Flight 3430

by Druga, Jacqueline

  “Gary!” Owen called strongly for him. “Gary, come quick.”

  Both Tom and Delaney looked up.

  “Lance,” Delaney said.

  It had to be. The moment Tom stood, he saw Gary at the front of the plane, reaching into that first row.

  He allowed Delaney to get ahead of him and she rushed forward with Tom behind her, moving slowly.

  Someone reached up to Tom as he passed them, grabbing his arm.

  “What’s going on?” a woman asked him.

  “I don’t know,” Tom answered. But he did.

  Owen backed up, standing by the bathroom, arms folded.

  Delaney had reached the front, dropped to the floor and pulled the red case.

  He could hear Delaney and Gary’s voices, they were saying something, but Tom couldn’t make it out.

  As he neared, Tom made eye contact with Owen.

  Owen just shook his head.

  When he got to the first row, Delaney was handing Gary a syringe.

  Gary injected it into the IV line they had running into Lance, he then proceeded to do CPR.

  Tom knew it was useless.

  He watched in just that few seconds as Lance’s color seemed to wash away.

  Despite the fact Gary worked diligently to bring him back, Lance was gone. Another person on that flight died, joining the countless millions below. Tom knew if they didn’t land soon, and somewhere safe, like Gary’s efforts to revive Lance, everything they did to stay alive in the air, would be for not.

  <><><><>

  Naval Operations Support Center - Billings, MT

  He could stop anytime, Gene kept thinking in regards to Wiley. He was a nice guy, young, and Gene knew it was some sort of thinking routine he did. Tap his pen from tip to end, then write something down, click a few keys, stare at the screen, repeat the pen thing.

  Perhaps Gene was more on edge because he was hungry, tired and had spent the last hour looking at images some college kid in Gainesville had sent him from a weather satellite.

  “Can anything else happen?” Gene spoke softly. He took notes on where he knew the storm surges would hit.

  “Are you running worst case scenario in the simulator?” Wiley asked.

  “No.”

  “Run worse case. You have to. We have to plan on that.”

  “How?” Gene asked. “Plan, how? Who do we warn, how do we warn them?”

  “Well, we let those we’ve been in contact with know. Water is coming. I bet Gainesville is already on that. I bet they ran worst case scenario.”

  “You’re probably right.” Gene pulled up the simulator, really hating to think about putting in ‘worst case’. He knew what that would be. If the rest of the ice somehow melted from the heat of the blasts, if the oceanic temperatures battled each other with warm and colder water. Looking at the storms, the water that would fall and carry, the ocean could conceivably rise sixty meters. That had always been the estimate science had come up with.

  Putting in a sixty meter rise produced a nightmare.

  Major cities along the west coast of the United States were under water. The California coast would be gone and a huge body of water extended from Chico to Fresno. At the widest it was fifty miles across, swallowing everything, except Sutter Butters which would become an island in the middle of it all.

  Death Valley National park would be a lake.

  The middle US was a mess. San Antonio, Houston, Baton Rouge … submerged. Water would bleed through the rivers flooding everything north, all the way to Memphis.

  On the east coast it would be just as tragic, if not more.

  Not a single coastal city would be spared.

  Water would be carried two hundred miles inland.

  Florida was gone with the exception of a one hundred twenty square mile area. The simulator predicted only one spot in the entire state would survive.

  Ironically and oddly, it was Gainesville.

  If Gene were a religious man, he’d call it the New Jerusalem. Spared by the methane, spared by the storms and water. A safe haven. The new and only beach front property remaining in Florida.

  “Wow, that looks bad,” Wiley said.

  “Are you kidding me? We knew it would be bad.”

  “We’re safe.”

  “A lot of good that does us,” said Gene.

  “We can survive. Your friends are up there alive. Anyhow …” Wiley rolled his chair closer. “Want to hear some good news?”

  “There’s good news.”

  “Yes, I believe there is.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I was looking at the models. Trying to collect all data before we lose power.”

  In was almost a reaction motion, Gene tossed his pen in the air and slammed his hand down. “We’re losing power?”

  “Oh, yeah, we can’t expect the lights to stay on forever. Generators will kick in here giving us six hours.”

  “Great.”

  “But the good news is … we’re looking at another eruption here at about three tomorrow afternoon. It won’t be as big, and I don’t expect the levels to be as strong. I believe that will be the last one for this area.” He reached for his clipboard. “I have charted other areas, they aren’t as lucky, but it could be worse. Dallas, Cleveland, Reston, these places …” he pointed. “Another eruption in two to three hours, followed by one more after a two hour reprieve. But here … west.” he pointed. “One more at these and then it’s done.”

  Gene’s eyes widened and they finally held a twinkle of hope. “Vegas.”

  Wiley nodded. “Should be safe now. Levels in that area are slowly rising, but will get there. Maybe not as late as ours, but by late morning.”

  After glancing at his watch, Gene reached for his phone. “That’s a little over eight hours.” He hurriedly dialed.

  “Who are you calling?” Wiley asked.

  Gene signaled with a finger for Wiley to wait and he exhaled in relief when Tom answered. “Tom, hey, sorry I didn’t get back to you. I didn’t have anything to tell you.”

