Donovan removed his bulletproof vest; the twists and gyrations were painful. Then he handed over his Sig. From the back, Donovan saw Stephanie’s camera bag, Eva’s vest, the first-aid kit, as well as a bag of tools being passed forward. Buck added his machine gun, ammo, knife, and a pistol. The former SEAL cracked the door and, careful not to hit any part of the plane, tossed each item into the lake. The Cessna slowly clawed upward until the altimeter finally showed that they’d reached the five thousand nine hundred fifty feet required.
“We made it,” Donovan transmitted. “But it won’t climb another foot higher. We have no margin for error.”
“Donovan, as you run up the valley toward the pass,” Lauren’s voice came over the speaker, “fly over the lava flow coming down from the cone. The heat from the lava will be rising, it’ll be just like what sailplanes use to gain lift. The thermal effect of the rising air should help lift you above the top of the ridgeline.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Be a glider pilot, circle inside the thermal until you have what you need, though I have no idea what the temperature increase does to your engine.”
Donovan thought back to a trip he and Lauren had taken to the Swiss Alps. They’d both been transfixed by the glider pilots as they wheeled silently in their long, slender-winged machines in the rarified air high above them. He doubted he had enough room to turn the Cessna but kept the thought to himself. He looked down at his engine instruments. At full power, the cylinder head and oil temperature gauges were already uncomfortably high. If it ingested superheated air, the engine would quickly start breaking down. The fleeting glimpse of blue sky in the distance was enticing, but the lava, ash and debris, intermittently splashing into the water, told him there was the equivalent of an aerial minefield between them and safety.
“Let’s do this,” Donovan transmitted and banked the Cessna to the south. “The ash is swirling in the pass. I might not always be able to see the ground. John, it’s your job to keep me over the lava flow and out of the rocks.”
“We going?” Buck asked.
Donovan nodded, and then looked back into the expectant faces of his passengers. “Strap in tight. This is going to get rough.”
Stephanie put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
Donovan tightened his seat belt, the lake below had turned dark and gray. He could feel the heat and a rivulet of sweat trickled down from his temple. He squinted through the ash that came rushing past the windshield like snow in a blizzard. A quick glance told him the temperature had already climbed another forty degrees. He wondered if they would all slowly cook in the small aluminum oven that was the Cessna.
The first jolt of turbulence surprised him with its fury. The Cessna rose gently then shuddered as it slammed into the unseen air currents. Marie cried out in fear from behind him, but Donovan couldn’t look back to reassure her. He couldn’t even reassure himself as the Cessna bucked in his hands. He shot a furtive glance at the thermometer—the heat had increased dramatically as they hurtled into the curtain of ash. Donovan’s eyes burned as if he were standing too close to an open oven. The air in the cabin became dry and hot. It was painful breathing, and there were particles of ash floating freely around him.
The controls lurched in his hands as the Cessna rode the turbulence and climbed. Donovan kept his eyes glued to the altimeter. He couldn’t afford to lose any altitude or they would careen into the rocks below. Debris being thrown from the volcano started pounding the Cessna. Donovan tensed as dime-sized nicks were left in the plastic windscreen. A crack in the Plexiglas arced out from one impact site. The terrain rose up on both sides. Turning back was no longer an option. He pressed on, wiping the sweat that was now stinging his eyes. They rode out another wave of turbulence that slammed them up and down in the gray nothingness. A momentary break in the ash let Donovan see straight down into a river of fire. The airplane shuddered as the rising heat pushed the struggling Cessna upward.
“Turn left, ten degrees,” John’s voice came through the speaker.
Donovan knew that somewhere behind them, the Scimitar had a clear view inside the maelstrom. He corrected his heading just as a larger rock hit the metal above his head. The sharp reverberation made his ears ring. He urged the Cessna to hold together, his body drenched in sweat as he fought to hold his heading and altitude—the two things that would get them through safely. A glance at the engine instruments told Donovan time was running out. Each needle had climbed into the red.
