Tyler briefly considered dumping the Killswitch in the ocean, but he had no idea whether that would short circuit it, causing a detonation before it got deep enough to remove the radiation threat.
“What are we going to do?” Jess said. “How far away do we have to get it?”
“I don’t know the effective range, so as far away as we can …”
Tyler paused and fixated on the dead pilot. The C-17. If he still had enough time, he could get the Killswitch far away. He checked his watch, comparing it to the countdown timer. To have a chance of succeeding, he’d have to start right now.
He ran for the staircase leading up from the cargo deck to the cockpit.
“Where are you going?” Jess yelled as she came after him.
He sat in the pilot’s seat and fired up the auxiliary power unit that he would need to start the engines. Tyler thumbed through the checklist while the APU whined as it spooled up. It would take eight minutes to get all four engines warmed up.
“If I can get the plane over the open ocean,” he said, “it might be far enough to keep everyone safe.”
“Will it keep the island from getting hit by the electromagnetic pulse?”
“I don’t know.”
“But this is suicidal!”
Tyler thought back to what the pilot had told him about their previous mission before it had been scrubbed to ferry them to Easter Island. The C-17 was supposed to be going from Alice Springs to a paratrooper training op in Japan. That meant the crew had brought their own parachutes, standard procedure for an airborne drop.
“There are chutes on board somewhere. I’ll jump once I get into the air and set the autopilot.”
“Have you ever jumped from one of these?”
“A couple of times,” he lied. He’d done a few jumps at Grant’s urging, but those had been out of a propeller-driven skydiving plane, not a full-sized jet.
She looked around the cockpit. “Where are the chutes?”
“I don’t know. But they’ve got to be here somewhere.” He handed her his camera. “This has a wireless connection. Send every photo and video in there to your email address.” In case the Killswitch knocked out the island’s electronics, he wanted to make sure they had a record of the cave drawings.
Jess tapped on the camera’s display while Tyler worked on getting the engines started, the checklist on his lap. What he didn’t tell her was that it would take only one missed detail to screw up his entire plan. While he’d flown jets for years now, he’d only flown sleek twin-engine private planes, not four-engine monsters like the C-17. The principles were the same, but the handling was altogether different. And now he would have to skip all but the most important steps in the checklist to get into the air in time.
Tyler knew he was making a big assumption about the chutes. Aircrews always packed their own parachutes, to be used only in an emergency during the drop, but he didn’t actually have confirmation that they were on the plane already. He was willing to take the risk, but there was no reason to tell Jess.
“Done,” she said, looking up from the camera. “It’ll take a few minutes to upload them all, but they’re on the way.”
“Thanks,” Tyler said. “Now get off the plane.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“This is crazy!”
“Go!”
She stopped typing and dashed into the cabin behind the cockpit, but instead of leaving, she threw open locker doors.
Tyler didn’t have time to ask what she was doing. With the APU at full power, he started the number one engine. The engines had to be started in sequence from port to starboard, approximately ninety seconds for each one as the rotors reached the minimum RPM needed.
Jess returned carrying two parachutes. “Found them,” she said, dumping them onto the floor. “Even if you jump out safely, you’ll be miles from shore. You can’t swim that far.”
“There are life rafts embedded in the fuselage. I’ll deploy them before I jump.”
“Where are they?”
Tyler felt the color drain from his face when he realized that wasn’t going to work. He’d been part of the team investigating the crash of a C-17 in Alaska a couple of years before, so he was familiar with the aircraft. The plane’s Floating Equipment Deployment System, or FEDS, consists of three rafts ejected from the top of the aircraft.
Idiot, he thought. You should have remembered that the rafts are attached to the plane so that they won’t float away after a water landing.
Jess must have noticed his ashen pallor. “What’s the matter?”
“The life rafts are tethered to the aircraft. If I eject them in mid-air, they’ll just flutter behind the plane like kites.”
“Are there any inside the plane?”
“No.”
“Then we need to bring one of the other ones on board.”
She was right. He had to deploy them now. He ran to the loadmaster’s station, armed the deployment mechanism, and pulled the T-handle.
Three bangs jolted the aircraft. Two rafts sailed into the air on either side of the cockpit, trailing nylon ropes behind them. The protective clamshell coverings clattered apart on the ground, and the rafts began to inflate automatically. A third raft would be behind the starboard engines. The blown hatches would have a negligible effect on the plane’s aerodynamics.
He took the Leatherman from his pocket and pressed it into Jess’s hand. “Take this. There’s a knife on it. Cut the ropes loose on all of them, starting with the port raft, but be careful of the engines. Drag the forward rafts behind the engines. Then drag the other raft in through the rear cargo door and get out. I’ll close it when you’re clear.”
“No way. I need you alive if we’re going to save Nana. That’s why I’m coming with you.”
“Oh, no, you’re not.”
“Tyler, I’ve done more than forty jumps. Discussion over.”
Tyler could see she was going to be just as stubborn as Fay was. And she was right. He didn’t have time. Only ten minutes left to detonation.
“All right,” he said. “You win. Pull the raft in and close the crew door. There should be a button next to it. It’ll show green when the door is secure.”
She left and Tyler opened the massive rear cargo door. He saw Jess dash out and cut the cord on the port raft, using the line to drag it backward as she strained at the weight of the enormous raft. When she was clear, he started number two engine.
Jess repeated the process with the starboard raft. Tyler wanted to go help her, but doing so would have wasted time they didn’t have.
As soon as she was out of sight, Tyler started engine three.
He put the pilot’s headset on. It was already on the tower frequency.
“Tower, this is Air Force flight … uh, this is the Air Force C-17. Permission to taxi for takeoff.”
An accented voice answered after a pause. “I don’t have your flight plan, C-17.”
“This is an emergency takeoff. We’ll file the plan en route.”
“Negative, C-17,” came the shocked response. “Not without your paperwork. There could be traffic in your proposed flight path.”
“Tower, traffic won’t be an issue unless they’re on final approach. This was just a courtesy call to tell you to keep the runway clear. I don’t see anyone out there, so I’m taking off. Out.”
Engine three was still warming up, but he could use the first two engines to taxi.
A minute later, Jess returned and climbed into the right-hand seat, sweat pouring from her brow. “Those bastards are heavy,” she said between breaths, “but I got one aboard. The side door’s closed.”
Tyler closed the cargo door, pushed the throttles forward, and released the brakes. The C-17 rolled across the tarmac at a stately pace.