“Steve, keep it steady… keep it lined up. Make small corrections, very small corrections, in roll and pitch. Okay?”
“Yeah!”
“Robert?” Dan prompted again.
“Down eight hundred now, altitude just under a thousand.”
“We should be three miles, John. Right?” Dan asked.
“Yes. Three.”
“Dallas, can you see the runway clearly? Does it look empty?”
“Yes. The runway looks clear, but there’s lightning on the north side.”
“Concentrate on the runway. Does it have lights on each side?” Dan asked.
“Yes.”
“Down nine hundred, six hundred feet.”
“Steve,” Dan said, “I’m pulling back gently. We want the descent rate a little less. Now, is the end of the runway coming up in the windscreen, or moving under us?”
“Ah, it’s… ah… moving under us.”
“Speed?”
“One-forty.”
“Steve, let the nose down just a hair,” Dan added. “Is the end staying in the same place now?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Steve replied.
“Down nine hundred, two hundred feet,” Robert said.
Dan reached up and verified by feel that the landing lights were on. “Okay… are we headed straight down the runway?”
“Yes!” Steve replied. “But something’s wrong! There’s… a… OH NO! THERES A BUILDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RUNWAY!”
“Dallas? What does he mean?”
“Jeez, Dan, this isn’t a runway! There’s…”
“DAN! This is a taxiway! It ends in a building!”
Dan Wade’s left hand crammed the throttles forward and pulled back on the yoke, pressing the right rudder pedal hard to keep the airplane aligned.
“We’re going around!” Dan croaked. “Max power. Steve, keep wings level!”
“I am!”
“Are we climbing?”
“Yes, a little!” Steve said.
“I’m… guide us straight out, Steve. Are we clear of hills?”
“I don’t know… there’s the runway, under us! Oh, man, I lined us up on the wrong thing!”
“Steve, keep us climbing gently straight ahead. Let’s go up to a thousand feet and turn east. It’ll want to turn left. Don’t let it.”
“There’s a hill over there… in front,” Steve yelled. “And a lot of lightning just ahead.”
“Steer us away,” Dan replied, feeling the yoke go to the left.
“We’re climbing eight hundred, at five hundred feet,” Robert said.
“Airspeed?”
“DAN! WHICH WAY DO I GO?”
“Steve, stay calm! Hold on to the airplane and aim to the left of that storm and keep us clear of any hills. Most are to the west. Keep climbing.”
“Gotta come left more,” Steve said, his voice high and strained. “Lightning!”
“Yes, to the left!” Dallas echoed. “I can’t tell how far. Can’t see for these clouds. We’re in the clouds now, Dan.”
“Steady, Steve. Keep her climbing, and keep her going straight. We’ll go back around to the east, around the storm, and try it again.”
Unseen by the copilot, a tremendous flash of light illuminated the cockpit.
“Dan, we’ve flown into a storm,” Robert said, as calmly as he could.
“DON’T TURN, STEVE! Just keep climbing on this heading. We’ll have to take the bumps.”
Another lightning flash flooded the cockpit with a ghastly light, followed almost instantly by a gigantic booming sound.
“SWEET JESUS, HELP!” Dallas exclaimed.
“DAN,” Steve yelped, “we’re right in the middle of it!” The aircraft had begun to heave and buck in the violent air currents of a thunderstorm cell.
“Keep climbing. Robert?”
“Ah… up… ah, one thousand, and altitude now at one thousand two hundred.”
“Airspeed, someone?” Dan asked.
“I can hardly see after that flash!” Steve said.
“One-sixty,” Dallas said. “And heading two hundred eighty degrees.”
“I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING, DAN!” Steve yelled.
Dan raised his left hand. “Wait, did you say two-eight-zero degrees?”
“Yes,” Dallas said.
“NO!” Dan said. “Aim more north! Use your instruments now. Turn right. Keep climbing. I’m going to raise the gear.” Dan reached out and snapped the landing gear lever to the Up position, feeling the undercarriage respond. “Altitude?”
“One thousand seven hundred, but we’re not climbing,” Robert said.
“Attitude, John?”
“Ah, up five degrees.”
Robert’s voice cut in. “Dan, we’re descending three hundred feet per minute.”
“Watch your pitch, Steve!” Dan shoved the throttles as far forward as they would go as he added back pressure to the yoke to pull the nose up. “Attitude?”
“Up seven, no, eight degrees.”
“We’ve stopped descending, Dan, but we’re at one thousand three hundred.”
The sound of a call chime rang through the cockpit, unheard by Dan. Dallas answered it, then replaced the handset. “Dan, the rain’s put the fire out!”
“Thank God,” Dan said. “We turn north now, we’ll be over the coastline. Need more altitude.”
A tremendous burst of wind slammed into the 747 at the same moment another round of staccato lightning strikes all but blinded everyone but Dan. The gut-wrenching sound of repeated thunderclaps coursed through their souls as the turbulence became severe; the instruments bounced too wildly to be read.
“HANG… ON… EVERYONE!” Dan shouted. “STEVE… IT’S UP TO YOU TO KEEP THE NOSE UP! KEEP IT AT FIFTEEN DEGREES UP! AIRSPEED, ANYONE?”
“CAN’T READ IT!” Dallas cried.
“HEADING? HEADING PLEASE!”
“TWO HUNDRED SOMETHING…” Dallas yelled.
“NO! NO, NO, NO!” Dan yelled. “THERE ARE MOUNTAINS TO THE WEST. TURN RIGHT!”
“DAN, WE’RE DESCENDING AGAIN!” Robert yelled. “WE’RE HOLDING AT A THOUSAND…”
A sudden massive impact threw them all forward against the shoulder straps with incredible force as the belly of the 747 found a ridgeline. John Walters felt himself propelled forward, his body frozen for a split second by another lightning strike. The mountain ridge ripped off all of the engines and most of the flaps, leaving the remaining structure of wings and fuselage skittering in disintegrating confusion at more than a hundred knots past the ridge and settling progressively into the mountain jungle canopy. The airframe rapidly decelerated as flaps and wing panels, engines and lower fuselage parts were ripped away. The lower deck and coach cabins, galleys, seats, and passengers were progressively yanked into the thickening buzz saw of passing trees as the 747 spread its parts through the jumble of vegetation below.
For those in the cockpit, the sensory overload became total. The unbelievable sequence unfolded too rapidly to grasp or see or understand. The airplane disintegrated like a block of cheese skimming a kitchen grater, shedding more and more parts and ribs and components until only a portion of the liberated upper deck of the 747 remained intact. And finally, all that remained habitable of what had been an enormous airplane slid to a halt in the middle of a verdant jungle clearing.
In the minutes that followed, the thunderstorm moved east, leaving behind the normal sounds of a misty predawn jungle, broken in places only by the sound of liquids hissing on hot metallic objects.
CHAPTER 18
Janice Washburn gently touched the sleeve of the technician next to her and gestured for him to zoom in closer. Normally the scenes they monitored from orbit carried no emotional reaction, but this was different.