Flight 3108

by Mikeworth, Sharon

  The remaining passengers of Flight 3108 had handled the news of exactly what was thought to be going on, and what they planned to do about it, with more aplomb than he had expected. Maybe they’d finally been forced to accept what was right in front of their eyes. Maybe they just wanted to go home and were clutching at straws like he was.

  What they were attempting was risky and probably wouldn’t even be successful, but it was preferable to the alternative: exiled to a strange world where God only knew what awaited them. “Are there copies of us on this Earth somewhere,” Gina had asked, “or on a different world where they also boarded a plane that went through the Triangle?” It was a disturbing question. Had other versions of them gone through the same thing? Would any of them make it back to their respective Earths?

  He waited until Mitch looked over at him and then gave him a nod. You got this.

  Now would be a good time for Reba to pray, he thought, and actually felt a small measure of comfort at the realization that right then she was probably doing just that.

  As Mitch made some final checks and readied them for take-off, Mason tried to quell his anxiety. Now that he had ruined things with Jess, he didn’t have anyone special waiting for him, but that wasn’t the case for some of the others, including Deb. She had dashed his hopes for a romantic connection before they were even fully formed when she’d voiced her fears to Mason about what her fiancé, whom she lived with, must be thinking at this point. “If the time periods are the same, then that means we’ve been missing long enough for them to presume we’ve gone down with all on board lost.”

  And Tyler, who had been on his way out again—for better and brighter things that all the millennials think they’re entitled to, despite their lack of education, experience, or seniority—after another failed job and another fight with his parents when they’d all boarded that very first time, had finally seen the light, so to speak. All he wanted now, he’d told Mason, was to get back home and make it up to his parents and then possibly even join Kimi at the university she attended.

  The noise level increased, ripping Mason from his thoughts, and he felt the plane start to move.

  Slowly, then rapidly, they began to pick up speed.

  The vibration and noise of the engines and the storm around them grew thunderous as they accelerated down the cracked and overgrown runway. One of the wheels hit a buckled area and Mason felt the plane skew sickeningly to the side, but Mitch corrected it—only to be caught by a gust of wind, bringing them up prematurely and then back down again a second later. He didn’t know how Mitch was keeping control, especially with visibility so limited. But somehow he did.

  Finally, with one final burst of speed that Mason thought was going to shake them apart—the wheels lifted off the tarmac and they were rising up into the air.

  “AAAUUGH!” Mason yelled helplessly as the plane plummeted nose first toward the fathomless expanse of ocean beneath them. After doing his best to fight the storm while completing a serious of maneuvers to try and imitate as best he could what he remembered of their disastrous first flight, Mitch had finally put them in a fast descent, and now the engines, first one and then the other, had cut out, sending them into a steep, horrifying dive.

  Mitch hung there as Mitch wrestled to gain control over the plane, attempting to restart the engines over and over as they arrowed straight down shockingly fast.

  We’re going to diiiiee, was Mason’s last thought before he was out.

  He came awake with a start and jerked upright, sending a sharp stab of pain through his head. Reaching to clutch at it, he felt something wet above his top lip. It was blood, trickling from his nose. Wiping at it, he looked over at Mitch. The man lay over in his seat, unconscious or worse.

  The last thing he remembered was their steep dive toward the ocean. But Mitch had obviously restarted the engines, or he never would have woken up. Outside the windows the view remained a mostly uniform gray but lightning bolts no longer flickered across the sky. Where were they? Had they made it back, or were they on some different version of Earth where dinosaurs still roamed the land and humans had never appeared?

  Giving his head a shake to clear it, which immediately earned him another bolt of pain, he reached over and jostled the other man’s shoulder. “Mitch!” He got no response and for a moment thought the captain, the only one who could fly the plane, was dead, or close to it. Then he shook him again, and at last Mitch made a groaning sound and lifted his head.

