Matt shrugged. “I just remembered screwing around with one on a really foggy night. It’s pretty intense.”
“What else did you see?” Henry said, with more than a trace of anguish in his voice. “What did you see when we went around? Could you tell what happened to them after they touched down?”
“I saw the lights rush past us. The other plane dropped back slightly but then we slowed down, too. He raised the nose and I was scared we were going to hit again. But somehow he got his plane on the runway. I swear I could see down through the hole in the top. Then everything went white as we pulled up.”
“They touched down flat? Like a normal landing?” Michael asked. “Yeah,” Matt said, and shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“Sounds like a survivable landing to me.” Michael forced a smile, then turned toward Henry as his smile subsided.
“Is there any way we can find out about Mom?” Matt said to Lauren. “Will they call us or something when they know?”
“The tower can’t give us any information on the open frequency.” Lauren began searching for Kate’s cell phone number. “Maybe Kate will talk to us on the phone.”
“Tower,” Henry said into the microphone, “this is Boeing 31 Whiskey Alpha. We have a phone number. We’re calling it now.”
“Roger 31 Whiskey Alpha,” Kate responded. “It’s on.”
“Her name’s Kate,” Lauren said to Michael. “God, she did a great job.” Lauren switched her attention to the ringing cell phone.
“Kate here.”
“Kate. It’s Lauren. What can you tell us?”
“Okay—” Kate said quietly, then took a long breath before she started to speak. “Thanks for using the phone. As I explained before, all the communications in the tower are recorded, and as it sits right now we’ve bent the rules pretty far today. I’m not sure how much trouble we’re going to be in at this point.” Kate continued. “What we know right now is that 880 is down, but not on the runway. The visibility dropped and the rescue elements had to follow the marks in the snow to get to the aircraft. We don’t think there’s a fire, but we’re not sure of much else. I’m sorry, but we’re not going to know anything for a little while.”
“Kate, thanks again. Can you let us know on the radio if we need to call you back? If you hear anything more we’d sure appreciate it.”
“I’ll do as much as I can,” Kate said. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here though. The facility chief is on his way and I’m going to be put on standard administrative leave pending an investigation.”
“Once we get on the ground we’ll do anything we can to help you,” Lauren said.
“I appreciate that. I need to go.”
Lauren severed the connection. “They’re down. There’s no report of fire. I’m afraid we’re not going to know much else for a while—but we got them down.”
The 737 emerged from the clouds into the clear air above the storm. The last traces of the sunset burned deep purple steaks across the western sky. A heavy silence pressed in on them as each person on the flight deck pondered what lay below in the raging blizzard—and there was nothing more they could do except circle above.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Donovan tried to move, to say something, anything. After hours of howling wind, the silence was palpable in the absolute darkness of the cockpit. He fought for a breath. He struggled to turn but his harness held him firmly in place. With a painful gasp he managed to get some air into his lungs, then gradually his breathing became easier. He’d had the wind knocked out of him. He called blindly, “John, talk to me.” He reached toward the copilot’s seat and felt for John. Donovan found an arm and gently shook it. It flopped limply in his hand. Donovan fumbled for his own harness release and threw off his restraints.
He could see nothing. The windows were completely covered with snow. Only the residual light from the airport filtered through, and as Donovan’s eyes adjusted he regained a measure of vision. He knew they needed to get out. The risk of fire was very real.
On shaky legs Donovan pulled himself out of his seat. He knelt beside John and carefully raised his head. “John. Can you hear me?” With a relief he could feel John’s warm breath on his hand.
A small moan passed through John’s lips; a crease formed on his forehead.
“John. Wake up. We have to get out of here!” His voice was firmer this time. As Donovan’s eyes adjusted further, he could see John’s chest moving. The faint lights from outside began to flash red as emergency vehicles arrived on the scene. The silence was broken by the deep roar of diesel engines and wailing sirens.
“Help!” a voice called from just aft of the cockpit. Donovan recognized it as Rafael’s. He slid past John and squeezed out into the cabin.
