Chapter One
RAGE
Author: J Carrell Jones
Table of Content
Chapter One
Mary, the flight attendant, smiled as she walked passed me. Like the others, she was slim with dark hair. She had a natural way about herself and smiled easily. Earlier, she had brought me a Gin and Tonic with Peanuts. We made small talk until she mentioned her sister served in Iraq - the first invasion. We had something in common and an instant bond formed. She worked the aisles and every now and then she made her way to my side. Eye contact was always intense. We smiled, with both of us licking our lips. She’d shift her gaze and would move on. Our little game together.
Then . . . he walked by. I first saw him at the ticket gate. He looked normal enough, but there was something off about him. He was handsome, tall, toned. Grunge seemed to be his choice in clothing. Today, it seemed more so. I watched him when he handed his passport to the ticket agent. They chatted, she even laughed. So, why was I put on edge? His eyes. They were . . . not right. He had been high on something and was just starting to come off it. I would have guessed Meth. He was probably starting to tweak. So, when he walked by me I took noticed. He stepped into an unoccupied lavatory. The pilot had just turned off the fasten seatbelt sign several minutes ago and the cabin stirred to life. Mary walked by and asked if I needed anything. I said, “Yes . . .”
She smiled and said “absolutely.” She came in close and whispered, “Once midway over the Atlantic things will be very quiet.” She then stood up, “Another Gin and Tonic?”
I returned the smile. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
She got an order from the guy next to me. When she left, he leaned over to me and whispered, “Lucky you.”
I laughed, “She makes a great Gin and Tonic.”
He laughed too. He started to say something when . . . it happened.
We heard a roar behind us. It was extreme and primal. Grunge yelled, “I got to get out!’ He was naked and his face was scrunched up demonically. A woman turned to move out of his way. He grabbed her hair and pulled hard toward him. His teeth bit deep into her scalp. She screamed as he broke bone. Another passenger punched him in the face. Grunge released the woman and fell back. He got up and pounced on the man. Teeth sank into his neck and blood squirted everywhere. I undid my seatbelt and jumped out into the aisle. I spotted a laptop and grabbed it. I remembered saying, “May I” as I lifted the laptop over my head and came down hard on Grunge’s Skull. He yelled louder, dropped the man and came after me. I kicked him in the chest hard enough to break brick. He brushed the kick off and back handed me. The laptop took most of the force. He ran over me and headed for the cockpit. A Flight Attendant tried to stop him. He raged harder, hit her in the shoulder. She screamed as her collarbone snapped. He crashed into the door screaming. The door held for several moments, then caved in. Someone yelled, “What the . . . get out!”
I stepped back out into the aisle and headed toward Grunge. I could see him swinging at the Pilot and Co-pilot. Then . . . three shots and Grunge raged more. Someone screamed and the plane banked sharply. The navigator swung and hit him in the head. Grunge swung back hard and I heard a deep sounding crack. Another shot and Grunge came out dragging the Navigator. His body was limp. I was about to hit him in the head again when the Air Marshal appeared. He ran up to Grunge, jabbed a small Stun Gun in his neck and sparked the device. Grunge tossed the Navigator aside. He swung and connected with the Marshal’s right arm. The Stun gun, released, hit the side wall. Grunge punched the Marshal in the Jaw, breaking it. The Marshal spit a dozen teeth out and reached for something in his jacket pocket. Grunge kicked him in the chest. The Marshal fell back, but true to his training he had his gun out with his left hand and double tapped. Grunge stopped cold as both bullets hit him between the eyes.
I reached the Marshal. He fainted. “Flight Attendant!” I snapped. One came up and cradled the Marshal’s head between her legs. I got up and stared at a lifeless Grunge now. Blood soaked the carpet from the gaping wound at the back of his head. The plane banked sharply again, dropped some, then leveled out. I ran to the cockpit. Blood was nearly everywhere. An unconscious Captain had deep scratch marks over his face. I could tell his right eye was a lost cause. The Co-pilot was slouched over the wheel. His left shoulder dislocated and the right arm was broken at the forearm. I yelled, “We need some help in here! Is there anyone with medical training?” Mary appeared with several people. A middle-aged woman and two younger men.
The woman said, “I’m a GP.”
The two guys where both Med students. One in his first year, the second graduating soon.
We eased the Captain out of his chair and into the aisle. Grunge had been dragged out of the way by some of the passengers. The Co-pilot refused to leave.
I pulled out my ID, “United Nation’s Agent Bechard,” and sat in the Pilot’s seat.