  As he had before, he snapped back with impressive speed and began groggily checking things over. “Okay… okay.”

  After a minute, Mitch glanced over at Mason. “You all right?”

  “Yeah. Just a little bit of a nosebleed and a headache.”

  “What can you see?”

  Mason gazed out the window beside him. “Not much. No sign of the storm.”

  “Look over here.”

  Mason leaned forward. The sky was a sick shade of greenish black in that direction. The remnants of their segue to another world? “Where are we? Did it work?”

  “All I know is we’re alive. And like before, heading in the wrong direction. You better go check on the others while I turn us around.”

  Mason swallowed. What would be waiting for them this time? He unclipped his harness, climbed over, and pulled open the door. Moving through first class, he made his way unsteadily to Juan, Dustin, and Rocky, who, he was glad to see, were all awake, if not fully functional yet.

  In the middle and rear sections, most of the ones who were awake were attempting, and mostly succeeding, to wake the ones who remained unconscious. Everyone seemed to be all right. Then he caught sight of Deb, moving agitatedly over Marcia where they had been belted in by the galley.

  A cry from Deb floated up, jolting him forward, and he sprinted down the aisle. Quickly reaching her, he grasped her arm and gently pulled her away from the other woman. “Here, let me look.”

  Carefully, he lifted a hank of Marcia’s hair, pushed it out of her face, and gazed down at unblinking, unseeing green eyes. They were beautiful, he thought. And they’d never look upon their world again. His throat tightened, forming a lump. Stop it, he told himself. That won’t help Deb. Though he knew it was futile, he placed two fingers against Marcia’s neck to check for a pulse then felt for breath beneath her nose.

  Reluctantly, he looked back at Deb, and shook his head.

  She clamped a hand over her mouth, and moved her head back and forth in denial. “No,” she got out brokenly, and then collapsed into sobs.

  Mason caught her and held tight, furiously blinking back tears of his own.

  “What… what happened?” she eventually asked, her anguished heaving tapering off.

  “I’m not sure,” Mason replied as she pulled away and began wiping at her face. “But I suspect it had something to do with her previous head injury.”

  “Is she okay?” Mason heard Dustin ask behind him. He turned and realized Dustin wasn’t talking about Marcia. He was gazing at Deb, as was Juan, Rocky, and the other passengers that had crowded up behind them. They knew they’d lost Marcia and now their concern was for their remaining flight attendant.

  “I’m okay,” Deb answered. “But Marcia…” Her face creased in anguish but before she could break down again, help came from an unexpected source. Reba, behind Juan, pushed her way forward and placed an arm around Deb’s shoulder. “Come on,” she said, nudging her away from Marcia. “We’ll take care of everything. She’s in a better place now. Her suffering is done. And now you need to take care of yourself. Didn’t you say you had a nice man waiting for you back home?”

  Fortunately, Reba’s ministrations seemed to work, and Deb let herself be led away.

  On and on time seemed to drag, even though Mason knew it had only been half an hour at most, as they proceeded toward what they hoped would be the coastline. Mitch had sent Mason out of the cockpit to take a break and help move Marcia. They’d ended up placing her at the very back by the rear exit
and covering her with the first-class divider curtain. So now Rocky was up on the flight deck keeping Mitch company.

  Mason reclined his seat, though he didn’t know how he was supposed to relax when all he could think about was their fuel situation. His head had mostly stopped hurting, but now his old neck injury was acting up again. Funny, what felt like a lifetime ago when he first wrenched it, had only been a single day.

  From what he’d gleaned from Mitch, Mason figured if they had to, they could set down, take off again, make it back to the vortex, and that was pretty much it. He wasn’t even sure they had enough to return to the airport and land after that even if they did miraculously find their Earth.

  What would it be like to live in a world where Jess never existed, or she existed with an alternate history? Could he contrive to meet and woo her again?

  That would be something to hope for, at least.

