Blackout

CHAPTER 15

Dallas Nielson had been unusually quiet for several minutes, her eyes following every move of young Steve Delaney’s hands as he manipulated the flight controls and slowly calmed the 747’s up-and-down motions.

Finally she leaned forward to speak in his right ear. “You’re awesome, Steverino! You’re staying within a hundred feet of your altitude now and staying just about on heading. I’m impressed. Are you watching the attitude indicator as your primary reference?”

“Yeah.”

“I read a book about instrument flying, and that’s what it said to do,” Dallas added. “You’re a natural.”

Steve glanced around to his right and took his first deep breath in more than five minutes. “Yeah, thanks,” he said.

Dallas turned to the copilot. “Dan, he’s doing great. A virtual carbon-based autopilot.”

There was no response. Dan Wade was hunched over the control yoke, his bandaged head in his hands.

“Dan? Dan, you hear me?”

She reached out and gently touched his shoulder, causing him to jump.

“Wha…?”

“Dan, you’ve got to stay with us. Is that painkiller working?”

He sat motionless for a few seconds, then nodded. “It’s making me sluggish.”

“But are you hurting as much? Do you need another shot from the doctor?”

“No,” Dan said, as if surprised at the realization. He began to straighten up, taking mental inventory. “No… it still hurts, but it’s a helluva lot better.”

“Thank God for that!”

Dan nodded again, then sat up suddenly as if shocked, his hands going instantly to the control yoke, his voice almost panicked. “Jeez… where are we?”

“It’s cool, Dan!” Dallas told him. “Steve’s been flying us, and he’s got it under control. He’s doing a great job.”

“We’re… stable?”

“Believe it or not!” Dallas replied.

“What’s our altitude?”

“Eight thousand feet,” Steve Delaney answered.

“Airspeed?”

“Two hundred ten knots.”

“And heading?”

“Steering two-two-zero degrees,” Steve said, “but I don’t know where you want me to head.”

“Dan,” Dallas said, “we still have to decide where to go and what to do. Shouldn’t we go back to Hong Kong? I was hoping you’d have some suggestions.”

“Yeah. Too much happening too fast. All I was thinking about was staying in the air. I… thought we were dead back there.”

“So did we,” Dallas answered quietly. “But the Big Guy had other plans.”

“The Big…?” Dan began.

“God,” Dallas said.

Dan swallowed. “Ah, first… I don’t think we can chance another encounter with those storms, and that means we don’t dare… ah… go back, you know, to Hong Kong. I remember the weather chart. It was pretty clear on the west side of that line. We’ll be okay in this direction, but not if we turn around.”

“But what’s out in this direction, Dan?” Robert asked.

Dan took a deep, ragged breath. “Ah, Vietnam… Thailand. Look, there’s also the problem of finding Hong Kong and staying clear of the hills, even if we could get in. We can’t use any ILS now without a receiver, and it’d be too dangerous to try to have you talk me down at night. I figure we’ve got enough fuel for almost seven more hours of this nightmare… but that’s not enough to get us…” He paused and took another deep, shuddering breath before continuing, “… not going to get us to Australia, or far enough south, except maybe Sumatra, and frankly, I’d like more modern facilities around if… if we need medical help. Technically, we could make the Philippines, but thanks to the damage to the airframe we can’t pressurize, which means we can’t get above ten thousand feet, and there’s a huge line of thunderstorms between Hong Kong and Manila. If we go north, we get into mainland China. They wouldn’t shoot us down, but I don’t know any of the airports there.”

“So that leaves us nowhere to go but west?” Dallas prompted.

Dan nodded. “Yeah. West to Vietnam, and Thailand on the other side. I know Thailand. Bangkok has a long runway, and so does the big air base south of there called U-Tapao. It’s long and flat, and the weather was supposed to be clear.”

“But how do we find it?” Dallas asked.

“Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot to program the navigation computer,” Dan said. He looked left. “Steve, you said you can handle the flight computer?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty simple.”

“That’s arrogant as hell, kid. It takes most pilots weeks of intensive training to master the thing.”

“Doesn’t say much for pilots, does it?” Steve Delaney shot back.

