Falling by T.J. Newman
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
THE BACK WHEELS SLAMMED INTOthe runway and the plane’s nose tipped high as it rocked backward. The tail struck the ground. Jo could feel the auto-brake system engage as the plane tried to slow itself.
“Now!” Bill screamed. Jo pulled back on the thrust levers.
The plane jerked and the nose fell forward violently in response. Slamming into the ground, the nose gear collapsed, sparks and smoke spewing out from underneath the plane. Grinding into the concrete, the plane barreled down the runway.
Jo watched Bill press his feet into the pedals as hard as he could, but he was so weak that she couldn’t imagine it would have much impact. He shifted his feet right to left, steering the rudder in a desperate attempt to keep the plane on the runway.
She could see flames and sparks out the window. The plane was out of control.
The end of the runway loomed in front of them, the line of red lights issuing a declaration: Stop.
Jo didn’t know if they could.
Everyone huddled around the CNB van covered their open mouths in disbelief of what they were witnessing. The plane was moving so fast, too fast. There was no way it was going to stop in time.
There was an unexpected snap. The nose plunged downward and the tail shot into the air. Time stopped as the plane did too. A pause. The plane stood in a strange headstand, momentarily motionless. With a loud creak, she fell back onto her belly.
No one moved.
The cloud of debris and smoke dissipated moments later. A wrecked commercial airliner. Battered and beaten at the absolute edge of the end of the runway.
But in one piece.
Everyone watching reacted in the same instant. The neighbors, the media personnel; all cheered and exchanged high-fives or hugs. Vanessa went down to one knee on the pavement, covering her face as the cameraman clapped her on the back.
Carrie and Theo didn’t react. Standing side by side, they never took their eyes off the plane. Until they had a visual on Bill and Jo, they wouldn’t allow themselves to breathe easy.
All was still for a few seconds. Then, in jerking and robotic movements, the forward door released and swung outward. A yellow slide belched from the opening, unfurling clumsily until it touched the ground. The back exits followed suit, as did the ones over the wings. The passengers appeared, popping out of the doors and jumping down the slides. Two people stayed at the bottom of each slide, helping others climb off. Another person stayed and directed the passengers on where to run to.
Big Daddy was at the forward door, the same door the passengers had used to board the plane less than six hours earlier on the other side of the country. As the passengers leapt from the aircraft, he was visible in profile, waving his arms and shouting directions inaudible to those outside the plane. His hand, bandaged in white gauze, clung to a bar attached to the inside wall of the fuselage, anchoring himself to firm ground.
Kellie was at the back exit, her face red as she screamed. A man hesitated at the top, looking down on the bright streak of blood an injured passenger had left on the yellow slide. Kellie placed her hand on his lower back and pushed. He tumbled down to safety, his legs wobbly as he was helped up.
Emergency vehicles descended on the aircraft, blue-and-red flashing lights washing over the chaos. Firemen circled around the plane, shouting to each other with wide arm movements as they determined what actions needed to be taken. Hazmat first responders appeared next, leaping from medical vehicles in full-body protective gear. Against the darkness of the night, their white suits shone like a new pair of tennis shoes fresh out of the box. Soon enough they would be marred by the markings of conflict: smoke, dirt, sweat, blood.
The flow of passengers slowed. The evacuation was over almost as quickly as it began—model procedure under unprecedented circumstances. A few scattered passengers streamed down the back slide, but nobody else emerged from the front.
Suddenly an enormously tall man appeared at the front of the aircraft with another full-grown man draped over his shoulder like a dish towel. The large man slid the other off his shoulder, positioning him not-so-carefully at the top of the slide. He unceremoniously used his foot to start him on his descent, the medics at the bottom receiving the red-faced, portly man. Checking for injuries, they called for a stretcher, hazmat taking him away.
The tall man disappeared into the plane and soon reappeared cradling an elderly man in his arms like a baby. The old man looked out at the scene below and then up at his rescuer with relief. The tall man sat them both down on the edge of the slide as carefully as he could, checking to make sure the gentleman’s feet and head were clear. Someone inside the plane must have said something because he turned back. The tall man didn’t say a word, but a smile graced his face as he dipped his head in a bow. Shimmying himself to the edge slowly, he held the old man in his lap and the two slid down the slide together. At the bottom, the big guy set the old man on his feet, holding his wrinkled hands while his legs found their balance.