  Wincing, he sat up and looked around. Most everyone else from what he could see, except for Tyler and Kimi who were quietly murmuring to each other, had also settled back to rest and were sleeping or dozing.

  If he was this exhausted, how tired must Mitch be? I’ll check on him, see how close we are, and then get him some coffee. Or maybe a drink.

  In the middle of the plane, he found Rocky now with Dustin and Juan, all of them resting with their seats back and eyes closed.

  He halted beside Dustin, reached over, and softly touched his arm so as not to startle him. “Hey. I’m going in to check on the captain and get an ETA.”

  “We’ve got to be getting close,” Dustin mumbled, pushing himself up.

  Mason moved up to the next row and maneuvered his way over to the window. Stooping, he inspected the haze of lighter cloud beneath the denser dark section above them. He stepped closer, leaning in, and shifted his gaze down. He could see the flat expanse of the sea stretching out to the horizon—grayish-blue and studded with dabs of white. His eyes widened as he focused in on the white spots, and he quickly pulled back and masked his expression.

  “I better get on in there,” he told Dustin, and continued on, through first class, past the smaller galley on this end, to the flight deck.

  Mitch looked around at him with bloodshot eyes as he entered, but said nothing.

  Mason climbed over and sat down. Wondering if his mind had deceived him, he looked out and down again at the ocean below, and once more took in the white chunks dotting its surface.

  He turned back to Mitch and found him staring over at him intently. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Mitch continued to drill him with tired eyes for moment, and then nodded soberly. “Ice floes.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Not for the first time, Mason felt the bizarreness of the situation steal over him. “Could we be that far off course?”

  “This far?” Mitch raised a hand and began kneading his forehead.

  Mason tried to think. It could be worse. At least they were alive. For now. “What do I tell the others?”

  “You tell them we’re going to be sure, and then after that…”

  Mason nodded, though nothing had been decided. He went to climb out, then paused. “If we don’t land and therefore don’t have to take back off again, will that help?”

  Mitch let out a puff of disbelief. “Jesus. You want to go back through that again?”

  “What else can we do?”

  “For one, we can try to not run out of fuel!”

  “Will we have enough, if we don’t have to take back off again?”

  Mitch gave an angry shake of his head, his lips tight.

  “Will we have enough?” Mason asked again softly.

  Mitch looked away for a second, and then turned back and gave a curt nod.

  11

  MASON TRIED TO tell himself that maybe they were off course, that Mitch had made a mistake in his calculations. But there was no mistaking the tip of the lighthouse sticking up above the snowdrifts piled against it. Why is it so far back now?

  “Because the sea level is lower,” Mitch answered, and Mason realized he’d spoken aloud.

  Mitch was right; it was. A fishing pier that had once reached across the water now extended out over ice-covered land before ending at the ocean. The snow and ice coating the landscape had captured so much of the Earth’s moisture, the ocean had fallen.

  Fumbling with the harness, he got it undone, lurched up and over the console, and yanked open the cockpit door.

  Ears ringing and feeling that strange sense of surreality again, he paused in the first class section and lowered his head until the faint dizziness he was experiencing passed, and then moved on into the middle of the plane, where everyone was up or perched on the edge of their seats staring down at the glittering tableau beneath them.

  Passing Deb, he drifted over to the next empty window. Mitch had been steadily reducing their altitude and he could see even better what awaited them there on this world.

  Wordlessly he gazed out at the start, bleak scene.

  Thick layers of ice and snow coated the buildings, roadways, and bridges, and glistening icicles hung down above towering mounds of white, transforming them into magical formations and almost completely obscuring some of the smaller structures.

  There were even more floes in the water here, and gigantic icebergs floating offshore, some of them still clinging to the icy slopes. Farther out from the others, advancing slowly along, a flatter pinkish-blue berg glowed orangish-yellow in the sun where the late-afternoon rays were hitting it.

