Erin closed her eyes and fought the tears. No crying today, she thought. She was done with tears, at least in the light of day, when such evidence of upset could be interpreted as fear and paranoia. She would only cry when she was alone, at night…there would be plenty of time and solitude for tears then.
Blurry images of Addison in the short time she’d known him came to mind. Addison that first day on the lake, talking about the loss he’d known and the understanding he had of her feelings. Addison slamming the racquetball for her, helping her to vent her pain constructively. Addison with paint smeared on his face. Addison eating a Sonic burger. Addison pulling her out of the plane and holding her. Addison kissing her with elegant, eloquent longing…
Somehow, in the sequence of those images, she couldn’t imagine him saying good-bye. The image just wouldn’t come.
She opened her eyes and stared at the sky, at the wispy clouds in the distance. She was finished with fear today, she thought, and somehow, she would manage a dignified good-bye if that was, indeed, God’s will.
Addison stacked the pages of his long report in his briefcase, closed and locked it, then turned back to the bed to finish packing his suitcase. He should have gotten pictures of Erin, he thought. Something to take with him, to remind him that she was real when he woke up late in the night and missed her so badly that he wanted to die.
Erin, why did you unplug the phone?
The misery in his heart forced him to manufacture conclusions. She had washed her hands of him. She wasn’t home. She had decided it was over. They were over.
He loaded his bags and briefcase into his rental car, locked the rented condominium for the last time, and sat behind the wheel, staring straight ahead without starting the engine. But it wasn’t over, he told himself. Not while he still had breath…not while he still loved her.
He turned on the ignition with new purpose and drove to Erin’s house, determined to make her understand what he really wanted. Hope quickened his step as he trotted to her door. He knocked hard and waited.
When there was no answer, he realized that her car was gone. Had it been gone all night?
Defeated, he went back to his car and stared down at the airline ticket lying on the seat next to him. Father, he prayed with a sick feeling in his heart. If I could only have one more day. See her one more time.
He’d come back after he’d filed the report, tied up all his loose ends, confronted Sid once and for all. Maybe he’d convince her then how much he loved her. All he had to cling to now was the prayer that by then, it wouldn’t be too late.
Addison made it to the gate just as the passengers were boarding and got in line to offer the flight attendant his boarding pass. Idly, his gaze drifted out the airport window to the plane that would take him to Washington…but not home. Nowhere felt like home anymore.
He handed the flight attendant his pass and started up the long ramp to the 727. With each step, he felt a little more disconnected from his heart.
He reached the door of the plane and glanced, unseeing, at the uniformed pilots standing at the door of the cockpit. He noticed the flight attendant smiling greetings as passengers boarded. He stepped inside and brushed past them. Suddenly something…her violet scent, her very presence?…snagged his attention. He turned around and saw Erin, her eyes wide, as she watched him walk toward his seat.
He stopped cold.
“Erin?” he asked, jamming the aisles as passengers tried to get by. “Are you flying to Washington?”
She nodded, but someone pushed him further down the aisle. He slipped into his row in first class, dropped his briefcase on the seat, and looked at Erin again.
“I didn’t know…I’m glad…”
He saw her mouth twist into a grim line, and she turned and disappeared inside the cockpit. He’d follow her, he thought, just as soon as the aisles were clear and he could get out. He’d go after her, tell her that he needed one more chance…that he couldn’t live without her.
But there didn’t seem to be a right time. She was distracted, he thought, for this was her first commercial flight since the crash. She didn’t need him disorienting her, possibly upsetting her, when there was no place to run. He settled back into his seat, fastened his seat belt, and leaned his head into the aisle to see into the cockpit. From the back, she appeared to be calm, efficient, ready to do her job.
The aisles cleared when everyone was boarded, but the door had not been sealed yet, and the cockpit was still open. The captain and the flight engineer sipped coffee at the entrance to the plane, talking to the flight attendant, who smiled, oblivious to the fact that Addison’s world was about to end.
Finally, unable to stop himself, Addison yanked off his seat belt, got up, and bolted toward the cockpit, determined to see Erin. Jack, the captain, stopped him at the door.
“Hey, you can’t go in there,” he said, an edge to his voice. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No,” Addison said.
Hearing his voice, Erin turned around, and their eyes connected with electric force.
“I…I’m Addison Lowe,” he said, tearing his gaze from Erin and extending a hand for Jack to shake. “NTSB. I need to talk to Erin.”
“Yeah, I remember you,” Jack said, not taking his hand. “You’re the one who got her suspended.”
“I need to talk to her,” Addison repeated. “It’s important.”
“Sorry, pal. It’ll have to wait.”
Addison’s eyes beseeched Erin again, and finally she stood up. “It’s okay, Jack. I’ll just be a minute.”
Reluctantly, Jack backed out of the doorway, allowing Addison to step inside the cockpit. “Thirty seconds,” he said.
Thirty seconds, Addison thought frantically, as they stared at each other with pain in their eyes. Thirty seconds to set things right for the rest of our lives.
“How…how do you feel? Everything okay with flying today?” he asked, wondering why the least significant things to say always came to mind at the worst times.
