Altitude (Power Reads Book 1)

by Dean Crawford

  ‘I got you out here,’ he snapped at Reed. ‘The passengers would like to know what’s going on here. We have a right to know, do we not?’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ Reed forestalled Grant’s plea for support from the other passengers, ‘but there are ways and means. This isn’t one of them.’

  Murmurs of agreement from the hitherto quieter passengers fluttered up and down the cabin. Grant’s expression began to collapse into desperation and rage as he sensed the passengers slipping away from him. The captain’s authoritative tones and smart blue uniform and cap gave him an air of easy confidence that overshadowed Grant’s hysterical ranting.

  ‘There’s nothing that I won’t do to make you tell us the truth!’ Grant wailed.

  Captain Reed leaned against the wall with his hands still in his pockets as he regarded the passenger.

  ‘There’s nothing that you can do about anything, so why don’t you sit back down and shut up so that the rest of the passengers can hear what I have to say?’

  Grant seemed almost to hop about on the spot, and then he whirled to the exit door and lunged for the locking mechanism.

  ‘You’ll do as I say!’ he screamed.

  Becca, who had been watching the entire exchange, leaped forward as she realised what Grant was about to do.

  ‘No!’

  Grant grabbed the exit door handle and at once he heaved it up. The passengers erupted into screams of horror as Grant tried to open the hatch.

  ***

  XXI

  Captain Reed did not move, remaining precisely where he was as a hundred or so passengers wailed in terror. Becca was half way to Grant when she realised that the captain was still leaning casually by the wall with his hands still in his pockets and watching Grant with a bemused smile on his face.

  Grant heaved against the latch, unable to move it, and he whirled and snarled at the captain.

  ‘Tell them everything now or I’ll force the hatch open and we’ll all be dead!’

  Captain Reed shrugged. ‘Go ahead, give it your best shot.’

  The screams of the passengers subsided into shocked curiosity as they saw the captain making no move to stop Grant. The lank–haired man winced in fury as he growled back at him.

  ‘See, he doesn’t give a damn about us passengers! He’d sooner see us all die than tell us anything!’

  ‘Apparently, it’s you who’ll see the passengers die as you’re clearly intent on opening that door.’

  Grant found himself trapped, unable to budge the lever and yet equally unable to abandon his attempts for fear of being seen as weak by the passengers whose support he apparently craved. Captain Reed offered him a wry grin, as though pitying him.

  ‘You’ve been watching too many Hollywood movies,’ he suggested. ‘This airplane is moving at around three hundred miles per hour, and like all exit hatches that door opens outward, toward the direction of travel. As a result there’s about one pound of pressure per square inch acting upon it, and over a thousand pounds in total as it’s a big door. A gorilla on steroids couldn’t push it open, so you don’t stand a chance and the rest of us have nothing to worry about.’

  Grant kept hold of the latch as though it were an anchor to prevent him from losing his credibility, but he said nothing. Captain Reed’s amusement turned to disgust and he tilted his head once in the direction of Grant’s seat.

  ‘Sit back down and stop making an idiot of yourself before I have you restrained for the rest of the flight.’

  The lank haired man turned to see other passengers getting out of their seats, all pushing forward toward him, fury in their eyes now. Then, the voice of the old man among them, quiet but filled with subtle authority.

  ‘I know precisely what’s been happening down there, but like the captain I won’t say anything while you’re threatening the safety of anyone on this flight.’

  More calls of support and agreement now, the rage infecting the passenger cabin subsiding in the face of common sense and the unshakeable laws of physics. The captain nodded his gratitude to the old man, and then Grant turned and slammed himself down into his seat with his arms folded and a scowl on his face. He looked like a scolded child, his skin flushed red with shame and embarrassment as he stared at his feet to avoid the glares of the other passengers.

  The old man’s words seemed to placate the other passengers and they backed off, casting dark glances at the cowering Grant as Becca gathered her composure and smiled her gratitude at the passengers around her. Captain Reed looked at them all, and then he took the address system microphone off the wall alongside him and spoke into it.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, there is something that I need to share with you.’

  *

  The passenger cabin was deathly silent, only the sound of the Airbus’s single functioning engine and the soft hiss of the air conditioning audible as Becca leaned against the galley entrance. She watched the reaction of the passengers around her, uncertain of what they would do next after the captain had finished explaining, in detail, their predicament. Considering what they had just heard, they took it remarkably well.

  One teenager raised his hand and Captain Reed nodded for him to speak.

  ‘If we can’t land ever, do we get our tickets refunded?’

  A ripple of grim chuckles drifted through the cabin as the captain smiled.

  ‘When we do get on the ground, I have no doubt that compensation for all of this will be offered by Phoenix Air. Although it’s not our fault or that of anybody on board that a volcano decided to erupt while we were on our way here, this flight has been distressing to say the least and that will be taken into account.’

  A woman stood and the captain raised his chin to indicate that she could speak

  ‘What are you going to do about all of this? You’re saying that our fuel is low and that we can’t land or divert anywhere else?’

  Captain Reed straightened his stance as he considered the question.