  “That’s okay,” Tom replied. “You’re getting back now. Do you have something? Tell me you have good news.”

  “I do,” Gene replied. “I know where you can stop and rest for a little while. I know where you can land.”

  FOURTEEN – TAKE OFF

  Flight 3430 - Las Vegas, NV

  It was information overload for Gabe, a crash course in flying a 737. Although he was very happy, he was just assisting. Not that he wasn’t familiar with the panel and deck, he just wasn’t comfortable.

  Captain Jeff explained everything he did like an instructor as if he expected to die or something.

  If Gabe had to, he could fly the plane, he could even land it under normal circumstances, but he was happy as they flew into Vegas, he wasn’t in control, especially as they landed.

  He could see the power was still on in Sin City. Streetlights mapped out the roads, even the strip was bright and flashy, as if everything was normal.

  The lights had to be on automatic.

  Unless Gene was wrong and everything was actually fine.

  He knew that wasn’t the case as they flew over McLaren airport just before circling to land.

  It was dark.

  A few lights in the airport, but not a single runway was lit.

  The clear Vegas sky allowed for the moon to give some light, but not enough.

  Gabe was glad he didn’t have to land the plane.

  Jeff had decades of experience, and a navigation program that aided in the landing. Not once did the captain let on he was worried or nervous.

  Gabe didn’t know how he did it.

  To him it looked like they were touching down in the abyss.

  Calm and Collective, Jeff must have seen the worry on Gabe’s face.

  “Just watch the lines,” Jeff told him. “I know it looks like a simulator, but it will guide you. As a matter of fact, pretend it’s a simulation.”

  “Lot easier said than done.
This is real.”

  “Makes you all the better.”

  And with that, he seamlessly touched down.

  Slowly he moved the plane to the apron near the terminal. Just looking at the building, everything seemed normal, there were lights on from what Gabe could see. Yet, he knew ‘normal’ was far from the case.

  When Jeff brought the plane to a stop, he fiddled with his watch. “Timers set. Six hours. That gives us time to rest and get off the ground and leaves room for error.”

  “Are we staying on the plane?” Gabe asked. “I think we should let everyone out. We at least have to move the bodies from cargo.”

  “And also from there,” Jeff said. “I picked this terminal because it’s never busy. Things happened early in the morning, this terminal has the least morning arrivals.”

  “So the least amount of bodies.”

  “Exactly. Get a few people together and clear the gate. Who knows, we may luck out, the gate may be empty. And I know it’s a lot to ask, especially since you’ll be refueling. But other than me, you know airports.”

  “You want me to connect the jet bridge?”

  Jeff nodded. “We need that bridge. I don’t want to bring people into the ground level. Do you know how?”

  “I have an idea,” Gabe replied. “I’ll do it.” He glanced out, looking at the extended and empty gateways they referred to as jet bridges. “C-Twenty-six? I can see a light.”

  “I’ll pull over to there.”

  Gabe undid his belt and stood. “I’ll go down through Cargo. Wait until you see me.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Give me a few.” Gabe stepped from the cockpit, as he squatted down to lift the cargo door, he saw his father approach.

  “You refueling?” Tom asked.

  “No, I’m gonna get out, grab the airstairs and work the controls to connect the jet bridge.”

  “What is that?’

  “The walkway from the plane door to the gate.”

  Tom nodded. ‘Do you need some help?”

  “No, it’ll be faster alone. But … I will need help once we connect. There’s gonna be bodies, Dad, and we need a few hands to make sure the gate areas are clear.”

  “I’ll gather a few people.”

  Gabe lifted the hatch. “Make sure one of them is my brother.”

  Tom smiled. “You know it.”

  Gabe began to descend the ladder. He looked up once more to his father, then finished climbing down.

  Taking the route he did the last time they landed, Gabe made his way to the cargo door and opened it. He secured and lowered the roll out ladder, then carefully took each rung until he reached the pavement of the apron.

  He didn’t feel quite as rushed as he did the last time. But he still knew there were time constraints. He had to get the stairs, get to the jet bridge and connect it. Clear the bodies, if any, at the gate and not to mention he had to refuel.

  As he made his way across the apron, he visually checked for the fueler. It was dark and hard to see. He’d have to find a spotlight to get it down. If Gene was right, he could take his time and wait, but Gabe didn’t want to do that.

  There was too much to do.

  Even though Gabe needed time to stop, he didn’t want to. Stopping made him think. Think about his girlfriend and most of all his mother.

  Twice he tried to call her and it only rang, going to voicemail.

  Deep inside, Gabe knew he wasn’t so lucky as to have them survive.

  He could hope.

  But he wasn’t going to forget them, like a character in some apocalypse movie. The event destroys the world and they just keep going.

  Before Gabe could move on, once everything was safe, he would go back to Fort Collins and find his mother and girlfriend. He needed to see them one last time and say goodbye. As hard as it would be emotionally, he would do that.

  <><><><>

  Before Owen even reached the end of the jet bridge, he could hear them.

  The slot machines.

  The automatic music programmed to play and draw people in.

