by S A Ison
The sound of the engines began their start up and roar. The flight attendants walked up and down the aisles slamming the overheads. He could hear more children screaming and crying. Most were near the back of the plane. He was so glad. He like kids as a concept, but only had experience with his nieces and nephews. They were all teens now. He’d been the last and unmarried. He’d been engaged but it had ended badly two years before. Thankfully, no children from that relationship.
Like sheepdogs, the flight attendants were barking orders and herding the slower passengers to their seats. Lights flashed on and off and blinked. There was still the No Smoking lights above and he wondered just how old the plane was. The flight attendants took their seats and within a few minutes, Phoenix felt the jerk of the aircraft as it began the taxi to the tarmac. He knew landing and taking off were the most dangerous and held his breath as the plane began to pick up speed. He felt his stomach drop as the plane took off and let out a soft sigh of relief once the plane leveled off.
He looked down at Lydia and her eyes were clamped shut, a slight grimace on her pretty face. Apparently, she didn’t like it any better than he did. When the seatbelt fasten light went out and the captain came over the intercom, she smiled slightly and opened her eyes.
“That’s the worst part.” She said, shifting around. She unbuckled her seat belt and bent forward, pulling her iphone out of her back pocket. She turned it on and texted someone then looked around.
“I’m going to go walk around. I get a little antsy at first. I’ll be back.” Lydia announced and stood up and waved for him to stay seated. She easily navigated around him. The plane was finally cooling down and Phoenix felt his body relax. He kept his seatbelt fastened. He’d seen enough videos of things going wrong and seen enough movies about plummeting aircraft to keep himself seat belted in. He cursed himself silently for bringing up the thoughts of airplane crashes.
“Self-sabotage, bruh. Every damned time.” He muttered to himself and opened the paperback to distract himself. It was one of Tom Clancy’s novels. He enjoyed the action and espionage. He was pulled into the book and lost track of time. He was acutely aware when Lydia came back to sit beside him. She wore a subtle perfume and he liked it.
Lydia pulled her hair back. She hated flying more than anything else, but there was nothing for it. If she wanted to see Sophie, she had to fly. Driving wasn’t an option; it was a four- or five-day trip and she didn’t want to sit in a car twelve or fifteen hours. At least she had a cute guy to sit beside and young as well. He had beautiful gray eyes; they were quite striking. He had a beard, the kind that was like a five-day stubble. It was the style now and she thought, very attractive.
She had meandered to the back of the plane and was amazed at the people crammed into the plane. There wasn’t an empty seat to be had. She’d passed families, trying to wrangle their children in, couples, like the cute Asian couple, they were holding hands. She saw old and young; they were all heading somewhere. Thanksgiving was purported to be the busiest travel time of the year, she believed it. She had ruthlessly pushed her way through the terminal to make the flight, she’d been the last one on, the door closing behind her.
Once more, she wished her parents had come with her. Sophia would have been so happy to see them. She was excited though, this was the first time she’d ever been on the west coast. Sophia had lots planned for them and she was tickled. She took out her phone again and checked for messages. None. Good. The guy by the window was snoring, like some kind of gurgling. She grimaced, it sounded like he was drowning. He was pudgy, but his throat looked like a bullfrog’s throat, minus the spots. It jiggled and vibrated with each snore.
She pulled out earbuds, not wanting to hear him, and hooked it to her phone and swiped for her play list. She closed her eyes and got lost in the music.
Sometime later, a lunch was served. It was as always, awkward to eat with the tiny utensils. Phoenix felt like an oversized kid at a tea party. The tray held small boxes of individual food, pretty much unappetizing, but he was hungry.
Phoenix never thought much about his size, his whole family was tall. His sisters were each just over six feet tall. Forest was an inch taller than himself. His mother and father were tall as well. It was only when he was crammed into small quarters that he felt nearly suffocated. And eating with small sporks. After the lunch was taken away, Phoenix noticed the man by the window had fallen asleep once more, his mouth hung open. He was snoring like a crazed chainsaw, his neck giggling wildly. Lydia looked over at him and her face turned bright red as she laughed silently. She looked up at Phoenix, her eyes shimmering with suppressed humor. He grinned and shrugged.
