Country man looked at his watch. “Three hours air time. My guess South Dakota.”
Her stomach flipped and heart raced out of control. Kit needed a second to calm down then she was going to unbuckle her belt and go see her son then return to her seat.
She closed her eyes, said a short prayer, turned her head and looked out the window hoping to see airport lights.
Instead she saw something else.
On her farthest point of sight, just on the horizon, she saw a flash of light. Then another and another. Pop. Pop. Pop. They danced across the ground. The lights of civilization below went dark with each spark.
All began as a tiny flash, swelling into a bright bubble before transforming into an undeniable mushroom cloud.
“Oh my God.” Kit gasped her words.
“What is it?” Country Man asked.
Kit’s eyes widened. “We’re not gonna make it.”
“What?”
“Look, take a look.”
Just as he leaned forward to peer out her window, the plane jolted downward, the engines grew louder and the speed seemed to pick up.
Before he got to see what Kit witnessed, the flight attendant called out, “Brace. Brace. Head down. Stay down. Grab your ankles. Brace.”
The book toppled from Mark’s hand the second the pilot said they needed to make a forced landing. It wasn’t his own surprise that caused him to drop the book, it was Red Sweater woman’s panicked reaction.
Mark didn’t have time to think about what was happening. What he wanted to do was stand up, shout for his family. The amount of noise on the plane and immediate chaos would have prohibited them from knowing he was even trying to reach out to them.
He bent forward picking up the book, tucked it in the seat pocket in front of him, then tightened his belt as tight as it could go.
“Could you help me?” Red Sweater woman asked, fumbling with her belt. “Please. It won’t tighten.”
“Yes. Yes, I will.” Mark reached out.
The plane jolted slightly, angled forward and felt as if it dropped.
Red Sweater woman shrieked.
“Hold still,” Mark said. “I got this.”
He adjusted her belt, but paused when he heard the frightening command.
“Brace. Brace. Head down. Stay down. Grab your ankles. Brace.”
After finishing the woman’s belt, Mark undid his buckle and immediately stood up.
Regis was transfixed on watching the nightmare outside his window. It was real. It was happening. How many were there? Three or four? It felt like a dream watching it unfold. He literally didn’t hear a sound around him. It was muffled by the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Nuclear weapons had been detonated on American soil. How were they still in the air? How did the plane still have power? Surely the EMP would have knocked them from the sky? His mind raced for logic and he thought of the Enola Gay. They dropped the bomb and flew away. Maybe the pulse of the bomb wouldn’t hit them. Regis doubted it. They’d lose power, it was just a matter of when.
“Rege!”
Suddenly, the noise of the plane changed and standing in the aisle by his row was Mark.
“Head down. Stay down. Brace.” Steady and strong the flight attendant repeated the sentence like a skipping record.
“Mark, what the hell?” Regis jumped to his feet. “What are you doing?”
“I love you.” Mark breathed heavily. “I love you and I’m sorry.”
Regis reached out and laid his hand on Mark’s face. “I love you, too. It’s gonna be fine. Go. Go back now.”
Mark didn’t seem to want to listen, he moved forward.
“Mark.” Rege stopped him. “Go. Now.”
He had made it only a row and Regis saw Zeke standing.
The teenager looked scared to death.
“Zeke,” Mark yelled.
“Go.” Regis ordered Mark. “Get back.” Then he locked eyes with Zeke, brought his fist to his own chest as a show of his love to his nephew, then pointed with command at Zeke and motioned for him to get down.
Zeke did as instructed.
Mark was still in the aisle.
“Please get back,” Regis begged.
“I need to see Kit.”
“She’s fine.”
Mark’s face tensed up, he took a few steps back and as he moved, he shouted over the cabin noise, “Kit. I love you.”
Regis watched to make sure Mark made it back to his seat, then he himself sat down and buckled his belt.
He hoped that Kit heard him.
He closed his eyes debating for a second if he had time to search out his sister, she was only a couple rows ahead. The second he opened his eyes, he saw her standing.
She was looking right at him. He made eye contact with her, even if it was only with his eyes. He tried his hardest to convey love and hope through a look and a nod.
He felt at peace. He saw them all before the plane careened to the ground.
A day earlier they were emotionally the farthest apart they ever had been. Now they were only a distance of a few feet from each other however, to Regis, they were worlds apart.
Nothing could be done about it right now.
They couldn’t huddle, or hold each other for strength at such a dire moment. They had to spiritually find that family connection with the rows of people between them.
Regis believed they had with their limited eye contact before they sat back down.
He lowered his head and assumed a crash position.
Then the inevitable happened… the plane lost all power.
‘Jesus, this isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.’
Mark’s mind raced with frantic, panicked thoughts as he leaned forward hoping he had the brace position correctly. He didn’t know. There had been no preflight instructions. Was it head to the knees, hands behind head or grabbing ankles? Maybe it was head to the seat in front?
Mark did a combination of both.
He put his head as low as he could get to his legs as his hands gripped the seat in front of him.
He couldn’t think clearly and didn’t even know where the idea to grab the life vest came from. The second he returned from his last ditch attempt to convey his love for his family, he thought to grab the life jacket from under his seat. He placed it over his head and inflated it. Not for fear of hitting water, but in hopes of extra cushion for impact.
It was the longest moments of his life.
The engines of the plane went quiet and the plane rode the wind at a high, steep speed angle toward the earth.
He closed his eyes tightly, waiting.
My son. My poor son. Why didn’t I stop and see him. My baby. I’m so sorry.
There were no more screams on the plane. Was it Mark’s imagination or could he hear the sound of the air as the plane cut through it?
It was oddly quiet with the exception of the few voices behind him that formed a unison chorus in the Our Father prayer.
He listened, locked on to that, but didn’t join in. His only prayer was that he didn’t feel it when they made impact.
There really was no more time to panic.
It was a matter of waiting. When would they hit? How much longer would it be? How close were they to the ground?
There was a certain amount of serenity in those final few hundred feet.
Any second.
Any second…
Then they hit the ground.
Mark flung some to the left and his fingers crushed against the seat he clung to, causing him to lift his head and pull back his hands.
He watched luggage eject up from the floor and hit the roof, at the same time everything came tumbling around him.
He whipped from left to right with each hard movement of the aircraft, gripping his arm rest as the plane bounced up and down, sliding against the surface without losing speed. How long would they keep going? He waited for the plane to roll like a log.