She nodded and lifted her chin. “I can’t help thinking there’s a certain poetic justice in your helping me get my wings back so that I could fly you out of my life.” She turned back to her controls. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m flying this leg, and it’s time for you to go back to your seat.”
“Erin,” he said. “You don’t understand. We need to talk.”
“Later,” Jack said from behind him. “It’s takeoff time now.”
Miserably defeated, Addison backed out of the small compartment, allowing the captain and second officer to go inside. Slowly, he went back to his seat. The cockpit door closed, cutting off his view of Erin.
Addison closed his eyes and hated himself for letting her get away.
He’s had all the chances we’re going to give him,” Ray Carter shouted at the hundreds of Southeast pilots who had turned out for the strike vote.
“But we need our jobs,” Lois pointed out calmly. She and Ray and the rest of the bargaining committee had taken their places at the front of the room. “If we strike—”
“Not if, when,” Ray said. “What do you expect us to do? The man won’t even talk. You can’t negotiate with someone who refuses to meet with a professional negotiator and who won’t even discuss the demands of his own employees. This calls for drastic action!”
The pilots came to their feet, shouting agreement that a strike was the only way to resolve things. Lois covered her face with her hands and braced herself for the inevitable.
“I move that we call a strike vote!” someone in the first row shouted.
“Seconded!” several others yelled simultaneously.
“All in favor of our voting whether or not to strike, say aye,” the president demanded.
“Aye!” a chorus of pilots sang out.
“All against.”
A much smaller scattering of ayes sounded across the room. Lois looked longingly at the box of absentee and computer votes, and prayed that they would
change things, or that the members in favor of voting didn’t represent those in favor of striking.
“Then we’ll begin the vote now,” the president said, with a strike of his gavel.
As the voting process began, Lois had a sinking feeling that she had lost the battle.
Despite the turmoil in her heart over Addison, Erin had no trouble flying the plane that morning. Even when they entered a cloudy region and encountered rain, her confidence in her flying never wavered. She found herself settling in comfortably with the easygoing captain at her side and the flight engineer, Scott, behind her.
“Well, we’re almost there,” Jack said cheerfully. “How does it feel to be in control again?”
“Feels great,” Erin said, genuine enthusiasm in her voice. “I just hope it isn’t snatched away as soon as we land. A strike vote could put an end to flying.”
“’Fraid so,” Jack commiserated. “But at least you won’t have to sweat it out without having first proved yourself.”
The approach procedure began, complete with weather reports that were relayed to the passengers. The three pilots busied themselves with the checklists they were required to follow before preparing to land, working as smoothly together as if they had been a team for years.
Erin forbade herself to count down the moments until she would have to say good-bye to Addison. Instead, she counted the miles from the airport, the pounds of fuel, the altitude. She maintained her diligent effort of flying the plane while Scott and Jack followed the necessary approach routine.
All three crew members in the cockpit concentrated on specific duties. Erin flew the plane, feeling calm and confident, but at the same time knowing the little twinge of caution that made her the capable pilot she was. Jack watched the airspeed and the altitude, calling out deviations. Scott managed the aircraft systems and monitored the holding speeds, range of the aircraft, and fuel flow.
“Southeast 81, you’re cleared for approach,” approach control radioed. “Contact the tower at the marker.”
Erin reached the marker, the point a few miles from the end of the runway that emitted a tone over the radio, and she noted the glide slope coming toward the center of its instrument. This is where it went wrong for you, Mick, she thought. This is where the elevator broke.
She pulled the power back and started her descent. Routinely, she called for her landing gear.
The usual reply of “down and check three green” never came. She glanced toward Jack, waiting for his response while he tried to engage the gear. After a moment, he shook his head. “The gear must be jammed. I can’t get it.”
Erin’s heart lurched. “What?”
“The landing gear must be stuck. I can’t get the lights to indicate that they’re all down.”
Without waiting for further explanation, Erin stopped her descent and began climbing again, waiting for her captain to instruct her further. She felt a fleeting moment of panic, but it was banished by years of training and preparation for an emergency of this kind.
“Uh, Tower, this is Southeast 81,” Jack radioed, in that professional, calm voice that made the problem seem routine. “We’re having trouble with our landing gear. Need a few more minutes.”
“Roger, Southeast 81,” the tower responded. “Climb to two thousand feet and go back to approach control.”
Erin followed the commands of the tower, and Jack radioed back, “Okay, going up to two thousand .. .”
When they’d reached the desired altitude, Erin held her breath and prayed they’d be able to correct the problem. Surely, it was a lightbulb out, she thought, knowing it was unlikely. She listened, holding her breath, as approach control set them in a 360-degree holding pattern while they worked on the problem.
“Erin, engage the autopilot,” Jack ordered.
Erin obeyed quickly, and they began trying to find the source of the problem. Scott went down to the forward electronics bay to see if he could visually determine if the gear was down and locked. He wasn’t able to tell.
Together, they tried all three methods of getting the landing gear down: the normal hydraulic extension, the emergency hydraulic extension, and the manual hand-crank system. All failed.