A vivid flash of lightning lit up the darkness. Donovan winced as he tried to blink away the spots that danced before his eyes. He knew that the discharge had come from them, that they were generating tremendous amounts of static electricity as they flew through the ash. The tips of the propeller blades glowed brightly in the darkness that surrounded them. More debris pelted the thin aluminum skin, and Donovan had no idea if the Cessna would hold together.
“How much further?” Buck called out.
Donovan didn’t reply—the heat burned his throat as he inhaled, his eyes were tiny tear-filled slits. He could hardly see the instruments, his vision blurry in the heat. In an instant the engine missed a beat, then another. Quickly, and with fatal certainty, the engine began to tear itself apart, and the propeller ground to a halt.
Donovan felt the Cessna begin to settle. Forward visibility briefly improved to a quarter of a mile, and he could now see the top of the ridge. They weren’t going to clear the burning trees. The Cessna wallowed through the air, the stall warning horn blared, filling the cabin. The airspeed was bleeding off, and Donovan couldn’t stop the process. He lowered one notch of flaps in a desperate attempt to increase the lift, but nothing changed. There was no room to turn, no place to crash land. All their options were gone.
“Are we going to clear the trees?” Buck shouted and pointed out the front of the plane. “Donovan, talk to me! Are we going to make it?”
Donovan glanced at Buck and solemnly shook his head. “No. We’re going down.”
“Fly this thing out of here!” Buck yelled, then, in one swift motion released his seat belt, opened the door, and pushed himself free of the plane.
Donovan had no time to react, no time to reach out and stop his friend. Buck’s words echoed in his head as he felt the airplane respond. In shock, Donovan eased back on the controls. Two hundred pounds lighter, the Cessna’s performance improved enough to give Donovan a fragment of hope.
Donovan put the Cessna over the center of the lava flow in hopes of gaining whatever lift he could. Straight ahead was the tree-lined ridge top, the vegetation engulfed in flames. He aimed the Cessna at the lowest spot, holding the controls tightly as branches beat the bottom of the floats. Every muscle in his body strained against the coming impact when the battered Cessna burst free into the clear air on the south side of the volcano.
The temperature dropped rapidly, and Donovan wiped the tears from his eyes. Spread out below them were sloping hills filled with the terraced fields of coffee growers. Donovan pegged the Cessna at its best glide speed and did everything he could to put as much distance between them and the volcano.
The empty seat next to him burned in his chest. Sorrow welled up inside and tears ran from his eyes. Donovan had to fight through his grief and begin the search for a place to land the Cessna. From his left side, the Scimitar raced past. Donovan understood, wiped the tears from his eyes, then banked the Cessna to follow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Lauren had watched in horrifying real time as Donovan had flown up the lava flow, losing altitude. As the Cessna descended, she’d seen Michael begin to shake his head in denial, his fingers turning white as he gripped the back of John’s chair. In one terrible instant, an object had fallen away from the Cessna and landed in the lava. Moments later, the Cessna clipped the burning limbs at the top of the ridge and somehow kept going.
“What did we just see?” John said. “Hang on, I’m going to replay it.”
“Don’t! Don’t e
ver play that again—for anyone,” Lauren snapped. The tears came slowly, as if her subconscious wouldn’t allow the full impact of Buck’s death to reach her. The optics aboard the Scimitar had allowed her to recognize him before he’d dropped from the field of view. The image was burned into her psyche and, with each passing moment, the magnitude of the loss seeped deeper as a solitary tear trickled down her cheek. A wounded sob erupted from somewhere deep, and she began to shake from the intensity of her tears. She covered her face, leaned over, and cried. She wept for Buck, for his family, for all the people he’d touched, and all the lives he’d saved. Lauren couldn’t shut off the kaleidoscope of images that played in her mind.
