Flight 3430

by Druga, Jacqueline

  No one was around to help.

  The entire area was dead bodies, it was too horrible to comprehend. He didn’t know where to go, what to do. Was there even a safe place?

  It took four hours and twenty-three minutes, five cylinders of oxygen before the levels normalized and Gary could remove the mask of his SCBA. He would keep them handy, just in case. At least he knew he had a few seconds warning.

  He’d never forget that feeling of there being no air. Nothing to breathe in or out. That sinking feeling in his chest and gut.

  Carrying the SCBA over his shoulder, he broke the glass door to a pub, stepping inside. It was the first place he thought about for a television.

  The power was still on and he turned on the television.

  Nothing.

  A blue screen.

  He located the remote behind the bar and flipped through channels. It was useless.

  After grabbing a bottle of water, he left that bar and headed back toward the truck.

  Gary thought about going back to the fire station or the police station. Try the radio there when he heard it.

  How could he not.

  The town around him had become eerily silent and the slightest noise carried as if blasted through a megaphone.

  Standing in the street he heard the high whirling sound. An airplane.

  It grew louder and closer.

  Gary didn’t need to look to far for it. A passenger plane flew overhead frighteningly low, so low not only could he see the name Blue Horizon, he saw the wheels down. If the landing gear was engaged, someone lowered it.

  Which meant someone was alive on that plane.

  It was low, it was close. They were landing.

  With Salt Lake City International Airport only ten miles north, Gary knew exactly where he had to go.

  He hurried to the truck and headed to the airport.

  NINE – LOOSE ENDS

  Flight 3430 – Salt Lake City, Utah

  With almost every fiber of his being, Tom was certain Gabe would be alright, he’d be fine.

  Almost every fiber.

  There was a small part that worried. Not that his son couldn’t execute the refueling process, but that maybe outside of the plane, everything really wasn’t fine.

  Then again, if that were the case, they were all doomed. There wasn’t enough fuel to take off again and the onboard oxygen flow only lasted at most, fifteen minutes.

  Tom fussed with the plastic Ziploc bag full of small bottles of booze. He wanted to take one, down it, but knew that wouldn’t help calm his nerves. At least get that song out of his head.

  The song became an earworm instantly. Not only did Tom get a sinking gut punch feeling the second Gabe raised his hand, but when he stood up and walked to the front of the plane, bam … it hit him.

  “We need someone to go with my copilot, leave through the cargo,” the pilot said. “And get the truck to refuel. If you have any experience in this, please, we need your help. Every minute counts.” He then saw Gabe’s raised hand. “Do you have experience or are you just volunteering?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gabe replied. “I worked at Denver International for six years, three of those as an aircraft refueling mechanic.”

  Something was said by the captain, but the blood rushed so fiercely to Tom’s ears he didn’t hear it.

  He did hear his oldest son when he jokingly said, “If you didn’t volunteer, I was gonna tell them you knew how. Dude … be careful.”

  “I will.”

  Then Gabe stood up.

  ‘Billy, don’t be a hero, don’t be a fool with your life’

  It was strange how that happened, an old song from the seventies, one about war popping into Tom’s head.

  But it wasn’t so much the chorus of the song that caused it. It was the second verse.

  The sergeant cried we got to hang on boys. We got to hold his piece of ground. I need a volunteer to ride up and bring us back some extra men. Billy’s hand was up in a moment …

  So was Gabe’s, and proud of his son or not. Tom just wanted to vomit.

  The time had come.

  Gabe buckled into the jump seat directly behind the cockpit. He had a hand radio resting on his lap and looked down to his phone for any texts from Gene.

  His thumbs moved as he felt the plane lower. “How’s it going?” Gabe texted.

  “Good. Your levels are good. But they’re building.”

  Gabe nodded, looked up and saw his father. He returned to texting. “I won’t have my phone while I am fueling. It will be in the truck. Pilot will have one. I have a radio.”

  “I will keep in touch.”

  “How much time?” Gabe asked.

