He looked out of the window as the Atlantic grew closer. It seemed ready to take another trophy and receive them as it had done to countless ships and planes over the course of time. Whenever he flew over or dove a shipwreck there was always a haunting element to it. Often, he had wondered about the number of deceased and how their deaths had occurred. Whether it was by drowning, shark attack or by some other means? He always felt remorseful and conducted himself respectfully. Would this plane be the marker of a new graveyard in the ocean?
The chaos in the cabin pulled him out of his thoughts. Ayla released the armrest and was squeezing his hand. She turned and buried her face in his shoulder. She was afraid, and he wished that he could comfort her. He looked back out of the window and estimated the time to impact at ten seconds. He could see the boats on the water in greater detail and realized by the make that they were not offshore vessels. The men on the boats were pointing up at the falling tomb. They had to be close to shore. The only benefit to that at this point was that recovery would be much easier in shallower waters.
Without explanation, the nose of the plane leveled off, and the freefall stopped. The g-force of the plane’s reversal of position pinned people to their seats and on the aisle floor. The force seemed like it would crack the fuselage in two. Logan had a difficult time keeping his head up to look out of the window to see what was going on. The water was no longer getting closer and the plane seemed to have leveled off. This defied all logic and while he was unequivocally thankful, he was clueless as to what was occurring. How can a 230,000-pound plane with no engines defy gravity? Logan wondered if he was hallucinating as it seemed that not only did they not crash, the plane was gaining altitude. Ayla managed to look at Logan and shared his confusion. Once the plane leveled off and the G-force relented, she looked past him to the wing and found that every piece of the engine down to the mounts was gone. She half expected to find that it had magically healed itself but saw nothing but a scorched wing. The turbine engine was completely gone. Logan jumped up and looked to the port side, which was in the same condition…there was no motor. The other passengers noticed the same thing and were pointing out of the windows.
“How are we flying?” he asked aloud wide-eyed.
Logan realized that after the freefall the door to the cockpit had come open. He looked in and observed the pilots who appeared, by their gestures, to be as confused as everyone. They seemed to have no control over the vessel. The pilots were animatedly talking to each other and what he assumed was Air Traffic Control. They were unquestionably clueless. During their conversation, one of the pilots realized that the door was open and reached back and slammed it shut.
When Logan took his seat again, Ayla reached out and took his hand. She was shaking. The threat was not yet over and they expected to resume the nosedive at any second. “What is going on?” she asked. “How did that happen? How are we still in the bloody air?”
“I have no idea. It seems that neither do the pilots…”
The plane gained altitude and within a few seconds, Logan looked out as the plane nearly scraped the roofs of the high-rise condominiums that formed a wall of separation between the beach and the city. He was relieved to see the shoreline and wondered how long it would take to get to Miami International, or if they would even make it. A few minutes seemed like an hour as the wounded vessel made the approach for landing. As if the plane was a giant play-toy for a child, it flew over the fence by the outer runway, touched down within feet of the grass, and stopped as if being set down by a giant mighty hand. There was no need to reverse thrusters or break the craft at all, it simply came to rest a hundred feet from the end of the runway.
Logan quickly leapt up and pushed people back as he fought to open the emergency exit. Like bees in a disturbed hive, panicked passengers began excitedly pouring out of the exit in a chaotic fury. There was very little civility as men and women fought, screamed and yelled at each other while they pushed through the hole in the wall of the plane. Most climbed out on the wing not willing to wait for the inflatable ramp.
Logan and Ayla tried to help the other passengers and maintain some semblance of order, which proved to be fruitless. They climbed over the back of the seats near the emergency exit and into an abandoned row. It seemed that the best way to avoid any further injury was to wait for the majority of passengers to exit before retrieving their carry-ons.
When the mass chaos was outside of the plane, Logan and Ayla took their turn. They retrieved their bags from the overhead bins and stepped out. Logan walked several feet onto the wing looking for any pieces of the turbine. A large arching area of soot was all that remained near the location where the engine was once mounted. He returned to Ayla and they slid down the ramp to the asphalt. He wanted to bend over and kiss the ground and couldn’t resist placing his hands on it out of relief to actually stand on it again while in one piece. The flashing blue and red lights of the first responders encircled the craft. Logan reached down, took a knee a second time and thanked God for their safe return. As if on cue, he and Ayla walked over to the former location of the engine and the damaged mounts and scorched underbelly of the wing.