She remembered the first time she met him, the lethality that he kept just under the surface, yet the kind and considerate manner in which he always conducted himself. How he’d protected Abigail, always thoughtful as to the effect his presence might have on the toddler. Abigail loved him. They all loved him. Buck had meant so much to her and Abigail over the years, his calm demeanor, and his quiet confidence. He’d always seemed to know when to talk and when she’d needed solitude. He’d always been there for her. A phone call and he’d come to her rescue. Now all of that was lost forever. In a final act of selfless bravery, he’d saved the lives of four more people, including Donovan and Stephanie, and she’d never be able to thank him. She cried for her husband, she had no idea what he would be feeling. The empty seat next to him would be heart wrenching. He’d lost so many people. How would he cope with losing Buck?
Wracking sobs pummeled her as she felt arms reach around her and pull her close. She looked up and found Michael, tears streaked down from his pain-filled eyes. Beyond him stood William, his face etched with shock and disbelief.
“I can’t raise them on the radio, so I maneuvered the Scimitar past the Cessna’s left wing. I think the abrasion from the ash took out the Cessna’s antenna. I’ll use the Scimitar and start searching for a clearing, a road, anywhere Donovan can set the airplane down.”
Lauren watched as John focused the synthetic aperture radar image on the ground. At each possible spot, he’d zoom in and wait for Michael to make a determination. On the third try, John zoomed in on a road. It ran uphill slightly, with some kind of crop planted on both sides that would give the wings plenty of clearance. At the end, the road made a sharp turn as it reached a grove of trees.
“That’s perfect!” Michael slapped John on the back. “Now fly back to the Cessna and do whatever it takes to get Donovan to follow the Scimitar back to that spot. He’ll know what to do when he sees what I see.”
“How can he land a floatplane on a road?” John asked.
“Because he’s flying an amphibian, he has wheels. Remember when they took off from the runway in Guatemala City?”
“He’s right behind us,” John called out, as he found the Cessna and zoomed in on Donovan. Lauren could see her husband’s long hair and beard streaked white with ash. Tears ran from his eyes, and Lauren felt her heart break a little more at the sight. She caught sight of Stephanie in the back, a young girl’s arms wrapped around her neck. Hidden in the shadows sat Eva. Lauren turned to William who stood next to her. Whatever he’d done over the years, what she saw this instant was an elderly man getting a glimpse of the niece he’d thought he’d lost. He tried to force a smile, but couldn’t.
As John banked the Scimitar toward the section of road that Michael had selected for the emergency landing, Donovan followed.
“Where’s Janie?” Michael asked.
“She’s headed this way. She should be on the scene within minutes of them touching down.”
“Thank you, John,” Michael said, and then turned to Lauren. “We’ll get through this.”
Lauren loved Michael for his encouragement. He was trying to hold everyone together until the Cessna was safely on the ground.
Michael turned back to the screen. “How far to the road?”
“Two miles,” John replied.
“How high is he above the ground?” Michael asked, a new sense of urgency in his voice.
“They’re twelve hundred feet above the section of road,” John said.
Michael squinted and cocked his head as he did the calculations. “That’s enough. It’ll be close. John, as fast as you can, use the Scimitar to circle the spot we found. The sooner Donovan can see what we have in mind, the better off he’ll be.”
Lauren clutched onto the reassurance that Donovan had Michael looking out for him.
“I’m there,” John said, as the Scimitar reached the road and then climbed away from the opening in the trees. He leveled off and then threw the Scimitar into a tight-banked turn only a hundred feet off the ground. John zoomed in on the Cessna, and they all watched as Donovan rocked the wings in acknowledgment.
“He sees it,” Michael said. “Where’s Janie?”
“She’s coming in fast from the west,” John replied. “Her ETA is five minutes.”
“Is she going to be able to land on the road?” William asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” Michael replied. “Either way, the new helicopter has a rescue hoist. They’ll get them all out safely. John, position the Scimitar to the east so we can see what’s happening without getting in anyone’s way.”
“Will do,” John nodded, and with a gentle flick of his wrist he climbed the Scimitar and set up a holding pattern, keeping all the cameras focused on the gliding Cessna.
