“Thanks,” Collin said, rolling the refrigerated cart free and out into the galley. He opened the top drawer and found a row of foil-topped meal containers. He touched the first one. “Still cold.”
It took him several minutes to figure out the controls for the row of top-mounted ovens. With the help of Clifford, Owen and Garry, they got the cold meals loaded into the ovens and the meal heating process started.
* * *
Collin ate with DiMaggio and Tink and several cheerleaders he didn’t know very well.
“So what’s next?” DiMaggio asked, his mouth full of chateaubriand steak and gravy. “We can’t stay here forever.”
Tami Drake said, “We’re going to need a change of clothes.” She and the other girls were wrapped in blankets. “You guys have pants on … we’re wearing miniskirts.”
“It’s not like we can pop down to Macy’s for a new wardrobe, Tami,” DiMaggio said.
“There may be clothes below,” Collin said. “I’m guessing this plane was in the process of pre-boarding … I mean, it makes sense since the food carts were filled. You never know, we could check to see if they’d started loading luggage into the cargo section.”
“What we really need is another weapon,” DiMaggio said. “You saw it … Humph’s not going to give up his gun and he’s probably not the best person to protect us all …”
Collin remembered seeing a diagram of the jetliner in the pilot’s manual. There was an access door in the rear galley at the back of the plane. “What do you say we do some exploring? Probably best not to mention where we’re going to Humph, or any of his friends.”
Tina and Tami said they wanted to come with them. “Let’s make our way to the back of the plane … but let’s not go in a group,” Collin added. “I’ll meet you all there in a few minutes.”
Collin was the first to stand and head down the stairs. He moved through the plane’s business, then economy, compartments. He was surprised when he entered the galley to see the ceiling drooping at least another foot. The weight of the passenger car on top of this portion of the plane’s fuselage was taking its toll. He figured it was only a matter of time before this section was flattened like a pancake.
Hunching over, he’d missed it earlier when he’d first entered the galley. There it was on the carpeted floor: a two- by three-foot door panel with an inset handle. Tami and Tink arrived together, followed by DiMaggio a minute later.
Collin tugged the metal ring out from the inset on the panel, turned it and pulled upward. The panel opened on its hinges. He swung the panel all the way back and the four of them stared down into the darkness. Cold air rose up from below, into the galley.
“I’ll go first,” Collin said. He turned on his flashlight app, placing his iPhone between his teeth, and stepped onto the top step of the metal-wrung ladder. He tried not to think about what was below him, in the cold, dark, cargo hold. He descended into the hold, one cautious step at a time. By the time his feet hit the cargo compartment’s floor he already knew two things: one, there definitely was luggage there—two, the cargo doors were wide open.
Chapter 7
What looked to be a late model combine machine was pressed up against the outer hull of the jetliner, where the cargo doors once stood. Collin stepped closer and was able to see a myriad of other things packed in behind it, including an old, rusted-out Chevy Ranchero; a segment of a Ferris wheel; wide blades of a windmill; and the cab section of a fire truck.
Collin turned back to see Tink already going through a large Samsonite at the top of a heap of suitcases. She held up a pair of silk underpants and pulled them wide between her open arms. “Someone’s grandma is missing a parachute,” she exclaimed, closing the lid and moving on to another suitcase.
Collin turned and sidestepped past Tami Drake’s own five-foot-high stack of suitcases. DiMaggio had already torn into half the suitcases in his stack and had a separate pile of items set off to the side.
Collin went farther back in the compartment where there were larger items, including hooded golf bags, several sets of skis, and some oversized duffle bags. Right off the bat, Collin hit pay dirt. He found two long, one short, green and tan camo hard cases. Each was individually locked. He’d seen these types of cases before at the shooting range—often used by serious gun enthusiasts. As Collin continued to separate out the items in his stack, he found several cases that matched the other camo cases. He put them aside, in their own pile, and continued to seek what else could be of use.
