Code Black (7 page)

“Exactly,” Calvin replied. “Right now we’re in the process of re-tasking a Keyhole satellite. It will be above the horizon in seven minutes and we’ll start a systematic scan then.”

“You’re wonderful.” Lauren brushed her hair away from her face. “I’ll pass this along and wait to hear from you.”

“Hang in there dear,” Calvin said, attempting to sound up-beat. “I’ve also put in some other calls. I’m in the process of helping Michael get to O’Hare, but I guess the roads are pretty bad right now. But we’re on it.”

“I appreciate everything you’re doing,” Lauren said, buoyed by the efforts of those closest to her. She severed the connection and took a deep breath, taking a moment to organize her thoughts.

“What did they say?” Henry moved closer the moment she’d hung up the phone.

“We’ll know more in a few minutes,” Lauren said as she glanced up at the clock.

“But what I can tell you, is that there has only been one airplane crash.”

“How could you know that?” Henry questioned, his voice filled with doubt. “How could anyone know that right now?”

“Science,” Lauren said as she spun from him, there was no way she was going to take the time to explain to this impossible man how she knew what she did.

“Dr. McKenna.” Henry’s stern tone relaxed slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Lauren hesitated, and then faced him. He’d said the words, but somehow they lacked any real warmth, though she thought she detected a momentary softening in his demeanor. She replayed the heated exchange he’d had with his son. It was probably unfair to judge Henry Parrish under these circumstances, but she found him cold and distant.

“Dr. McKenna, I am sorry,” Henry said, then paused as he measured his words. “I don’t mean to be—”

“Henry, I hate to interrupt you,” Glen called out from behind them. “The top-brass just arrived and they want to be briefed on the situation.”

“Clear the war room, then bring them in. We’ll do it there,” Henry replied loudly, then said to Lauren. “I am sorry, we do need to talk, but right now I have to deal with these people. Captain Tucker will stay with you. Don’t hesitate to ask him for anything at all. Interrupt me if you hear back from your friends at the DIA.”

Lauren nodded. She didn’t bother to acknowledge the small group of people who were waiting for the room to clear. The last thing she wanted right now was to be exposed to the top executives of the airline. In fact what she wanted most was to be alone to call Michael. Standing in Wayfarer Operations, she felt like a complete outsider.

“Where can I make a phone call and get a cup of coffee?” she asked Tucker as she walked away from the gathering of Wayfarer executives.

“This way. There’s a conference room hardly anyone ever uses. How do you like your coffee?”

“Black is fine.”

“I’ll go get it for you, then I’ll meet you in room 112. It’s the third door on the left, just around the corner.” Tucker cocked his head. “Promise me you’re not calling anyone who might create problems. We’ve got enough issues to deal with right now.”

“Trust me. We’re all on the same side here,” Lauren replied as she took her cell phone from her purse. She rounded the corner and found the room he’d directed her toward. She pushed open the solid wooden door and let herself in. The light was on and at the far end of the table she found Matt, a surprised look on his face as he hurriedly dropped his cigarette into a soft drink can he was using as his ashtray.

“Sorry.” Lauren’s heart went out to the young man as she studied him, she could clearly see he’d been in here alone, crying.

“My Dad’s not coming in here, is he?” Matt asked, guardedly.

“No. I had to escape the Operations room. We still don’t know much. Can I join you? I’d love a cigarette.” Lauren rarely smoked, but right now she craved the calming effect a cigarette might provide.

“Really?” Matt reached into the inside pocket of his oversized coat and pulled out a pack. He shook out two, then handed one to Lauren. He lit hers, then his.

“Thank you.” Lauren blew out the smoke without inhaling. She saw her hands shake as she held the cigarette away from her. She guessed Matt was sixteen or seventeen years old. He had brown eyes like his father. His long, stringy hair framed a handsome face, but his skin was broken by patches of acne. There was a faint blur of whiskers above his upper lip, which looked more like a smudge than a mustache. A single stud protruded from his left ear lobe and she could just make out the edge of a tattoo that crept up above the collar of his baggy sweater. By all appearances he looked like a punk, but during his earlier exchange with his father, Lauren had sensed an intelligent mind behind his anger and defiance.