  “An hour. Tops.”

  “From now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Landing now.”

  “Good luck.”

  Gabe stayed focused. Immediately he set the time on his phone for forty-five minutes. When it went off that would give him enough time to safely remove the fuel line and get back on the plane.

  It was all going to happen so fast. The moment they landed and started to head toward the tarmac, the co-pilot Lance would join Gabe and they’d go below. The main reason for that was, it was closer to the ground and there was an emergency rope ladder there as well.

  The plane touched down and Gabe felt the flutter in his stomach. He kept looking out to the main cabin to see his father, maybe even his brother. But he couldn’t see Owen.

  Once he felt the pressure of the landing begin to subside, Gabe undid his belt.

  The aircraft slowed down and he stood. When he did, he made eye contact with his father.

  There it was, Gabe thought. It was that look, the look of his father that told Gabe he had it. The same one his father had when he got up to bat at little league, or when he took his driver’s license exam.

  The cockpit door opened and Lance emerged. A man about his father’s age, same build, not quite as tall as his dad.

  Lance undid the lock on the hatch on the floor directly by the galley. He lifted it and looked at Gabe. “Let’s do this.” He then climbed down. Gabe placed the radio in his back pocket and followed.

  They emerged into the forward cargo bay. At first Lance stood straight, then as he made his way to the door, he bent over, finally getting down on hands and knees. He waited by the side cargo door for Gabe.

  It wasn’t tall, but it was wide.

  Attached to the wall next to the door was the emergency rope and Lance grabbed it.

  “We get down, I’ll prep the plane, you run and get the truck.”

  “Got it.”

  “You sure you can do this?” Lance asked.

  “I’m positive. Unless this airport is different, there should be a fueling truck not far.” Gabe lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “He knows to pull near a fueling area, right?”

  “I assume.” Lance smiled. “I’m sure he does.”

  It seemed like forever to Gabe, the plane moved slowly, rolling along. Did the pilot realize they didn’t have much time?

  Finally, the plane came to a full stop, and Lance reached for the handle to open the door.

  It was at that moment, that precise moment that Gabe was struck with fear. It didn’t last long, only briefly when Lance opened that door.

  Would the air be safe? Could Gabe breathe? Or were those final moments he could have spent with his family wasted sitting in a flight attendant seat wishing he could speak to his brother.

  Air.

  Gabe felt the warm air hit him. It didn’t smell bad and he was still alive so that accounted for something. He leaned toward the door, peering out.

  “There.” Gabe pointed. “I think I see a truck. A hundred yards up by …” His words slowed down. He expected to see planes, luggage carts, he didn’t expect to see bodies.

  Baggage handlers, ground crew, all lay there.

  “Jesus,” Gabe gasped out.

  “It’s hard, try not to look. Just focus.” Lance hooked up the ladder and
lowered it.

  “I will.” Gabe turned his body and immediately climbed down. He jumped the last wrung, landing flat on his feet. He turned to see Lance begin his climb, then Gabe took off running.

  He didn’t make it far when he heard it.

  How could he not.

  It was so quiet. So eerily quiet, everything echoed.

  It was a thump along with a crack.

  Gabe stopped, looked back and saw Lance on the ground.

  Immediately, he spun back around and raced to Lance.

  That sound, the cracking sound, did he hear Lance break something. He prayed it wasn’t his skull and even sighed in relief when he saw Lance move.

  He lay on the ground, extending his chest upward as his arms extended and he wretched visibly in pain.

  “Lance.” Gabe crouched down to him.

  Lance grunted loudly which transformed into a low groan. “Oh, God, I think I broke my leg or my hip.”

  “Here let me help …”

  “No!” Lance barked. “Go. We don’t have much time.”

  Gabe hit his hand to the ground in frustration, stood and ran again. This time he pulled out the radio. “Captain, come in.”

  “What’s up, Gabe?” the Captain replied.

  “Lance fell from the hold. He’s down. He’s injured. I need help with him.”

  “Roger that.”