He unzipped a large black duffle and found neatly stacked T-shirts, boxers, socks, and green army-issue pants inside. He pulled out a pair of pants and held them up. Might be a little big, but looked long enough. He looked over to the others and saw they were still busy digging through their own stacks of luggage. Quickly, Collin pulled off his football pants, jockstrap and cup, and pretty rank-smelling jersey. He then pulled on the clean boxers, T-shirt and army pants. He found a belt for the pants in the duffel, as well as a pocketknife, a small first-aid kit, and a pair of well-used boots.
The boots were a pretty good fit. He checked the duffle one more time—he’d almost missed the most important item … a set of small keys tucked into a side pocket—the kind used for unlocking weapon hard cases. Collin suspected the duffle, and the clean clothes he was wearing, were owned by the same person owning the set of gun cases.
Collin’s attention was pulled away when he heard other voices entering the dimly lit cargo hold. Two were unmistakable—Humphrey’s and Darren’s. Shit. There was no way he was going to hand over more firepower to those two idiots.
Collin hunched down lower, doing his best to keep out of sight. But it was too late—Darren was quickly making his way through the stacks of suitcases.
“He’s over here,” Darren yelled back over his shoulder, picking up his pace.
Collin tried the first of the keys on the small hard case. Not the right key. He fumbled to get the second key into the lock. It worked. He turned the lock and opened the lid. Inside were three secured handguns—two Glocks, similar to the one Humphrey was carrying around, and a Beretta. One by one, he checked the weapons—all unloaded. That made sense. Collin was pretty sure there were strict airline transport regulations for firearms. Noticing the various official-looking tags affixed to the case’s handle confirmed as much. Fortunately, the weapons’ magazines were stored in the box as well.
“There you are … what are you doing hiding back here, Sticks?” Darren asked.
Collin didn’t look up until he heard the other voice.
“Step the fuck away from that, Sticks,” Humphrey demanded, his voice deep and threatening. He was two paces behind Darren and was reaching for the Glock at the back of his pants.
Collin, still holding the Beretta in his right hand, grabbed the matching magazine with his left. He slipped the clip into the butt of the handle, locked it home with the heel of his palm, then pulled the slide and chambered a round.
Collin brought the gun up and pointed it directly at Humphrey’s forehead. Humphrey had his gun out but hadn’t had time to aim.
“Don’t!” Collin said.
Humphrey froze.
“Hey, man, we’re all on the same side,” Darren said, holding his palms up in a gesture of friendship. He smiled and turned back to Humphrey. “Put your gun away, Humphrey. Let’s keep things cool here.”
Humphrey hesitated, then did as he was told. Collin debated whether to relieve Humphrey of his weapon but decided, instead, to just keep a close eye on him.
“So, ah … what have you got there, Frost?” Darren asked, his eyes locked on the open hard case and the other handguns lying in front of Collin.
“A way to defend ourselves. That is, other than Sheriff Humph there and his Glock.”
It started with a wobbling motion. Collin reached out for something, anything, to grab on to. The cargo hold began to tilt—the far tail section dropped as the nose section, where they were standing, rose up several feet. Everyone was
thrown to the floor. Sounds of bending and twisting metal increased, soon culminating in a loud crash. Everything came to a shuddering stop. The sounds—the tilting of the plane’s angle—spoke for themselves: The tail section of the plane had collapsed under the weight of the passenger car above.
Getting to his knees, Collin saw that more than the tail section had collapsed—nearly half the plane was gone. He got to his feet and yelled, “DiMaggio! Tink … Tami!”
Darren and Humphrey got to their feet, too, and stood looking back at the jet’s significantly reduced cargo hold.
“I’m okay,” came DiMaggio’s voice.
“What happened?” asked Tink weakly.
Collin let out his breath in relief.
“Tami … Oh God. She was farther back. She’s under there,” DiMaggio said, the emotion heavy in his voice.
As much as Collin liked Tami, all he could think about was Lydia. How far back in the plane above had she been when everything collapsed? Was she lying dead beneath tons of twisted metal above them?
