Letha McClelland

Chapter 1

I glance out the Boeing 757 airplane window. The dark clouds that were once in the distance surround us now. I’m fearless when flying, even in foul weather, because of my father’s wish my brothers and I go with him every time he flew the family’s small plane. And yet, an inexplicable alarm keeps tugging on my emotions. An eeriness fills my soul. A shudder goes through my body as if my blood has turned to ice. I rub my hands along my goose flesh arms, the by-product of my shaking, trying to stave off my trembling. “Please let this simple act ease my unrest,” I tell myself. It doesn’t: the nagging in my mind of an unseen, controlling force keeps my body in its state of turmoil.

The overhead lights distort and flicker. The light radiates… expands… contracts out in a haze. The other passengers gasp and their mummers fill the airplane.

“Emma, get a hold of yourself. There are always afternoon storms in the Caribbean,” I murmur, willing myself to take slow, deep breaths.

As if arguing back, the fuselage bounces around the lightning-filled sky, jostling me in my seat. Rain batters the aluminum hull; I place one hand gripping the armrest, the other pressed against the sidewall. The airplane plunges downward, slamming my body and head into the window.

“Shit,” I gasp.

Passengers’ shrieks fill the inside of the jumbo-jet.

The plane levels off again; I plop back into my seat.

“We’ll be fine. It’s just turbulence,” I say, attempting to gather my wits and steady my hands from shaking.

The Flight Attendant, serving Business Class, holds onto the seatbacks in the aisle as she scrambles to her jumpseat. Once there, she yells over the intercom: “Buckle your seatbelts.”

My head throbs, from the bump forming and tender to my touch. The plane jerks and rolls again. The passengers’ screams grow louder. I clench onto the seatback in front of me to keep from being thrown like a rag doll.

Sweat beads on my forehead and upper lip, and I scrabble in the seat pocket for an airsick bag. My stomach churns and gurgles, suffering from the non-stop weightlessness. My pulse escalates, and my head’s throbbing worsens. I’m confused that my body is reacting this way. I’ve never gotten sick while flying. I push my head back against the headrest and inhale deeper this time, sending up a prayer.

Not sure why I’m praying? God has answered none of my prayers in the last two years.

As if an invisible pair of arms wraps themselves around my body, I sense a strength of protection in my soul and relax in peace. Maybe someone is listening up there.

What happens next, I can’t explain: a deep, vicious laugh echoes in my ears. His unfamiliar voice takes over my thoughts. You belong to me, the voice says, as if he were sitting right next to me.

My momentary amity vaporizes.

Struggling to dislodge the affirmation, I massage my head. “What the hell was that?”

“Right! Where did this weather come from?” Wes yells. He and Corey are the couple to my left. I chatted with them earlier while the Flight Attendant served lunch. They were also hanging onto the seats in front of them.

“Came out of nowhere,” I reply, not wanting to admit I’m hearing things. My mind re-registers the frantic disorder inside the cabin. “Are your seatbelts tight? This is going to be a hell of a ride.”

“It already is,” Wes says.

An overwhelming need to take control and help the other passengers to remain calm inhabits my soul. I peer back between the oversized business seats at the other couple who joined in our conversation, Jared, and Stacy. “You, okay?” They nod. The couple sitting behind Wes and Corey nod as well. I reach between the seats in front of me and touch the couple’s arms; they give a thumbs up.

The Flight Attendant yells from her seat, “Does everyone have their seatbelts fastened?” People throughout business class yell, “Yes!”.

The momentary reprieve short lived as severe turbulence pitches me in my seat again, like a dog with a toy. The tail of the plane swings back and forth making the ceiling and walls rattle and squeal. A sharp pain runs down my spine. “Damn it!”

I cup my hands and press my forehead to the window, hoping to stabilize myself. I see there’s no getting away from the black abyss that’s controlling the skies.

I turn to Wes and Corey; they appear to be in their own state of dazed consciousness. Jared and Stacy, are also in disbelief.

I refocus outside, running my fingers through my long wavy blonde hair.

There’s a clank, and a whoosh, and the airplane experiences a steady, slow loss of speed as the gear extends downward. Thank God. This will be over soon. My sigh of relief only lasts until, “This is the captain, brace, brace, brace,” over the PA. In an instant, the airplane’s nose points straight down, careening towards Earth and slinging me forward, I catch myself before my already throbbing head hits the seat in front of me.

“Holy Hell!”

The flight attendant yells, “Heads down! Stay down!”

