Night Flight (31 page)

All Megan’s fears played out before her widened eyes.

Holt had moved quickly, running back inside, yelling at the airman to alert Crash immediately. He’d pulled open the doors and watched helplessly as the jet continued to fall out of control. The second ejection occurred only seconds before the jet smashed into the ground.

Holt threw his arms around both women, shielding them with his body. Although the crash occurred at the end of the runway, the explosions sent thunderous pressure waves, repercussions, across the entire base. Becky clung to him. Megan, tense and mute, buried her head against his shoulder.

The jet struck the lip of the runway, bursting into a huge rolling ball of red and orange flame, the fire shooting hundreds of feet in all directions. The explosions that followed boomed savagely across the airstrip, striking Ops, the windows rattling and shaking them violently.

Megan lifted her head and watched as the JP-4 fuel spread out like hungry, fiery fingers from the crash. Huge, roiling black clouds laced with red and orange welts of fire vomited upward. To Megan’s horror, she saw the second ejection seat begin to tumble toward the ground, the parachute streaming, not opening.

“Sam!” she cried, pointing to it.

Holt stood frozen, watching the second ejection seat tumble slowly, end over end, toward the earth. Nausea overcame him. Chance of the pilot, probably Stang, surviving, was nearly impossible. He’d ejected at four hundred feet. Far too low. The chute wouldn’t have time to open properly. Twisting his head to one side, Holt couldn’t watch the impact. Megan sobbed and buried herself against his chest,

The forlorn wail of the sirens spread thinly across the airstrip, barely heard above the roar of the fire. Holt looked up as the gargantuan lime-green trucks sped toward the fiery holocaust, the men covered in hooded, silver asbestos suits.

“Curt…” Becky shrieked, trying to tear loose from Holt’s grip.

“No!” he breathed harshly, pulling Becky back against him. “No, there’s nothing we can do, Becky. You have to stay here.”

“But,” she wailed, “they’re out there! Oh, my God! They’re out there!”

A quarter of a mile away, Holt thought in anguish. He saw the first ejection seat gently strike the earth, the parachute bringing it to a safe landing. The second ejection seat had struck the earth with full impact, hidden somewhere behind the huge, rolling clouds of greasy black smoke and red tongues of flame. Who had lived? Who had died?

“I want to go to Curt!” Becky sobbed, leaning heavily against Holt.

Tears jammed into Megan’s eyes as she kept a grip on Becky’s arm. “No,” she whispered, “no, we can’t do anything. We have to wait…wait….”

Never had Holt felt so powerless. He had witnessed what the tragedy had taken from Becky, her cries like a child in the middle of a nightmare. Morose, his gaze moved to Megan. Her eyes were dark with pain, her mouth compressed, and her cheeks glistening with tears. At that moment, Sam realized the awful toll that flying took on the women who loved the pilots.

“Come on,” he told them, his voice unsteady, “let’s get over to the hospital. The flight surgeon and ambulance will be taking them over there.” Every fiber of him wanted to run down the runway and skirt the crash to get to the pilots. Already, the ambulance was close on the heels of the crash trucks. He placed his hands on the women’s shoulders and moved them away from the inferno. Tears watered dangerously in Holt’s eyes. There was absolutely nothing they could do to help. Only the asbestos-suited firemen could get near the crash, hosing it down with foam. And only after the fire was extinguished could they get close enough to the pilots to find out if they were dead or alive.

Inside, Ops had jumped to life with personnel on weekend duty, running frantically to their emergency crash stations. Holt stopped at the counter.

“Airman, call Captain Stang’s wife. Tell her that her husband’s been in a crash and to meet us over at the hospital.”

The airman nodded, shaken. “Y-yes, sir.”

Holt took the Merrills’ large, roomy car and drove it over to the hospital. Becky sat curled up in the backseat, sobbing quietly. When he looked over at Megan, he slid his hand across her tightly knotted ones in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked.

Taking in a shaky breath, Megan shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Sam.”

His hand tightened on hers. Fear that she would run, fear that she would leave Edwards after this, haunted Sam. Megan’s voice had been shredded with shock and anguish. There was nothing he could do but hope and pray—for all of them. The hospital loomed in front of them, and he sped up.