“We’re trapped. We’re fucking trapped!” Darren said angrily. He spun toward Collin. “It was your brilliant idea to come down here. Now we’re going to die in this little hell hole and it’s your fault.”
“I didn’t ask you to come down here. In fact, we purposely didn’t tell you where we were going. Have you even thought about who might be dead up in the passenger area?”
Darren’s expression went from anger to fear in a millisecond. “Shit! Bubba … all the guys … the team.”
“Yeah … and how about Lydia … you at all worried about her?”
Collin’s question stunned him. “We have to get back up there. Maybe there’s another access panel.” Almost frantic in his movements, Darren started pacing and looking upward toward the ceiling of the cargo hold.
“There’s no other access to above. At least not where you’re looking,” Collin said.
Humphrey’s cold stare bore down on Collin. “Then where, Frost? How do we get out of here?”
DiMaggio and Tink, a layer of white dust covering their hair and faces, joined Collin’s side. Collin knew DiMaggio was close to Tami; he’d wanted to ask her out ever since their freshman year—but lacked the courage.
“I’m sorry, Paul. Tami … She was …” Collin didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to put words to something so terrible.
DiMaggio simply nodded, his eyes beginning to well up with tears.
“You can cry about her later,” Humphrey said. “Frost, stay focused! Did you have an idea how to get us out of here?”
Collin smacked a magazine into one of the Glocks and handed it—along with one of the holsters—over to DiMaggio.
“You giving that last one to me?” Darren asked.
Collin stood and appraised Darren with disgust. He looked over to Tink, who shook her head.
“Not me … I hate guns.”
Minutes earlier he’d had no intention of giving Darren or Humphrey another weapon. Now things were obviously different. Leaving any of the weapons he’d found behind would be crazy. Collin picked up the remaining Glock, slid in the last remaining magazine, and handed it over to Darren.
He took it and nodded, “Cool.”
Collin handed him the last remaining holster. “You’ll need this too.”
“We’ll each need to carry a load.” He looked over to Humphrey. “That means you too, Humph.”
“What the hell you talking about? I’m not carrying shit … if there’s a way out of here, I’m gone … before I’m flattened.”
“Whatever … Help me out here, DiMaggio,” Collin said, pointing to the two longer hard cases on the floor. DiMaggio passed one of the cases, and then the second, to Collin, who placed them on top of the waist-high stack of remaining satchels and suitcases. Collin used his keys to open the first of the cases and flipped up the lid. The five inhaled.
“Nice,” Darren said.
Collin opened the next case. Now there was little doubt the guns, one a Heckler and Koch MP5, the other an MK48—both machine guns—had belonged to someone in the military. The weapons looked to be fully automatic and neither one was legal to own by civilians—strictly for use by the military.
Chapter 8
Collin, Tink and DiMaggio began transporting the stash of weapons over to the now significantly smaller cargo opening. Five of the largest duffle bags were quickly repacked with various needed clothing items. Darren and Humphrey reluctantly hefted them over to where the weapons lay.
“We’ll have to go through here,” Collin said, gesturing to the blocked cargo opening.
“No way. Have you looked at that wall of crap? Stuff’s packed together way too tight,” Humphrey said, shaking his head.
Collin stepped over to the opening and knelt down. “We’ll have to go down first, then go up again. We’re standing right below and behind the left wing. I’ll go first … find a pathway in this mess and get up on the wing. There’s a cabin door there.”
Tink was already on the move. “I’ll go with you, I’m small.”
Collin turned to DiMaggio and said under his breath, “Watch the weapons.”
“How do we know you’ll come back for us?” Darren asked, his voice sounding more shaky than he’d probably intended.
“Because I wouldn’t leave DiMaggio,” Collin said flatly.
Tink, crouched down low at the forwardmost part of the cargo opening, said, “I don’t see a way out through here, Collin.”
