"Scott," she said, urgency in her voice. "This is a huge, powerful system. Let's make a one-eighty and get the hell out of here."
They were inside a killer storm and their situation was definitely serious, a life-threatening experience over the middle of the North Atlantic.
Focused on keeping the jet under control, he nodded quietly. "Yeah, might be the best course."
A double flash of intense lightning made them wince.
With fear in her eyes, she glanced at Scott. "We just took a lightning strike. The left engine is rolling back, losing power!"
Gripping the control yoke, Scott turned left toward Reykjavik. Fighting the extreme turbulence, he lowered the nose and thought about broadcasting a Mayday message. "As soon as were in the parameters for an air start, give it a try."
Before she could answer, the G-100 took a mind-numbing lightning strike that literally knocked out the entire electrical system. It was like tripping the main circuit breaker to a home.
"Both engines are spooling down," she said in a frightened voice. "We've lost everything!"
"Grab the flashlight!" Scott said, focusing on his three small, dimly lighted basic instruments. "Put on your mask!"
They quickly donned their oxygen masks while Scott initiated an emergency descent. Without the electrical system, they could not communicate with anyone.
With her mask adjusted, she snatched a flashlight from her flight bag and trained it on the emergency primary instruments. "Were in deep trouble," she said in a muffled voice.
"Check the circuit breakers," Scott said, when he smelled the pungent stench of burned electrical wires. He adjusted his mask to fit tighter.
Jackie made a quick sweep with the flashlight and felt a cold chill run down her back. "We have smoke in the cockpit."
"Keep the extinguisher handy."
"I have it."
Scott remained unusually quiet, concentrating on flying the airplane and facing reality. Most aircraft accidents are the result of a chain of events leading to a disaster. I dismissed all the obvious warning signs, all the flashing neon lights.
The emergency instruments were powered by an independent battery that lasted a half hour or less. The radios did not have a separate battery. Scott and Jackie had to find a place to land or risk losing control of the battered jet. Making matters worse, there was no way to declare an emergency or broadcast a Mayday call. They were alone and descending through the maw of a violent thunderstorm.
Scott centered his attention on flying the plane as smoothly as possible in the severe turbulence. "Stay on oxygen until we re out of fifteen."
Jackie nodded, as she stared at the primary instruments.
They focused on the basic survival instincts. Don't lose control of the jet during the rapid descent. Passing through 17,000 feet, Scott couldn't wait any longer.
"Jackie, try the sat phone — get off a Mayday!"
She slowly shook her head. "They're packed in the external luggage compartment."
"Great."
She ripped off her mask and handed Scott the flashlight. "I'll check the satcom in the cabin." She hurriedly unbuckled her seat restraints and then rushed into the darkened cabin. The turbulence knocked her from side to side and caused her to trip. Jackie checked the satcom and lurched back to the cockpit door. "The phone in the cabin is fried."
"It just keeps getting better." Scott yanked his mask off. He could feel the Grim Reapers hand resting on his shoulder. We cant make land — have to ditch at night in a thunderstorm…
"Jackie," he said, in a controlled voice, "grab one of those glass tumblers from the bar and fill it half full of water."
She fumbled in the dark, found a glass, and guessed at the amount of water she drained into it. Jackie steadied herself and then handed the glass to Scott. She braced herself on the glare shield and fell sideways into her seat, banging her head on the side window.
Scott set the flashlight on Jackie's lap. He carefully placed the water glass on the glare shield directly in front of him. Although the water continually sloshed around, it stayed in the tumbler. "If we lose our emergency battery — our primary instruments — shine the flashlight directly on this glass."
"A homemade artificial horizon?"
"It'll keep us right side up."
"We're going to have to ditch," she said, fear creeping into her voice. "No options — no place to go."
They exchanged knowing looks in the faint illumination of the flashlight. The mental illusions of denial were rapidly being displaced by the stark reality of their situation.
Scott paused and drew in a deep breath. "Yeah, we don't have any choice — my fault — huge mistake." He picked up the flashlight. "Break out the life raft and two life vests."
Without saying a word, Jackie went into the dark cabin. She stowed the carrying case containing the nine-man life raft in the aisle between the emergency hatches. The right and left exits were over the leading edges of the wings. Swaying in the aisle, she donned a life vest and staggered to the cockpit with another one. She handed Scott his vest and then strapped into her seat. "I'll take it."
"You have it." Shining the flashlight on the instrument panel, Scott wiggled into his vest and cinched it tight. "After we descend through five thousand feet, remove the starboard hatch and stow it in the lavatory. Remove the raft from its carrying case and secure the restraining line to something solid in the cabin — we don't want the raft to blow away."
He flinched when a jagged bolt of lightning hit the left wing. "As soon as we stop, set the raft on the wing — but don't pull the lanyard until I reach the hatch."
A sudden silence fell over them while Jackie trained the light on the emergency instruments. "If we live through this," she began slowly and deliberately, "we need to discuss a new operating protocol."
"Integrated steps in decision making."
"Yes. Exactly." She stared into the darkness. "We've been operating at the far edges of the envelope, sometimes over the edge, for a long time. We've been lucky. We think it's normal to push everything to the limit and beyond to see if we can reel it back in." She paused and glanced at him. "We may have gone too far this time."
"There's ten thousand feet," Scott declared. "We'll discuss it later; time to strap into your seat in the cabin. Take all the sharp objects out of your pockets and take off your shoes."
Jackie made her way to the cabin and sat down in the aft-facing club seat on the right side of the jet. The stomach-churning turbulence, combined with the heavy rain and lightning, made a true believer out of her. She would never again fly through a thunderstorm, at least not on purpose. Jackie knew this was one of those experiences she would remember in great detail all her life, and the ordeal wasn't over.
Passing through five thousand feet, Scott turned around and peered into the dark cabin. "Stow the emergency hatch."
"Working on it."
With confidence the emergency battery would hold out, Scott placed the flashlight on the right seat and cinched his restraints as tight as he could. Out of 3,000 feet he began slowing the jet. He could intermittently see whitecaps when the lightning flashed.
"One thousand feet," Scott announced. "Brace yourself!"
"All set."
The controls were beginning to feel mushy. Scott scooped the water glass from the glare shield and tossed it on the floor in front of the copilot seat. Don't stall the airplane… where's the surface?
Descending through 400 feet, he had a peek at the ocean during a mighty flash of lightning. The huge frothy waves were only 100 feet below him.
Oh, my God! he said to himself. The altimeter was off — not set properly in all the confusion. Scott eased the control yoke back. Hoping for another flash, he realized there wouldn't be time to align the airplane parallel to the swells.