Frank’s sleep fog evaporated immediately, and they followed her instructions. As Frank leaned over, the early brim of the rising sun beamed through Frank’s window, illuminating Helen’s terrified face screaming without sounds.
“Duck down!” Frank screeched as a backpack flew out of their overhead bin, just missing her face. He flipped out his left hand to direct the pack to the floor. Some idiot had tried to open an overhead bin to retrieve something. “Goddamn asshole!” Frank muttered.
He unbuckled his seat belt and stood, hunched over Helen’s left side. “Hold on to my hand no matter what happens. Now! Grab my belt with your other hand and don’t let go.”
She clasped her right hand into his outstretched right hand, squeezing it tightly. Her left hand followed, landing on his side and slipping down past his belt. Frank grabbed her hand and brought it up to just above the belt, loosened his own belt buckle a bit so she could get her fingers under it, and tightened it again. He then sat, flipping the armrest between them up, and clicked his seat belt. All of this was performed in a deliberate and smooth Olympic-style motion.
The chaotic commotion, loud voices conversing with others, and screams of terror were muted by the tilting of the cabin and the increasing shuddering of the plane. Some of the overhead bins popped open, and baggage poured out onto the passengers. The entire plane was starting to tilt downward, well past the angle one would expect for a normal landing. It was like being in a roller coaster that was just about to plunge downward but never straightening out. Frank peered over the bottom of the window to see nothing but sky and the early dawn. It seemed an indeterminable amount of time as the airplane rumbled and tossed in its descent. Looking down, he could just make out the water below slowly rushing up at the left side of the aircraft. The passengers’ shrieks and screams were the last thing he heard as he desperately held Helen’s hand, and then a terrific forward force into the monitor and tray table…
And then a black silence.
Chapter Seven
Helen’s gasping for breath was the first sound Frank heard. Drenched from the flow of water entering the economy section, a foggy vision of his fold-up tray appeared. His right hand was clenched in something so tight he could hardly move his fingers. To his left, water seeped through a crack in the double-pane window, and a level of sea water rose slowly up inside the plastic panel. The heavy coughing and breathing continued to his right, but turning his neck to that side was difficult. Helen’s tray seat was open and interposed between Helen and him.
Using all his strength, he bent the tray down, revealing the blood-strewn face of his companion, mouth contorted and eyes wide in terror. The water rose toward her face, her right hand still clasping his. Frank reached to find her other hand still gripping his belt. Unfastening his seat belt was easy, but hers was somehow now crushed by her tray. Struggling to stand and jerking his hand free, he released the tray from her belt and unbuckled her as he lifted her to an upright position.
“Helen, any broken bones?”
“I…I…don’t think…so.”
“Can you move with me? I see some outside light.” Looking for any other way out, he could see limp, lifeless bodies, some in their seats and others floating in the aisle. He glanced from side to side. Some beams of sunlight were evident, but there was only one that seemed to have promise. Peripherally, he witnessed some possible motion among a few passengers urging him to yell, “Go to the light. Up there.” He repeated it over and over, pointing to a three-to-four-foot opening where an emergency door on the left side of the aircraft had popped open. “Do it now before more water comes in.”
Helen’s intermittent weakness was increasing as he lifted and pulled her through the aisle. Her reaction to the debris mixed with baggage and some mangled bodies was deafening. She was getting heavier.
“Get a hold of yourself,” Frank said. “It’s life or death! Now!”
The emergency door moved slowly, and Frank pushed his back and rear end against it to fully open the hatch door. Across the buoyant chute outside, the right wing of the airplane was half submerged, but areas of temporary safety existed. He pushed harder, then he shoved Helen out in front of him.
“Stay here. Hold on to this,” he said, placing her hands on a circular clip on the slide.
She hesitated to let go of his belt and hand, but Frank’s determined stare into her eyes made her release both hands, and he guided her left hand to the clip. Reaching the door again, he poked his head inside to see if any other passengers were moving toward the opening. The goatee of the hippy jerk appeared, his face covered by a blanket soaked in blood.
“Help me,” said the meek and strained voice of a once obnoxious know-it-all.
Frank reached for his arm and slid it over his shoulder, partially dragging the individual, whose feet and legs were rotating as if he were riding a bike. He laid the man next to Helen and returned to the cabin door. No more people came out. He knelt next to the two survivors on the slide. “Get up on the wing. Now! We have to find something that floats and hang on,” he said, frantically looking in all directions for anything substantial.
“Don’t let go of me,” the hippie said.
“Gotta get more people out. Get yourself up farther on the wing—now,” Frank said.
“No, you don’t understand. I need help.”
“There’s a lot of others that need help. Now, help yourself for once.”
“Anyone in there?” Frank asked as he turned to the exit doorway.
He searched the inside of the cabin. The arrangement of seats that were so orderly on departure were now a scene of twisted metal and seat covers that in no way resembled what they were. Multiple seats had been ripped from their moorings, some with bodies in them and others empty. Frank had no idea where those people or their bodies were. There was no human movement. The only motion throughout the entire cabin and what he could see of the business-class seats was from baggage, tray tables, and cups floating in the rising, bloody water.