The Co-pilot said, “I can’t leave my post. I have to land this thing.”
I replied, “How? One dislocated shoulder and a broken arm.”
He winced in pain, “Then sit there and help me fly this bird.”
I nodded and buckled myself in.
One of the Med students secured the Co-pilot’s arm to his side. Before that, he discovered broken ribs. He set the broken arm before splinting it. The Co-pilot said, “My bag. Over there. I have ibuprofen in there.”
Mary had a cup of water already in hand. The Med student, Patrick, held the bottle. He gave the Co-pilot eight 200 mg tablets.
The Co-pilot washed them down with the water. After a few moments he said, “Damn maniac! What the devil was he on?”
I shrugged. “I thought he was coming off a meth high before take-off, but this rage is nothing like a tweak.”
He winced and straightened himself up. He checked the instrumentation and fumbled putting the headset on. Mary helped.
I put the Captain’s on.
Mary had a sorrowful expression. I looked her way and gave a lopsided smile. Her features softened. She said, “Ms. Bechard . . .”
“Please call me Karen . . .”
“Karen, can I get you anything? Coffee, tea . . .”
I let the pause linger some seconds, smiled and said, “Coffee would be great.”
She smiled my way, turned, saw the blot of blood, frowned and headed toward the back. From my vantage point I could see most of business class was empty of live passengers. It was now the morgue. Grunge and two other bodies were seated with blankets over them. One flight attendant was standing near crying.
The Co-pilot communicated to LaGuardia that we had a situation. He looked beaten. Figuratively and literally.
I was staring ahead when the Co-pilot asked, “Miss, Karen, right?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Call me Martin.”
“Okay, Martin. How are you feeling?”
“Like shit. Bastard.”
I nodded.
“I ain’t never seen anything like this. hold . . .”
LaGuardia Tower gave Martin a frequency and heading.
He responded, “LaGuardia, Delta zero-niner-zero-niner, starting turn in a few. How’s traffic?”
“Delta 0909, traffic has been diverted. The sky is yours. Move to 220.”
He placed his hand over the mike, “Karen, that softkey off-center . . .”
I hovered my finger over the display screen.
He nodded, “Yeah, that one. Press.”
I did.
“Turn that knob over there to 220.” He puckered his lips to a knob.
“Piney, huh?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, thirteen years now.”
I turned the knob until 220 displayed on my front screen.
He reached over with his right arm and pressed several buttons.
The plane turned on its own.
He spoke in his mike again. “LaGuardia 220.”
LaGuardia answered and gave him several more questions. He answered. Finished and sat back.
Mary entered with a tray. A coffee pot, cup, sugar, cream, and pastry were on it.
I said, “one sugar no cream, please,” and took a pastry.
“We have a few minutes before landing . . .” He paused a long time and finally said, “I’m not sure I’ll make it. I feel really bad.”
“Of course, you’ll make it.” I hoped.
“You’re gonna have to land this plane. I’m feeling really, really bad. I might pass out on you.”
“Mary,” I said, “Get the Doctor.”
A moment later our GP showed up. She looked into the Co-Pilot’s eyes and said, “He hit you in the head pretty hard didn’t he?”
The Co-pilot nodded. “I just want . . .” He never finished. He slumped into the Doctor’s arms. She called to the Med Students. They carried him out.
I thought, ‘Well, Uck. We’re doomed.’
Mary stood there for a moment. Tears welled up in her eyes. Without me asking she slipped into the Co-pilot’s seat. This one has got to be a keeper I thought. Her bottom lip quivered as she buckled in and placed the headset on. She gave me a weak smile.
I smiled back and switched on the mike. “LaGuardia, this is Delta zero-niner-zero-niner. United Nation Agent Karen Bechard speaking. We have a situation.”
Mary looked over at me with mixed emotions - surprise, shock, disbelief, and relief.
The Tower answered, “Delta zero-niner-zero-niner, what’s the situation?”
“Co-pilot is out. I’m sitting Pilot seat and Flight Attendant Mary . . .” I placed my hand over the mike.
She replied, “Hernandez.”
“. . . Hernandez in Co-pilot seat. Delta zero-niner-zero-niner out.”
There was a long pause. Then, “Delta zero-niner-zero-niner, we see you holding course. Do you have flight experience?”
I answered, “Some. Apache copter, Huey, twin turbine four passengers, glider.”
“All Planes, this is LaGuardia tower, secure for emergency landing. Delta 0909 can you locate the Captain’s Radio Tuning control?