“How did we land with no engines? How did the plane just sit down like this?” Logan asked.
“It defies logic…physics,” Ayla responded looking around.
Hours passed since the unexplainable incident with the Boeing 757 had occurred. The more they pondered the sequence of events that took place during the flight, the further they found themselves from any possibility of understanding anything. He wasn’t as married to science and the laws of physics as Ayla was, but converting the hovering, helicopter style landing of an engineless two-hundred and thirty-thousand-pound passenger plane into logic was simply not possible. Members of the National Transportation and Safety Board they had spoken with during their hours of questioning at the airport, pondered all testimonies and had agreed that it was simply too much fantasy and too little reality. Arguments between the NTSB and the passengers became more heated due to the line of questioning as they declared the regaining of control of the plane and increases in altitude to be an impossible misrepresentation of what had actually occurred. In a sense, they were calling the survivors ‘liars.’
They had also gone out of their way to downplay arguments of the supernatural to the point of arguing with passengers that were raising their hands to the Heavens giving thanks for their safe landing. There was no way to explain it away and the NTSB members stopped just short of accusations of a conspiracy to hide the truth as to what had actually happened. The undeniable reality was that both turbofans were torn from the mounts, which were still on the wings, the plane had landed safely, and was sitting on the runway. The truth was that turbine engines didn’t simply fall off of planes and everyone on board had somehow cheated death.
Ayla found a video posted online taken from a cell phone by a charter fisherman an estimated twenty miles offshore. The fisherman was filming his son fighting a four-foot-long king mackerel when he heard a whistling sound before panning to the sky in observance of the noise. A ball of flames came into view and like a meteor trekking through the atmosphere, the fireball splashed into the Atlantic missing the boat by less than a hundred feet. The video captured the passenger plane falling from the sky. Ayla’s heart sank as she observed the crashing aircraft. Then just at the appropriate time, the nose of the plane leveled off hundreds of feet before plunging into the Atlantic just as the engine had. She turned off the phone and slid it back into her purse.
The tires on the Jeep hummed on the surface of I-75 as they headed toward Logan’s adopted home of Sarasota to the west of the airport past the Everglades. The sound was sweet and was far better than that of a freefalling plane and the chaos of screaming panicked passengers. The windows were down and he had removed the two hard sections of the roof over the front cabin. The night air was refreshing and helped to keep him alert and awake.
Desperate for a distraction, she reached over and grabbed Logan�
��s MP3 player holding it up asking permission to search the device for music. Logan shrugged his shoulders and nodded in the affirmative and she began scrolling. “Right, 80’s metal? Lot of ‘big hair bands’ on here.” She selected “Still Loving You” by the Scorpions and continued to scroll. She stopped and turned to him and chuckled, “The Girl from Ipanema? That’s a crack up,” Ayla said with an inquisitive expression on her face.
“It’s a good song. What’s wrong with it?” he replied. It was the first time he had a reason to smile in days. Logan was glad that she was with him.
She raised her eyebrows and continued to scroll. “The soundtrack to Grease? That’s cool!” Within seconds Frankie Valli’s voice could be heard within a hundred yards of the Wrangler as she turned up the volume. The moment was what both of them needed. The music was a great distraction even if only temporary.
The incident seemed to cure everyone’s desire to fly for a while. Most had opted to rent cars and drive instead of reimbursements for connecting flights. In the interim, Ayla was not interested in taking another flight, especially over open water. She originally intended to return to her native home of New Zealand, but twenty or more hours of confinement in an airplane and overcrowded terminals was removed from her immediate future. She had no desire to push fate and board another flying coffin until she could better understand the incident. If she was to experience even the slightest mid-air bump, she may have needed sedation to complete the flight. Ayla had more than her share of criticism as a target of the media and would not need to give them the cause to conjure up new theories and stories about her because she freaked out on a commercial flight. Besides, she wanted to meet this contact of Logan’s who, without giving details, seemed to have an interesting story to share.