Dallas saw the spark find tinder. Dan inhaled sharply and sat up, his shoulders squaring for a fight. “And just whom do you think you’re talking to, young man?”

“Enough,” Dallas said. “Steve, show a little respect for your elders, okay? You can trade insults after we land. Now is not a good time to start a war.”

She could see the boy struggling with himself. “Sorry,” he said at last.

“Okay, Steve,” Dan said, “look at the Flight Management Computer screen on your side and tell me what it’s showing.”

“Nothing,” Steve replied.

“You might want to turn up the intensity control.”

“I already did, and the screen’s still dark,” Steve replied. “It’s not working.”

“Check the screen on my side.”

“That one’s out, too.”

There was stunned silence from the right seat before Dan pointed to the overhead panel. “There’s, ah, a control head up there for the inertial navigation systems. Do you see any lighted digits on the display face?”

Dallas placed a hand on Steve Delaney’s shoulder. “I’ll look, Steve. You fly.” She strained to look up and shook her head before remembering Dan couldn’t see the gesture. “That screen’s dark, too, Dan.”

“Oh, Lord! Okay, Dallas, I’m going to need you to check the circuit breaker panels.” He relayed the name and position of the circuit breakers that controlled the various navigation and computer equipment, and Dallas checked each one.

“The breakers are all in. I pushed each of them to be sure.”

Dan slumped in his seat again. “I can’t believe this!”

“What?” Steve asked, apprehension audible in his voice.

Dan was shaking his head. “I can’t frigging believe this!”

“Believe what, Dan?” Dallas added.

“What we hadn’t already lost, that lightning strike finished off. We probably lost the transponder as well, so I’ll bet they think we crashed. We really are deaf, dumb, and blind! I don’t have an autopilot, I don’t have navigation radios, I don’t have anything to navigate with, I can’t talk to anyone, the radar’s out.… The only thing we have going for us is the fact the engines are still running and the flight controls still work!”

“So what do we do?” Dallas asked. “How do we find Thailand?”

There was silence from the right seat for several long seconds. “I guess,” Dan began, “with enough fuel — if I can estimate about when we’ll be over Vietnam, we could circle until daylight, then follow the coast around until we find Thailand.”

“You mean, fly visually?” Dallas asked. “Just by looking outside?”

Dan nodded. “With your eyes and my memory and the map… if we could dig out the right map… we could do it.”

“That’s provided we can see the coastline,” Robert said.

“I was thinking, too…” Dan said, “… that if anyone onboard has a radio or a cell phone and we could make contact with… with any air traffic facility…” His voice trailed off.

“Dan,” Dallas said, “even if we find the right airport, how on earth are we going to land? Steve can keep it straight and level, but can the two of you land?”

Steve Delaney shot a silent, anxious look at Dan as the copilot turned his bandaged head to the left. “I’m not sure we’ve got a choice,” he said at last. “First we’ve got to find an adequate airport. All I’d need is one global positioning satellite readout to let us know where we are and where we need to go. Even light airplane drivers have GPS these days, but here we sit, goddammit, in a hundred-and-seventy-five-million-dollar state-of-the-art airliner, and I might as well be navigating with Charles Lindbergh’s equipment.”

Robert MacCabe had been looking at the floor in deep thought. He looked up suddenly and snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute. I’ll bet anything someone on this airplane has a portable GPS, one of those little portable units. They were even selling them in the duty-free stores in Hong Kong. I’ll go ask the passengers.” Robert unsnapped his seat belt and slid out of the jump seat as Dan turned toward him, speaking in the same slightly drugged meter.

“Robert, ah… ask if anyone has a cell phone, okay? Maybe we’ll get a break.”

MacCabe was back within ten minutes. “Dan, this is Robert again. I’m right behind you.”

The copilot turned his head to the left to listen. “Go ahead.”

“We’re out of luck, I’m afraid. We did find a passenger with a handheld GPS, but it’s in the baggage compartment in a checked bag.”

Dan sighed. “Naturally. There’s no way, of course, we can get into the baggage compartments in flight.”

“But,” Robert added, “Britta tells me she knows where we could go through the floor. It’s somewhere behind first class.”