Underneath and left of the engine throttles. Turn to frequency 121.65.”
I found the control and made the change. Mary did the same thing on her side.
“Tower, both Pilot and Co-pilot radios are at frequency 121.65.”
“Ms. Bechard, you’re moving away from us. We have to turn you around.”
“Tower, call me Karen. I’m ready. Instruct away.”
“Okay Karen, we need to first run through a few things. The altimeter is just left of center.”
I replied, “It’s the bottom of the three gauges. Airspeed is center.”
“Correct. What is your speed?”
I said, “270 knots per second.”
There was a pause. “Okay, we need to slow you down a bit. But first I need you to start making an approach for landing. I read you at 25,000 feet. We need you at 10,000 and aimed back at us.”
I looked over to Mary. She was studying the controls. The flight manual was in her lap and opened. She was power reading.
One of the other flight attendants came into the cabin. “Anything I can do?”
Mary said, “Hey, Liz. I’d love a drink but coffee would be best. Can you warm up Karen’s coffee, please?”
Liz stood there for a while, not knowing what to say or do. Mary noticed, looked up, and said, “Liz, no worries. Karen has some flight experience and LaGuardia is walking us through the basics now. We’ll be safe on the ground soon.”
Liz touched Mary on the shoulder. I think she wanted to give her a hug, but left instead with my cup.
I closed the mike and said, “Mary?”
She looked up and over to me.
“Dinner then my place?”
She smiled and moved a bunch of hair behind her ear. “Any restaurant?”
Tower was talking in my ear. I mouthed, “of course,” and focused what Tower had to say. Mary and I worked together. We ran down the descent checklist quickly and started working on approach. Tower had us turned around and minutes within the airport. The weather turned from nice to crappy all in an hour.
Tower said, “Karen, you got wind at South East . . .” He paused.
Wind. Great. Even experienced pilots can find it challenging.
I replied, “And I thought this was supposed to be a tough landing.”
Mary hit the fasten seatbelt sign and toggled the cabin intercom on. “Ladies and Gentlemen. We are starting our approach now. Please take your seats and fasten your seat belts. If you haven’t done so, please place your tray tables in their upright position. Make sure all loose items are stowed properly. Flight Attendants, please secure cabin for landing.” She toggled the intercom off and let out a long breath.
“Delta 0909 is ready for instructions,” I said. “Talk us through.”
Tower said we were going to do a Sideslip. The runway was still dry so that was one less thing to worry about.
We started our descent.
Mary toggled intercom. “Prepare for descent.”
We gave each other one last look. I took a deep breath and pulled back on the throttle. Mary dropped the landing gear and I moved the flaps to 25. The plane descended smoothly. I could make out 22 at the front of the runway. Tower instructed me to adjust rudder and ailerons. I pulled further back on the throttle further dropping our speed. I’ve landed turboprops in crosswinds but doing so in such a huge craft so high off the ground made for a different experience. To my right I saw the centerline of the runway. In front of me was Flushing Bay. I could see the 678 backing up. Then the plane tilted. Tower instructed me to drop my left wing down a bit. I did and nearly touched ground. I jerked back and the plane tilted crazily to the right. Tower calmly said don’t power steer. Imagine you have an egg sitting on top of the steering wheel and try not to drop it. I turned in and the plane adjusted. The runway came up fast and just before the wheels touched Tower said re-adjust and point the nose centerline. I felt the rear tires contact ground first. As instructed, I dropped the nose down and felt the hard hit of the tires. Mary set the spoilers to up. I engaged thrust reverse. I watched the speed go from 150 knots to 80 knots to 50. I hit the brakes and thought screw the taxi. This plane is stopping now. Some seconds later our 747 came to rest. Mary quickly went through turning everything off. I found the APU Gen 1 and Gen 2 switches. We had power. In the background, I heard applauds. I was happy to have dodged this bullet and not made a debris path. Mary and I unbuckled. I stepped out and couldn’t believe what I saw. In the moment, Grunge had knocked me down and ran to the cockpit he ripped several seats to shreds. One armrest was bent out at an odd angle. What was disturbing was the blood splatters. On the windows, the floor, and the seats. The first three rows of business had been vacated. I told Mary I had to go and make a report. She said she would, hopefully, be at the Airport Hilton. We touched hands briefly and I took the nearest emergency exit slide. Mary stayed to help evacuate the plane. I made a mental note: Karen, keep this one happy and talk to Vadnez about making her an agent.