By now the flow of passengers evacuating the aircraft had stopped completely, but the crew was still on board. Occasionally, the flight attendants would be glimpsed through an open door as they moved about the plane. Through the little windows they could be seen moving swiftly up the aisle as they swept the aircraft to ensure no one was left on board.
When they were sure everyone was out, they ran to the front. Daddy disappeared into the cockpit. Kellie waited outside in the galley. She bobbed and weaved, trying to see whatever was going on up there. A moment later she jerked to attention and rushed forward before quickly stepping back to make room.
Big Daddy reappeared from the front. He came out backward, hunched over and moving with slow, awkward progress. He was carrying something heavy. Stepping back toward the opening, he pivoted left as Kellie stepped right. Daddy was holding a pair of legs and, with a tremendous amount of effort, was dragging a motionless body.
As more of the body emerged, Kellie rushed forward to take hold of something. An arm, the hand flopping about limply. She attempted to get a better grip, grabbing under the shoulder as Jo appeared, clutching the body’s torso from behind, her petite arms barely able to wrap themselves around Bill’s chest.
Theo covered his mouth as Carrie turned Scott’s head so he couldn’t watch. The baby whimpered on her hip and she began to bounce her harder.
The three flight attendants worked hard to extract the large man from a room so small and full of obstacles that it was difficult to navigate in and out of under normal circumstances. Finally they succeeded, freeing the man with a final thrust of movement, all of them dropping to their knees as they released him to the floor.
Not even pausing for a moment, they conferred, nodding and making movements with their arms and hands as they formed a plan of action. Big Daddy stood and looked out the exit at the slide and the first responders who collected at the base. He yelled something to them and made wide gestures, the emergency crew responding to his commands and shouting them to others down the line.
Big Daddy and Kellie flanked Bill as Jo sat down behind him, hiking up her skirt to straddle his back, shimmying her chest underneath his limp body as all three slowly shuffled and arranged the pair for a tandem slide. As they jostled and moved toward the opening, the view was finally unobstructed and the whole world collectively gasped at the bright-red blood saturating the front of the pilot’s white shirt.
Carrie turned her head into Theo’s shoulder.
“Don’t watch,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll watch and tell you if you should.”
She nodded and hid in him before turning back a moment later.
A gurney had arrived at the bottom of the slide with medics in hazmat suits. Other responders positioned themselves on opposite sides to catch the twosome when they reached the bottom. Big Daddy yelled, his lip movements unmistakably in a countdown, the pilot and flight attendant sliding down on “three” in a heavy descent. They were received at the base like children on a playground. The pilot was lifted onto the gurney and wheeled away, medics jogging alongside.
Jo accepted the hands that helped her up but fought them off as they tried to carry her away. Breaking free, she turned back to the slide, offering a hand to Kellie as the young woman fumbled to stand. Standing across from each other they waited for Daddy to slide down, helping him to his feet once he reached the bottom.
The three stood in a circle and Jo said something to the other two that made them both nod. Jo shook her head slowly and turned, making a slow gesture across the plane with her hand, her words unheard beyond the flight attendants’ ears. Daddy added something and the other two chuckled before Jo took a step forward to embrace Kellie, who had begun to cry. Jo rubbed her back softly while looking off to the medics who were working on Bill. Her face glistened with tears as she watched helplessly. Daddy turned around and looked up at the plane, his bandaged palms covering his mouth.
They stood there for a minute like that, letting what had just happened sink in. Finally, they all turned together and began to limp slowly toward the medics who waited for them.
On the other side of the country, in a suburban neighborhood surrounded by yellow crime-scene tape, the assembled humans let the moment sink in as well.
It was over.
A tiny voice squeaked with emotion. It sounded so wrong, so out of place, for such an innocent observer to be present at a scene of such horrors.
“Mommy?”
Carrie looked down at her son before squatting before him. Her eyes were red and swollen and her attempt at a smile was pitiful.
“Yes, baby?”
“Is Dad okay?”