In the cockpit of the DC-10, Captain Herbert struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of events. Doctor Joe could vividly see that I had blended my consciousness, my total being with the tape as I silently murmured each sound, each moment. I was once again a passenger inside the cockpit of the doomed aircraft.
“The thick fog was totally unexpected,” I interjected to my concerned psychiatrist. In the cockpit, Captain Herbert called for a missed-approach.
“Take her up to 8500,” Then there was panic and chaos. The Captain brought full throttle back on, just as he had been trained to do, and the engines immediately responded.
“Get her up! Get her up!” First Officer Dieter Reimann begged his superior. “You’re starting to bank!…You’re banking!”
“Oh Jesus Christ! Oh f###.” Captain Carl Herbert Sr. suddenly became aware of the inevitable. “I can’t, I can’t get her up!” Alarms ran amok like senseless demons released to declare hopelessness, the calling card of Muerto, who had just entered the cockpit.
“Get her up, Carl!” S/O Wells now pleaded, Carl Herbert, refusing to accept his fate, fought with all his might as the fog cleared revealing to the three stricken aviators their inescapable demise. Out the forward windows, a two-story building appeared in the path of the aircraft. The doomed spaceship glided 35' above the pavement of Benito Juarez International Airport. The haunting finale of numerous voices crying in unison echoing total despair filled the doctor's office. Then dead silence. I put down the recording device and glanced at Doctor Joe. He seemed deeply concerned for the price my mind was paying.
“How is this knowledge going to allow you to heal?” I was caught off guide by his question and could not muster an answer.
“In an earlier portion of the tape, Mexican Air Traffic Control advises the crew to expect a 23 Left approach into the airport,” I offered.
“How is this information going to allow you to heal?” My wise mentor would not allow me to deflect his inquiry. I had no answer.
I headed back to Manhattan Beach in a daze. I thought about the large cast on Skip Mitchell's leg, the physical injuries and multiple surgeries he had already endured. Yet, he remembered little if anything from the whole affair. I later discovered that others, like the passenger who lost both arms and was terribly scarred by the flames, also recalled little if anything of the crash. I wept silently recalling those who had praised a gracious God for allowing me to emerge from the fires virtually untouched. No, this God was continually playing a cruel joke. Like a Frankenstein monster I was given a new life embedded with a demented mind, filled with horrors, lies and deceit. Like the fabled beast of Shelley's creation I was destined for destruction.
I sat filled with bewilderment in my beach home. I stared at the pilot's disciplinary report upon the table but avoided touching it. I thought about my deceased crew-mates and imagined how they might have handled my situation. The demon's whispers always convinced me that each of them would have done a far better job. I remembered how not one on of the F/A's had left a child.
“We were all so mortal at that moment of impact.” I spoke without intending. “I want a child, I want a son.”
I returned to the flight line disappointed that my covert adventures had not eased the deep pain inside my soul. The effort had the complete opposite effect. The temptation to sit, to listen to the CVR recording was enticing, and like an addictive drug it had the tendency to suck a piece of my life right out of me. I found solace in the company of Tommy Acoba.
“Don't give in to it. You will eventually come full circle.” His words were direct and logical as always.
“You're right Tommy. I have a feeling things are going to turn around for me.”
I left for a refreshing walk along the beach, alone. The morning revealed radiantly clear skies along the coast of the South Bay of the basin. I descended the long flight of stairs from Avenue C to the sand. The wind was brisk as I gazed out upon the sunlit beauty of the vast Pacific. In an instant, I somehow believed I was supposed to be here. I was filled with a sense of peace, a luxury I had not enjoyed in some time. I felt consoled and did not want these feelings to fade. I sat on the soft white sand and began meditating on the circumstances that engulfed me. Simultaneously, my physical senses indicated a new found sensitivity, everything was so distinct and vibrant. Then I gently turned and looked upon the vista, and there I spotted her. She gracefully descended the steep incline. Long brown hair and olive-skinned, she was the first real angel I had the fortune to see after months in the company of wretched demons.
“I'm Eddy.” I said, extending my hand.
“I'm Sofia.” I was mildly shocked
A whirlwind romance was sparked that spring morning along the beaming coastline. Sofia was a resident of the nearby community of Torrance. Yes, it struck me as odd that this lovely lady of Italian lineage had come into my life when I just had told Tommy that I believed things were going to turn around for me. Every time I tried to dismiss the innocence of our coincidental meeting I recalled Reina's premonitions. My dear associate had always taken stock of these messages, of having to be at a certain place at a certain time in our lives. My connection with Sofia seemed to have that feeling.
The courting process was taken to a whole new dimension for the lovely lady. I could offer the skies of our airline routes to my new found love. A night on the town was not restricted to the City of the Angels as SFO, SEA and of course HNL became destinations to kindle the hopes and dreams of our relationship. I was now spotted at terminal 5 with a new young sweetheart, the gossip and rumors flew. I took little notice as I relished the freedom our relationship offered. For the first time hope was reflected in this second chance at life. With her tenderness and compassion I was sure Sofia would also make a wonderful mother.