Megan remained at Becky’s side in the waiting room. They sat on the plastic couch, Becky huddled in her arms. Fortunately, Becky had had the foresight to take Patty next door to be cared for before she went to Ops. At least the little girl was being spared the agony of waiting…wondering. The emergency room area swarmed with doctors and nurses, who tensely awaited the arrival of the ambulance bearing the two pilots. Her arm around Becky, Megan was numb. Holt paced relentlessly to and from the nurses’ station, awaiting the expected arrival of Melody Stang.

Shutting her eyes momentarily, Megan wondered if either pilot had survived the crash. If so, who? She wrestled with very real feelings that it could have been Sam. Right now, she had to be strong for Becky. And for Sam. He was worried about her; she could see it reflected in his shadowed eyes. What she thought about the crash, and the effect it might have on their relationship, was probably running through his mind.

E.R. personnel suddenly disappeared from the halls and moved through the doors marked Off Limits. Becky stopped crying, clinging to Megan, and waited. Hearing muted shouts and calls through the doors, Holt froze in the empty hall. The pilots had arrived—or what was left of them. Doctor Anna Cartwright had E.R. duty. Dragging in a deep breath, Sam forced himself to move to the visitors’ lounge.

He saw Megan’s tense features, her eyes huge, revealing all of her feelings. Sam ached for her, for himself. The crash would forever change their relationship. It had to bring back memories of her father’s crash and death. And it brought home the fact that he could possibly die the same way. Rubbing his face tiredly, Sam tried to push his personal feelings aside and focus on Becky. If Curt were dead, she was going to need support and help. His gut knotted hard, and tears jammed into his eyes. Curt dead. God, don’t let it be. Don’t…Until that moment, Sam had been worried and aware of everyone else’s feelings except his own.

The thought that Curt might already be dead, or lying in there dying just a few feet away, shook him to his soul. Curt was like a brother to him. Sam assimilated the possibility that he was dead, grief spilling through him.

Megan saw Sam draw to a halt just outside the lounge. His face had turned ashen, and his mouth stretched in what she was sure was a line to stop from crying. Sam’s reaction made a lasting impact on her. The death of a pilot affected not just the family, but other pilots, too. It was a galvanizing revelation, something she’d not realized before. But now was not the time or place to discuss it.

Melody Stang’s entrance into the hospital riveted their attention. Megan saw the woman run up to the nurses’ desk, her appearance startling. It was only six-thirty in the morning, and Melody wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her hair, normally coiffed to perfection, hung in uncombed strands around her shoulders. She had thrown on a gray sweatshirt, jeans and white sneakers, a far cry from the elegant picture she normally presented to the world. The change was frightening to Megan. No woman was immune to the threat of her husband being killed or injured in a crash—not even poised, unflappable Melody.

Holt went to the desk and gripped Melody’s arm.

“They’ve just arrived,” he told her in a low voice, “and we probably won’t know anything for at least an hour. Come and sit down with us.”

Melody hesitated, looking at the head nurse, who nodded somberly. “I—oh, God, Sam, what happened? What happened?” Tears ran from her eyes.

Holt told her everything, and when he finished, Melody uttered a small sound. But, she caught herself and straightened, lifting her chin. To Sam, it was an amazing act of courage under the circumstances. Becky was a basket case. Melody seemed to be able to reach down and find some internal courage. She walked without assistance into the visitors’ lounge and murmured greetings to the other two women.

Sam sat down with Melody. He offered to get her coffee, but she refused, and sat there tensely. Heaviness cloaked the room. He glanced over at Megan, finding instant peace as he looked into her green eyes. Managing a slight smile, he wanted to tell her just how damn much he loved her, how much she meant to him. And then, Sam wondered if she felt the same thing, or was contemplating running away from Edwards and all the ghosts that had come to rest on her shoulders this morning. Miserably, Sam wouldn’t blame her if she did. How many people witnessed a jet augering in? Or the possibility of two people dying in the crash?

His gaze moved to Becky. She was curled up under Megan’s arm, head resting on her shoulder, eyes closed. Trying to swallow past the lump in his throat, Sam bowed his head, his hands clasped between his thighs. Now he understood as never before, what the women went through. God, it was hell. Pure hell.

