“What if the projectile continued on?” I murmured to myself. I imagine the scenario of a rapid decompression of the cabin at 35,000', the noise, the panic as passengers who were fast asleep jolted awake, desperately reaching for the yellow oxygen masks released instantaneously, flying in a whirlwind of chaos. Either way I would have secured a ticket on a one-way journey to the fiery grave I deserved, and the abyss where I believed my soul belonged. Suddenly my heart softened.
“What about about the poor ship cleaner who would have to clean up the mess, the skull fragment and brain matter?” I whispered to myself with empathy.
“Eddy, wake up.” I felt a hand on my shoulder shaking me. The voice rallied me from my nightmare.
“Yeah, I'm here.” I slurred my words.
“You okay?” The sweet brunette inquired. I was afraid I may have drawn attention to myself.
“Yeah, I'm fine, what's up?” I sheepishly asked.
“The captain has extended an invitation to join him in the cockpit,” she announced.
“What?” I shuddered in surprise.
Her sweet brown eyes swelled with approval. She nodded in recognition of the honor and dashed off back to the mid galley.
“Ah, thanks,” I replied seconds after she'd already left. I sat in a daze for moment. A great fright overcame me as I thought the captain somehow may have learned what I was carrying in my suitcase. But this train of thought only proved how foolish I really was.
“Yeah, if so why would he want me in the cockpit?” What an idiot I was. Moments prior, anger dominated my spectrum of thought. For the first time in so many dark days I began to recognize just how unstable I was.
I slowly approached the metal-framed door and initiated the combination of coded chimes to the aviators inside. The door swung open revealing pitch darkness. Then I heard a self-assured voice with a distinct drawl.
“Eddy, my boy.” The greeting was upbeat and sincere. “Have the jumpseat behind me, Eddy, take a load off.” As the pilot turned, we locked eyes.
“Captain Foster.” I chortled with delight. It was “Rangoon Dwayne” himself. I could hardly believe it. Hell, he's one of the good guys.
“Man, I can't blow my brains out on this guy's flight,” I thought to myself. After a few seconds the magnitude of that last statement registered. That flight attendant in the galley behind me was right. I had stepped over the line. I briefly glanced over at the other two aviators. Their faces did not register as acquaintances, yet their eyes revealed that they knew who I was.
“What takes you to the Twin Cities Eddy?” Captain Dwayne inquired.
“A lady,” I stated. The pilots chuckled with approval.
“Sounds good to me,” said the white haired captain with four stripes on each shoulder. I had lied but knew that's what pilots liked to hear.
“I'm really running away after a three day binge with initial thoughts of ending my life in First Class while 35,000' above the earth.” I said to myself. No, I certainly couldn't tell them the truth.
“You're welcome to stay with us for the remainder of the flight, Eddy boy. Buckle up and enjoy the ride.” My God, had I heard right? The evil crept back into my soul. I was losing it. I began to sweat uncontrollably and began to tremble. I thought I'd make small talk, let the fly-boys see that I'm just one of the guys.
“I thought you only bid to fly the 737, captain?” I asked.
“Thought I'd try something a little different,” the good captain said.
“Is there much difference?”
“Heck, the Boeing 737 is like maneuvering a forklift.” The gracious gentleman elaborated. “The DC-10 is like driving a Cadillac.” The other two subordinate officers nodded in agreement. I could tell by the pitch of the great bird that we were beginning our descent. The multicolored lights on the black panels began to blink and flutter. The noise, the rush of air outside, streamed by with greater intensity. The anxiety began to rise.
“Weather in Minneapolis is minus twenty degrees with a half mile visibility,” the first officer reported.
“Tell the flight attendants to store away the carts, tighten up things and get strapped into their jumpseats for the remainder of the flight,” Captain Foster cued the flight engineer who immediately grabbed the phone and rang the cabin crew.
