“Will I ever be good enough?” The young child asked this once more, staring and standing in the blazing wreckage. I awoke gasping for air, consumed by confusion. I dressed and rushed out of my home tossing my cane aside, trying to find solace. I limped along the Manhattan Beach pier venting despair. I stopped at intervals to gaze upon the endless blue-green depths of the sea. I followed the waves as the tide and winds shaped them into perfect mounds to be delivered upon the shore. I breathed the salt air and calmed myself, seizing nature's gifts. It all seemed so grand now, recognizing what I had taken for granted prior the incident. My senses were overwhelmed. Then, in an instant, I was gripped by so much shame. I began to cry. I really did not want to be a part of all of this. At this moment Muerto made an appearance.
I turned and glanced down upon the water as the light of the sun's rays glistened off a wave and shot right back into my face. I saw the werewolf, witch and goblin from October 31, approaching on the tarmac. Suddenly the figures stopped as one ghoul slowly reached out to touch me, then they were gone. Their presence lasted no more than a few seconds but was as real as the massive ocean that lay before me. Things were becoming very complicated.
Once home I listened to messages from investigators and legal representatives wanting to speak with me over and over again. I was becoming a wreck and feeling paranoid about being alone. I remembered the slip of paper on the bedroom dresser I had been given by a vibrant woman at the company meeting. I made a phone call.
“Hi, this is Eddy.”
“I'll be right over,” was the only response.
Chapter XIII
Mario Reddick, CEO of the airline, wanted to express his personal condolences to the families of the deceased crew-members. The plan was to have the airline host a religious memorial service for all who may have had some connection to the tragedy. St. Anastasia’s Catholic Church was chosen, located right beside LAX in nearby Westchester. Daisy contacted me and made it clear that it would be beneficial for all if I was in attendance. She continued,
“Have you thought about joining us for the associate meetings at the other bases?” My anger rose again, but I realized I was also to blame. Had not the Magnificent Edmundo been part of the presentation? I was deeply torn. I certainly wanted to appear as part of the team but I was also recognizing that such cooperation had consequences. A refusal would not get me any closer to finding the answers I knew I sorely needed if ever I was going to heal.
“So much is happening and so fast, Daisy.” I sought to delay a decision. “I will speak to you at the company service.”
“So, I can rely on you being at the church.” Daisy stated.
Arriving at St. Anastasia for the company memorial service, I was surprised to find the grounds of the church empty. Had I gone to the wrong place? I waited in front of the church with some regret.
“What good did prayer do for Reina?” I recalled the religious periodical upon her lap as she sat on her jumpseat on descent. Now we were to pray once more. “Why? They're already gone.” Around five minutes before the service was to start, everyone seemed to arrive all at once, exiting their vehicles at the same time. Ackley caught sight of me.
“Certainly you’ll sit with me, won't you, Eddy?”
As I stood in front of the house of worship I was hesitant to enter. I studied the participants and began to recognize the faces of the family members of 2605’s crew. Since I had attended several of the previous services I sorted them out and began to wonder why Reddick thought holding this memorial was a good idea. I focused on their eyes and wondered, did they hope to get some answers today? Was there anger mixed with their sorrow?
Senora Torres entered the church with Reina’s brothers, sister, and the uncle who had delivered her eulogy. Embarrassed for living, I wanted to run and hide under a wooden pew.
“May I sit here, Edmundo?” Mario Reddick, dressed immaculately, wanted to share a seat with the survivor.
“NO, damn it! Go hang yourself.” My mouth wouldn’t let these words escape. “Certainly,” came out instead, I slid over. Daisy joined us from the other end. There I remained, stuck in between Mario Reddick and Darling Ackley. How in heaven’s name did I end up here? I could not fathom a more ridiculous position. I wished for the whole thing to just go away. What I truly wanted was to join my companions from 2605. I was not going to be able to handle the requirements of this new life and was certain that any one of the victims was far better qualified to deal with this crazy circus of living.
