by Melody Anne
“We’re losing altitude fast, Coop,” Wolf shouted as the gauges spiraled down, like a stopwatch ticking to its inevitable end. The plane was still locked in a spiraling dive.
“I know, I know,” Cooper responded with slight terror in his voice as he gripped the shaking yoke, trying to turn the plane back toward the airport.
“Seattle Center, this is Trans Pacific 422, declaring an emergency,” Cooper announced. The radio only responded with feedback. “Seattle Center, Seattle, Trans Pacific 422, we’re burning up, we’re not going to make it . . .” he said, now with an eerie calm in his voice.
Wolf, seeing there was no response from air traffic control, attempted the call with his radio. “Mayday, mayday, Seattle Center. Trans Pacific 422. Emergency, we are going down! Do you copy?”
“Trans Pacific 422, acknowledged. We have all runways open for you, fire crash rescue is standing by.”
“No. We’re not going to make it. We’re going down now!”
The cabin tumbled like a washing machine; luggage and other personal effects were thrashing about as the plane rotated out of control. The flight attendants were strapped into their seats, one holding the seat belt across her chest, sobbing with fear.
The reading mother now held her child tightly as the child’s once captive teddy bear floated weightlessly up and down as the aircraft rolled wing over wing, spiraling downward into the deep blue abyss.
The old couple a few rows back gently gripped each other’s hands and looked into one another’s eyes, figuring it was their last moment together and wanting to remember their years of happiness. The newlyweds sat in a tight embrace, bitter about the life they’d never get to experience.
“Wolf, let’s put her in the Pacific,” Cooper exclaimed as he muscled the yoke to pitch the plane’s nose up.
“I don’t think she’s giving us much of a choice!”
For Cooper the world went silent, as if time were standing still. He was responsible for so many lives that were about to end, and though he was doing everything he could to prevent that, a picture of Stormy flashed through his mind. He should have told her he loved her, should have fought to see her.
“I’ve still got things to say to people,” Cooper told Wolf. “We have to stop the aircraft from rolling over on itself if we’re to have any chance of making it out of this alive.”
The two pilots moved the control yoke with great effort to the right in an attempt to counteract the aircraft from spiraling upside down.
“Wolf, when I tell you to, I need you to add full flaps to try and stabilize and counter the roll,” Cooper shouted as he placed his hands on the throttles.
Wolf looked over at Cooper with a nod of his head, approving the plan. He placed his steady fingers on the flap lever.
“Now!”
As the flaps began to cycle down, a shudder could be felt throughout the spinning aircraft. Cooper advanced the throttles, straining every ounce of power from one remaining engine, as the flight computer continued to alarm: “Whoop, whoop. Pull up! Altitude! Too low! Whoop, whoop. Pull up!”
The two pilots continued battling the dying aircraft, their muscles pushed to the limit, groaning under the pressure of the g-force and strain of the controls. Their view quickly became dominated by the ocean waiting below.
“Come on, baby . . . come on,” Cooper pleaded with the plane.
“We’ve lost number two!” Wolf called out, as the gauges indicated that the one remaining engine had begun to spool down—the red lights and caution alarms confirmed its untimely death.
Meanwhile, Cooper gave no further heed to the alarms, his aim only to level the aircraft in time to guide it into the water as gently as possible.
The flight computer cried out their altitude, pleading desperately with the pilots to save the plummeting plane: “Five hundred! Pull up!”
The jet continued to spiral, falling below five hundred feet. “Whoop, whoop. Pull up! Too low! Terrain! Pull up!”
In an instant, all people on board Trans Pacific 422 experienced the same jarring flash of brilliant light and deafening noise as the commercial flight disappeared off the air traffic control’s radar and into the sea.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Nick lay in his bed listening to the radio. It was a calm night—no storms, no waves, and the chances of a call coming in were slim to none. He wished he could turn off his mind and drift to sleep, but he was used to being on alert when at the station.
Soon, though, his lids grew heavy, and he found his body relaxing as he tuned out the men playing a card game in the other room. Normally, he’d be out there with them, but he was worried about his brother.
It was stupid, really. He shouldn’t be worrying about Cooper or Stormy. They were grown adults, for goodness’ sake. They would work through their issues. There was something between them, something he’d never expected to see from his hardened brother.
“Hey Dad, looks like you might get your way after all,” he whispered.
He could almost swear he heard the heartfelt laughter of the man who’d been gone for over six years now. He missed the old man, even if his father had devastated him on his dying day.
“Time to go, Nick. Gear up!”
Nick shot up in bed as he looked toward the empty door. His crew knew he wouldn’t need to be told twice. If they said it was time to go, then he was alert.
“What’s going on?” he asked, all grogginess instantly gone.
“A 757 crashed about three hundred miles out. We don’t have much more information than that. Don’t know if there are survivors. All we know is the tower lost communication after they called in a mayday.”
“Shit!” Nick exclaimed. His gut always clenched when he heard the words plane crash. He had too many pilots in the family for it not to.
“Say what you’re not saying,” Nick demanded through clenched teeth.
“It’s Trans Pacific,” the man finally mumbled.