Jack leaned back in his seat, his eyes working over the instrument panel, not missing a thing. “Okay, folks,” he said in a voice so matter-of-fact that one who didn’t know better would think he was discussing a minor inconvenience rather than a potential disaster. “We’re going to have to make an emergency landing.”
Erin cleared her throat and tried to wrestle with fear. She was a professional. Pilots had landed without landing gear before. She had tackled this very problem in simulated flight when she was training…they would be fine. “I…I’ve never done this before in an actual flight,” she whispered.
“Well, neither have I,” Jack confessed, “but if we go by procedure, we’ll be okay.”
“You’ll fly?” Erin asked hopefully.
“No,” he said, and her worry increased. “I think it would be best if you flew to touchdown. That way I can keep one hand on the thrust reversers. When the throttles are idle, I’ll be able to grab the thrust reversers and pull them back.”
Erin eyed the three horizontal levers attached to the throttles and acknowledged that his plan was sound. Even if it meant that she was responsible for getting the plane to land on its metal belly rather than wheels that wouldn’t come down. But there was no time to argue.
“Meanwhile, I can keep my left hand here”—Jack gestured toward the tiller, a small steering wheel—“so I can control the plane as soon as it’s on the ground. Understood?”
Erin forced out a hoarse “Yes.”
Fear had to be shelved in some dark chamber in the back of her mind as preparations for touchdown became foremost. The flight attendants were notified to prepare the cabins for an emergency landing, and the tower was radioed. Ambulances, fire trucks, and maintenance crews were told to stand by. Detail after detail was taken care of efficiently and quickly.
Once preparations were under way, Erin never had a moment to let paranoia affect her performance. Despite what had happened to Mick, she was determined to do her part to get the plane down safely. There were too many lives at stake to lose her courage now. Mick hadn’t had an option; Erin did. She could either rely on her training and self-confidence, or she could let the plane tumble to a fiery stop, taking countless lives…
Back in Shreveport, Lois stayed in her chair as the meeting broke up. The members had voted overwhelmingly in favor of a strike. If nothing miraculous happened between now and midnight tonight, she couldn’t report to work tomorrow. As easy as it would be to cross the picket lines, she knew she couldn’t do it. She was union, just like the rest of them, and wouldn’t consider diluting the power of their statement. Not even if it meant her career.
She gathered her papers and stood up, facing Ray Carter. “Well, you win,” she said in a flat voice.
“I hope we all win,” he answered.
Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, she started to leave the room when Frank Redlo came barreling in. “Thought you’d want to know, Lois. We just got word that Jack and Erin’s flight is having landing-gear problems. They’re gonna have to make an emergency landing.”
Lois stumbled back, her mouth slack. “Oh, not Erin.”
Ray Carter frowned and leaned back against the table, shaking his head balefully. “She’ll freak. That plane is doomed.”
Lois’s teeth clamped together, and her blue eyes flashed fiery diamonds when she swung to face him. “Erin Russell is as capable as you are of getting that plane down safely. Maybe more capable!”
“Wanna bet?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” she said, her face glowing. “I’ll bet my whole career on it. What have I got to lose? You just threw it away for me, anyway.”
With that, she stormed out of the room, determined to win that bet and make Ray Carter eat his words.
Addison sat in first class, s
taring in confusion out the window. Something was wrong. First he had felt the plane descending, making an approach, and suddenly they’d pulled up. They were farther now from the airport than they’d been before. He unbuckled his seat belt and stood up, intent on going to the cockpit to find out what was wrong.
Before he could reach the aisle, the senior flight attendant came out of the cockpit, her face a peculiar pallid shade.
“What’s up?” he asked.
She turned away from the other passengers and lowered her voice to a whisper. “There’s been a problem with the landing gear, Mr. Lowe. We’re going to have to make an emergency landing. Jack said to tell you that he might need your help organizing the evacuation when we land.”
Addison’s eyes flashed in the direction of the cockpit door, as if he could see through it to Erin. “I’ll do anything they need me to do,” he said. “But can I go in the cockpit for a minute?”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” the woman said. “The jump seat is vacant. Excuse me, I have to go prepare the other flight attendants…and the passengers.”
Addison hurried forward to the closed cockpit door, opened it, and stepped inside. The three pilots seemed too preoccupied with the emergency to notice him. “I heard about the landing gear,” he said quietly, so as not to disturb Erin’s concentration. “Anything I can do for now?”
Erin glanced back at him over her shoulder, but Jack answered. “Not right now, unless you know some way to repair the landing gear from here.”
Addison sat down in the jump seat, the empty seat usually occupied by off-duty pilots flying from hub to hub. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t have a clue.” He leaned forward, his worried eyes pinned on Erin.
“How’re you doing, babe?”
The easy endearment made her look back at him, and Jack glanced at them both, surprised. “I’m fine,” she said. “No problem. I’m going to fly to touchdown.”
His face must have revealed his discomfort, because she added, “Don’t worry. I can do it.”
Broken Wings Page 22