The instinct to stuff my face into my lap and grab each wrist under my knees, kicks in from the survival safety scenarios performed while flying with my dad. The airplane loses altitude fast and the G force pins me to my seat as the pilot’s flight to gain control. A whine comes from the engines. The plane shudders and vibrates and I realize the pilots are struggling for control to stop us from being hurled through the air. The checklist appears in my mind that my father and I would run whenever we simulated different emergencies while flying. The cries of the other passengers blow the image out of my head, and I concentrate on keeping my body in a tight ball to give myself the best possibility, however faint, of staying alive. The airplane levels off and it’s like I hear them slam the throttles back to spool the engines down. Then all hell breaks loose as we hit and ricochet off the runway. My body becomes weightless again and everything in my head goes quiet. I release my thoughts, block out the anxiety, and concentrate on the peace that engulfed me moments earlier. My inner voice connects with my mind. It tells it to stay composed and trust the ability within me that will save lives. I don’t have time to question this power because we hit the ground again, and this time the landing gear collapses, throwing my body forward with such force I bite a chunk of flesh on the inside of my lip. The metallic taste of blood flows across my tongue. My ears explode with the screeching of the metal against concrete. Our uncontrollable speed catapults the airplane down the runway. I grab my arms under my legs tighter to secure myself further. The smell of burning rubber and smoke permeates the inside of the cabin. The rear end fishtails out of control, and I’m slung from side to side. A red glow blankets outside the windows as sparks spew high and wide from the belly of the airplane.

The pilots lose their battle with the airplane as it turns and skids to the right and off the runway and into the grass, sending my thrashed body in the opposite direction. The momentum of the airplane slows as we sink lower and lower into wet brown muck. It covers the wing, the fuselage, and my window, inch by unsuspecting inch. The plane rolls on its side, heaving me against the sidewall. I wrap one arm around my head, protecting it from the dangerous, conflicted momentum. The crack of the wing being ripped off resounds through my ears as the fuselage cartwheels. I’m pinned in place by the seatbelt, again and again. The smell of jet fuel fills the air. Objects catapult around me in the cabin, crashing into anything and anyone in their path. My body flails and I lose the hold my one arm had under my legs. I bounce upright with both hands over my head. Stunned, we’re still alive.

Boom!

The engine that’s still attached to the remaining wing on the plane explodes, sending shock waves through my body. “Help us, God!” I glance outside my window to watch a fireball engulf the outside hull.

Our impetus slows but not enough to keep us from coming to a sudden, violent stop. A loud crack echoes. My seatbelt breaks, and I’m slung over the seat and into the bulkhead. My leg takes most of the impact, sending a sharp pain up my hip as I slide down the wall to the floor. I lay dazed in the dark, but after a few seconds, I gather my wits. I run my hands over my head and body, in hope nothing is amiss. No bones broken that I can tell, but my hip and leg are numb.

The venomous laugh from before echoes in my head again. Give your soul to me. It’s your only way out alive.

My breathing escalates, and my heart pounds inside my chest, causing my body to shake with anger. “Shut… up! Who… who or whatever you are… you don’t decide if I live or die.”

The emergency exit lights click on. We’ve settled right side up. I’m calm under pressure, but my body’s determined ability to assess its surroundings surprises even me. Loud screaming and yelling come from where the aft cabin used to be. Wires hang from the ceiling, spitting, spewing, popping, and hissing electrical charges from the broken lights. The sixteen-seat business class cabin is still intact but has broken off from the main body. The rain and wind blowing in from the rear of the mangled section is making it difficult to see. I make out Wes and Corey are still secure in their seats. I grab on to the leg of the seat closest to me and pull myself to a standing position. Determined to survive.

Both couples still have their heads stuffed face first in their laps. I watch the smoke spread throughout the airplane. The gags and coughs of the other business class passengers fill the airplane. Wes’s blue eyes appear through the smoke.

“Is Corey, okay?” I yell at him.

He nods, his relief plain by the small smirk on his face.

Agonizing pain radiates through my leg, but my adrenaline kicks in. Not seeing or hearing the Flight Attendant, I scramble to the airplane’s exit we had entered. I look around and the flight attendant is unconscious and still seat belted in her mangled dislodged jumpseat laying on the opposite side of the airplane blocking the airplane door in the galley. The need to get everyone to safety is what matters now.

I twist my head to see the confusion in the cabin.

“Hold the people back until I get the doors open.”

I place my face in the small, round window in the door and see the ground. I try to open the door.

It’s heavier than I expect. I heave once, twice, and on the third time the door opens. The yellow rubber slide attached to the floor of the fuselage flops to the ground and doesn’t inflate. It’s useless.

There must be another way out. I can’t open the door in the galley, it is block by the Flight Attendant. I go back to the door I’ve opened. Because the gear collapsed, it looks to be around a five-foot drop. We’ll have to risk it and jump. Wes, almost as tall as the ceiling, stands in the aisle, with a death grip on the seatbacks as a melee of people yell to let them pass.

“Okay, Wes. Let them go. “Come this way! I shout.” Wes steps aside and the people run where I’m pointing to the door.