“Rafael,” Donovan called. “Where are you?”
“I’m right here,” came the feeble reply.
Donovan turned and could just make out Rafael, still huddled over Audrey. They were squeezed into the small floor area of what was left of the forward galley. Donovan dropped to his knees. “How are you? Is she alive?” He saw Rafael had somehow held her in roughly the same position through the entire approach and crash landing.
“Yes, but just barely. Get help.”
Donovan stood and looked for the others. It was too dark to see into the back of the plane. He wasn’t even certain if there was a back of the plane. Above him, a flashlight pierced the darkness through the hole in the roof.
“In here!” Donovan yelled. He shielded his eyes from the harsh light. “Help us.”
The sound of rescue vehicles grew, along with muffled shouts and voices yelling from outside the 737.
Another beam of light hit him from the rear of the Boeing. Dressed from head to toe in a fireproof suit, a man raced down the aisle. “Please help them,” was all Donovan could say. The rescue worker put his hands around Donovan’s shoulders and moved him gently into the arms of another fireman who was right behind him.
“There’s one more in the cockpit,” Donovan called out as he was escorted toward the rear of the plane. They passed the seats where Christy, Keith and Wetzler had been. They were empty. He marveled that the aircraft was somewhat still intact. Swiftly they reached the aft emergency exit. Donovan was helped the short distance to the snowy earth. The solid ground had never felt so sweet.
The biting wind served to erase the cobwebs. Donovan accepted a blanket that was thrown around his shoulders. From behind him a piercing scream rang out. Rescue personnel sprinted toward the commotion. As Donovan moved closer he could see two paramedics restraining Keith. Wetzler was down on his hands and knees, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground.
“That son of a bitch had it coming!” Keith yelled as he struggled against the men holding him. “He’s lucky I don’t kill him!”
Bathed in the flashing lights, a fresh gash glistened on the side of Keith’s head, and part of his face was streaked with blood. Donovan rushed forward. “Let him go!” He stepped behind the still retching Wetzler, and turned to Keith. “What happened?”
“Donovan. Oh, thank God you’re safe!” The paramedics released Keith immediately and he wrapped one unsteady arm around Donovan and pointed the other at Wetzler. His eyes burned with hatred. “This miserable little piece of shit!”
“What happened after we landed? Where’s Christy?”
“After we finally stopped, I got the door open and was carrying Christy out, when Wetzler tried to get out first. He pushed me into the bulkhead.” Keith gulped large quantities of air as he touched the fresh blood on his face. “I almost dropped Christy as Wetzler ran screaming from the plane. First chance I had, I knocked the crap out of him!”
Wetzler raised his head and tried to speak. He only managed a weak gurgling sound and heaved again.
“Where is she?” Donovan asked the paramedics. “Where’s Christy. The flight attendant?”
“We already loaded her into an ambulance. She’s on her way to the hospital,” one of t
hem said.
“Take care of this man,” Donovan said, gesturing at Keith, then he knelt down to make sure Wetzler could hear him. “When the dust settles, your name is going to be synonymous with the word coward. And, if I have my way, you’ll be brought up on a multitude of felony charges. Good luck with all of that.”
“What about the others?” Keith asked as Donovan stood. “Audrey?”
“We all survived the landing. I don’t know much more than that.” Donovan watched as Wetzler, gasping, was pulled to his feet, then he turned back to Keith. “Let them take care of that wound. It looks awful.”
Keith nodded. “Thanks—for saving us.”
“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” Donovan said, knowing the last thing he needed was to be in the spotlight. He already had enough problems; in fact, his problems were just starting. “I’ll try to find you later.”
“You’re not coming to the hospital?”
“Not yet.” Donovan put his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Like I said, I’ll be right behind you.”