  ‘Right now, we are in orbit above Keflavik, and it is the opinion of my first officer and myself that the gales blowing down there will remove the toxic gases from around the airport and allow us to land safely. We do have fuel for diversion to a limited number of secondary airfields but given the weather conditions at those locations, diverting might simply replace one potentially lethal problem with another.’

  ‘So, you’re saying that we’re stuck here at Keflavik?’ challenged another passenger. ‘That we might land and die? Is that the best you can come up with? Don’t we have a say in all of this?’

  ‘That’s why I’m here,’ Captain Reed replied. ‘It was never the crew’s intention to remain tucked away inside the cockpit, that just happens to be where we work and for obvious reasons it cannot be breached. This is your chance to have your say.’

  The mother of the poorly boy stood up. ‘What are our chances of landing safely anywhere?’

  The passenger cabin fell silent and Becca saw the captain hesitate. Even though it was only brief, it was a telling moment and the passengers noticed immediately.

  ‘You think we’re doomed!’ Grant snapped from his seat, although he did not stand. ‘Even you don’t think we’ll make it back down!’

  Reed ignored him but the other passengers did not.

  ‘You honestly don’t think that we’ve got a chance,’ uttered another.

  ‘You’re saying that we’re already dead?’

  ‘We could land on the water,’ said another. ‘That guy did it in New York, Sullenberger I think it was? Everyone got out okay, I saw a Tom Hanks movie about it.’

  The reply came not from the captain but from the back of the cabin, where sat the old airline pilot.

  ‘That was a controlled descent after a bird strike incident onto a calm river in broad daylight, close to the shore of one of the biggest cities in the world and surrounded by boats which helped to rescue the passengers within minutes,’ the old man said. ‘We’re over the North Atlantic in the middle of winter with night approaching
, the city below us filled with poisonous gas and a raging storm blowing. Captain Chesley Sullenberger did a tremendous job, but he had an easy ride compared to what we’re facing.’

  The old man stood up, everyone clearly able to see him as he addressed the captain directly.

  ‘Captain, I would not normally deign to advise anything but given our circumstances any input at this time it would be, I believe, beneficial to us all. This airplane must land regardless, and so we must choose a location that gives us the best chance of survival. I would advise selecting the longest suitable diversion field that is clear of these toxic gases and landing there before the last of the light is gone. At least we’ll be on the ground with a fighting chance of survival.’

  Becca heard a murmur of approval from the rest of the passengers, but the captain shook his head.

  ‘We have to wait,’ he replied, ‘if the people on the ground can confirm that the air is clear at Keflavik then we can land there immediately we get the word.’

  ‘And if they can’t?’ the old man challenged.

  ‘Then we can take our chances at the alternate airfields, but the chances of damage and injury in a forced landing in an aircraft of this size are greatly increased.’

  ‘So are the chances of injury and damage if we should run out of fuel up here,’ the old man pointed out with a wry smile.

  ‘Or get roasted alive at Keflavik!’ shouted another. ‘If that cloud collapses it will take out the town and airport!’

  Becca found herself surprised at the knowledge of some of the passengers, and wondered how many of them had already been aware of the growing risk to the city from pyroclastic flows.

  ‘Can you even tell us when we’ll be landing?’

  ‘We have something less than forty minutes of fuel remaining,’ the captain said.

  That news silenced the passengers for a moment. Becca saw them slowly digest the knowledge that they may have less than one hour to live if the captain could not find a way out of the crisis.

  Less than one hour.

  From the front of the cabin, Grant called out.

  ‘We have one hour to decide how we live, or how we die.’

  ***

  XXII

  One of the burly passengers who had earlier threatened Grant stood up, but this time he made no threats.

  ‘Seems to me that the old fella is right, and our best bet is to land at one of the other runways even if they are too short. At least we’ll stand a chance.’

  There was a murmur of agreement from the other passengers. Captain Reed nodded in acquiescence.

  ‘On the face of it, that would seem to be the logical option,’ he replied, ‘but many of those airfields are designed for small, light aircraft. They are without tower control and in some cases without runway lighting, meaning they’re not useable after dark or in low light conditions. Many have no navigational beacons either, meaning that we wouldn’t even be able to find them, let alone land on them.’

  There were gasps of astonishment from the passengers. Grant stood up once again, emboldened by the protests around him.

  ‘You’re airline pilots! Are you telling us that you can’t find an airfield when you need one?!’

  ‘You know nothing about aviation,’ Reed snapped back at him. ‘Even in a light aircraft moving at one hundred knots, in broad daylight, a small airfield can be hard to spot in anything but absolutely perfect visual conditions. Ask any real pilot and they’ll tell you that. But we’re being asked to locate a small airport in low or zero lighting, in mountainous terrain while flying along at three hundred knots in the middle of violent storms. Do any of you really think that would be safer than landing at Keflavik, despite the risks?’

  A balding man in Row Six gestured out of the windows of the airplane. ‘The sun’s still shining, you can see where you’re going! There must be dozens of other runways we can use, somewhere safe on the other side of Iceland?’