As the service began, selected flight attendants in dress uniform carried lit candles down the central aisle of the church, placing them before the altar then taking seats in the first row. A finely printed card of remembrance was passed out to all.
“To the families and friends of the crew and employees of flight 2605.” A poem followed which was titled “God’s Calling.” I took issue with it. The white and black print card was signed, “The people of our beloved airline.” I thought hard about the big brass including themselves in with the workers in saying farewell. I believed by choice or persuasion they squelched the truth. For the moment, I had to remain silent.
You can always count on a priest stuck in the old theology to remind us how bad we are as children of God. Such discourse only creates fear causing the faithful to always keep one's guard up. In a lecture lacking in graciousness and void of forgiveness, we were reminded of this deity’s swift judgment upon us. The sermon did little to soothe the seething anger in the hearts of the patient family members. Sitting between Reddick and Ackley I wanted to tear my hair out. When finally completed to the delight of all, the F/As again marched slowly from the first row out of the church. What remained were the lit candles and the battle lines drawn by the hostile families and friends. Positioned on one side of the house of prayer was management, chatting and socializing. On the opposing side were the destroyed loved ones in total silence, glaring, and with scorn upon their faces.
At the service I discovered that two company ticket agents who had also been on board 2605 with family members also perished. My guilt peaked, shaming me for not being aware of this important fact. They were seated in first class and became Karen's responsibility when we switched stations.
“You worthless piece of shit!” The voices laid into me. I recalled Karen's lovely face.
“On whose behalf was the service intended?” I wondered. Spotting Karen's mother, I rose to pay my condolences. I had not attended Karen's funeral and was torn by the dishonor I felt. I never mentioned that Karen had saved my life by switching stations and was not about to offer such information, ever.
“Hello Mrs. Smitt, I was with Karen on the flight that night.”
“Did she suffer?” The lady just blurted the words out. I was caught off guard but recovered quickly. Logic told me that Karen was right at the impact point so I was pretty certain she never knew what hit her. The opinion gave the woman a speck of comfort. Ackley then appeared and mentioned that there were other families she wanted me to meet. The Rollings clan had chosen seats right up front. Daisy tried to introduce me but they took little notice. Besides being grief-stricken, they were pissed off, exhibiting downright hatred for the airline. I was taken aback by the degree of their silent hostility but sympathized with them. If I had been taken I would have wanted my brother Mike and my friend Tommy to react in the same manner.
Now exiting, the family members began to mingle among themselves, comparing notes and stories. It seemed as though some were told one version of the horrible incident and others a completely different one. I could plainly see what was happening. Yet, Ackley and Reddick still retained a demeanor of ignorance with regard to the wrath. Perhaps the executives simply did not want to deal with it as it all just stoked the fires of the madness.
“Why didn’t Reddick just take a knife and slit his wrist?” I thought. This memorial service and the way it was planned was really a stupid idea. The grieving families slowly exited, The old priest appeared outside the church.
<
br /> “We are locking up now. Everyone will have to vacate the premises.” The black robe disappeared into the church as I heard the sound of the lock put in place from the inside. Heaven forbid some poor soul would be seeking sanctuary this night.
“Yeah, take your stupid grief elsewhere. What do you think this is, a house of God?” I became twisted once again unable to deal with the folly of it all. Pushing these thoughts aside, I located Ackley who seemed aware and concerned with the freely voiced frustrations of the family members. The disgruntled loved ones were now exchanging phone numbers at the roadside, and promising to keep in touch. I silently wished them luck and tried to remain unnoticed, as I did not want to be swept up in their justified crusade. It was a road I knew would lead them down one dead end after another. In my quest to find answers I determined that I would be better off working alone. More importantly, I never wanted to be put in the position of having to debate whether to tell these souls the truth on specific matters. I had some of the main pieces to this awful puzzle but I desired to know the whole truth.