Neither knew what the immediate future held. Logan had talked her out of a hotel stay in Miami as he would be too far away to help if she was still being followed. He offered her the use of one of his rental properties for the duration of her stay. They would be meeting his friend at an offshore location in the Gulf of Mexico and driving back to Miami was out of the question. If they were to take anything from the past few days was that it seemed routine to find themselves surrounded by the illogical. Nothing made sense and both hoped that this new information would be valuable.
He looked down at the telenium and wished he could reprogram it and give it to Ayla. She was far too vulnerable and he needed to find a way to help her protect herself. “Do you think that a gun would do any damage to one of those creatures?” Logan asked.
“Eh, I’m not sure. In Tulum, I don’t think anyone was able to get off a shot. Your associate used that pipe…thing--”
“Bang stick. 12-gauge shotgun shell…4 shot,” Logan said.
“Right, bang stick. Well, obviously that didn’t kill it, but from what I saw that did some damage to the chest area.”
“But it still managed to swim away. I’m going to give you a 9mm. It’s a gun I use for conceal carry and if you want to put it in your purse, it shouldn’t be too much of a nuisance. It has seven rounds. Can you shoot?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m a country girl. I can shoot quite well,” she looked at him and decided to take a jab, “why, because I am a woman?”
Without hesitation, he responded, “No, there are millions of women that can outshoot me blindfolded. It’s more in line with your chosen profession and university education. Most are not big fans of our 2nd amendment rights, even those in the states. I know in New Zealand that it is difficult to acquire a gun.”
“Truth be known, I don’t actually live in New Zealand. I was only going back to visit for a while. Moved to the states over a decade ago,” Ayla replied.
“Where?”
“San Diego, but I really like it here in Florida,” she said with a smile.
Logan pushed a button on the Jeep’s visor as they approached a security gate. He paused for a second as the large iron gates jumped and slid in opposite directions. “I have to stop at my house to get the keys to the rental…unless you have no problem using the guest quarters for the night?”
Ayla looked back to Logan and nodded in agreement as exhaustion was getting the better of her, “That is not something I would normally do, but it is getting late. It's not like we haven’t gotten to know each other.”
The Jeep’s headlights illuminated the driveway. She could see very little beyond the pinnate leaves and bulging green crown shafts of the thick wall of royal palms and tropical shrubbery. The long arching driveway separated into two sections forming the shape of a teardrop that encircled a paved fountain. Water shot fifteen feet into the air and the sounds of the cascading water was only challenged by the sound of the Jeep’s engine.
The vehicle stopped beneath a large porte cochere supported by large round columns covered in stucco. Logan pressed the emergency brake and jumped out of the driver’s side. He intended to open the door for Ayla, but she was already climbing out by the time he reached her.
“Nice place,” she noted attempting to take in every aspect of the property exposed by the artificial lighting.
The two-story house was typical of South Florida’s architecture with a shallow pitched terracotta S-shaped tile roof, stucco finish on the walls and columns, a covered entry, and a very well landscaped yard. The royal palms were twenty-feet tall. Between them were thick beds of birds of paradise, sweet pea, nasturtium, and spirit merlot. The flowering plants were in full bloom.
“The landscaping is beautiful. You live here by yourself?” she asked giving him an odd look as if suggesting that he had lied about being single.
As Logan began unloading the luggage, he replied, “I knew the people who inherited this house from their parents. They always had money growing up, but never really managed it and never learned how. When my friend’s parents passed away and all the rental properties became their responsibility, things kind of fell into a financial shamble. Soon upkeep and property taxes were too much for them to manage. I made a ridiculous offer for the property and he almost threw the keys at me. They just wanted to be rid of it.”
Ayla shook her head, “Some people have all the luck.”