The paramedics led Keith away. Donovan looked back at the 737. It was completely surrounded by emergency vehicles. The flashing lights cast an eerie red glow in the blizzard. Thick foam covered the left engine. Steam rose from the battered CFM turbofan. The huge inlets of the engines had served as massive brakes, which slowed the 737. The outer ten feet of the left wing was missing. He wondered where it was. He let his eyes carefully trace up the tail. The damage to the rudder was far worse than he’d thought—twisted and sheared off at the top. It was a miracle it had stayed in one piece.
“Right this way,” a voice sounded. A paramedic tried to guide him to a waiting ambulance.
Donovan pulled away, ignoring the order. Finally, he made out the forward section of the Boeing. A blanket of snow concealed the cockpit. Different lights caught his attention. He scanned beyond the wreckage. Fifty feet in front of the 737, stood twin rows of streetlights. He realized that they’d come to a stop just short of the taxiways that crossed over I-190—the main road into O’Hare. The pile of snow they’d created had saved them from plunging down onto the highway. Landing as fast as they did had used every inch of the 10,000-foot runway, plus a little more.
“You need to come this way, sir,” the paramedic at his side said again.
Donovan yanked his arm from the man’s grip and spun around. “The other airplane. What happened to the other airplane?”
“I don’t know, sir. My job is to get you to safety. Please come with me.”
“I’ll go with you when I’m good and ready.” Donovan patted the EMS technician on the back. “I’m the pilot of this plane and I’m fine. So until I’m sure everyone’s okay, let me do what I need to do.”
The roar of a powerful engine caused Donovan to turn away from the paramedic. A snowplow approached the front of the plane. The driver raised the blade and skillfully inched the huge truck forward. When the signal was given, he lowered his blade. Black smoke poured from the exhaust as he slowly backed away from the fuselage, dragging the mountain of snow from the cabin door. Within seconds the entryway was open and the paramedics rushed inside.
Donovan moved closer as the first stretcher was carried out the forward door. Rescue workers huddled close, paramedics carefully holding IV bottles in the air. It was Audrey. Someone was squeezing a round rubber bladder to force air into her lungs. Another person was pushing rhythmically on her chest even as they rushed her into the back of the ambulance. Right behind her, supported by two paramedics, came Rafael.
“Rafael. How is she?” Donovan’s eyes pleaded with someone to tell him something—anything. The grim faces of the rescue workers spoke volumes as they ignored him and hurried toward an ambulance.
“We did all we could do.” Rafael said weakly, his hands and shirt covered with blood. “She’s in good hands now. They’re doing everything they can.”
“You did an amazing job,” Donovan couldn’t help but imagine how difficult it had been for Rafael to do what he had. He could see Rafael’s teeth were chattering uncontrollably, his hands tucked up under his armpits for warmth. He instantly understood that the brave young man needed to get someplace warm. “I can’t go with you right now—but I’ll come as soon as I can. I’ll find you later.”
Donovan stepped out of the way. Rafael nodded that he understood as he was helped into the back of the ambulance. The door slammed shut and the vehicle drove away and vanished in the blizzard. Donovan wished he had gone with Audrey, but he had things he needed to do.
More stretchers emerged from the rear door. They would be the people in back, the passengers who would never wake up. A deep sadness for their families moved through him. He thought of Patricia Wheeler; at least her family would get her body back. He thought about how lucky he’d been today. A bittersweet joy filled him as he took another long look at the crumpled Boeing. He’d made a promise to Lauren that he’d be there for their wedding, and miraculously he was still alive. He looked up into the blizzard and wondered where she was. Would they be able to land here, or would they end up in a distant city until the storm passed?
Donovan turned to the man who hovered a few steps away. “Is there a VHF radio in one of these vehicles?”
“They all have them, but I can’t allow you to tie up the frequency. There’s a lot of official business going on.”
“It’s okay. Trust me.” Donovan stepped through the snow to a nearby crash truck. He hoisted himself into the cab. The engine was running and the interior was warm and comfortable. He located the radio and from memory dialed in the frequency for the control tower. He thought for a moment about what to say, then keyed the microphone. “O’Hare Tower, this is Wayfarer 880. I just wanted to say thank you for a terrific job.”