Megan looked up at the wall clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed. She started to speak to Melody, but the woman avoided eye contact.
Brittle
was the word Megan would assign to Melody right now. But weren’t they all? Melody internalized her fears and anguish. Becky had externalized them. And her? Hungrily, she absorbed Sam’s figure, his head bent, hands clasped, as he stared down at the tiled floor. Sam was safe, alive, and here, unlike the pilots in E.R. She prayed endlessly, wanting Curt and Jack to be alive, to be able to see their children’s faces, and to hold their wives once again.

Becky saw Dr. Anna Cartwright appear first. She unraveled from her hunched position and straightened as the doctor quietly entered the visitors’ lounge over an hour later. The woman’s face was grim as she approached Becky first.

“Curt?” Her voice cracked as the doctor halted in front of her.

Reaching down, Anna gripped Becky’s shoulder. “Your husband is going to be fine,” she said. “He’s suffered a broken ankle and some back compression, Mrs. Merrill.” With a slight smile, she added, “They’re taking him to room 110 right now. He’s conscious, but I’ve given him a drug to halt the effects of shock from the crash. You can see him in about fifteen minutes.”

With a little cry, Becky clutched the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, Doctor. Oh, thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Cartwright turned, moving across the room to Melody. “Mrs. Stang?”

Melody stared up at her and held herself rigid. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Captain Stang is in critical condition.”

Holt put his hand on Melody’s arm. She paled and began to tremble.

“Critical?”

“Yes. He’s suffered a severe spinal injury, and is unconscious. We’re taking more tests right now to find out exactly what’s wrong. I’m sorry…”

Sam gripped Melody’s hand. She sat there staring up at the doctor, and blinked slowly, as if not believing the pronouncement.

“His chute didn’t open,” Sam told Melody gently. “It was a four-hundred-foot fall.”

Dr. Cartwright touched Melody’s shoulder. “Mrs. Stang, he’s alive. To survive a fall from that altitude is a miracle in itself.”

Melody’s movements were robotlike. Pulling a handkerchief from her purse, she pressed it against her eyes. Her voice was hoarse. “Yes, of course…Jack’s unconscious. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know yet. We’re taking more X-rays.”

“Well…is he in a coma?”

“It’s too early to tell, Mrs. Stang.” Anna tried to smile, but failed. “Just as soon as we can, we’ll let you see him. The tests are going to take at least another hour.”

“Y-yes, I understand. Critical?”

“Yes.”

“C-could he…I mean…die?”

“No one knows. The next twenty-four hours are the most critical.”

Frowning, Melody sat there. “I have to call Jack’s parents. They must know. A-and my parents. Jack has several aunts and uncles that must be notified.”

“Let me help.”

Melody turned her head slowly, in a daze.

Megan mustered a slight smile. “I’ll help you, Melody. We’ll do this together.”

“Thank you.”

Holt wanted to take Megan into his arms and kiss her, praise her for her courage under the circumstances. Melody was in shock, there was no doubt. He would be, too. Megan didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to help make those gut-wrenching phone calls. He loved her courage, tears driving into his eyes. Fighting them back, Sam stood.

“Is Scotty with the neighbors?” he asked Melody hoarsely.

“Yes. Could you call Captain Waverly and his wife?”

“Sure,” Sam assured her quietly. “I’ll make sure they—”

“Don’t tell Scotty what happened,” Melody ordered, her voice strident.

“Of course not,” Sam soothed. Melody was beginning to unravel. He hesitated, torn between staying to help Megan with Melody, or make the phone call.

“Sam?”

He lifted his head, holding Megan’s gaze. “Yes?”

“Reassure Scotty that everything’s all right. Tell him that his mother will call him in about an hour. I’ll stay with Melody.”

Grateful that Megan was thinking clearly for all of them, Sam turned. As he left the lounge, he saw a nurse come and get Becky to escort her down the hall. Releasing a shaky breath, Sam headed for the telephone located near the nurses’ station. At least Curt was going to make it.

Curt raised his head from the pillow when Becky entered the hospital room. He was still feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Part of it was due to the drug administered to him earlier in E.R., the other part was, he was sure, shock. He tried to smile, but it was impossible, a cut next to his mouth. His helmet visor had shattered on impact, making several small cuts on his face.

“Sparrow?” He held his hand out toward her. Tears came to Curt’s eyes as she walked unsteadily over to his bed. Her eyes were red and swollen. “I’m okay,” he whispered, gripping her hand tightly.