Nick tried not to panic. He tried telling himself there were thousands of flights a day across the US alone. The chance of this being his brother was slim. Of course, Nick didn’t believe in odds. Hell, the chances of him working tonight had been slim to none and look how that was turning out!
Still, he tried to keep a cool head.
“If you need to sit this one out, we can call Tony in,” the man said.
“Not a chance, Sean. I’m going to make a phone call first, though. Suit up.”
Nick marched into the other room and picked up his phone, horrified when he felt his fingers tremble. He was the chief pilot for the base. He couldn’t lose control now. They wouldn’t let him fly.
He couldn’t get through to his brother, and he couldn’t get through to Trans Pacific. He slammed the phone down, cracking its base, and then rushed back out to the room where the men were gathered around the television.
The news announcer was solemn: “No details yet on the crash that’s been reported. All we know at this moment is that a flight called in a distress signal, and then the tower lost them. We’re sending our crews out to Sea-Tac as we speak to get you more information.”
“Let’s go. We don’t have time to sit around here,” Nick commanded.
His crew jumped up, and he hated them all in that moment for the looks they were shooting his way.
“Stop now. It’s not my brother,” he snapped.
The men said nothing. They worked hard every time they were together, risking their lives for complete strangers in the stormiest and deadliest of seas. No one was going to say a word to Nick. In order to work most efficiently, he had to ignore his fears.
The men fell out, the boat crew already gone, the helicopter crew falling in. Nick made one small detour before he jumped into the captain’s seat of the helicopter.
Stopping in the bathroom, he let go of the dinner he’d had two hours prior. When he was finished, he rinsed his mouth, then ran to the chopper.
If his brother was out there, he wasn’t coming home without
him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The night air was brisk, the wind blowing ever so slightly. Stormy stood on the back patio of Lindsey’s place, her face raised upward as she watched the stars begin to appear in the darkening sky.
Through the opened door, she could hear the local news in the background, but she didn’t care what was happening in the world. All she cared about right now was trying to figure out what she was going to do next.
Suddenly, her peaceful evening was interrupted when the local news began a special report: “Breaking news out of Sea-Tac Airport. Tragedy strikes in the skies again, this time with Trans Pacific Airlines. We’ve just received word that a mayday was called in.”
Stormy’s heart instantly accelerated, and she rushed into the house and stood before the television as she watched the brunette on the screen look down at her notes.
“The Trans Pacific Airlines flight was heading for Honolulu and apparently suffered engine trouble. We’re hearing reports that it lost contact with the tower exactly five minutes ago. It’s not confirmed yet, but they are saying the plane crashed into the Pacific about two hundred miles out. No other details, including flight number, are being disclosed at this time . . .”
Stormy knew that when planes crashed, the airport set up a central place for family members and friends to go for information. It took her exactly one hour to get from her friend’s place to the airport, thanks to Lindsey rushing in and out of traffic.
If Cooper had been the captain of that flight and she’d lost him forever, she wasn’t sure how she would deal with that. Her fingers glided across her stomach as it cramped.
In a full sprint, Stormy came whirling through the rotating doors into the TPA lobby, where news crews were busy setting up their cameras and giving live reports on the crash.
As she approached the ticket counter, she was desperate to talk to anyone who knew who had captained the flight, but to her horror, all of the Trans Pacific ticket counters were vacant, as if the airline had shut down and abandoned anyone seeking answers.
Panic was taking over, though she tried to fight it. A mewling cry escaped her throat as she collapsed to the ground, her vision going in and out of focus.
She immediately caught the attention of camera crews and reporters, as they zoomed in on her, putting a human face on the late-breaking news of an air disaster at sea.
In the midst of her panic attack, a door opened from behind the ticket counter and an agent rushed to assist Stormy.
The lobby went wild with the sound of camera shutters and electronic flash units firing in frenzy, as newspaper reporters and TV crews sought to capture the image of an airline employee helping the next of kin of the ill-fated flight.
As the airline customer service agent bent over to console Stormy, she put her arm around her, rubbing her back in a circular motion. It was Meredith.
Seeing it was Stormy, Meredith’s eyes, already bloodshot with emotion, began to well up as she gave Stormy a mournful glance of pity. As tears came rolling down Meredith’s face, Stormy knew, without her saying a word, that it was indeed Cooper who’d been flying.
“I’m so sorry, Stormy,” she said. Stormy went limp in Meredith’s arms, losing consciousness.
“I need help over here!” Meredith called out.
Within seconds, two airport police officers were on the scene, one officer lifting Stormy into his arms and taking her into the airline office behind the ticket counter.
Stormy awoke in a large room to the sound of several voices, some shouting while others were quietly sobbing. She was lying on her back on a cot when she opened her eyes and saw Sherman looking down at her. He’d been sitting by her side.
“There you go, sweetie. Time to wake up,” he said with a concerned expression.
The sight of Sherman peering down at her was a comforting sight to wake up to, but as if a thousand nightmares came to mind all at once, she was reminded all too soon of what had happened and whom she’d lost.