“You have someone on the same flight as my mom?” Matt took a vengeful drag off of his cigarette and bitterly blew out the smoke toward the ceiling.

“Yes,” Lauren said and nodded, then looked down at her cell phone, relieved to see that opposed to the war room, in this part of the building, she had a good signal. “Would you mind if I made a phone call?”

“Do you want me to leave?” Matt exhaled heavily, a crestfallen expression spread out on his young face.

“No. Not at all. I want you to stay right where you are,” Lauren said quickly; she’d seen his obvious disappointment and she knew she couldn’t bear to cast him away as his father had. “You’re the only one in this place that knows what I’m going through. Please don’t go.”

“Really?” His eyes filled with gratitude at being allowed to stay.

“Yes. I didn’t want to appear rude by talking on the phone without asking first. After all, you have the cigarettes.” Lauren winked at him as if they were newly bonded co-conspirators. The last thing she wanted right now was to be alone, or to be surrounded by Henry or any of the other Wayfarer executives.

“Cool. Let me know if you want another one.” Matt slid the soda can between them.

Tucker pushed the door open with his back as he entered the room with a cup of coffee in each hand. “Here we go.” He stopped, as he looked first at the cloud of smoke, then at Matt and Lauren.

“You caught us,” Lauren offered, though she didn’t really care.

“This whole area is non-smoking,” Tucker said abruptly. “And Matt, for God’s sake, your Dad would have a hemorrhage if he caught you.”

“Screw him,” Matt muttered.

“Can you excuse us for a little bit?” Lauren knew she had a small window to be alone before Calvin might call back. “I need to make a phone call and then I want to talk to Matt. We’ll be fine in here. Just come get us if you hear anything.”

“Are you sure?” Tucker paused as if he needed to hear more.

“Positive.” Lauren reached out for her coffee, then gave Tucker a dismissive look to let him know he’d just been excused.

As Tucker quietly shut the door, Lauren rose and locked it from the inside. She sat back down, dropped her cigarette into the can, and picked up her cell phone.

“This won’t take long.” She tried to smile at Matt, but just couldn’t find one to give. The young man turned away as if to provide her some privacy, then absently picked up a nearby laser pointer and began to mindlessly click it on and off. Lauren watched as the spot of intense red light danced aimlessly around the wall and ceiling. Matt repeatedly sliced the beam through the cloud of smoke from their cigarettes. Lauren looked at Matt as she swept her phone to her ear. She very subtly shook her head in reference to the distracting light.

“Whoops.” Matt shrugged an apology and thrust the device into his coat pocket

“Hello,” came Michael’s confident tone.

“Michael, it’s me.” At the sound of his voice, Lauren found it almost impossible to sort through the rapidly shifting events. The uncertainty of what had happened to Donovan was becoming harder to deal with.

“Do you know anything yet?” Michael said loudly, the sound of gale-force winds rustling through the connection.

“No,” Lauren said, as a surprise sob escaped from her throat.

“I got a call from your boss,” Michael said, hoping to comfort her. “Calvin brought me up to date and is trying to use some military contacts to get me to O’Hare. Hopefully I can hitch a ride on a truck or a jeep and get to you. Lauren, please hang in there, I’m coming as fast as I can, but the storm is really getting wound up.”

“I’m glad Calvin called you,” Lauren managed to whisper. “Hurry. Just get here. I need you.”

“It’s going to be all right,” Michael reassured her. “Calvin told me there has only been one crash. I, for one, am hanging onto that scenario. For all we know, Donovan is sitting in first class, pissed off that the onboard phones quit working.”

“I know,” Lauren said, grateful for Michael’s typically upbeat words.

“I’ll keep you posted on my progress. Call me the moment you hear from him.”

“I will. Bye.” Lauren ended the call as her eyes filled with tears. Another sob escaped as she covered both of her eyes with one hand. More tears cascaded down her cheeks as she wept silently. To her surprise, she felt a hand reach out and take hers. She looked up and saw that Matt, too, had tears running down his face. She squeezed hard and they clung to each other, survivors, waiting for the answers to unthinkable questions.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Donovan pulled the oxygen mask off his head and relished the cool air on his face. They were nearing 10,000 feet and he could now breathe safely on his own. He inhaled deeply, and then wiped the perspiration from his cheeks. He massaged his face where the rubber had pressed hard into his skin. He thought of removing the mask from the captain, but decided the 100% oxygen might prove beneficial for the injured man.