  ‘The sun is still shining at thirty thousand feet, six miles in the air,’ Captain Reed corrected the man. ‘Down there it is already twilight and the visibility will be limited. Yes, there are many other runways but they’re half the length we’d need to make a safe landing. We’d run off the end of them moving at a hundred miles per hour in a seventy ton jet still laden with fuel, onto rough terrain or into the ocean. Is that still sounding like the kind of odds you’d be comfortable taking on?’ When the man didn’t answer, Reed repeated his stated preference. ‘We should hold out here for as long as we can.’

  ‘It might be dark by then,’ someone called out, ‘why risk leaving it so late when you just said that you won’t be able to find other airfields in the dark?!’

  ‘There are procedures in place that we might be able to use to get into one of the other airfields,’ Reed replied, ‘by activating runway lighting using radio frequency transmissions, but the best airfield for any diversions would be Akureyri, which is a major terminal and will be fully lit.’

  ‘Then why aren’t we heading there now?’ Grant demanded.

  ‘The weather there is even worse than here,’ Reed insisted. ‘Landing would not just be difficult but dangerous due to violent airflows off the local mountains and a crosswind that might exceed what this airplane can handle.’

  ‘Is there any toxic gas at Akureyri?’ someone at the back asked.

  ‘No,’ Reed admitted, ‘but the ash cloud is creating deposits that are heading east, so we risk losing our engines to ash debris if we head that way. It’s not the better option right now.’

  The woman with the poorly child stood up.

  ‘If we might be dead in an hour, then we should have a say in how it happens. I don’t want to just sit back and let you make all the decisions when we have other options here.’

  ‘I agree,’ shouted another from further back down the aisle. ‘This is about all of us now!’

  ‘Yeah,’ shouted others. ‘We decide!’

  Becca felt her guts crawl uncomfortably as she saw the spectre of a rioting crowd growing once again, of uncontrolled aggression and self–righteous yet terminal defiance looming among them. People were standing up in their seats again, angry faces glaring, pink mouths agape and shouting, arms pointing.

  Captain Reed let the microphone amplify his voice above their shouts.

  ‘The only priority is that this plane lands somewhere, safely. What comes after that is beyond all of our control. If a forced landing is what becomes the preferred outcome then so be it, but I won’t abandon the chance of a safe landing at Keflavik until there is absolutely no option but to do so.’

  ‘That’s not your decision to make any more!’ shouted a teenager. ‘I vote that we head for this other airport, Akureyri, and take our chances there!’

  ‘We want to land, and we want to land now!’

  Becca saw the passengers getting out of their seats again, filling the aisle as Captain Reed backed up a pace toward the cockpit.

  ‘We want to land now while we still can!’

  ‘Our chances of landing safely are quite normal,’ the captain insisted, his voice becoming overwhelmed by the noise. ‘Landing this plane, even in the bad weather below us, is not a problem if the runway is long enough. The problem is what we’ll find when we get down there. There may still be a risk of volcanic debris at any location to the east, and if we can’t land safely at Akureyri then we won’t have enough fuel to make it back here.’

  ‘It’s still safer than Keflavik!’ bellowed another passenger. ‘We’re running out of time and we don’t want to land here beside that volcano!’

  More shouts of approval drowned out the captain’s replies as he tried to calm the crowd and Becca heard a little of his words above the raucous.

  ‘We need to land somewhere that can support us. Those other runways might not have the facilities we need to make a safe landing. We just don’t know whether there would be enough support to get back off the ground again and then we’d be stranded here for…’

  The captain suddenl
y trailed off as Becca watched, and for a moment he was staring into space past the angry passengers as though he could no longer see them. She saw his eyes glaze over for a moment and then they suddenly shone with realisation as something flickered behind them like a bolt of lightning.

  ‘We’re not going to take no for an answer!’ Grant shouted in Reed’s ear as he stood up again and grabbed the pilot by the arm. ‘We’re going to Keflavik!’

  Reed looked at Grant, and then he seemed to see the passengers advancing on his position, threatening to push past him toward the cockpit. Becca saw the captain make a decision, the set of his jaw hardening as he suddenly dropped the microphone.

  Reed turned and grabbed the back of Grant’s head, twisting the smaller man sideways and forcing him to release the captain’s arm. Before Becca could move the captain swung Grant around and propelled him into the oncoming passengers.

  Then Reed whirled and dashed to the cockpit door.

  ‘Wait!’ Becca shouted, but Reed did not hear her as he tapped in a pass code to the cockpit door and plunged through it.

  The door slammed shut behind him and Becca saw the passengers rush past her to it and hammer against it with their fists.

  ***

  XXIII

  Jason locked the cockpit door behind Reed as the captain dashed inside, saw the mass of passengers rushing toward them before he closed it. The door thrummed to the manic beat of fists pounding against it as Jason leaped back and almost fell into his seat.

  ‘What the hell happened out there?’ Jason gasped.

  ‘The passengers are a little irate,’ Reed replied as he climbed quickly into his seat and grabbed his headset. ‘Squawk seven–seven–zero–zero.’

  Jason sat back in his seat and switched the transponder to broadcast the emergency frequency. Captain Reed seemed oblivious to the riot behind them in the passenger cabin as he called out on the radio.

  ‘Narsarsuaq, phoenix three seven five.’