As I was about to leave the church grounds, I was halted by the sight of Senora Torres. The burdened lady had finally realized who the young stranger at her daughter's graveside was.
Her head turned quickly and her eyes shot right through me. She approached me placing her gentle hands upon my face.
“Thank God that you are still alive.” The blessing touched my soul but the growing hatred inside, the circumstances that broke this woman's heart, crushed it. It would not be allowed to seed. I could only bow my head in respect believing that Senora Torres somehow understood everything fully. Here was a mother in the midst of trying to cope with her own great loss, finding the courage to express love and happiness to one she had every right to resent. This graciousness boggled my mind.
And where was Reddick? He was now long gone, leaving his underlings to deal with what remained. My suspicion was that he would begin to sweep this mess under the rug as quickly as possible. He was being assisted by the ongoing Iran-Hostage crisis, which kept all the media focused on its dealings.
Emotionally exhausted, I drove down Pacific Coast Hwy., returning to my residence in great need of peace and tranquil meditation. Upon entering the front door I was hit by the greater picture of the situation. I found myself upon a house in shambles. A person or persons had turned my residence upside down. Papers and files from my desk were thrown throughout. Assuming it was a random break-in I started to call my brother Mike; I hesitated then reconsidered. What if it was related to this bizarre incident? Who would want to ransack my living space? Lawyers? What if it was the handy work of Chavez? I hung up the phone for the last thing I needed was to bring more attention to my situation.
“Don't be stupid, Eddy.” I scolded myself as a chill of fear raced down my spine. It could have been any number of people representing any number of vested interests. I also did not want in any way to involve my immediate family in this mess, especially if this was a result of the rabid comandante. No matter who the instigators were, my best option would be to get the heck out of Los Angeles.
“Where can I go, who can I call?” I was at a loss. “Kyle!” I remembered my good friend from training. I quickly searched for his number and contacted him in DEN.
“So what did you do to piss off Mexico?” The man from the Midwest knew me all too well.
“What didn’t I do to piss them off?” I sheepishly admitted.
“Anyone in particular?”
“Yeah, one Comandante Primotivo Chavez De Leon.”
“Who? Even his name sounds ugly.”
“You don't want to land in a Mexican prison, Eddy,” he warned. I wholeheartedly agreed. I briefly explained the complicated situation. I was confused and unsure as to who broke into my home. My ordeal had definitely instilled a good amount of paranoia in my mind.
“It could even be worse.” Kyle stated. “Hey man, you're distraught and under so much pressure, it would not surprise a lot of people to learn that you took you own life.” Kyle forced me to deal with reality. “If someone thought you to be a liability or an obstacle in their greater plans, especially if it involved a lot of money, your disappearance could be arranged.” Kyle spoke to my core. “Your body could wash up on the beach down the street and people would just say he couldn’t handle it.” I was dumbfounded but I trusted Kyle as the whole affair seemed to be spiraling out of control. Ackley, Reddick, the media and the voices in my head were all leading me in a bad direction. “Get your ass out of town for awhile, Eddy.” Kyle's words rang true. “Any place you know where you could disappear for some time?” I nervously considered Kyle's suggestion.
“My uncle has a large ranch at Todos Santos on the Pacific side of Baja, across from La Paz. I could blend in there.” There was a long silence as Kyle weighed my words.
“That’s jumping from the pan into the fire, Eddy. If discovered they could grab you and wouldn’t have to answer to anyone.” There was another long pause as suddenly something sparked in Kyle's mind. “Listen Eddy, I know a beautiful little island in the Pacific that has a north coast where vehicles can’t travel. The only access is by foot and there are secluded valleys where you can hide ten, eleven miles inside. The Na Pali Coast of Kauai is where you need to go.”
“I am not exactly fit to hike,” I responded.
“Take the trail slow and you should be okay, besides it beats the alternative, sticking around waiting for who-knows-what.”
“Kauai, huh?” I contemplated his suggestion.