I found myself relishing the duties of being a flight attendant once again. The relationship seemed to offer an exit from the warped cocoon the accident had encased me in, although there still existed a tinge of guilt for surviving.
“Why should you bask in the warmth of a love affair? Your friends are cold and dead.” Would the voices ever leave me alone? I was torn.
My new love was supportive from the beginning. Sofia's smile and embrace discarded the worthlessness. Yet each time I was assigned a flight I knew I owed something to the families that were left clueless concerning the circumstances surrounding the loss of their precious loved ones. How close had my family, my mother come to having to mourn and fret over all the legalities that overwhelmed these families like a vicious pit of snakes? I knew that I would never be free to go forward in my blossoming relationship with Sofia if I did not try to make a difference. I had to cleanse my soul so I decided to confront the airline.
Returning from a HNL flight, I looked forward to a few days off, my mind filled with only thoughts of Sofia. I picked up the mail as I entered my home and noticed a large manila envelope, assuming it was most likely another request from an investigator. I knew not when, but was well aware of the ordeal of the litigation ahead, an endeavor I was not looking forward to. As I opened it I was pleased to see that the trio of hikers I had encountered in the Na Pali had kept their word. The glossy print revealed a half naked figure plastered in red dirt, muck, paint and vegetation, a wild man possessed. I stared at the demented fiend I now wanted to put forever in the past.
A determined young man wandered through the executive hallways of the airline. He carried a box filled with the documents and evidence that could prove that the crash and deaths of those on board was far more complicated than just “pilot error.”
I was deeply torn and resentful of the circumstances which created the persona of the flight attendant I dubbed Edmundo. I was certain of the conspiracies orchestrated by the Mexican Government to sweep the true facts under the carpet; I was only assuming the airline's participation in these deplorable activities. I so wanted to believe that there was no underhandedness on their part, but logic told me otherwise. What exactly I was looking for I really
did not know. For my own sake I was determined to come away this day with a definite answer of some sort, a firm foundation by which I could try and construct my new life. I decided I would no longer settle for this chaotic existence. It was a poor substitute even though everyone insisted I should be thankful. I brought along a small cassette player and was ready to force my superior to sit and listen to the agonizing words, alarms and screams. In my mind there was only one man I could approach in hopes of receiving a straight answer, Executive Vice President, Barry Lane.
“Anything I can help you with, Eduardo?” Mr. Lane was a diplomat of the airline industry, dignified and professional. The former airline ship cleaner was a humble gentleman recognizing instantly that I was deeply troubled, and he always correctly called me by my real name, Eduardo
“Have you listened to the CVR recording from flight 2605?” I went straight to the point.
“Yes, I have, Eduardo.”
“Not very pleasant is it?”
“No it is not.” There was a long pause.
“You know. Mr. Lane, I have the recording.”
“I am well aware of that fact.” His answer threw me for a loop. His stark honesty made me uneasy. I arose from my seat and began to walk about his elegant, immaculate office. There were the usual aircraft models on his desk and shelves. I spotted the Boeing 727 and the 737, “Fat Albert.” I turned and faced the sincere individual I considered a mentor.
“Was it pilot error?” Mr. Lane took a deep breath and clasped his hands together.
“You probably know just as much as any of us in that regard.” I was relieved. This reinforced my belief in him. I continued on.
“There was so much crap down there, dishonesty at every turn. Then there was the incident with the Federal Police.”
“You're right, Eduardo, I have spoken with Jack McKay concerning the things you had to go through.”
“There is also the conflict between Carl and Dieter which I witnessed a part of in the cockpit early that morning. All this shit that none of the employees know about. What about the families of the my fellow crew-members?”
“You speak the truth about all of this, Ed, but really what are we to do? Mexico is pulling all the strings.”
“I could go public with the tape.”
“Yes, you could and that would be your right to do so.” Once again there was a pause as the elder gentleman looked at me with sincerity.
“But what would be the result of such an action? You must be well aware that the company is having a difficult time as a result of deregulation in the industry. Last year took a significant toll on the company and this year has been no kinder.” Under the protection of government regulation and with former systems in place, since the dawn of passenger aviation, there was prosperity for our regional airline. Now, anyone wishing to own a passenger aircraft could start an airline.
The CEO, Mario Reddick, helped build the airline to the heights it formally enjoyed using old tried-and-true formulas which provided prosperity under federal protection of routes. Unfortunately, he and his subordinates continued to use these methods through the alteration that now produced a free market. Such ways would quickly prove unsustainable, as many established regional airlines were now being forced out of business. Bankruptcies and mergers with larger, financially stronger airlines were now the norm.
“What about the families of my deceased crew-members? Don't I have a responsibility to them?” I looked deep into the eyes of this wise man.
“What about the associates of this company, Eduardo? What would be the effect on them? Possibly you and many of your friends could be out of work.” As always, Barry Lane was honest and practical. “What good would it be for everyone involved to bring all of this mess to the forefront?”
“How will this knowledge help you to heal?” I muttered Doctor Joe's words, shaking my head.
