope of seeing the runway,” Henry countered.
Donovan once again heard some garbled conversation in the background.
“I’m back,” Henry said. “We’ve also decided you can’t risk putting the landing gear down. We can see part of the flap assembly that’s out of place. The airflow from the main gear might rip it off.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. We were going to land gear-up the first time, glad we made the right decision.”
“Now, if you land on 14 Right, which is the one we just took off from, I don’t think it’ll work very well. It’s rougher than you can imagine. I think you’d be sliding all over the place and hitting the drifts at odd angles. I think if you landed on that runway, the airplane would break u
p for sure from all the pounding it’ll get.”
“Go on, I’m listening,” Donovan said, relieved that Henry was all business. He guessed there would be time for a long-awaited confrontation—later.
“Okay, that leaves us with 14 Left, on the other side of the airport. They’re telling us it’s got at least a foot or more of snow on it. They quit trying to keep all the runways open and it hasn’t been plowed. All the better, don’t you think?”
“I like it, Henry. The snow will cushion our landing and help slow us down. It might even counteract the effect of coming in with a twenty-five knot tailwind.”
“Exactly.”
“Let’s get on with it then. From where I’m sitting, anything sounds better than dropping this thing in Lake Michigan.” Donovan watched as Keith came up and spoke softly to John. Just as quickly, he vanished into the rear of the plane.
“What’s going on?” Henry asked.
“Henry, I’m ready when you are—but we really need to hurry. Audrey needs to get to a hospital. I’m moving into position now.”
“I’m handing the phone to Lauren. We’ll relay through her.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lauren was relieved to once again have the phone. Henry and Michael had sprung into action, setting up the cockpit for the approach. “You there?”
“I’m here,” Donovan said.
“Tell tower we’re ready, Michael,” Henry said. “And tell them we’re a flight of two.”
Michael followed Henry’s directive. He then looked out and tried to spot flight 880. “I don’t see them. They must already be in position behind us.”
“Where are you?” Lauren asked as she too searched for his plane.
“Right behind you, about 50 feet,” Donovan answered.
“Boeing 31 Whiskey Alpha,” Kate transmitted, “the snow removal crew is still working on getting the snow off the lights and taxiways. It’ll be a few minutes before we can begin the approach.”
“Tell them we need to start the approach now,” Henry shot back at Michael. “We’ll just have to take it as is. We need to go now!”
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