Phoenix had thought about trying to catch a nap, but didn’t want to snore, nor drool in front of Lydia, so he picked his book back up. The sound of the plane made it difficult to talk and he didn’t want to yell out a conversation. Lydia took out her phone and began to play a game. Phoenix went back to reading his book. At some point, he drifted off to sleep. The plane jerked and brought him out of his slumber. His hand flew to his mouth, and he was relieved that he found no drool there. He checked his watch, only another hour and a half and they’d be landing. He looked over at Lydia and she was asleep. He smiled at her; her mouth slightly open.
Phoenix got up and headed back toward the bathrooms. He hated them, but wasn’t sure he could hold it another hour or so. He opened the door and tried to hold his breath. It always stunk. His body was folded down, and he tried not to touch any of the surfaces. When he was finished, he washed his hands and left the cramped space, shuddering. He always felt dirty coming out. There was a toddler jumping in his seat, his mother looking harried and tired if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication. He pulled out his small bottle of hand sanitizer. He hated touching any part of the aircraft. With so many people inside, and quite a few coughing, he knew he’d be getting sick if he weren’t careful.
Getting back to his seat, Phoenix buckled in and picked up his book again. The man by the window shifted, bumping Lydia and waking her. Her eyes opened wide, an owlish look on her face. He grinned at her. Lydia stretched and got up and went toward the back. A few minutes later, she came back and buckled in.
“Those bathrooms are always so gross.” She grumbled.
Phoenix dug in his pocket and handed her the small bottle of sanitizer.
“Oh, thanks, Phoenix. I have a bottle, but it’s in my bag. I should start carrying it in my pocket.” She handed the bottle back and Phoenix tucked it away. He sighed, only another hour. Lydia took her phone back out and began to play once more. Both were startled when the lights went out and the plane’s engines became silent. For the briefest seconds, Phoenix was confused, it was as if all sound had been sucked out of his ears. Though light was coming from the window, the rest of the plane was dark. Lydia looked up, fear in her eyes as she also held her phone up. It too had gone dark.
Then the sickening sensation of being pulled sideways and then falling began to shift the large craft. Screams and cries began to fill the darkened cabin. Phoenix couldn’t say he heard the wind outside or not, then the face masks fell. He reached and grabbed his and helped Lydia with hers. It was as though they were suspended in time and then he could feel his body being pulled forward and then to the side as the aircraft rocked violent. It was like being on some kind of massive roller-coaster. His stomach was rushing up as the plane plummeted down.
His mind was in shock and he could hear Lydia screaming and felt her nails bite into his arm. He could only think to reach over and cover her body with his own. His arm reaching over and holding onto her armrest. He could feel her head pressed hard into his chest as he curled his upper torso around her. He felt the sickening jolt of the plane and then the hideous screech of metal ripping. It sounded like the grinding of gears on a rusty garage door, only a thousand times worse. Then he felt the biting cold and sucking air and he opened one eye to see that first class was no longer there.
The front of the pla
ne had been ripped off. He could hear things banging around and falling around him. The screams of the passengers were subsumed by the screaming of the wind rushing around him. He shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see the ground coming. He felt the large aircraft shudder again and another ripping sound. Then the fuselage began to turn in a circle. He felt his lunch rise into his throat as the centrifugal force pulled at him. Phoenix gritted his teeth. He knew he was going to die and his heart broke for his mother and father. He knew they’d be devastated.
Lydia had stopped screaming, but he could feel her body tremble. As the body of the plane turned and tumbled, Phoenix’s legs flew out in front of him. He didn’t feel the wall that should be in front of him and he clenched his eyes tighter. He didn’t want to see the ground coming up to meet him. The urge to vomit was nearly uncontrollable. He was nearly numb with cold, and it hurt his ears, as though he were having his eardrums punctured by shards of ice. He tried to pull his legs in, but the centrifugal force was too strong. He felt more objects hitting his back and his head. Then, he felt nothing.