“You just have to jump on the opportunity when it presents itself.” Logan grabbed an armful of Ayla’s belongings and rolled a large piece of luggage too heavy to carry. He followed a tile paved walkway to an arched ten-foot mahogany and glass door. The leaded sidelights revealed potted plants in the foyer. The exterior entryway was supported by columns and a large crystal light fixture dangled from the center of a medallion. He pushed the door open and escorted Ayla inside. Logan walked to the end of a hallway to the left and pushed open a set of French doors then set the luggage down. Ayla followed him.
“This room is like a second master suite, complete with a master bathroom and walk-in closets. I will have to get you some towels,” he said pointing to the bathroom and closet doors.
Ayla panned the room. Before it was possible to reply, he was gone, and she could hear him bringing in the rest of the luggage then closing the door. Despite her fatigue, she chuckled to herself as she walked around the huge master suite and bathroom. With the exception of a queen-sized bed, that was swallowed by the size of the room, and a nightstand, the section of the house was empty. There were no sheets on the bed, treatments on the windows, a dresser, or a closet organizer.
After several minutes, Ayla walked out of the room and decided to ask Logan where the bed dressings and towels were. The hallway led back to the large open area where the foyer, living room, formal dining room and a section of the kitchen could be seen. Except for a table in the dining room, a couch and a sixty-five-inch flat screen television mounted to the wall by a fireplace, the house seemed mostly empty and undecorated. She realized that he was indeed a bachelor. Logan returned from the end of a second hallway that she assumed led to the other master bedroom. He was carrying a comforter, sheets, and a thick green blanket. He walked by her to the guest room and began to make the bed. Ayla gra
bbed a corner of the sheets and helped him.
“I don’t want to be a stirrer, but this is a beautiful home, but there is no doubt that a man…a single man lives here. It’s very clean, but this could be such a nice house if you actually decorated it.”
He laughed and looked around, “I stink at picking stuff out and making it look good. Mixing, matching colors and patterns and material…all of that gives me a headache and I’d rather not mess with it. Six-thousand plus square feet of living area and about two-hundred dollars’ worth of furniture.” He stood and leaned against the wall then looked at Ayla, “I keep processing what happened…the invisible craft, underwater creature, the man impersonator that was following you, and the plane situation. I can’t wrap my mind around it. That’s a lot of weird things going on at one time. I know, we have beat this to death, but it’s all so illogical and defies physics, common sense. I keep thinking about the last character we met—”
“Honoré?” she asked cocking her head to the side.
“Yeah, Honoré. Like I have told you, it’s hard for me to believe in life on other planets. I just keep running the odds and they just don’t seem to favor it. Can there be something else going on here? It’s even more illogical that they are just flying back and forth considering the distance…the light-years that separate the planets. I see downed planes and sunken ships all the time. From what I know, with the best steel and technology we have, even if you could maintain lightspeed, if you hit so much as a speck of dust going that fast the ship would disintegrate. We don’t have the materials or technology for that…so we know. Who knows what the military is up to? We can’t just storm Area 51 and ask what’s up. So, it’s hard for me to believe that anyone else can, despite how advanced they are supposed to be. I kind of draw a line in the sand at that point and everything else has to be explainable,” Logan paused as the house was abruptly filled with strange noises.
In the guest's suite, a small black device popped out of a light fixture and levitated down the hallway toward the living room. The two looked at each other and began to follow it. They entered the foyer and looked around as appliances, light fixtures, and smoke detectors were being disassembled. Screws backed out and levitated, the exterior casings of small kitchen appliances peeled away, glass globes on the light fixtures slid free from the threaded fasteners, plastic covers on the smoke detectors were detaching themselves. Logan scanned the rooms of the first floor and observed some variation of the supernatural occurrence as it was ongoing. Small electronic devices were forcefully pulled loose and dangled in the air as each object was reassembled and mounted. The small items that were removed continued to defy gravity and slowly hung in the air just below the ceiling, beams, and headers and moved into the direction of the foyer. Like swarming termites drawn to a light in the dark, the devices congregated and hovered over the table. Eerie popping and cracking sounds filled the room as the mechanisms were completely torn apart by the invisible hands that had removed and transported them. Batteries, lenses, plastic, and wiring fell forming a debris pile on the table as each device was reduced to small unrecognizable pieces.
Universal Code Page 24