“You're gonna have to learn to recognize certain facets of your life, Eddy, that may pose as dangerous triggers.” Doctor Joe's voice advised me. “Avoid anything you believe might bring the awful experience back alive from your subconscious to the conscious.” Then the first jolt of turbulence hit. The jumbo jet bucked and although I was bound in my seat with a harness, I experienced that split moment of weightlessness, the instance your stomach rams up into your throat. I glanced over Captain Dwayne's shoulder. We were descending fast past 20,000'. The aviators revealed their skills, their full attention given to guiding the DC-10 through some nasty skies. Dr. Ramljaks words filled my head again.
“Avoid potentially harmful situations that may initiate flashbacks, Eddy.”
“Yeah, fat chance, Doc,” I blurted out but the other three in the cockpit were too occupied to have heard me. The soaring bird dropped, then rose again only to fall once more like a runaway roller coaster. Although I was on the verge of total panic, Captain Foster remained calm exhibiting total control of his command. I gazed through the cockpit windows as the jet traveled through one massive haze after another. The conditions outside the craft had turned downright foul. The giant airship, fighting for stability, finally dropped below the clouds. Beckoning before us lay a carpet of glistening illumination. Things suddenly settled down nicely.
“Take her in for us, Jim,” the captain told the first officer. Grasping the controls firmly, it was evident that the subordinate officer relished the opportunity to guide the inbound craft home.
I began to get lost in my own pain. The recent turbulence rattled my nerves. The cockpit became alive with commands and actions. The Minneapolis tower chimed in instructions and the crew responded but I closed myself off from the activities. I just wanted off this mad ride. The first officer called out for flaps, and the proper rotation and adjustment of the elevators was made. The landing gears were lowered. The shining runway lights beckoned us in. An extended coat of pure white across the frozen landscape was visible.
“One-sixty, one-forty, one-twenty,” the captain called out the altitude as we drifted down in a controlled fall from the sky. The touchdown onto the runway was flawless as the crew initiated reverse thrust of the engines. In a matter of seconds it became clear to one and all that we were not slowing down.
“Apply brakes!” the captain ordered. The first officer executed the command but the aircraft did not react. “I need those brakes, Ken.” The captain’s voice showed concern as the pilot in the right seat furiously stomped down again and again in a fruitless effort to slow the careening jumbo jet.
“We don’t have any brakes, they're locked, probably frozen!” The airship lurched and began to swivel in a change of direction.
“Oh Jesus Christ, here we go!” Capt. Foster instantly assessed how to deal with the obvious. The huge aircraft began to shift to the right of a runway that was covered in a layer of ice causing us to slide at high velocity, heading for a presumptive disaster. Captain Foster quickly grabbed the wheel in an effort to save his vessel from peril. I just freaked and raised my legs as I huddled in a fetal position on my seat. I clenched my hands into tight fists and crossed my arms around my legs in horror.
“No, not again,” I pleaded in prayer but the dormant God remained silent. “The fuel?” I promptly wondered how much jet fuel remained in the wings. Even if we slid off into the ditch, there was sure to be fire.
“Come on baby, come back to papa.” The straining captain used all his strength to recover control of the endangered aircraft. Ever so slowly the metallic transport reacted to the captain’s beckoning as he cajoled her back, away from the edge of catastrophe. Finally, the DC-10 came to a rolling stop and t
he four of us breathed a sigh of relief. After a second or two the three aviators turned their heads in unison to view me frozen in my seat. Their stares were met with silence yet I could see that they waited for some type of reaction from me.
“I've been through worse,” were the only words to come forth from my quivering mouth. The pilots began to laugh and shook their heads in disbelief.
“Indeed you have, Eddy my boy, indeed you have.” Captain Foster became upbeat. “Time for a Rangoon Ruby,” he announced in half jest. He immediately went on the intercom to assure the passengers that everything was perfectly normal. He was merely taking all precautions and determined it would be better to be towed to our arrival gate. Because of the early morning darkness and since everyone was probably still groggy, no one suspected that they were party to a massive slide for life upon landing. Since the flight attendants were facing aft in their jumpseats they too had no idea as to how close they came to having to conduct an emergency evacuation.