“What?” Dan began shaking his head. “She’s thinking about the floor hatch in first class. That only goes down to the electronics compartment… same compartment we ripped apart back in Hong Kong. That won’t get you to the luggage, and it… ah… definitely won’t get you close to the rear compartment. There’s a huge fuel tank. And there’s the wing structure in the way.”

“I didn’t know that,” Robert said. “Hollywood had me convinced there were kitchens in the belly with doors to the baggage compartment.”

“Yeah, well… those are called lower lobe galleys. Some types of jumbos had them, but not this one. I’m afraid we’re out of business on that idea.”

“Wait a minute,” Dallas said. “You guys listen to yourselves! I don’t believe this! Dan, you need that GPS to get us to a good airport in Thailand, right?”

Dan Wade thought for a few seconds before answering. “It would sure help. It’s… going to be difficult to find our way without some form of navigation, and all we’ve got now are compasses. We can hold any heading, we just don’t know which one to use without something like a GPS. But Dallas, if the only one aboard is in a baggage bin, forget it. I mean, even if we could get in there, we don’t know which bin the bag’s in, forward or aft.”

“Actually,” Robert said, “we do know. The man who owns it saw his bag being loaded in the rear bin coming up a long conveyor belt on the right side.”

“Well,” Dan began, shaking his head slowly, “we know it’s in there, but there’s no way to get to it. It was a good try, anyway.”

Dallas Nielson snapped off her seat belt and stood up, her hands on her hips. “Wait just a damn minute here!” she said. “By the way, Dan, I’m standing right now and looking daggers at you! What the hell do you guys mean, ‘good try’?” She included Robert MacCabe in her sweeping, disapproving glance. “I haven’t seen a try yet, let alone a good try, just a lot of defeatist talking!”

Dan sighed loudly. “Dallas, look. There are no cabin doors to the rear baggage compartment in flight. If that isn’t clear enough for you—”

“Whoa, mister can-do attitude! Are we hauling around a rear baggage bin or did we leave that mother back in Hong Kong?”

The copilot turned farther around in his seat to face Dallas’s voice. “Dallas, I’d like to get that GPS as much as you would, but—”

“I don’t think so! Otherwise, you’d be trying to find a way to solve the problem instead of sitting here trying to justify why it can’t be done.”

“But it can’t be done!”

“Bullshit, Baby! Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Dan shook his head with an exasperated sigh “Lady, who in the hell are you, anyway?”

She laughed, short and loud. “I’m no lady, ace, I’m a woman who’s learned a few things about surviving over the years, and lesson one is, you never, ever give up.”

“I really resent that!” Dan snapped. “That’s… that’s the second time you’ve accused me of giving up. I’m not giving up, but I’m not going to sit here in blinding pain and argue about things we can’t change.”

Robert MacCabe leaned forward, his palm up. “Okay, boys and girls, look. This will get us nowhere—”

Dallas ignored him, the volume of her voice rising. “What are you telling me, Dan? You telling me there’s no damned physical way to get to that baggage bin, or just no procedure?”

“I’M TELLING YOU THERE’S NO WAY TO GET IN WITHOUT CHOPPING THROUGH THE FRIGGING FLOOR!”

Dallas let silence fill the cockpit as Dan realized what he’d said.

“Sounds like a plan, Dan. Didn’t I see a crash ax around here?”

Dan Wade stuck his palm out and shook his head. “Oh, no you don’t! NO! You can’t attempt that. You could end up cutting through a control cable.”

“Are there any manuals around this bird that show where those cables are?”

“They run through the ceiling—” Dan began, then stopped himself suddenly. “Ah, as a matter of fact, they are in the ceiling. I’d forgotten that. They wouldn’t be a factor. But there still may be electrical lines in the floor. That’s a lot of metal to cut.”

“The floor isn’t that strong, Dan,” Dallas said. “I’ve felt it bounce up and down just walking up the aisle. Does the crew downstairs know where the baggage bin is in relation to the floor?”

He thought for a second. “Maybe. But you’re talking about major effort, peeling back sheet metal and chopping through fiberglass around the compartment.”

“Dan, any real reason why we couldn’t do it?”

He thought for less than a minute before shaking his head. “No. I guess not. Just make sure no one gets too energetic using that ax. Peel back the sheet metal after you cut it, and don’t try to cut through any beams, however small. If you make a big enough hole, remember that cut metal is going to be very, very sharp.”