“Wayfarer 880.” Kate’s surprised voice came in loud and clear. “You’re welcome. Just so you know, there’s also a Boeing 31 Whiskey Alpha on the frequency.”
“Hello 880, good to hear from you.” Michael transmitted over the radio. “You doing okay? Do you know anything about the others?”
“I’m fine. Audrey’s been taken to a hospital. She was still alive after we landed. I think most everyone else is in one piece.”
“No one else was hurt in the landing?” Henry said through the speaker.
“We’re all a little banged up,” Donovan said. “But for the most part, everyone is intact.”
“Nice job,” Henry said, then paused. “I’ve got to tell you, that was a hell of piece of flying. I’m impressed.”
“The person who was impressive was Matt Parrish. I’m looking forward to shaking his hand.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Henry said. “Someone else wants to say hello.”
“Hi there.” Lauren said, brimming with emotion. “You’re okay…?”
“I’m fine, a little tired,” Donovan admitted.
“Me too. But I’m not sure when we can land. Henry thinks we may have to divert. I might not see you until morning.”
“That would be a shame.” Donovan hated the thought of not seeing Lauren until tomorrow.
“I’ll find you when we land. We need to talk privately. Do you still have the phone you were using?”
“No. But I’ll get it.” Donovan could tell by her tone that it was important. “Call me in ten minutes. Did you by chance make any friends down here?”
“Ask for Emmett,” Lauren said cautiously, remembering what Kate had said about all the frequencies being recorded. “He drives Snow One. He seems to know his way around.”
“Thanks. I’ll see if I can find him. Stay safe. I hope to see you soon.” Donovan put the microphone down.
He continued to ignore his escort and turned back toward the wreckage. The paramedics were still bringing people out from the rear of the plane, so Donovan stepped through the snow to the front of the 737. He entered through the open door, and the headlights from the firefighting vehicles illuminated the interior of the mangled fuselage. Clumps of red slush spott
ed the floor. It was Audrey’s blood mixed with snow that had been tracked into the plane. He ducked and made his way to the cockpit. It took him a moment, but finally he located the phone that he and John had used during their final approach. He snapped the cover down and took one last look around the shattered cockpit. He couldn’t help but consider how close he’d come to dying in this cramped space. He breathed in the cold, crisp air. He was truly thankful to be among the living, but his joy was mixed with sadness and anger. He clenched his jaw and walked out of the Boeing for the last time.
He stepped out of the plane just as a man in a pickup truck pulled up and stopped.
“Are you Nash? You looking for me?” a heavyset black man called out as he rolled down the side window.
Donovan realized this was Emmett. The man had overheard the transmission on his radio. The two shook hands warmly. “I’m Donovan Nash.”
“What is it you’re looking for?”
“I have to get to the main terminal. Can you drive me to Wayfarer Operations without having to go through a lot of red tape? I understand there might be some security issues.”
“Sure.” Emmett shrugged his huge shoulders. “I can do that.”
“Uh, Mr. Nash,” the paramedic spoke up. “You can’t leave the accident scene unless it’s to get medical attention. I can’t allow you to go anywhere.”
“That’s fine.” Donovan patted the man on the shoulder. “I’ll get medical attention at the main terminal.”
“Jump in.” Emmett motioned to the truck. “I’ll radio a plow to come make us a path.”
Donovan trudged through the snow, opened the door to Snow One, and threw himself onto the bench seat. In seconds, a snowplow moved into position in front of them.
“You ready?” Emmett put the truck into gear and flashed his headlights at the plow.
“Yeah.” Donovan held the phone in his hand and wished Lauren would call him back. As they began to pull away from the crash site, Donovan sat back in the seat and tried to relax, but his muscles were still wire tight. As they continued he could just make out the dozens of parked airplanes half-buried by the blizzard. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a major airport this paralyzed by the weather.
Code Black Page 26