Stranded on the concrete runway is where we remained until a tug could be corralled and brought to our assistance. The cockpit crew took delight in having been put to the test and coming out as winners. They had been given a small glimpse of the unexpected for which they'd been trained and prepared year after year. The two younger pilots were almost giddy about what had transpired. Captain Foster was more reserved having logged many more flight hours in his time. I was sure that he had gone through his share of close calls and had learned to deal with such occurrences in the most professional manner.
I on the other hand was pissed. I said not a word as I struggled to unclench my hands which seemed as frozen as the barren landscape on the other side of the fuselage. My insidious mind determined that I had once again been allowed to be the butt of a sick joke, afflicted upon me by a God who neither cared nor listened to those reeling in pain begging for some comfort.
The tug arrived and we inched our way to our final destination at the gate. Once the plane was secured the flight crew became occupied with post flight duties. I quickly undid my harness and silently slipped away taking one last glance of the display panels of the magnificent bird. I truly had a love/hate relationship with the DC-10 spaceship. I entered the passenger cabin bewitched and bewildered. I stopped at my original assigned seat to gather my suitcase and the personal belongings I had stored in the pocket in front of me. The stupidity of my actions seemed to finally register as I felt my mind and body begin the process of crashing. All my endorphins had been spent. Total exhaustion brought with it a burdensome feeling of intense disgrace.
“Thank you for traveling with us this morning.” Janice, the young, petite brunette who manned the exit at door 2L, displayed her pleasantries to the passengers disembarking. “Bye Eddy, have a good stay.” Her well wishes were met with a mere nod of my head. I proceeded up the jetway ramp towards the terminal building like a zombie, a man staggering half dead from days of physical self-torment. Upon entering the greater passenger waiting area, I saw the start of a swirl of energy as the dawn was now revealing itself, beginning to light the open space with the morning glow. I picked out the far corner of the waiting area and chose the last seat in the last aisle of identical blue vinyl covered seats. I planted my ill ridden body down for the count and began to weep ferociously. I bent over placing my shaking hands over my face as the dishonor of my actions overwhelmed me.
There I sat. I was physically and mentally shattered, debauched by Muerto who laughed with glee. If it wasn't for the fact that Dwayne Foster happened to be the captain on my flight to abomination, the mass media would soon be screaming the news of the maniac who took his life in mid-flight. I wanted to vomit. My eyes remained fixed on the frozen landscape outside. I tried to keep my focus on my surroundings, tried to retain some semblance of composure. There were gate agents scurrying about. Dressed neatly in their freshly pressed uniforms, a couple of them compared notes, forming their game plan for the morning rush of passengers. More people seemed to be arriving every minute.
“Flight 67 to Las Vegas is now boarding at gate 54.” Announcements rang throughout the terminal. Another agent with an air of urgency warned the tardy that this was the last call for a flight to SFO. All about they scampered. A mature man ran to a pay phone, making one last call before boarding.
“Jack, you get back here this instant!” A woman was losing her patience in an effort to lasso her rambunctious little boy. And all around were the flight crews, captains with four embroidered stripes on their sleeves. Some carried themselves with that aura of authority. Nothing had changed, I was still in the minefield and my odds of surviving were slim to none. I sensed that Muerto was nearby and I was dead meat so I arose and made my way for the exit. I corralled a cab and got a room at the nearest Marriott Hotel. Upon entering my room I made a feeble attempt to remove my clothing but my burdened body flopped upon the bed. I crashed. I would not awaken for the next forty-four hours.
A few days later I returned to the airport. I was a shadow of the man I had once been. I struggled with the pestilence of withdrawal. I slowly moved through the corridors and boarded a DC-10, unarmed, bound for LAX. I was overwhelmed by disgrace for my sacrilegious behavior. It was evident from take-off that I would spend more time in the first class lavatory than my assigned seat. Once the aircraft leveled off, I was able to settle my nerves. I could not focus on any one individual. I was unable to formulate a face, a movement or their speech. I wanted to give in to Muerto who I believed was riding somewhere in coach. I expected I would deliver myself into his hands soon. Sweating and shaking it became very clear to me that Death would be the final victor.