“It’s the perfect hiding place and the fewer people that know the better.”
I sorely wanted my old life back. If I needed to isolate myself on an island in the middle of the Pacific to get it back, so be it. I quickly packed my suitcase with hiking clothing, shoes and tools I thought I would need. In the morning I could catch the first flight out to HNL. I would then have to catch a commuter over to Kauai, the Garden Isle as it was called. Across my living room I spotted the sleek glistening knife that was presented to me by Lonnie, my body surfing buddy on Oahu. I grabbed it and buried it deep at the bottom of the suitcase. I also tossed in the documented pilot report McKay had given me. Come early morning I was going to be out of here, company, lawyers, investigators could all be damned; my first priority was survival.
Upon arriving at the flight attendant lounge below Terminal 5 at LAX I discovered that “Edmundo's” mail drawer was stuffed with material. The majority of correspondence was from well-wishers, mostly fellow flight attendants expressing their kind sentiments. One peculiar letter postmarked from Oregon was from what I perceived was a cultist. The gist of the content being that I was some sort of demon, born in the ashes of the fire, quoting verses from the book of Revelation to support his theory. I could not crumble the sheets of paper fast enough, but wondered about the possibility of demons within me. Another letter was postmarked Kansas City and was from a woman who begged the survivor for his assistance in curing a serious ailment of her granddaughter. The distraught woman seemed to believe I could use whatever magical powers that saved me to help heal her loved one. There was a proposal of marriage from someone with a Buffalo, New York postmark. There also was a company letter addressed to all associates stating that “the investigation into the crash of Flight 2605 will take time,” an official response to the concern of the crew members. Like coins that fall into the sands by the seaside, there was little chance of recovering the truth as the inevitable conclusions seemed clear. Yet, I realized that there were those in the company, the pilots especially, who would demand they be told the truth-ramifications be damned.
While in the flight lounge I also checked the Flight Benefits Manual to see what options were available for getting me from Honolulu to Kauai. To my delight I discovered Princeville Airways, a small commuter airline which flew the Twin Otter aircraft. They offered airline employees a generous benefit. Upon presenting my airline I.D. at their counter I would be offered a standby seat, if available, for the sum of
$10. I was ecstatic.
Kyle informed me that the entrance to the Na Pali Coast was at the north end of Highway 56 in Haena. There I would find the start of the Kalalau Trail that snaked its way along the coast and steep mountain terrain for over 11 miles to the secluded Kalalau Valley. This was the perfect isolated location where Kyle was certain no one could find me. The short hop from HNL would deposit me directly at the Princeville Airport where it was even possible for me to rent a vehicle just a short distance from the start of the trail. The plans for my total escape were now well laid and there was one last thing to do as I entered Daisy Ackley's office.
“I'm sorry Daisy but the current events have been overwhelming. I won't be able to join you for the meetings at the other bases.” I was pleased but surprised to discover that Daisy was not disappointed by my decision. I also discovered she was incorporating Skip into the program. The wounded F/A was now well enough to travel and I wholeheartedly agreed with this plan. “Yeah, take him with you. He'll be great.” I was sure the powers that be had to find out just what knowledge he had retained from his ordeal. Would he step in line with what was beneficial for the airline or would he pose a problem? After speaking with him for some time both at the hospital and at Cary Diller's memorial, he seemed to have remembered very little. I was happy for him, for my retention was becoming an affliction.
“Let him shine in the limelight,” I thought. I was now focused on just falling off the face of the world. I thanked Daisy for all her assistance and informed her that I would be going to visit local relatives for a few days, to enjoy a much needed rest. In reality I had no idea how long I would be gone. My true plans were thrown together in great haste and most likely were inadequate for my needs.
“Passenger Valenciana!” The smiling gate agent called my name as I waited patiently with all the other non-revs hoping to get on the HNL bound DC-10.
Jumpseat- A Tale of Twisted Fate Page 33