  Lance placed the radio in his pocket. The truck was in sight. It was close. He had to focus on that.

  Why was his brother alone?

  That was Owen’s thought. It was his understanding that Gabe and the co-pilot were going to get the fuel truck, but all he saw was his brother running across the apron.

  “Dad?” Owen called for his father’s attention. “Gabe’s by himself.”

  Tom lifted his head, leaning across the aisle to look. “Maybe the co-pilot is staying with the plane.”

  Delaney spoke up. “I don’t think so.”

  Owen looked at her to question why she would say that and she was focused forward. It was then Owen saw the pilot walking back.

  “Something tells me,” Owen said softly. “He’s coming for us.”

  “I think so, too,” Delaney said then cleared her throat.

  Exhaling heavily, the pilot stopped at their row. “Can I bother you two please?’

  “Sure,” Tom said. “What’s up?”

  The pilot tossed his head back as a way to show Tom and Owen he needed them up front.

  Tom handed Delaney the baggy of booze and was the first to stand.

  “Good luck,” Delaney said softly to Owen as he scooted by her.

  “Feel like I’m going to the principal’s office.”

  It felt obvious to Owen everyone watched as he made his way to the front of the plane behind his father. Once up near the cockpit right by the open hatch in the floor, the captain closed the curtain.

  “Already too many are anxious and scared,” he said. “My co-pilot, Lance, is down. Gabe radioed he fell from the cargo door. I need to get him up here and I’m sure Gabe will need help.”

  “Say no more,” Tom waved out his hand. “We’ll go down there.”

  “Your son has a radio. Stay in touch.” The Captain looked at his watch. “We have forty-one minutes.”

  “Until?” Tom asked.

  The Captain shook his head. “I don’t know. Another one of those eruptions maybe. Your friend Gene said be in the air. We will be in the air.”

  “Then we better get moving,” Tom replied.

  “Once you get down to the forward cargo, to the right you’ll see a shorter door, you’ll have to crouch or crawl, but that will lead you to the outer door.”

  Owen nodded and climbed down first, waited for his father, then with the Captain’s directions made his way to the open cargo door.

  He peeked out, saw Lance on the ground, trying to scoot to a sitting position, but giving up every inch he moved. One hook of the ladder was attached to the doorway, the other dangled. Owen grabbed it and reconnected it.

  “Dad, you go first.”

  “No, you.”

  “No, I’ll hold this for you. If it gives again, we don’t need another old guy on the ground with a broken hip.”

  “Ha, ha, ha.” Tom shook his head, turned his body and climbed down.

  As Owen held tight to the hooks, he watched the white fueling truck, his brother behind the wheel, pull up.

  After his father had made it down, Owen took his turn. He kept glancing up to the open doorway, watching the ladder, preparing himself in case it let loose.

  It didn’t.

  When he reached the ground, his father was tending to Lance and Gabe rushed as he connected hoses, cranked handles. Owen wasn’t sure what all it entailed for Gabe to fuel the plane, but he was glad his brother at least looked like he knew what he was doing.

  “How the hell …” Owen looked to the door, speaking to his father. “Are we going to get him up there and then up the cargo ladder?”

  Gabe answered as he pushed a rolling ladder to the wing. “We don’t.”

  “You mean use that?” Owen asked.

  “No,” Gabe spoke as he worked on the wing. “There is a container loader back there. We’ll use that. We’ll radio the captain to open the service door.”

  “I’m sorry,” Owen said. “I have no idea what a container loader is.”

  Gabe brought his arm around, pointing behind him as he focused on the wing of the plane. “See that big blue vehicle over there. Flat top? That top raises. We load him on there, raise it, go in.” Gabe climbed down the ladder, walked back over to the truck and gabbed the wide hose. “Dad, it drives like heavy equipment. Just pretend you’re on a construction site.”

  “Will, do,” Tom replied, then laid his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I’ll be back, we’ll get you up there and find that first aid kit.” He quickly looked at Owen. “Is that funny?”