  In an empty, dead terminal the sound was loud.

  For a minute he fantasized that all was fine, that he would emerge to see people playing slots.

  They, the ‘body’ crew from Flight 3430 would look like some sort of lost, motley crew. Arriving to normalcy after some sort of sci-fi event. Like the characters in Langoliers.

  He thought about that Stephen King book a lot. Especially after landing on the dark runway. The extreme quiet all around was just eerie and frightening.

  The only difference was they weren't back in ‘yesterday’ they were in the present and the world wasn’t empty, it was just dead.

  He was realistic enough to know, slot machines or not, that was what they were going to face.

  Delaney insisted on joining the clean-up team. Tom told her to stay back, but she wanted to go. Stating she had the most experience with the dead.

  There were five of them clearing bodies.

  Owen, his father, Gabe, Delaney and Gary.

  While his brother prepared and connected the jet bridge, the captain made the announcement they had landed and would disembark as soon as the bridge was ready.

  He told them they may or may not see things that were disturbing, and to do their best to focus on rest. To take their time to recuperate if they could from the emotional turmoil everyone was experiencing.

  They would stay long enough to refuel, re-energize, then they’d leave again, hopefully for a place that would be permanent.

  He was honest and transparent. No one knew when the eruptions would end for good.

  He stayed behind with the flight crew and passengers. Owen’s father told the captain they’d be as fast as they could, but they didn’t know what was ahead of them.

  “Listen,” Delaney squeezed through and stopped the group just before they reached the end of the jet bridge. “What we know is if anyone is in this terminal, at the gates, they passed away at least ten hours ago. They are going to be in active rigor mortis. Despite what you have seen in the movies, they won’t be easy to move. I just want you guys prepared.”

  Gabe asked. “Are they gonna smell?”

  “They probably will start. It’s pretty warm on this bridge, let’s hope, along with the power the AC is still on.”

  Gary nodded. “We need to focus on moving bodies out of the immediate area, and any bathrooms nearby, along with the food places. We'll set a perimeter and clear it.”

  “There are others,” Tom added, “On the plane that said they’d help if we need it.”

  “Captain said,” Gabe spoke up, “This isn’t a busy terminal, so maybe we’ll luck out.”

  “Let’s hope,” Delaney replied.

  To Owen it was a strange irony that his brother would use such wording as ‘luck’ in Vegas. But like the last time Owen was in Vegas fourteen years earlier for his twenty-first birthday, luck wasn’t there.

  They emerged from the bridge to the gate area and opened the door.

  Two airline employees lay on the floor in a roped off section by the counter.

  The gate was empty, no passengers were in the seats. But the gate was one of many and in the area at the edge of the gate were slot machines.

  A man sat at one, his hand on the button, head forward against the screen of the machine.

  Another woman lay on the floor by him.

  The captain and Gabe were right, it wasn’t busy and there weren’t that many bodies, but there were bodies nonetheless.

  They talked about moving them, but they hadn’t decided where.

  Another gate? It couldn’t be too far.

  They didn’t think that far ahead. At least Owen hadn’t.

  It was obvious Gary and his father had.

  “I’ll go see if I can find a luggage or security cart,” Gary said. “Gabe, you want to come with me? You’d know where to find them better than anyone.”

  “Sure. Sounds good.”

  Owen
looked at his father. “Where …”

  “We’ll start making a removal plan,” Delaney called out as they walked away.

  “Dad?” Owen questioned. “Where are they going?”

  “Oh, to find a luggage carrier or security cart,” Tom replied. “Or wheelchair. Something we can use to move the dead.”

  Owen acknowledged that, sort of. Hands on hips he nodded. “And move them where?”

  “Out of the way,” Tom answered.

  “Out of sight,” Delaney added. “So people can relax, decompress.”

  Everyone but Owen seemed to be in a focused mindset of moving bodies as if they were just going in and cleaning up after a party.

  Give the illusion that all was fine and normal.

  But it wasn’t.

  Slot machines singing musical tunes, the smell of death and burnt coffee filled the air.

  They had been in the air for so long, the event that occurred below seemed like a nightmare. But landing wasn’t waking them up to a better place.

  It was still a nightmare.

  Bodies out of the way and out of sight were still multitudes of bodies and to Owen at least, they would never be out of mind.

  <><><><>

  Gainesville, FL

  With one good push, Alex Armenov rolled his chair across the lab floor to Warren’s computer station. Not that Armenov was a lazy man, he could just get there faster in the chair, then getting up with his bad knee.

  The previous several hours had been a shit show, nature bound and determined to hit that reset button as best as it could.

  Nothing was making sense, estimates and predictions were as off as the weatherman on the local stations.

  Predictions came down to the last minute and that was dangerous.

  As far as the methane eruptions, the west of the United States seemed to be stabilized. But Armenov knew it wasn’t for long. According to Gene Taylor only a few hours. Armenov wasn’t all that sure at first whether there would be more eruptions out west or not. He thought perhaps it was done there. The readouts he was getting from Billings and the old Nevada nuclear testing site were relatively calm and close to normal. They hadn’t changed in hours and that hadn’t happened since before the chain reaction event.