Code Black (32 page)

The lights that marked the touchdown zone raced past. Donovan yanked the good throttle all the way back, trying desperately to fall away from the other plane. He knew he was eating up runway at an alarming rate.

“Go around!” John screamed into the phone at Henry. “We have the runway!”

Donovan watched in horror as the other 737 plummeted even lower. Full thrust from Henry’s engines raised a giant plume of snow as he struggled to go around. In what seemed like slow motion, the other 737 clawed and lifted its way out of the wind shear, moving ever-so-slightly out of their path. Donovan held the controls tightly as the jet blast from Henry’s plane buffeted his aircraft. When the right wing tried to come up, Donovan forced it level. If he let a wing tip dig into the snow, they would cartwheel and die in an instant. Donovan used all of his strength to raise the nose. They were still going 190 knots. He managed a few more degrees of pitch before the Boeing finally plunged heavily onto the snow-covered runway.

Donovan’s harness dug deeply into his shoulders at first impact, then eased as the 737 skipped. He caught a glimpse of Henry’s airplane as it struggled to climb upward into the night sky. Donovan pulled back on the elevator with everything he had to kill some more of their speed. The tail hit the ground and the force rammed the nose heavily into the snow. He caught one last glimpse of the other 737 lifting up and away from 880.

The next impact threw him even harder against his straps. Above the roar of the plane, Donovan heard John shriek in agony. From behind him, the sound of tearing metal filled the cockpit. The rudder pedals slammed against his feet. He tried frantically to keep the Boeing’s nose pointed straight ahead. Without warning, the 737 began to skid sideways. Donovan used every last ounce of his strength to hold it straight, but the airplane spun hard, and Donovan was hammered against the wall of the cockpit. Everything outside vanished under a wall of snow as they careened off the runway. Seconds later he was catapulted into the control column—and the world went black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Lauren had come out of her seat as the wind shear pushed them down almost to the runway. Henry jammed both throttles to full power and the engine noise resonated through the airframe.

“They’ve got the runway!” Lauren called out “Henry, get us out of here!”

Fifty feet above the ground, they began to accelerate. Henry eased back on the controls. One tiny mistake and they would hit the runway and crash in front of the other plane. The 737’s wings bit hard into the cold air; the huge turbofan engines were screaming.

Lauren felt the first subtle sensation they were picking up speed. She knew that 880 was somewhere close behind them and she steeled herself for the first tremor of a collision. Henry forced the 737 away from the runway, straining against the onslaught of turbulence as they climbed back into the heart of the blizzard. Below them flashed the long-term parking lot lights and broad expanse of the International Terminal.

“John! Can you hear me? Are you down? Talk to me!” Lauren cried out over and over into the phone.

The powerful Boeing pounded through the turbulence. Henry finally pulled the engine thrust back a fraction. They were now hurtling out of 3,000 feet for the smoother air above.

“Tower. This is Boeing 31 Whiskey Alpha,” Michael said, breathless as he spoke into the microphone. “We’re going missed approach. Did they make it? Is 880 down?”

“Surface radar shows they’re down. We can’t see anything. We’re waiting for reports from the emergency crews. You are cleared to climb to 10,000 feet.” Kate stopped for a moment. The background noise in the cab increased as reports from the crash landing poured in. “31 Whiskey Alpha, you are cleared to climb to 10,000 feet and say your intentions.”

“Stand by.” Michael waited for Henry. They’d finally flown above the worst of the storm.

“I’ve lost the connection.” Lauren lowered her head, as she slowly closed the phone. The 737 plowed through the occasional rough air currents as they continued to climb

“Tell Kate we want to hold at 10,000 feet.” Henry leveled the wings as another jolt buffeted them. “Any word yet at all?”

Michael keyed the microphone. “Tower, we’ll level at 10,000 feet. Can you tell us anything about 880?”

“Boeing 31 Whiskey Alpha, you’re cleared to 10,000 feet. Turn left to 090 degrees. I’ll give you vectors to keep you in my airspace. I have no official word I can relay over this frequency. O’Hare is officially closed at this time due to an accident.”

Lauren slumped in her seat.

“It worked!” Matt exploded into the flight deck. “They made it down. Is Mom okay? Do we know yet?”

“Not yet. We’ll know soon.” Lauren turned toward the young man. She leaned over and gave him a huge hug. “You were amazing,” she whispered, before she let him go.

“That guy was incredible!” Matt said. “You should have seen how close he held the airplane. I could almost see right inside the cockpit.” He held his hands together to illustrate how both airplanes had been positioned. “I thought we were done for when he bumped into us. The turbulence was so bad! I could see his wings flexing up and down. His left engine was still on fire; the whole time we were flying, that thing was burning. But he stayed right there. Man, it was something! I could even see the scratch on his nose where he ran into us.”

Michael looked back and smiled. “What made you think of the laser?”

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 them 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.”