“This is where we’ll need to work as a team.” He turned to Darren, the biggest of the four of them. “We need you three to help lift and separate the closest metal items here.”
“Like hell,” Humphrey said. “Stuff’s too tightly packed.”
Collin moved close to Tink and used his boot to kick at what looked like an old bicycle frame. It moved. “There’s a significant amount of play between everything. Looks like things are clustered mostly here, at the opening. Help get us through here and we should be able to maneuver around in there … at least that’s the plan.”
“Found this. You’ll need it more than we will here.” DiMaggio handed Collin a small bright red Maglite.
Collin moved the Beretta from the back of his pants to one of the pants’ oversized pockets. “DiMaggio … you lift here, at the back of this freezer unit. Darren and Humphrey, you’ll actually need to push up on this and down on that,” Collin said, gesturing.
DiMaggio moved into place, got a good hold on the metal coils at the back of the freezer, and lifted. It moved. He looked over to Darren and Humphrey. “Are you going to help or just stand there?”
They both took up the positions where Collin had indicated and got their hands firmly situated.
“You’re going to die in there, you know. Just letting you know,” Humphrey said.
“Shut up and push, Humph,” DiMaggio said.
The three began to push and pull. Tink hesitated, as if having second thoughts, then moved headfirst into the now two-foot-square opening.
Collin waited until her feet disappeared into the darkness beyond.
“Move it, Sticks, this shit is heavy!” Humphrey yelled.
DiMaggio nodded his agreement. Collin, like Tink, crawled in headfirst. There was enough light to see Tink moving around. She’d come to a stop. “I think you were right. We’ll have to move down first before we can move back up. There’s a big metal shed blocking the way.”
“Yeah, try going down.” Collin watched as she moved a few smaller items—a plastic lawn chair and a mailbox—out of the way. This time she went through the opening feet first, slowly lowering herself until she found something unseen below to stand on.
Collin transferred the Maglite from his hand to between his teeth and began to follow her. Only her head was now visible. Looking back at Collin, Tink’s eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. “Oh my God!”
“What? Did you cut yourself? What is it?”
“I felt something move.”
&nbs
p; “There’s a lot of stuff … things are going to move … shift around.”
“No, Collin! Something alive. It had fur.”
He saw Tink trying to look down at her feet through all the clustered stuff.
“Just keep going. Probably a squirrel or something.”
“It’s the ‘or something’ that scares me.”
Collin watched as Tink disappeared. The sound of metal objects being pushed aside let him know she was okay. “Finding a way through down there?” he asked, maneuvering his own feet into the narrow opening.
“Yeah. There’s actually more room to move around in, once you get down here. Come on down.”
Collin wasn’t having quite as easy a time maneuvering as Tink, but he eventually got into the open space where she was waiting. He took the Maglite from between his teeth and played the beam around them.
“There. We can crawl back up the other side of the shed, right there,” Tink said.
Collin saw what she was referring to. “What is that?”
“I think it’s a jungle gym, lying on its side.” Tink half crawled, half slid, over to the metal bars and began pulling herself up through the lattice of rounded metal. “It’s like a ladder … easy-peezy.”
Collin followed right behind her. As she climbed nearly straight up, he was prepared to follow when his flashlight caught something in its beam: two intensely bright green eyes thirty feet away.
“You know, it might help if you’d shine that light in front of me so I can see where I’m going,” Tink said, looking down at Collin. Curious, she followed the beam of the light. “Oh shit. What the hell is that?”
“Probably a cat. Just keep going.” She began climbing twice as fast as before.
Collin too climbed fast. What he hadn’t mentioned to Tink was that he’d seen, in the dim light, more than something with two eyes. The partial face wasn’t that of a cat—or a squirrel—or any mammal he was aware of on Earth. This creature looked like a person … a man—but one covered in fur. A wolf man. His mind flashed back to the old black and white Lon Chaney movie. “Keep going, don’t stop,” Collin urged.
Lone Star Renegades Page 4