With such a clear revelation came an unexpected calm. Fatigue replaced the guilt. I wondered what I would do, where would I go upon landing at LAX? It was no mystery to me that I would submit myself to the inevitable at some point.
“Who can I go to?” I could think of no one with enough wisdom who could rescue me from myself. “Rachel Ramos.” Her name flowed from my lips with such grace.
Rachel was my father's first cousin. Although older than I she had been a regular presence in my life. Rachel was a bright, beautiful woman who was raised in the old neighborhood. Outgoing and energetic, she had seemed to reject the negative elements of a brutal world. A registered nurse, Rachel was also a wife and mother and knew next to nothing concerning the specifics of my situation. She was kind, logical and compassionate. Deplaning the aircraft at Terminal 5, I rushed to find a pay phone. My hands shook as I tried to make the call. My heart raced as I heard the rings on the other side of the line.
“Come on, answer.” I felt desperation.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“This is Eddy, I am in trouble.” Mildly shocked, her reasoning and goodness took charge.
“Can you make it to my home? Come now if you can.”
“Are you sure it is okay?”
“Yes, come right now.” I hung up the phone and for one of the few times in my new life, I was truly grateful.
Rachel was standing at her front door when my vehicle pulled into her driveway. Walking up to her I immediately informed her of my problems. The nurse in her took control.
“Do you need to go to the emergency?” She inquired.
“No, Rachel,” I sighed as my emotions flooded from my soul. “I need to talk.” My good cousin assisted me as we entered her house and directed me to take a seat on the sofa. I had been to her home numerous times over the years, mostly during family celebrations. As a youth I used to attend the birthday parties for her twin daughters. But this was the first time I had entered her home besieged by such grief, guilt and shame.
“What's going on, Eddy?” I sat and pondered for a bit. There was much I had to get off my chest.
“It's so twisted, Rachel.” I related my tale. Standing on the burning tarmac I once again screamed defiantly at Muerto, vowing never to relinquish myself to him.
“That seems so long ago,
” I whispered to Rachel, now aware of my recent behavior. I turned to tell her about Reina and her premonitions. The time passed and I continued to fill Rachel's ears. I left no stone unturned in my recollection. My cousin listened with great patience. At the conclusion, I slumped on the sofa in total exhaustion. Rachel remained silent as her eyes revealed deep concentration.
“Do you believe you deserve the suffering you are encountering?” The first question threw me for a loop. Then the voices spoke for me,
“You deserve far worse.” I was in the hand of Death. Rachel could see that it was just a matter of time before that hand would close.
“It most likely will get worse if something is not changed today.” I hoped Rachel would pull out a magic wand that could change everything with just one wave. But no, there was nothing that was going to be simple in dealing with this plague.
“Have you asked for help from God?” I glared at my cousin. She was absolutely serious in her inquiry. The hate rose as I sternly sat straight up.
“God?” My face became rigid. “God? Are you referring to that deity who remained silent while the children screamed while being consumed by the flames? Maybe He's the one who abandoned my crew mates?” I sat in defiance not against Muerto, but God. “Tell me, cousin, where is this God when I am paralyzed by fear and pain? Where is this God when I am crying day after day in torment?” Rachel interceded.
“He's right next to you Eddy, crying his heart out alongside you.” I stopped ranting. No one had ever said such words to me. I became docile.
“Where is he?”
“He's right there sitting on the sofa.” She pointed to the empty side. I turned and saw nothing, then chuckled.
“Rachel, the only God I know is deaf, dumb and blind. I see nothing.”
“Eddy, he is right there,” she insisted. Frustration overtook me and I became sarcastic..
“Then why is he silent?”
Jumpseat- A Tale of Twisted Fate Page 60