  “First aid kit. Sorry. I don’t think that will work because I’m pretty sure this protruding bump by his hip, is a bone.”

  Lance groaned out. “Just anything, I need off this ground.”

  “You’re far better on the ground then in a little seat,” Owen said.

  “Owen,” Tom snapped. “What the hell? Compassion. Your bedside manner sucks.”

  “I sell phone and electronics, I don’t practice a bedside manner.”

  Grumbling, Tom stood straight, walked a few feet only toward the blue vehicle and stopped. “What the hell?”

  “What?” Owen asked.

  “Is that a pickup truck speeding this way?” Tom shielded his eyes.

  Slowly, Owen stood to look, when he did the horn on the truck started beeping.

  TEN – THREE MINUTES

  Flight 3430 Salt Lake City

  Last lever was raised, all hoses grounded and connected, and Gabe started the flow of fuel. He looked at his watch.

  A full tank would take forty minutes. He didn’t have that. They would be nearly full and that was good enough, hopefully. The event would pass and they’d be able to land anywhere.

  When the oncoming truck driver started beeping his horn, Gabe swore it was his phone alarm, even though they sounded nothing alike. Some weird thing in his mind believed the sudden beeping had to be none other than an alarm. What else could it be?

  Then he watched the truck.

  Someone was alive.

  If it weren’t for all the dead bodies on the apron, Gabe would have wondered if Salt Lake was fine and Gene was off.

  Then he watched the truck pull to a sideways, stop and a man, wearing firefighter gear, stepped from the driver’s side with a look of utter shock.

  “Holy shit. You survived,” he said, rushing over.

  Tom walked to the firefighter. “You, too.”

  “Barely. I thought everyone died,” he said, extending his hand “Gary.”

  “Tom. That’s my son by the plane, Gabe, the other is my son Owen.”

  “Just you four?” Gary asked.

  G
abe would have moved, but he had to closely monitor the fueling. He gave an upwards motion of his head. “We have a plane full.”

  “Were you supposed to land here?” he asked.

  “Hardly. We barely made it here.” Gabe replied.

  “Do you need help?” Gary asked.

  Owen walked over. “As a matter of fact, yeah, we do. We have a man down with a broken leg or hip, femur I think. I’m pretty sure.”

  “Oh that’s bad,” he said. “He could die from that.”

  Even in the distance, it was apparent Lance heard. He yelled out. “Oh my God, what?”

  “It’s fine,” Gary yelled over, then dropped his voice to a whisper and shook his head. “It’s not fine. We better hope it’s the hip. Broken femur can be fatal.”

  “We need to get him up on the plane,” Owen said. “We’re gonna use a container loader.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Tom pointed to the truck. “I’m going to get that lift now.”

  “All right, and I have a first aid kit in the truck,” Gary said.

  Owen exhaled and looked at Gabe. “Why does everyone think a first aid kit is gonna do it.”

  “I don’t know man,” Gabe told him. “Just get him on the plane and do it fast. I have to finish this.”

  “That,” Gary indicated. “Is something I can help with when it’s done.”

  “Good. Good. Help them get Lance on the plane, then come back and help me. We need every second of every minute, and we don’t have much time.”

  “Don’t have much time for?” Gary asked.

  “Until whatever happened …” Gabe answered. “Happens again.”

  <><><><>

  Lance was brave, but still couldn’t contain the shrieks of pain when they moved him onto the lift and into the plane. There was no blood on his pants, which was a good sign the bone hadn’t emerged from the skin.

  Owen made another sarcastic comment to Tom about the first aid kit, until the firefighter Gary carried the big red box onto the lift to bring on the plane.

  It shut Owen up.

  “Okay, look, get him in a stable area,” Gary said. “I’ll be back. I’m not really trained in much more than CPR, bleeding, but I’ll try. I have to help Gabe, I’ll be back. Ask around the plane, I’m sure there’s a medical person here. Usually is,” he said, then crouched close to Lance. “Just try to stay still. I know we have stuff in the kit to help with pain.”