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Fort stood, ready to help. “What’s happening?”
“We’re having some fuel issues, so we’re going to land early. I’ll answer questions later. For now, please go. Move to the back as quickly as you can.”
The flight attendants scurried before me, securing hatches and making quick preparations for an emergency landing. I didn’t have to tell them it was necessary. They knew from the sound of my voice that things weren’t okay. Fort and Juliet followed the attendants, and I brought up the rear with Captain Ross and Ella, who shook in my arms, on the verge of total mental breakdown. Shit, shit, shit. I loved making women scared, but not this way. These weren’t the kind of tears I enjoyed.
“Are we going to die?” She clung to each row as we passed it, weaving like a drunken sailor. “Oh God, what’s happening? Is there a fire?”
“There’s no fire. We lost some fuel, so we’re going to land early, but everything’s going to be okay.”
“Land where?” she cried. “We’re flying over the ocean.”
“Lucky for us, there are islands in the ocean.” I lowered my voice, tipped up her chin, and made her look at me. “I know I promised to stay with you the whole time, but I can’t right now. You need to be brave. You need to be a good fucking girl, Ella, and keep your shit together. Do you understand?”
I’d said those words to her last night.You’re a good fucking girl, because she was. I wondered if she remembered. I couldn’t ask her about it now, couldn’t let on that I’d been the one tormenting her last evening while she was blindfolded, because this definitely wasn’t the time.
I guided her into the back row and helped Ross into the adjacent seat, buckling his belt. “Sit here beside the captain and look after him, because he’s not feeling well. Keep your seat belt on, put your head down when I tell you to, and brace yourself until we’re on the ground.”
“Brace myself? We’re going to crash?” The words choked in her throat as I checked her belt. “Are we going to crash in the water?”
“I told you, we’re headed to some islands. It’s going to be okay.”
“I can hear the alarms going off all the way back here.”
I cupped her face, trying to stave off her hysteria. “Don’t be scared. Be brave. Once we land, you need to be ready to move. You need to be ready to help Captain Ross if he passes out, because his blood pressure is bothering him right now.”
The flight attendants would handle Captain Ross if it came to that, but giving her a job might calm her a little. I stroked fingers across her tear-streaked cheeks, and then glanced at Ross, who looked stable if not healthy. “I wish I could stay with you, but I have to return to the cockpit. I’ll see you when we’re on the ground.”
I moved back up the aisle, leaving Ella in tears. I was leaving her when I said I wouldn’t, but she’d have to find a way to cope. As for me, I was too adrenalized to be fearful, and too practical to obsess over what-ifs. There was no time for that, no time for anything but focusing on the instruments and bringing our crippled plane to a runway, or, barring that, some flat, solid land.
I could hear the second engine strain as Ayal worked to maintain our altitude. We needed all the height we could get, although our current climb was taxing the scant fuel supplies we had left.
“How many miles out are we?” I asked as I entered the cockpit.
“I don’t know, I can’t see anything.” Ayal squinted out the front windows at the dark ocean below.
“How many miles?” I repeated. If Ayal lost her shit, a difficult landing could become impossible. At my sharp tone, she pulled herself together and relayed the messages from ground control.
“One hundred and twenty miles to Santa Maria Airport, two hundred and thirty-four to Horta.”
She listed a few more airports I’d never heard of before, and military air traffic controllers joined the fray as the fuel indicator continued to blink.
“Look,” she said. “We’re almost out of fuel. We’re going to run dry over the ocean.”
“We’ll still make it.”
She tapped the onboard monitor. “We’re going to lose engine two.” It was already operating at a lower frequency. A moment later the sputtering started, and the alarms.
“Gibraltar 451 to ground control,” Ayal cried into her headset. “Mayday. Repeat, mayday.” Her usually quiet voice cracked with urgency. “Engine two power loss is imminent. Both engines inoperable due to fuel starvation. We’re gliding toward the Azores. Request landing assistance.”
“Roger, 451. Stand by. Maintain altitude.”
“Roger.”
I pressed my lips together, keeping the plane’s nose tipped up. The only sound was the air rushing over the windshield and wings. In all my years of flying, I’d never heard anything like this silence, the lack of the engines’ rumble and hum. “Need radar backup,” I barked.
“We’ll guide you in,” said the man from ground control.
His voice in my ear was calm, but I wasn’t calm. The radio was powered by supplemental electricity that could blink out at any time, but I couldn’t think about that. I wondered what was going on in the cabin. Were they crying? Praying? Trusting that Ayal and I could land them safely? Was Captain Ross okay? The cabin would continue to lose pressure with each kilometer traveled. Ayal and I put on our oxygen masks, and then propped open the door and yelled for everyone in the back to do the same.
