Yeah, hilarious, Zak thought as the plane dropped once more, juddering in the storm.
We’re not going to crash, he told himself. We’re NOT going to crash. This isn’t how it happens. I don’t die like this. Please don’t crash.
A picture flashed in his mind, of him in a hospital bed, eyes closed and at peace. Mum and Dad and May were standing around him. Grandma and Grandad in the background. That was how he was supposed to die.
Dima’s accented words came over the intercom once more. ‘Don’t worry.’ He shifted in his seat to see back through the open cockpit door. ‘The Reeves family will be safe tonight. I get the Reeves family to Outpost Zero in one piece, OK?’ He was slightly overweight, with a mop of dark hair, greying at the temples. His face was weather-beaten, and his nose was crooked from the many times he had broken it. ‘You not worry. I have landed in much worse than this. Much worse. One time, total white-out on the ground. I see nothing at all. Da, it was a bad landing, plane could not be used again, but everything was horror show.’
Horror show? And the plane couldn’t be used again? How bad is this going to be? Zak stared at the pilot. The guy is completely nuts.
‘I pulling your leg.’ Dima’s face broke into a huge tobacco-stained smile with a tooth missing at the top. ‘It’s a joke. No one can land in total white-out, not even me. Impossible to see.’
Oh. Great. Zak turned back to the window as lightning crackled in the sky. He caught a glimpse of brooding clouds hanging heavy, but it was what lay below that scared him the most. A swirling mass of ice and snow that hammered against the plane as it descended.
If that wasn’t a total white-out, Zak didn’t know what was.
‘Don’t listen to him, Zak.’ Mum put a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘We’re going to be fine.’ And she did that thing where her expression was so full of concern her face crumpled up like a piece of paper. ‘You feeling OK?’
‘Yeah, fine.’ He moved his arm, pretending to rearrange the collar of his thick coat, but really it was just to get Mum’s hand off him. Sometimes, sympathy is the worst thing in the world.
‘You see the base now?’ Dima’s voice carried into the cabin once more. ‘The lights. Look.’ He pointed out the front of the cockpit but all Zak could see was Dima’s wonky reflection in the glass, so he shifted his focus to see beyond it, and there it was. An orangey glow filtering through the storm.
‘Outpost Zero,’ Dima said. ‘The base. At last we are arriving.’
The glow became more concentrated as they approached, and before long, Zak could make out individual lights, and he began to think this wasn’t a total white-out after all. One thing was for sure, though – the base was smaller than he had expected.
In the cockpit, Dima was speaking into his communication system as he took the plane down. ‘Outpost Zero, Twin Otter seven-one-five request advisory.’
The storm blustered, scooping the plane from side to side as Dima dipped the nose, angling to the left of the main Outpost Zero lights. He lowered his voice so it was impossible to hear what he was saying over the comms, but he was frantically flipping switches, checking read-outs, and tapping dials like something was bothering him.
Like something was wrong.
Zak’s stomach cramped when he realized what it was. There weren’t any runway lights. Nothing. No sign of a landing strip at all. Maybe this was how he was going to die. Forget about doctors and drips and treatments. Forget about hospital beds with clean white sheets, fading away, and everyone being sad he was gone. They were all going to die together. They were going to hit the base and die in a blazing fireball, or—
Lightning flashed outside, bright and white, filling the cabin. There was the sound of shearing metal and the engines screamed.
‘It’s OK.’ Dima glanced back. ‘Don’t worry. We be OK. Everything will be horror show.’
That expression again. Horror show.
‘Shouldn’t the landing strip be lit up?’ Dad shouted.
‘They… there is no answer from the base.’ Dima flicked more switches. ‘Perhaps it is the weather.’
‘And the lights?’ Dad asked.
‘I have done this many times. I know this runway like I know the back parts of my own hands; we will be A-OK. With Outpost Zero lights on, I know where the landing strip is, so—’
The base lights went out.
One moment Outpost Zero was there, glowing like a beacon, and the next it was gone. All the buildings went dark. There was nothing to see through the cockpit window but the swirling whiteness of an Antarctic blizzard.
‘Damn it!’ Dima abandoned the switches and concentrated on lifting the nose of the plane. He needed to take them back up again. Fast.
The twin engines whined in protest and Zak slipped sideways in his seat as the aircraft made a steep and terrifying climb. It rose high through the storm, rattling and shaking like a shopping trolley with a wonky wheel. Zak locked eyes with his sister and gripped his book so hard his fingertips throbbed and his knuckles popped.
I’m not going to die. Not here. Not like this.
His mum put an arm around his shoulder, and although his instinct was to shrug it away, like always, he accepted it, let her leave it there.
‘We’ll be fine,’ she said, but she was trembling and Zak knew she was as scared as he was. Even more scared, probably. Death was coming for Zak anyway. Every day, every hour, every minute brought it a step closer. Sometimes he thought about nothing else. It was difficult not to when everyone kept reminding him of it. Everyone trying to be so nice all the time.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Dad said. ‘Why did they turn the lights out?’
Dima didn’t reply; he was too focused on controlling the plane, fighting the sudden climb and the angry weather. And as soon as the aircraft began to level out, and the engines stopped protesting, he was on his comms again, trying to contact the base. ‘Outpost Zero, Twin Otter seven-one-five request advisory. Please respond.’ He tapped the right ear cup of his headset and tried again. ‘Outpost Zero, Twin Otter seven-one-five request advisory. Please respond. Respond.’
‘Anything?’ Dad asked. ‘Are you getting anything?’
Dima swore in Russian and tore off the headset, throwing it down beside him. He cursed again and glanced back with an expression Zak didn’t like. Not one bit.
‘Well?’ Dad asked.
‘I… please. Everything is A-OK. I guess they have some kind of power problem.’
‘You guess?’
‘I mean, that must be what it is. A power problem.’ He took a deep breath and retrieved his headset.
‘So what now?’ Mum asked as Dima took the plane into a wide circle. ‘Does this mean we have to go back?’
‘Not possible. I have to land here. For fuel.’
‘What?’ May’s eyes widened and she leant forward, still crossing her fingers. ‘Are you saying there’s only enough fuel to go one way? We don’t have enough to get back? What kind of stupid plane is this?’
‘We refuel at Outpost Zero.’
‘Yeah, if you can land. Except you can’t, can you? You can’t see anything. How can you land in this?’ She turned to Mum and Dad. ‘I mean, literally, how can he land in this?’
Dad shared a look with Mum.
‘No, seriously.’ May was becoming more agitated. ‘How can he land when he can’t even see the runway? What are our chances of making it? We’re going to be—’