Level at 10,000 feet, with a lower cloud deck still below them, Donovan leveled the aircraft and nudged the throttles forward. He had no idea how much fuel was on board and by going slow, he could conserve what they did have—plus he really didn’t know where they were, or where they might be headed.

The dull roar of the slipstream decreased as the 737 slowed. A noise to Donovan’s left announced Audrey’s return from the cabin. His earlier fear at being alone vanished at the sight of her. “You can take off your mask,” Donovan said as she slid past the mangled door. He faced forward, trying to limit his exposure to this woman from his past.

Audrey slipped free from the clumsy mask and bottle and lowered it to the floor. “God, that feels better. I was getting worried; the tank is basically showing empty. How are you doing up here? I’m sorry it took me so long, but it’s truly a mess back there. The medical kit was somehow wedged in its compartment.” She paused for a moment. “You saved my life and I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Donovan Nash,” he said warily, without facing her. He braced himself for any clue that she had recognized him.

“I’m Audrey Parrish. I’m so glad you did what you did.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “How did all this…” she gestured with her hands at the obvious destruction on the flight deck. “I was walking to the restroom, then you pulled me into the seat. Right before—” she searched for the words. “Right before what? What happened to us?”

“We were hit by another plane.” Donovan realized her view of the impact had been blocked, she had no idea what had happened. “I only saw it at the last second. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No. I’m not too bad, considering.” Her eyes darted to his hairline. “But you have a cut on your head that needs attention.”

He touched his temple and his hand came away with a trace of blood. It didn’t particularly hurt. “I’m fine. Can you do something for him?”

“Right after I bandage your head.” She knelt and opened the medical kit. She found the necessary items and ripped open a foil packet. “This might sting a little bit.”

Donovan winced she dabbed the antiseptic on his skin. He didn’t know if it was from the pain or from his discomfort at her proximity.

“Hang on, it’s more of a scrape than a deep cut. I’m almost finished, just let me stick a bandage on this.” Audrey tenderly smoothed out the adhesive. “How does that feel?”

“Better. Thanks.” He adjusted the throttles and kept his face glued to the horizon. “Can you help him?”

Audrey didn’t move. She looked at him closely. “Have we ever met?”

“I don’t think so.” Donovan nearly flinched as he held his breath.

“I swear you remind me of someone.”

“I get that a lot.” Donovan gestured to the unconscious form in the left seat. “Can you see to him?”

Audrey’s gaze lingered on Donovan for a moment before she moved to the captain. She carefully pressed her fingers to his neck. “He has a good pulse,” she announced. The captain’s head rolled down and rested on his chest.

Donovan flew the airplane and glanced over as Audrey took another antiseptic wipe and carefully cleaned the blood from the man’s head. With the blood cleaned from his face, he looked remarkably better. The captain appeared to be fairly young despite a receding hairline and a small paunch. He possessed rather soft, rounded facial features, accented by bushy dark eyebrows. The same thick hair covered his arms, which rested limply in his lap. Donovan watched as Audrey put a bandage over his wound to protect it. It looked like the bleeding had all but stopped.

“How bad is it back there?” Donovan asked about the people in the cabin and the horrible scene he’d witnessed on his way to the cockpit.

“After you left, everyone else blacked out one by one.” She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip at the memory. “The flight attendant you saved is awake, but she’s in pretty bad shape. I did manage to get her into a seat and cover her with a blanket, but she can’t move her arm or shoulder. Besides being traumatized, I’m pretty sure she broke something when she fell.”

“Has anyone else come around, anyone at all?”

“No. Not that I saw. But I was busy trying to pry the medical kit free.” Audrey lowered her voice and tried to sound optimistic. “It might take them a little while.”

“That’s true.” Despite himself, Donovan made momentary eye contact with Audrey. Her obvious anguish betrayed her optimistic hopes, as she probably held the same fear he did; no one in the back was going to wake up.