“What?” The airline executive was puzzled. I looked up to explain.
“I was just repeating what Doctor Ramljak had asked me. He wanted to know how the tape and the other revelations would help me in my healing process.” The wise chief seized the good doctor's inquiry.
“And what is the answer to that question?”
“I'm not sure knowing these things could ever be a positive factor in trying to get better.”
“Then toss it aside, lad. You have your whole life ahead of you. Perhaps you are to some degree at a crossroad in your life. Is Doctor Ramljak helping you?” The last remark hit a chord.
“Oh yeah, he has really made a difference.”
“Then let him guide you so you can go forward. Do you have a girlfriend?” I hesitated and thought about the solace I felt with Sofia.
“Well yeah, I recently met someone who I believe is special.”
“Then reap the graces God has given you. You have been given a rare gift and the knowledge that goes with it. Embrace your new life, get married, have children.”
“You don't deserve it.” The fallen angels attempted to derail my new-found desire to actually hope. I mentally blocked their activities. I thought about Reina, Tamlyn, Karen and the rest of the cabin crew. Not a child was left.
“Yes, Mr. Lane, I will get married and have children.” The company Vice President was pleased with my words and joyfully walked over to shake my hand. His delight was not because he had convinced me to abandon an avenue of activity that would have been detrimental. He was a good and honest man who truly wanted to see that I would not drown in the political filth of this incident.
“Continue your sessions with Doctor Ramljak, get back to work and I guarantee you will see brighter and happier days.”
I left the executive offices, returned home and gathered up every artifact I had accumulated related to the crash. I tucked them away in my bedroom closet. I decided to walk away from whatever responsibility a survivor inherits. My avowed loyalty to the airline took priority and also offered the best opportunity in achieving the goal of a fruitful life. I once again returned to the flight line as my courtship with Sofia blossomed. With Doctor Ramljak's guidance I sculpted out a healthy relationship. Fortune also bequeathed that when the time came to proceed with the proper introductions to my family I could proudly declare that my betrothed and her family were Roman Catholics, a point my mother expressed with excitement to Sister Inez.
Part III
A Nest of Ashes
Chapter XVII
I carefully walked the crowded streets of Hell's Kitchen in the city that never sleeps. I gazed about like a hungry bird of prey. I quickly ditched into a pizzeria. I sat, watched and waited.
“Want a date?” A familiar solicitation phrase on the streets was ignored by some and caught the interest of others. A pack of five young men, possibly college students, stopped and showed interest in the teenager's proposition. The leader of the group began haggling with the young streetwalker which brought laughter and ridicule from the others. Seemingly filled to the brim with liquor and false bravado the small, burly student seemed to be making some headway in his negotiations when a taller, less intoxicated associate stepped forward and wisely yanked his friend away, rapidly reprimanding him for the error of his ways. Soon, the rowdy rogues disappeared among the crowd that flowed through the streets and the young coquette instinctively turned her attention to other prospective customers.
The time had come for action so I calmly rose and went into the washroom of the small eatery to refurbish the smeared, fading colors on my face, my visual declaration of war. I carefully sketched the white and bright red of my airline logo, an evolution for an avenging muse. Completing my metamorphosis I reached behind and fondled the cold metal hand grip of my precious knife strapped to my back.
“What would my crew think of my illicit intent?” My mind went to Gary Rollings. His strong character and demeanor made him the perfect candidate for leadership, a company man till the end.
“He deserved to live not me, not me.” I was engrossed with self pity which fired up my hatred and a d
esire for blood.
All at once I sensed a closeness from behind. I turned to stand face to face with a middle aged man smiling intently at me. As I gazed down I witnessed the fool holding what pitiful manly presence he could retain. Such a sinful act was the fatal spark that lit an enormous detonation. Rage was unleashed as the perverted victim hit the floor in a flash, blood running down the side of his face. I instinctively readied myself to strike again.
“You f###### leech. In this pathetic soul I saw them all, Chavez, Montoya, the politicians, the lawyers, the money men. He represented all the bloodsuckers that drained the life and decency from me, my friends, the victims and their families, the eternal wounded who would never taste the sweetness of life again. I struck again with a vengeance as he tried to crawl away in the limited boundaries of the lavatory. I retrieved the large knife from its sheath and directed it at my quarry.
“Sign the f###### paper!”
“Stop! I'm getting way ahead of myself. I promised Barry Lane I was going to make a true effort at putting this madness behind me. I was in love. I was going to marry Sofia, have children. You must understand I did take Mr. Lane's advice. I tried with all my heart and soul to do what was right. Unfortunately, I as yet could not understand that this plague had a life of its own. Sofia deserved the happiness I promised to give her the day we said our vows.”
“Let us raise our glasses to the new Mr. and Mrs. Valenciana. May their lives together be filled with peace and contentment.” So was the salute that was presented by Tommy Acoba after the newlywed couple had received the blessing of the Holy Mother Church. The festivities of the reception went on into the early morning hours as family, friends and airline associates bestowed their well wishes.
Jumpseat- A Tale of Twisted Fate Page 46