by Haydn Jones
“I can’t do this.” Boeker said. “It’s fucking suicide!”
“Can I take the controls and show you that I know what I’m doing?” McPherson asked.
“Sir, we have ten minutes of fuel left and landing coordinates are coming through,” the First Officer reported.
“Well, Captain? We’re running out of time.”
“Go ahead.” Boeker’s resolve was broken and he started shaking uncontrollably. His nerve had gone. “We’re all going to fucking die anyway,” he shouted in shear panic.
McPherson quickly sat in the Captain’s seat, connected his mic and head phones called the tower and told them that they were entering the new landing site coordinates and that their ETA was seven minutes.
“First Officer, I’m going to need you.”
“Let’s do it,” came the reply.
McPherson banked the plane to the right and headed east. “Gentlemen, we’re going to a little known beauty spot, thirty-miles past the mouth of Delaware Bay. Everyone to their seats, fasten your belts, assume brace position and prepare for a crash landing. Crew be ready to evacuate the plane into water and may God be with us.”
Sixty-Three
Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Wisconsin Avenue, Washington DC.
Hunter held Vicki in his arms as she sobbed uncontrollably. He’d explained the situation to her and now she was minutes away from knowing if Robert would live or die. The thought of life without him was unbearable. He was her soul mate and she loved him, unconditionally. She pulled away and sat next to Daniel’s bed wiping her tears with a tissue. He was asleep and his condition was worsening. Vicki held his limp hand in an attempt to comfort him. Images of Rob’s smiling face flashed through her mind and she broke down again. Hunter hadn’t told her how bad Daniel really was. He wanted to wait until Rob returned, so that he could give her the support she desperately needed. Hunter was now beginning to regret that decision.
Vicki looked at Hunter through red, tearful eyes. “It doesn’t get much worse than this does it? My whole world is just about to collapse around me. He’s not going to survive, is he? And my son is dying.”
Hunter said nothing because he couldn’t find adequate words of comfort. Tears welled up in eyes. He kept thinking that if he hadn’t arranged the flight, Rob would back home now, comforting her, and the thought was playing on his mind. This is a cruel world we live in.
Sixty-Four
On the Presidential Plane
McPherson could see the mouth of the Delaware Bay and the lighthouse to his right, as he flew low, out to sea. The First Officer was calling out their speed and height every few seconds. “Two-hundred knots and five-hundred-feet, Robert.”
“Thank you. Here we go guys, there’s no going back now.” McPherson throttled back and the engines slowed.
“One hundred and eighty knots — Four-hundred feet.”
McPherson checked the giro. The plane was level and there was no side wind of any consequence.
“Approaching landing speed; two-hundred feet, one-hundred and fifty feet. One-hundred-feet.” McPherson could see the sea, closing in by the second.
“BRACE YOURSELVES GUYS — THIS IS IT,” he shouted as he checked the giro again.
Terrified, Captain Boeker cried out, “PLEASE GOD — SPARE US.”
Then there was a heavy thud and the plane lunged forward before another heavy thud seconds later. Cries of panic started coming from below like desperate slaves trapped in the hold of a sinking, colonial ship. The Jumbo’s huge mass was bouncing off the sea like a child’s beach pebble on the shoreline.
McPherson waited for the next lunge that would throw them all forwards in their seats and as it happened he cut the engines. He fought to keep the plane horizontal as it quickly slowed. The next heavy thud was the last. The plane had come to rest, intact, listing to port. The steaming jet engines, quenched by the cold sea sent clouds of steam into the air around the plane.
“Who needs wheels anyway?” he said, smiling. Looking out of the cockpit window, he could see the welcoming committee arriving.
“YOU DID IT— YOU DID IT — YOU FUCKING GENIUS,” shouted the First Office.
Captain Boeker broke down in tears, sobbing like a baby.
“Lets get out of here, guys,” McPherson said, impatiently.
In the White House and around the world cheers rang out as people watched the landing on television. The sky around the 747 was full of helicopters and the sea was full of boats all eager to witness the rescue of the passengers from the plane that defied all the odds.
The President looked on smiling. “That pilot is going to get a medal.”
All the plane’s emergency exists opened and shoots automatically deployed together with large inflatable dinghies. The cabin crew quickly ushered everyone to the escape exits and immediately started the evacuation.
The atmosphere was unbelievably calm under the circumstances and soon it was the turn of McPherson to leave the plane and slide down the escape chute to the awaiting orange dinghy. He checked his jacket inside pocket and, reassuringly, felt the crystal.
‘Go,’ someone shouted, and he raised his arms above his head and slid down the chute. At the bottom someone had collapsed backwards, blocking his exit. McPherson was thrown forwards over the man and the crystal dropped from his pocket, hit the side of the dinghy, and dropped into the sea.
Sixty-Five
The Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Wisconsin Avenue, Washington, DC.
Rob McPherson stood in the doorway, dejected; knowing he had failed. It was less than one hour ago when he landed the 747 on the sea and had been picked up by helicopter and flown straight to the Walter Reed Medical Centre. He was unshaven and his hair was matted and lank as he gazed at Daniel, asleep in bed. Vicki was asleep in the chair next to the bed and she looked pale from exhaustion. For a moment McPherson just looked; his eyes full of tears. His personal mission was to bring the healing crystal back — the crystal that would save his dying son — the crystal he’d watched fall into the sea as he’d screamed with anguish.
The rehearsed words of apology bounced around his head, still not properly formulated. Nervously, he walked into the room to wake his wife, but as he did, a quiet voice behind him said, “Robert — let her sleep awhile.”
McPherson turned to see the two aliens in the doorway. One of them was holding something with both hands.
“The crystal! I dropped it in the ocean, escaping from the plane.”
“Yes, we know Robert…Our mission is over now and thanks to you, the balance has been restored. It means we can return home.”
The alien holding the crystal said: “We came to thank you and say goodbye.”
“You’re thanking me? It’s me who should be thanking you. You saved our lives on that plane today.”
“We did what was necessary, that’s all.” He then offered up the crystal. “I think you need this, Robert.”
McPherson took the crystal and kissed it.
“You know what to do,” the alien said.
Robert McPherson turned to look at his son. “Yes, I do, thank you…thank you.”
“Where is, your, home?” McPherson asked, but when he looked there was nobody there.
He placed the crystal on Daniel’s chest and gently wrapped his sleeping son’s cold hands around it.
Tears of joy ran down McPherson’s cheeks as he watched a miracle happen. “Mission accomplished, darling,” he said, proudly, to his sleeping wife.
-The End-
Author’s Notes
The following morning the crystal went missing, and was never seen again.
Two days later, Ahmed Shah was killed in the mountains of Afghanistan, by an unmanned drone.
Twenty-five years later, Daniel Robert McPherson would be a household name in the USA, as one of the greatest quarterbacks that ever lived.
Thank you for buying The Angels of Destiny, I hope you enjoyed the story.
The fina
l book in this trilogy entitled ‘The Nine Men’ will be available in 2016. Visit my website for updates on the release date
My other novels are:
The Devil and the Unicorn
The Journal of Harry Somerville
If you would like to read more of my novels please visit my website at: haydnjones-author.com or
visit smashwords.com