Ω
Chaparral, NM
Dr. Jordan Hilleman clutched the phone in his hand, his knuckles going white from the death grip on the handset. He repeated his message, knowing that there was no one on the other end of the encrypted line, no one listening.
“Pythagoras Falls, I say again Pythagoras Falls. Can you hear me? Confirm, I say again, confirm.” he nearly screamed into the phone. Dr. Janet Abellano stood behind him, her nails digging painfully into Dr. Hilleman’s shoulders. His heart was hammering painfully, he looked up at her harsh face, which had lost all of its color. Her red lips looked like a bloody gash across her face, her brown eyes nearly black with fear and outrage.
He shook his head, his bottom lip trembling. He grimaced when her nails bit deeper into his shoulders.
“I don’t think they got the message. Someone answered and then the phone went dead.” Hilleman’s voice shook badly. Pythagoras Falls was the code, the protocol that meant that their systems had been hacked and that someone else had control of the two satellites that held the weapon.
“How in the hell could this have happened? Damn it!” Abellano shrieked and flung herself away, her hands going to her overly dyed hair and held on, she gritted her teeth.
“I don’t know, there should have been no way for anyone to hack they system. Besides, no one knew about Pythagoras, no one. Those satellites have been up there for over two months. Why now?” Hilleman asked, though he didn’t expect an answer.
He had come onboard fourteen years ago; it had been a dirty little secret. One of the junior scientists had disappeared with crucial and vital information and calculations to the Pythagoras Project. It had set the team back years, and Jordan been brought in a year later to take up where rogue scientist, O’Connor, had left off. The man had absconded with the hyper sensitive formulations and configurations. Though Jordan had not been in the know, way above his paygrade, he had heard the rumors that O’Connor had disappeared off the face of the earth. Some speculated that he had taken the data and calculations to Russia or even China.
Others still speculated that he was at heart, a pacifist and had hoped to cripple the project enough to scrap it. Whatever the reason, Lt. Col. Blake Rondeau was relieved of duty and Dr. Reece Torch, the lead scientist, was sent elsewhere. Dr. Abellano had taken over Pythagoras and had been a brutal task master. When Jordan had gotten to the project, there had been three predecessors that hadn’t been able to duplicate O’Connor’s work. Dr. Miles O’Connor had been brilliant and had apparently hidden a lot of his calculations from the group, as well as manipulate and alter part of the data remaining. Some scientists kept their work secret from their colleagues, making themselves invaluable.
“How bad is it?” Dr. Abellano asked, her face still devoid of color, her eyes resembled two large holes in her head, giving her a skull like appearance.
“It’s bad. It looks like both satellites were triggered, though I’m trying to access where they sent the ultraviolet cascade, it appears to have been multiple EMP eruptions. I’ve lost contact with other U.S. satellites. I’m going to try to gain access to some of our other assets. I might try to piggy back off of one of the United Kingdom’s geostationary telecommunications satellites.”
“What does this mean to the country? To us? Get Dr. Wiems and Dr. Gilder in here. Is Colonel Allen in yet?” Abellano ordered, walking toward the door.
“Not sure about Colonel Allen, she comes in late sometimes. I’ll call around.” Dr. Hilleman said, picking up the phone. He thought that Wiems and Gilder were off for Thanksgiving. It was a skeleton crew below ground. It was a good thing that the site was hardened, but he had no ideas what other facilities had been hardened against an EMP attack over the years. He knew congress had straddled the fence and hemmed and hawed about budget.
He heard the door slam behind him and Jordan picked up the phone. His hands were shaking violently. How did this happen, he wondered? Pythagoras had the highest possible security caveat. Only a handful of people knew about it. He wondered as he dialed the phone, if O’Connor had betrayed them all, by selling the weapon’s technology to the highest bidder.
Ω
Castle Town, MT
Miles lifted the ax and brought it down on a large chunk of wood. A satisfying chunk sounded and the wood split. It was well seasoned and would burn hot. He leaned over and picked up the split wood and tossed it into the pile that was growing. He didn’t have to chop wood, but he enjoyed it greatly. It gave him a sense of accomplishment and kept him fit and healthy. Albert barked once and he looked over at the Jack Russell, the dog’s head cocking one way and then another.