“Let’s get moving. Robert? If you’ll grab that ax, we’ll go bobbing for bags.” Dallas turned to her left and patted Steve Delaney’s shoulder. “You’re doing great, Honey! Just keep her straight and level. You holding out okay?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“How about cell phones?” Dan asked. “I hadn’t asked you whether anyone came forward with a cell phone.”

Robert cleared his throat. “Britta asked on the PA, and dozens of passengers offered theirs, but she couldn’t get a signal on any of them.”

“Okay. Tell Britta to ask if anyone has one of those new worldwide satellite phones, since the onboard satellite phones are out.”

Robert nodded. “She tried. No one came forward.”

“Wonderful,” Dan said with a labored sigh. “Tell Britta to go ahead. Tell her I authorized this. She’s very Germanic. She’ll need specific assurance.”

Dallas had already left the cockpit when Dan turned around once more, hoping to catch Robert on his way out. “Robert, wait a second!”

Robert stopped and turned at the cockpit door. “Yeah, Dan?”

“I forgot to tell you about the blowout panels back there… big panels under the rug. You’ll see them when you pull back the carpet. They’re there to prevent the floor from collapsing in case one of the cargo doors boomed open in flight.”

“I’m not following you.”

“If the underside of the floor were suddenly depressurized and the top side still had seven pounds per square inch pressure, the main floor would instantly collapse without blowout panels. Point is, if you find and cut through one of those panels, it should provide a quick path to the baggage bin.”

One hundred and sixty feet to the rear, Dallas Nielson found Britta Franz in the rear galley and explained the plan.

“And he said this is okay?”

Dallas nodded as Robert, ax in hand, came down the aisle to join them. “Ask The Washington Post if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you, Ms. Nielson,” Britta said, glancing at MacCabe.

“You have any idea where to cut, Brits?” Dallas asked.

Britta grimaced and looked at the floor, then looked back at Dallas. “Yes. I’ve never thought about it, but I know exactly where all the bumping and knocking about comes from when the baggage people are in that rear bin.”

“Shouldn’t we tell the passengers what we’re doing?” Dallas asked. “You should’ve seen the looks on their faces when Robert walked through cabin with that ax.”

Britta turned and picked up a handset, punched in a two-digit code, and held it to her mouth.

She moved quickly up the aisle and knelt to find a seam in the carpet. “Here!” She pulled at the edge of the seam and began to peel it back from the yellow adhesive holding it to the floor, exposing the edge of a panel that yielded to the touch. “Here it is. A blowout panel.”

“Cut it here?” Dallas asked, down on all fours herself.

Britta said nothing and turned to MacCabe with her hand out for the ax.

“I can do it,” Robert replied, moving forward.

Britta looked up at MacCabe, then over at Dallas with a determined expression. “If anyone is going to start chopping up my cabin, it will be me.”

“Whatever you say, Honey,” Dallas said, and looked up at Robert. “Give her the ax, Babe.”

Britta lifted the crash ax and took aim, bringing the sharp edge down with a powerful stroke that immediately breached the surface of the floor. She raised it again, and began a rapid, rhythmic series of blows.

“One…”

Whap

“… thing I want to…”

Whap

“… get straight with you…”

Whap

“… is the fact that my name…”

Whap

“… is Britta!”

Whap

“Not ‘Brits.’”

Whap

“Not ‘Honey.’”

Whap

“But BRITTA!” She stopped and glared at Dallas. “Understand?”

Dallas raised her eyebrows. “You think I’m gonna argue with an angry woman carrying an ax?”

Britta was motionless for a moment, then nodded and took another swing.

“Okay, then.”

Whap

“We should get along just fine.”

Steve Delaney had said nothing since Dallas and Robert left the cockpit. His concentration on the task of keeping the 747 on the same altitude and heading was becoming progressively easier, leaving more of his conscious mind to face the question of what lay ahead.

“Are we going to make it?” he asked suddenly.

Dan Wade swiveled toward him and searched for an answer. “I, ah, Steve, there’s no reason we can’t make it, but…”

“But I’m gonna have to land it, right?” Steve said suddenly, his voice clearly conveying the tension he felt.