  In an odd sort of way, it was beautiful. Deep shades of blue in the ocean, crisp layers of turquoise in the ice, and onshore, snowy white swaths in between bare dark spots where the land rose here and there above the accumulation.

  Then his eyes shifted over and he once more took in the desolate, eerie sight of the half-buried, frozen-over buildings, slowly in the process of being eroded by wind and covered by snowdrifts. This place, this icy, lifeless place, possibly this entire world, was dead.

  Down the aisle, the jarring sound of a broken sob floated up to Mason and he ripped himself away from the barren, ghostly scene and swiftly exited the row. As if whoever it was—Gina, it sounded like—had unlocked the flood gates, instantly people were exclaiming and crying out.

  “Where is this?” Brenda shrieked, and “This can’t be Florida!” cried Joyce’s husband, Bert, not far away. “It is, we went past the lighthouse!” yelled Noah, causing Kayla to burst into tears. “Good God, how in the blazes are we supposed to land on that?” shouted Ed.

  Suddenly, a loud, piercing whistle from Dustin rent the air, silencing everyone and causing Mason, along with the rest, to swing their heads around to look at him.

  “That’s enough,” Dustin bellowed. He pivoted first one way and then the other, meeting the eyes of the closest passengers. “We are in a precarious position here. We can’t afford to lose it now, if we have any hope of survival.”

  He stood there, staring hard in turn at everyone for another moment, and then dropped his stance, and started back toward Mason in the silence that followed.

  He got them to look away from the windows, at least. He wondered if the man had ever been in the military. He seemed like a natural. When Dustin had almost reached him, Mason turned to start back to the front, then paused beside Tyler, where he sat with Kimi. “You doing okay?”

  Tyler nodded, holding tight to Kimi’s hand, wide-eyed and obviously afraid, but trying so hard to be a man.

  Smiling gently, Mason placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”

  Turning away, he resumed making his way to the flight deck, and first Rocky and then Juan, swung out behind Dustin to follow them up.

  “Here.” Mason held out the small plastic cup of ice and bourbon he’d had Deb pour.

  Mitch didn’t so much as hesitate. Taking the cup, he brought it up, gulped at it, spilling a little onto his rumpled white shirt, and downed a large part of the drink. And it did seem t
o revive him. He sat up straighter, gave a little cough, and seemed to rouse himself somewhat.

  “That’s all you get,” Mason said.

  “That’s all I need. Whew.”

  “Feel better?”

  “I’m getting there. Where’s Rocky?”

  Mason stood up to open the door and then moved out far enough for Rocky to spot him, and motioned him forward.

  Rocky filled the doorway a moment later. Dustin, he saw, was behind him.

  “Here, you can have this seat,” Mason told Rocky, and climbed over to his customary place.

  “Do you have anything you can tell us,” Mitch asked, “about what might have happened here?”

  Rocky leaned forward. “I don’t really know a lot about this kind of stuff.”

  “This kind of stuff?”

  “You know, geology. Climate and what not.”

  Mitch shifted around so he could see him better. “But if you could make a guess.”

  “Ahh… I’d say… maybe a sudden glaciation.”

  A glaciation? thought Mason. “From what?”

  Mitch shifted back around. “Another ice age? What would cause that?”

  “It’s not another ice age,” Dustin said in the doorway. “Assuming the conditions were the same as on our Earth’s. We’re still in an ice age technically. But the glaciers can come and go during each period. Unless of course, this isn’t your run of the mill glaciation and it’s a case of runaway cooling effect, then we’re looking at, basically, Snowball Earth.

  “What?” he said as they stared at him, eyebrows raised. “I watch the Science channel.”

  Mason chuckled, then sobered when he caught sight of the clouds they were flying into. “What would cause the entire planet to freeze over? If it is the entire planet.”

  Dustin braced himself as the plane shuddered in the rising wind. “A volcano, right?” he asked Rocky. “Spewing huge quantities of ash and matter?”