The airline itself had only been operational for six months, in fact, and George got the impression that the other members of the crisis team took the task lightly, as the atmosphere in that one meeting had been extraordinarily relaxed. The airline was obligated to have a contingency plan in case of an emergency, but the team members didn’t really seem to have considered the possibility of an actual plane crash. George also thought the crisis management plan itself appeared unprofessional, and perhaps even a bit childish, as the document had poor sentence structure and several misspelled words. George had wondered if the financial plan for the company was just as weak.
The CEO, Michael Williams, had just informed George that flight 7-1-9 from Seattle to Anchorage was missing. Apparently, it had deviated from its route, and then disappeared from radar somewhere in the Northwest Territories of Canada. The last known transmission from the aircraft was a text message a female flight attendant had sent to her husband in which she’d pleaded for help, claiming both pilots had died.
During his six months as the public relations manager at Fare Airlines, George hadn’t accomplished anything significant. In fact, he wondered if he had done anything at all, except show up for work. The closest he came to performing any real duties had been when he’d dealt with the repercussions of the dumbest contest ever in American corporate history.
The board of the newly founded airline had announced a contest on the internet, through which the public not only could suggest the name for the unnamed airline, but also vote for the best suggestion. Needless to say, the contest ended as a complete and utter fiasco, with the idea and name that received the most votes being “Swirly Mcflies a lot.”
The same board had quickly changed the parameters of the contest so that the award of one year of free domestic airline travel would go to the person who came up with the best name regardless of number of votes. The only proposal close to a name one could support for an airline was “Fairline.”
The name had inspired the board to pitch several slogans, such as “fair prices at Fairline” and “great service at a fair price.” In their state of euphoria, none of the board members ever contemplated the repercussions of putting the letter “F” in front of the word “airline” or the potential verbal abuse the employees might endure whenever a flight was cancelled or luggage was misplaced.
Fortunately, the name was already a registered trademark. But the name did, however, inspire one board member to come up with the name “Fare Airlines.” That way, the company website would appear on search results whenever a potential customer searched for the words “airlines” and “fare.”
As the name Swirly Mcflies a lot was rejected for obvious reasons, the mother (of the child who came up with the clever suggestion) insisted her son should receive some sort of award, or compensation. Despite the silly name, her son, though later disqualified, had actually won the originally announced contest. George Stanton then made sure to provoke the mother just enough for her to go to the press. After a few articles by the local paper, the wider media got wind of the controversy, and George did as many interviews as possible, and made sure to conduct each one in a professional, but also slightly irritating manner.
After the media finally moved on to pursue other stories of equally great importance, George patched things up with the family by giving them an all-expense-covered trip to Florida and passes to several amusement parks. The parents were so pleased, they once again contacted the media, which then made sure to run a follow-up and brag about how they’d helped. In the end, everyone was happy, and George had provided Fare Airlines with media exposure worth millions of dollars.
As George now stared at the frozen image on his television, he suddenly realized he was most likely to appear on TV over the vanishing of the plane. He had no significant background as a public relations manager, and like most people in their thirties with an inadequate resume, he’d exaggerated his skills and experience when he’d applied for the job. However, George felt he had people skills, and he was convinced he could talk his way out of anything.
He knew what to say.
As he made his way to his wardrobe closet, George began to question what might have happened to the plane. How could both pilots have died on the same flight? The odds on both pilots dying simultaneously of natural causes must be of astronomical, if not impossible, proportions.
The flight attendant had apparently sent a text message to her husband, urging him to seek help for them. Why didn’t she use the radio? Why did the plane deviate from its route? What terrorists in their right minds would ever hijack a plane and fly into the outskirts of Canada? Had something been wrong with the plane? And was that what had killed the pilots? Had some kind of accident taken place on board? Could a flight attendant land an airplane? Could she land the plane on water?
Tom Hanks made landing on water look easy, and he did it without engines. George hoped the story of their own crash might have a happy ending, after all.
As he was about to exit his apartment, his phone alerted him of another call. This time, the caller was as expected, and George knew he was in trouble.
“Hi, Mom.” He swallowed once. “Listen, I have to work tomorrow, but we…”
George extended his arm far enough to protect his eardrums. The phone was half a yard away from his ear, but he had no trouble hearing every word his mother shouted while he made his way down to the garage.
11 PAMELA
Friday night
In the pitch-black darkness, a man yelled a woman’s name.
Then came the sound of a person coughing up water.
The man stopped yelling, and instead asked, “Who’s there?”
“I’m Andrew,” another man said, and kept coughing.
“I’m Jack. Are you, all right?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, I’m all right. Is Pamela your wife?”
“No, but I heard someone yelling for Pamela.”
“That was you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You yelled Pamela,” Andrew said and coughed.
“I’m aware of that. But before that, someone else was yelling her name. Nobody answered when I yelled for help, so instead I began yelling Pamela. So, the person would understand I heard them in the first place,” Jack explained. “You didn’t hear a male voice yelling for Pamela earlier?”
“That was you,” Andrew said, and then coughed some more.
“No, it wasn’t me the first time. It was a different voice, I’m telling you.”
“Whatever,” Andrew mumbled.
“Hello!” Jack suddenly yelled. “Is anyone out there?”
“Help!” a female voice called. “Help me!”
“Keep talking, and we’ll come to you!” Jack responded.
The sound of stumbling could be heard as the two men seemingly made their way along the shore in the dark, while a woman continued screaming for help, and the rain kept pouring down in the pitch black of the night.
One of the men must have made contact with the woman, as she suddenly screamed in fear.
“Calm down, it’s just us,” Jack said in a soft voice.
“What do you want from me?” Her voice trembled.
“What do you mean?” Jack asked, sounding confused. “I want to help you. That’s all. I’m Jack.”
“I don’t know any Jack.”
“Listen, you’ve been in an accident. But you’re safe now. Are you all right?”