“No, we’ll do it together.”

“How? You’re blind! How’re you going to help?” Steve sounded increasingly panicky, raising caution flags in Dan Wade’s head. There were only so many realities the kid should have to face, Dan decided. His corrections were becoming more pronounced and erratic.

“Look, kid — Steve — we’re going to make it. Here’s how we’ll do it. You’ll tell me what you see and I’ll tell you what you need to do. It’s going to be simple. I’ll get the landing gear and the flaps extended. The object will be to fly the airplane onto the runway and use the rudder pedals to steer, just like you do in your dad’s simulator.”

“That’s just pretend. This…” Steve was breathing hard. “This is the real thing! If I crash a simulator, all I have to do is hit the Reset button.”

“Steve, listen to me. Calm down!”

“What if I screw it up and crash?”

“Not going to happen. You’re doing great. Your dad would be proud of you.”

“Yeah, right!” Steve snapped.

“He would,” Dan said. “You’ve been flying this airplane like a veteran pilot.”

“I don’t want to be a damn pilot. Just shut up about my father!”

“Hey, look, I may not be good with kids, but…”

Steve whirled on the copilot, his small hands shaking on the control yoke. “You’re just like him! Just like all damn pilots. Anyone my age is just worthless till you need something, and even then no one can ever please you.”

“Steve—”

Steve’s voice rose to a mocking tone. “Why are you too stupid to hold that flashlight steady, Steven? Steven, I knew you’d screw this up when I asked you to do it. Steven, you couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the directions were printed on the heel.” He paused for a second before continuing. “I showed him how stupid I was. It took a lot of hours in the simulators in the middle of a lot of nights, but I taught myself how to fly his precious airplanes!”

Steve shot a quick glance at the copilot, then brought his eyes back to the instruments. “I’m not just a kid, and I’m not stupid! I’m flying your goddamn airplane, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Dan said carefully, “you are flying this aircraft and doing a magnificent job of it, and I apologize for using the word ‘kid.’”

“Yeah, you can say you’re sorry now because you need me. If we were on the ground, it’d be different. Then it’d be, ‘Go away, kid, you bother me,’ one of my father’s favorite expressions.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Steve.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Look, you want me to treat you like an adult, and that’s reasonable. But that means I’ve got to be able to speak frankly to you. Is that okay?”

Steve was still breathing hard and obviously frightened, but he nodded slowly.

“Yeah. That’s okay.”

“All right. We’ve got a job to do up here, you and I. You’re the only one aboard with working vision who knows anything about flying a plane. I’m the only qualified pilot. If… we can successfully put our capabilities together, we can get through this. I need you to concentrate on the job and try to put both fear and upsets aside, and, before you say anything back, let me remind you that I have to do the same thing. I’m scared to death right now. I really mean that. I’m scared I’m going to screw up and kill everyone, myself included. I’m frightened I… may… never regain my eyesight, and therefore I’ll never be able to do the only thing I know how to do, be a pilot. I’m kicking the hell out of myself for losing control and hitting that tower back there. And I’m in terrible pain… and… I need to go to the bathroom, which means I’m going to have to entrust the lives of the over two hundred people aboard to you.”

There was a long silence from the left seat. “Now that is scary,” Steve Delaney said at last, the shadow of a smile creeping over his face.

“Okay. So if we’re both terrified, it’s easy to strike out at each other, but we can’t afford to do that. Deal?”

“You mean about working together?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Without comparing me to your father.”

“Promise you won’t call me ‘kid’ again?”

“I promise. But what if I get mad at you? What can I call you then?”

“Use ‘Steven Julius Delaney.’ That scares me more than anything when my mom uses it.”

“Okay. Now, do we have a deal, Steve? And… please don’t let go of the controls to shake my hand.”

“Deal.”

Steve heard a seat belt being unfastened. He felt his stomach flutter as Dan Wade lifted himself from the copilot’s seat and carefully swung his leg around behind the center console, feeling his way along. He stood up and reached out to hang on to the back of one of the jump seats.

“I’ll be in the bathroom just outside the cockpit, Steve. Two minutes max.”

“What if something happens while you’re gone?”

“Then you handle it. I know you can.”