| Short Stories |
| Stories From a Childhood in Maine |
| Essays |
| Poetry - Haiku |
|
4 |
|
...continuedThe flight attendant bell rang three times and a light on the forward bulkhead flashed. "Have to go, Captain probably wants his coffee." Her face held no hint of her concern. The three bells meant there was a problem and that she was to go to the flight deck immediately. Alvin sensed it. He'd been looking out the window since they took off. "Nice girl," Genoa said. "Yes sir." Alvin's attention went out to the plane. Engines sounded good, everything seemed normal. Sherry entered the flight deck and closed the door behind her. Captain Duckhorn and First Officer Neilsen were leaning forward staring at the weather radar. "Damn, where did it come from?" Duckhorn whispered. There was awe and fear in his voice. Sherry looked out the window between the two men and froze. She shivered visibly. The sky, from horizon to horizon and as far up as she could see was a boiling, coal-colored mass streaked with massive bolts of lightning. She leaned forward and looked out the side window toward the rear of the plane. It was the same. The plane flew at peace in an empty bowl between Olympian chaos. Captain Duckhorn turned to Sherry. "We've got problems. This mess goes up forever. No way over the top and it has formed all around us. According to the radar it's solid. No idea where the other side is. Meteorology says it's big and getting bigger. Barometric pressure is falling like a stone. The whole mess is moving north west, fast. We're going to have to find our way through. This hole we're in won't last. You get ready back there...tie up all the loose gear twice. Go over emergency procedures with the passengers. He reached back and held her arm in a firm grip. "Sherry, I'm depending on you to keep it under control back there. We'll be too busy up here. Do you understand?" She nodded stiffly, stood up, tried not to look out the front window. "Yes, Captain, don't worry, I'll take care of it." "Good, girl, I know you'll do it right." "Captain..." he looked up at her expectantly. "I...well, I just want you to know I have a lot of faith in you and Mr. Neilsen." "Thanks, Sherry. It'll be all right. Off you go now." She moved down through the cabin working from a checklist she had learned years before. She did not feel calm, but she moved calmly. Alvin watched and knew something was wrong. The plane began to buck before she reached the back. The seat belt sign came on and Sherry began to move faster. At the rear she got on the inter-comm. She had to take several deep breaths before she made the announcement. She sounded warm and relaxed. "Can I have your attention please. You'll see that the seat belt sign is on. The Captain says a bit of a storm has moved in so fast we can't avoid it. It is Placer Air's policy to ensure your safety, so make certain your seat belts are nice and snug. I'll be around in a moment to answer whatever questions you have." Tony Genoa had almost fallen asleep when the plane began to shake. Since the doctor, the dream was always the same. He was standing outside his Deli. He knew that a fire was starting inside but he couldn't go in to tell anyone, he couldn't do anything. In the rear, Prince McChesney, Mr. America, was terrified. He was going to die. He knew it, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He was going to die in the most horrible way, in a plane. It would be slow, seeing it coming but never knowing the exact instant. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't afraid of flying, and in the years since he'd been making movies there was constant flying. He'd tried everything. The last bit, hypnosis, made him forget the fear for a moment, but only because he was busy throwing up. After it was over he decided that getting tranced and throwing up wasn't that good an idea to replace a fear of flying. Maybe it was one of those weird therapies where you replace one problem with another that's worse, like getting hit on the knee with a hammer to forget a headache. The hypnotist, a tiny Lebanese trained in Moscow, blamed Prince, said he was a bad subject. Thanks a lot, that'll be two hundred bucks. When Sherry stopped by his seat he was beyond speech, but his relief at having someone near was obvious. She hadn't realized until then that he was terrified. She felt bad for not spotting it earlier. She had been trained to see it and she'd missed it. She knew she'd made the same assumption everyone else did. If a man was big, could lift a half ton, he couldn't possibly be afraid of anything. Sherry sat next to McChesney and checked his seat belt. Before she could fasten her own the plane sank like an elevator out of control. She had to grab his arm to keep from being thrown out of her seat. After what seemed a long time the plane leveled off. "Wow! That was something." She quickly buckled herself in. She kept her hand on his arm and gave him a little shake. "Mr. McChesney," She didn't go on until he looked at her. "You're very afraid aren't you?" He tried to hide it and couldn't. There was no contempt or misplaced sympathy in her voice. "Yeah...yeah, I hate flying." "Has it always been this way?" "Yes, from the very first time." The plane was beginning to really bang around, jerking up and down, jogging from side to side. "I bet you think you're the only one." "Yeah...no, feels like it, but I know I'm not." "Would you like me to stay here?" McChesney looked at her openly grateful. "Yes, but you've got a job to do. I know that...so if you have to go, it's okay."It had been very hard for him to say that. Normally brash and arrogant, McChesney was completely cowed. "No, it's okay. I've done all I can do." The storm closed around the plane suddenly. Their small bowl in the night sky shrank in on itself and disappeared. Alvin tried to see what was going on outside the plane but blackness was total. His eyes opened in surprise. The area around the plane was lit brighter than day. A fork of lightning with hundreds of branches, some bigger around than a house ripped through the clouds like a precursor to hell. After a short delay the booming of thunder rattled the skin of the aircraft. Alvin was so excited he couldn't sit still. The plane seemed to be moving entirely at the whim of the storm. In the cockpit, Duckhorn gritted his teeth and fought the yoke as the plane tried to go its own way. First Officer Neilsen had been calling in their position every few minutes and hoping ground weather could find a hole they could fly out through. It went on like that for an hour. |
© copyright 2003 Donald P.Ladew All Rights Reserved
|
4 |