“Keep calm. Sit, then jump! Sit, then jump!”

Wes keeps the people moving until I see a gap forming where a woman is trying to pull her Louis Vuitton bag out of the overhead bin.

I yell, “Leave your belongings and come this way.”

Wes turns, grabs the bag, throws it in a row of seats and pushes the woman

towards me.

“Leave it. It’s not worth your life,” Wes shouts at her.

She stumbles towards me crying. “You’ll be okay,” I say, trying to be empathetic.

I return my focus on the people outside the airplane.

“Help each other! Get away from the airplane!” I shout at the confused group milling near the airplane. Wes smooths his messy hair back from his face, then does the same to Corey’s long hair. With his muscular arms, he picks up his dazed, petite wife. I point to the opening; he rushes to the door, places her on the floor, then jumps out.

Wes’ shout comes from outside on the tarmac. “Need your help, Emma.”

I grab Corey under the arms. Wes takes her legs, and we slide her out and into his arms.

“I’ll be back,” he yells, carrying her away from the burning wreckage. I unbuckle the Flight Attendant and drag her to the opening. Wes returns and I push her into his outstretched arms.

“I’m going back for the others…” I holler.

“Are you sure?” He asks. Holding his arms out.

“I didn’t see Jared or Stacy. I gotta make sure everyone got out.”

“Okay, I’ll be here,” Wes shouts back.

I make my way back through the cabin and find Stacy conscious, but frozen, in her seat. She still has her arms wrapped around her long legs and sweat has soaked her hair. She is in shock.

Jared is standing, but his tall, slender body is shaking. Blood has soaked his hair and is streaming down his face.

“Hurry, go to the opening!” I shout at him. “I’ve got her.” I pull Stacy from her seat, pushing Jared forwards. He stumbles but stays on his feet and moves. I use the seatbacks as leverage to reach the door where Wes is waiting for us.

“Jared, come on, man,” Wes yells, motioning him to sit on the edge of the door. Jared follows the directions and then jumps out. I place Stacy next on the floor. Wes reaches up, grabs her, sets her feet on the ground, and wipes the tears from her face. “I’ve got you, Stacy.” She doesn’t move. Wes turns and runs, pulling her along and keeping her upright. Jared stumbles after them. I lean out the door to witness people jumping out of cracks and holes in the burning main section of the plane behind me. I let out a sigh of relief as I watch people helping each other and a bit of order takes hold. The emergency vehicles sirens sound in the distance.

Wes has returned and stretches his arms out, motioning me to jump. “Emma let’s go. Don’t go back in there. The smoke is getting too thick.” I ignore him and go back. I remember a boy and his dog, traveling by themselves, sitting in business class.

“Emma,” Wes shouts again.

Wes is right. The smoke has become intense, as I cough to help clear my throat, and find it’s difficult to follow the emergency lights on the floor. I grab the tail of my blouse and cover my face. Bent double, I guide myself with my hands as much as see. I check each seat until I find the boy, his arms wrapped around his legs.

Leave him. He is nothing to you. The hideous voice comes again in my mind.

“I told you to shut up. Stay out of my head!”

“Come on, let’s get out of here!” I notice the trembling boy's name written on a card pinned to his shirt. “Austin, we have to go.” I engulf him in my arms.

“No…No!” he blurts. “I must wait for the lady. She said… said wait for her.”

His cool jade green eyes stare at me.

He means the flight attendant. “She asked me to come get you.”

“O… okay… but wait, Bruiser. I can’t leave him.” He kneels, tugging the pup carrier out from under the seat.

I grab the carrier and wrap my other arm around Austin. The rain hammering the fuselage doesn’t deter the heat radiating through the steel floor, burning my feet through my shoes. My nose and eyes sting from the acrid mixture of rain and jet fuel smoke. Wes extends his arms when we get to the door as I hand Austin and the dog to him and jump. The pain in my hip I’ve ignored while helping people pierces through my leg and up my spine as I hit the ground. Before falling on my face, Wes wraps my arm around his neck and together we do something like a three-legged race rushing away from the popping and hissing coming from the inferno that is growing by the second.

It feels like hours since we crashed, but it’s only been a few minutes. Wes, Austin, Bruiser, and I reach the others a few hundred feet away, only to be thrown to the ground as both sections of the airplane explode in a fiery ball, sending sparks and debris into the air. We get to our feet and clamor away from the heat of the fire.

I place the pet carrier on the ground and snug Austin to my side. Austin looks at me, smiles, and says, “Thank you for saving Bruiser and me. I hope I can do the same for you sometime.” He releases Bruiser from the carrier, and they run towards the fire trucks screaming across the runway.

“Austin!” I shout, but I lose sight of him. I rake my fingers through my hair in total confusion at Austin’s statement.