Smoke from some of the electric components in contact with the saltwater was now obscuring his vision. He continually tripped over objects under the water, often having to step up and over what he knew were bodies or soft baggage. He couldn’t take time to find out which was which. If they were bodies, they were dead. He gathered up all the life vests he could that were floating but didn’t bother to try to get others that were still under the seats. He shoved all of these to the exit door and watched them disappear as the others were putting them on themselves.
Someone yelled back to him, “We have more than enough vests.”
Suddenly, behind him, a young couple were hunched over, holding a barely moving body. It was that of the elderly woman a few seats down the aisle. The woman said, “She’s breathing, but I don’t know…”
Frank guided them out to the wing with an outstretched hand and helped boost the old woman’s limp body into his arms and sat back on the wing while turning her face up. Her pale face was shriveled, not just from her aging wrinkles. Sea water spurted from her nose and mouth as she wheezed and breathed the smoky air around the airplane. The man and woman helped shove and then pull the old woman up the wing and, once seated next to Helen, she proceeded to prop the woman’s head up on her legs and covered her with her body as well as she could. The couple gathered around her and helped comfort the woman.
Her eyes opened and slowly moved from side to side with her trying to get her bearings and an idea of what type of condition she was in. “Is my purse here?” were the first words she said.
A fleeting smile came across Helen’s lips, probably because this question was not what one would expect a person rescued from ocean waters to say.
“No,” said Helen.
“Oh, God, my pills, they’re gone.”
“Diabetes pills?” Helen asked.
“No, cancer. They were helping, you know.”
~~ ~~ ~~
Helen held the woman’s head closer to her chest and tried to pull her clot
hing up in an attempt to keep her warm. She thought of Maria and how she could have been this kind and understanding to her during her long period of illness. She dipped her head into the woman’s gray wet hair and wept.
~~ ~~ ~~
The sun’s blazing heat helped comfort the six survivors as Frank and the young man searched for floatation.
“There, there. Raft there,” the man said.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth, the man dove into the sea to retrieve a large yellow emergency raft that somehow must have been dislodged by the emergency door and chute. Holding a loose rope-type handle, he swam side-stroke to the wing and edged the raft against it. One by one, each person was helped into the raft by Frank, and finally the young man swung one leg then the other over the side and entered the raft.
“Large enough for all to stretch out,” the man said with a definite Japanese accent.
“We’re going to need water,” said Frank.
“Then must go back there?” the man asked, pointing back at the plane’s exit hatch.
Frank and the man looked at each other quizzically, Frank realizing they would have to be the ones to get the water they so desperately needed. They swiveled to face the emergency door but hesitated, returning to the tomb of so many others, but, realizing they had no choice, they entered the airplane. With a hand signal, Frank went forward, and the younger man toward the rear. Frank was immediately met with floating limbs, clothes, luggage, and debris from all over the plane. He sloshed through hats, coats, books, cell phones, and other items trying desperately to get to the galley. Once there, he reached the two maroon-colored latches that kept the food carts secure, flipped them to the release position, opened them, and allowed the plastic containers to float out. He started to try to guide them to the emergency exit. The bottles and cartons kept bobbing, rolling, disappearing, and popping back up, making it difficult to push them to the exit.
Meanwhile, the young husband was herding a bunch of bottles of water in a plastic carton he had found to the same exit. Seeing the carton he had, Frank turned and searched for some others like it in his galley. He found two of them stuck between another tray holder and the unopened exit door. He quickly filled them with more dinners, put the other items from the water into the large cartons, and pushed them to the exit door where the man was waiting to retrieve them and get them to the raft. The man grabbed the loose dinners and placed them high on the wing for safety until they could fetch them again.
Suddenly, there was a splashing commotion at the exit door. Another passenger, a dapper, well-dressed man tugging on something huge, appeared at the door. The large item behind him was Otto from Frank’s game. Flailing and thrashing his right arm, which was visibly bent in the middle of his forearm, he began to shriek in pain from his broken limb. Water spouted from his mouth as he screeched, causing a mixture of howling and gargling. It took everyone’s strength to haul him onto the wing. He was huge and not cooperating very much.
“Jesus,” screamed Helen, staring into the water.
A uniformed body, kicking slowly in the water, facedown, was slopping partially under the wing of the airplane in front of them. The dapper man from the game reached out, pulled the body out from under the wing, and turned it over as fluid and blood blew from its mouth.
“Kimberly?” Frank bellowed.
“Help me,” she blubbered, hardly getting out the words. Blood was oozing from a gash on the right side of her head.
“Hold on.” The stylish man slid her limp body onto the base of the wing and propped her head in his arms, wiping her mouth with his sleeve and tugging mucus from her teeth and the back of her mouth to clear her airway. He cupped his mouth over hers and exhaled a large breath into her lungs. A belching cough brought the motionless body to life, followed by a cacophony of burps, coughs, and wheezes. Her eyes opened, and Kimberly wiped the messy slime from her face with her dress so she could see. She lay motionless for a second or two.