Lauren took in the motionless prop, the damaged float, and the blackened, dented skin of the airplane Donovan was trying to land, and had no idea how any of this could turn out well.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Donovan spotted the Scimitar climb away from the road, effectively marking his spot. He was thankful that John had been so quick to find him a place to land. The interior of the plane was remarkably quiet, the air rushing only a whisper. He judged his descent rate and distance. Everything had to be just right; there wouldn’t be a second chance.
The road snaked up from a series of buildings, leveled out for perhaps eight hundred feet, and then turned up another hill. If he landed short they’d be in the trees; landing long would produce the same result. The drag from the float was the wildcard, forcing Donovan to do it all by feel the first time.
He tried to picture Michael’s description of the damage to the float. The Cessna’s heavy main wheels were housed inside each pontoon. If Donovan had to guess, they were located farther aft than the damage. The main wheels were stressed for the impact of landing. Hopefully, they would extend, but he wouldn’t know until they touched down.
Donovan turned toward the women, forcing himself to look past the empty seat next to him. “Is everyone buckled in as tight as possible?”
“Yes,” Stephanie replied.
“There’s a section of road that should work like a runway, but we’re going to treat it as a crash landing,” Donovan said. “When I tell you to, I want everyone to assume the position, heads down, and hands over your head. Once we come to a stop, unbuckle, and we’ll get out of the plane as quickly as possible.”
“Donovan,” Eva leaned forward and whispered so that only he could hear. “Whatever happens, don’t return Marie to her grandfather. She belongs with her mother in California. I have a feeling your wife knows what I’m talking about.”
Donovan nodded his understanding. He eyed the slender ribbon of dirt carved out of the forest and lowered the first notch of flaps. Seconds later he moved the lever on the console that lowered the gear. He heard noises from below, which told him that something had happened, but the light on the panel indicated the gear was unsafe. He wouldn’t know if the gear was down until they landed.
He lowered the next segment of flaps and allowed the Cessna to slow to seventy knots. He’d wait as long as possible to make sure he’d reach the road before he selected full flaps. Off the left wing, Mt. Atitlán loomed large. The rising plume drifted east, obscuring the entire sky. Donovan gave his own seat belt one last pull, then set the fla
ps to full, and the airplane slowed dramatically.
He cleared the trees, and the instant before they hit the road, Donovan eased back on the elevator and flared. The stall warning horn sounded and they touched. The vibration from the uneven surface shook the airplane violently and instantly the Cessna tried to veer left, off the road.
Donovan was helpless to do anything as the Cessna plunged into a shallow ditch that lined the road. In a painful shriek of tortured metal, the impact tore the already damaged floats from the airframe and spun the airplane sideways as they ripped through the field of thigh-high coffee plants. Acting like a net, the plants served to slow the Cessna quickly. In a roiling cloud of plants and soil, the airplane spun to an abrupt stop.
From the back of the plane, Donovan could hear Marie’s sobs. Stephanie let out a slow groan of pain that galvanized Donovan into action. He released his seat belt, popped open the door. With the floats gone, the fuselage rested on the soft ground. Donovan crawled out of the cockpit into the dirt, turned, and peered into the rear of the cabin.
“I may have broken my ankle,” Stephanie said through clenched teeth.
Eva untied the elastic bandage holding the gauze patch to her face. She pointed to a piece of aluminum laying in the dirt and Donovan quickly retrieved it, then bent it slightly and handed it to Eva, who gently fashioned a crude but effective splint for Stephanie’s ankle.
“Sit tight,” Donovan said to Stephanie, as Eva, who was closest to the door, began to crawl from the plane. Marie, hesitant to leave Stephanie, finally inched toward Donovan, taking his offered hand. With Eva and Marie free of the plane, Donovan eased in and sat next to Stephanie.
“I can’t move my foot at all,” Stephanie said.
“Okay, this might hurt a little, but I need to get you out of here.”
Stephanie nodded and unfastened her seat belt. Donovan backed out of the cramped space and inched her toward the door. He slid his arms beneath her and lifted her free from the Cessna. He ignored his pain and carefully set her on the ground beneath the wing.
Aftershock: A Donovan Nash Novel (A Donovan Nash Thriller) Page 24