Stormy clutched her stomach, cradling Cooper’s unborn child. The agony of loss still overwhelming, she could only sob and shake her head from side to side, as if by saying no she could change the situation. Stormy clung to Sherman.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she finally said.
“I’m glad you’re here, too, sweetie,” he assured her.
“I don’t know if I can get through this alone,” she told him, her eyes spilling all over again.
“You’d be amazed at what a person can survive,” he told her. “I was there when Coop took his first flight, and I’m here now, with you. You’re not alone, sweetheart.”
Sherman took Stormy’s hand and held it tightly as they both said a whole lot of silent prayers.
“I don’t know if I can take the silence anymore,” Stormy said after a while. She had no more tears left to cry.
Sherman looked at Stormy, his eyes bright and wide. “Stormy, he’s alive. That boy is alive. I know it. I can feel it in my bones, so don’t you lose heart, you’ll see.”
She looked at him with hope. “Do you really believe that?”
“I do, darling. I really do. And you know what?” he said with a smile.
“What?”
“I bet it will be his brother out there saving his ass,” he said with a chuckle.
“I hope so,” she said, finding that she did have some tears left after all.
CHAPTER FORTY
Water lapping against his legs, Cooper slowly opened his eyes as a groan rumbled from his throat. His eyesight was blurry and he blinked trying to get his bearings. As his thinking cleared, he reached his hand up to his throbbing head.
Feeling a warm sensation, he pulled his fingers away, blood dripping down his hand. He had a substantial gash on his forehead from hitting the side window upon impact, and boy could he feel it.
Cooper began to look around to assess his situation. The flight deck was a mess of broken glass and crumpled metal. Water flowed in through the windshield and streamed down the instrument panel with each pulse of the waves.
The sound of groaning and creaking metal filled his ears as the body of the plane shifted in the gentle sea. Cooper reached down and undid his five-point harness as thoughts moved away from his well-being to that of his passengers and fellow crew members. He glanced over at Wolf, who was still unconscious in his seat.
“Wolf, wake up.” Cooper shook Wolf’s shoulders, saying his name over and over.
At that moment, the creaking became louder as the plane’s nose pitched drastically downward. The damage she’d sustained was substantial and it was nothing short of a miracle that she was still floating at all. But the forward portion of the cargo bay was filled with water and accelerating her burial at sea. Water rushed in through the windshield, filling the flight deck at a faster rate.
With the water now chest level on Wolf and rising, Cooper’s attempt to wake him became more frantic. “Wolf! Come on, buddy, wake up.” Cooper was now shaking Wolf violently with both hands. Wolf’s eyes began to crack open as the water level rapidly approached his neck.
“Cooper, what in the hell is going on?” Wolf’s eyes were now open with panic showing as the freezing water registered.
“The plane is sinking fast and we have to get out of here now,” Cooper commanded.
“I can’t seem to get this seat belt undone.” Wolf was straining, now terrified and spitting water out as it surged up to his face.
“Hold on. Let me try,” Cooper said as he took a deep breath and dove under the frigid Pacific water.
Cooper ripped and pulled on the seat belt mechanism with all his strength, but to no avail. He resurfaced and spoke as calmly as possible. “Wolf, hold on, buddy. I’m going to find something to cut it.”
Cooper’s gaze now looked all around as he tried to spot something that was sharp enough to cut the tough belts.
The water was getting dangerously high and every second wasted meant Wolf was closer to death. Cooper took another deep
breath and dove under, still trying to free his distressed coworker from his seat.
The water was dimly lit by the slight glow of the instrument panel lights, but they were fading fast as water found its way into the electrical system. Cooper surfaced for air, still unsuccessful in his attempts.
“I’m sorry, buddy. I can’t get this damn thing undone,” Cooper said somberly as he grabbed Wolf’s hand.
“Can you do something for me?” Wolf asked while pulling Cooper’s shirt toward him. Wolf’s face suddenly became peaceful as the water continued rising.
“Anything.”
“Tell that sexy flight attendant that it wasn’t just a one-night stand. I liked her enough that it scared the crap out of me.” Wolf gripped tighter to Cooper’s shirt as the water covered his face. Cooper was fully prepared to go down with his copilot, not willing to leave a man behind.
Just before he turned away, he saw something glisten underneath the water, illuminated by the flickering light. It was a large shard of glass that had broken from the windshield. Adrenaline flooded his body as Cooper dove beneath the water, grabbed the glass, and began cutting the seat belts.
One by one, the straps snapped. Wolf’s body, now seemingly lifeless, was free. With one arm around his friend, Cooper pushed his way through the flight deck door and out into the flooding cabin.
The plane pitched violently forward, causing a large influx of water through the open exits. Cooper glanced at Wolf’s face and noticed he was becoming paler. He knew Wolf had no chance of survival without CPR, and soon. He could hear the sounds of passengers and the faint voices of flight attendants calling out instructions from outside the craft. It appeared they’d gotten everyone off in time.
The aisle was full of floating personal effects that he had to navigate around to get to the open exit row door. As Cooper emerged from the opening, a bright light shone on him. He looked up, hearing the pulsing blades of a helicopter as it flew past and out of sight.