“Anyone alive?” Kimberly managed to speak in a rasping whisper.
“Yeah. Nine of us survived so far. I’m not sure there are any others. The cabin is almost full of water. If they aren’t out now, they will never be. Can you get into the raft there?”
“It inflated?” Kimberly asked.
Frank did not expect this question from someone who was trained to know all the emergency aspects of the aircraft but didn’t ask for an explanation. He motioned to the young man once again, and they tried to retrieve the carton of water bottles, soft drinks, peanuts, pretzels, and the leftover unused dinners that Frank had saved from the galley as they passed by the door. Anything that could be used was salvaged. Soon, others, who were physically fit enough, helped bring supplies after getting the big man and a disoriented Kimberly in the raft. With her head wrapped in a pillow case, the elderly woman tried to organize items to make room for the survivors. The hippie guy sat shivering and glassy-eyed. No arrogance and wise comments now.
The wing slowly started to disappear into the water, essentially leaving the top of the hull as the only sign of the invalid craft. A few minutes later, the nose tilted down, the tail rose, and the plane sank into the sea in slow motion. No one spoke. The morning sun was now beaming brightly. An amazing silence covered the crash site, the only sound being the waves slopping against the raft and the heavy breathing of all nine survivors—Frank, Helen, and their seven game players.
Chapter Eight
The rhythmic rocking of the boat was hypnotizing. With glassy eyes gazing at the bottom of the raft, onto the horizon or up into the sky, the faces of the remaining nine were stamped in absolute disbelief. Heavy sighs, coughs, and painful moans were the order of the moment. Some stared ahead, others tried unsuccessfully to get comfortable in the crowded raft, and others continued to scan the sea for anything that gave them hope.
“Hopefully help should be here soon. When planes fall off the radar, the location is immediately marked and rescue teams alerted. We’re all dehydrated, and there are plenty of water bottles here,” the dapper man said. “But don’t drink too quickly or a lot fast, people. If we flew way off course, they may never know where we are, and it is going to take a long time to find us. I’d advise not drinking everything so fast. Ration it. It could be a long time before we are rescued.”
“Oh, my God, they’re not coming?” the heavy man screeched.
“I didn’t say that. It may take longer than we want, so we need to be prepared.”
“Who the hell are you to be telling us all this?” the big man blurted out, holding his right arm close to his side.
“Good question. I’m Irving. Who are you?”
“My name is Otto.”
Helen’s attention darted from staring at the floor to meet Frank’s undoubtedly quizzical facial expression. He never knew what his game people’s names really were, yet…
How the hell can they be their real names?
“My God,” Helen stated with disbelief. “Irving, Otto. Did you hear that, Frank?”
Frank turned to the others, not saying word, yet asking their names.
“Maxine,” said the old lady.
This was followed by, “Yuto, my wife Soo Mi.”
“Kimberly. I was one of the attendants.”
All turned to the hippy guy who had not said a word, knees curled up with his arms clutching his legs to his chest. He looked up at the rest staring at him. “What. What do you want?” After a few seconds, it dawned on him the others wanted to know his name. “Homer,” he said.
Frank—and clearly Helen—were totally surprised and in a quandary. They were staring at each other expecting each to have an answer, but there was none forthcoming.
“All these people have the same names we gave them in our game,” said Helen, leaning closely against Frank. “That can’t be. We don’t know any of them. How can this be? You think we’ve met them before? No, that’s impossible.”
“Yeah, I know,” Frank whispered. He faced the others and said, “I’m
Frank, and this is Helen.”
“How’s this possible?” Helen whisper-screamed.
“God, it’s so weird. I haven’t a clue, but it is what it is,” Frank answered. “Well, introductions aside for now, is anyone badly hurt other than Otto?” he asked.
Helen was still staring at the passengers and back to Frank, seeking some semblance of truth to this mystery.
No one raised their hand. It was a great relief to know they did not have a medical emergency on board. Frank could not get over the fact that all the passengers’ names in the game had been correctly guessed by Helen or him. Jesus, how could that be? Clairvoyance was not a specialty of his. The amazement of this event was soon shrouded by the next question.
“What the hell are we going to do now?” Otto inquired as he winced in pain.
“Remain calm so as not to utilize all of your strength. Breathe slowly. Sip some water but don’t gulp it. Each one of us should keep a lookout in different directions on the raft,” Irving stated forcibly while searching the pockets and flaps of the raft.
“What are you doing?” Maxine questioned.
“Some of these floatation devices have emergency beacons, flares, emergency kits, and maybe a flashlight.”
That said, everyone but Otto started pulling down any flaps near them and looking. Soo Mi found the beacon and handed it to Irving. The homing beep responded when he flipped the switch. Maxine yelped like a little girl, holding a large flashlight, pointing the bright beam at each person.
“Easy, Maxine. Let’s not wear out the battery,” Frank said.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She turned to hunt for more compartments where anything that could be of help could be hidden.
Kimberly had searched deeper into the pocket from which Maxine had pulled the flashlight to undercover six flares. “Flight school training. I just wasn’t thinking. I should have told you immediately,” she said, holding them above her head.
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