“What? You want a snack? I don’t know if there are any mice out now, boy. I think they’re hibernating.” The dog cocked his head and then looked up into the clear brilliant azure sky. There were streaks of thin clouds, but otherwise, clear and beautiful. Miles smiled. It had snowed a few days ago and there was more snow due tomorrow, but today, it was warm and beautiful.
His eyes narrowed when he caught the streak and glint of metal in the sky. An aircraft. He thought nothing of it until the aircraft began to fall from the sky. His heart skittered as he watched the heavy thing begin the turn and spiral. He tracked the doomed aircraft’s course down, unable to take his eyes from it. His mouth was dry and he couldn’t bring himself to swallow. He groaned unconsciously when he saw the forward part of the plane rip apart. That set the remaining aircraft to begin a spiral. He walked back, nearly tripping on the wood pile. Then he saw the wings go and then the tail section. He couldn’t see people, thank God, but he knew they were there, falling to their deaths, if they weren’t dead already. He saw flames engulf the back of the fuselage and the wings and tail section as they fell like embers.
“Holy mother of God.” He breathed and Albert barked once. He didn’t look down at the animal, just kept his eyes on the larger part of the plane, the wings, and tail section had already gone from sight. A black smoke plume trailed behind the fuselage. He thought he could now see the red and orange flames. Christ, if they survived the smoke, the fire would cook them to a crisp.
He wiped absently at the moister on his cheeks, he’d not realized he was crying. Crying for all those lost souls. It looked like the craft was heading for the park, northeast of him. At least it wouldn’t hit homes or the city. He wasn’t sure about the wings and other parts of the aircraft. There was no telling where they had landed. He hoped that there were survivors and that rescue squads would activate quickly. He was fairly sure that the falling fuselage would not receive help unless the forestry folks were on their toes. It was winter however, and he wasn’t sure if anyone was on duty at the fire watch towers. Or, if anyone had even seen the plane come down. Hopefully they radioed in the emergency and gave their coordinates. Perhaps the transponder would assist.
He sighed heavily as the plummeting plane disappeared behind the massive hemlocks. He guessed the plane would
crash some twenty miles away, in the middle of the forest. He shook his head sadly. Nothing he could do, nor would do. He’d not blown his cover for over fifteen years; he’d not do it now. He turned and looked at Albert.
“Best go look for some mice, I’m going to keep chopping wood.” He said and went back to the wood pile. He placed another large chunk of wood on the stump and raised his ax. He was heartsick for those poor folks. He hoped they died quickly. He hoped they didn’t suffer.
Ω
Miami, FL
Retired Colonel Blake Rondeau stood on the pier at South Pointe, in Miami. It was a beautiful day, the temperature was in the low seventies, but would build up to near eighty and he had nothing better to do than fish. He’d been forced retired six years before, his career ending in dismal disappointment. Blake had been ruthlessly relieved of duty, after that bastard, O’Connor had vanished with half of the Pythagoras Project. As if it were his fault. Christ, he hadn’t been a damned wrangler for demented scientists. He had been a liaison.
He had been sent to Fort Bliss, assigned to an admin position and he’d worked hard to make full Colonel, but then had been forced retired. He’d licked his wounds and he and his wife, Alice, wound up in Miami, which hadn’t been bad at all. He did a little lecturing at the University of Miami and fished a lot. He even owned a small boat. Life wasn’t bad, or as bad as it could have been. He sighed, reeling his line in. He cast it back out again. Blake looked around him, all the young and beautiful women abound in the heat of Miami. He knew it could be worse. At least he had his pension. The breeze from the Atlantic washed over him. The scent of saltwater and suntan lotion permeated the air.
Bringing up his line, he was preparing to cast back out once more when a woman screamed, about ten feet away from him, the pitch of the scream shooting down his spine. He turned and looked at her, then other people started screaming. He followed their gaze and his own eyes grew large as he watched several airplanes plummeting into the ocean. They were either coming or going from Miami International Airport, but they were all taking noses dives into the Atlantic Ocean.
