Free Fall

Seventy-Nine

Washington, DC

The president was in the Oval Office with a small group of advisors when the call came.

The chief of staff took it.

“It’s the defense secretary with an update on the jetliners.”

The president got on the line, absorbing the full weight of the situation. Two suspects had been shot in Colorado and a third arrested in Washington, DC. All attempts to recover control of the aircraft had failed. The jets were locked in a collision course. Impact was in twenty-two minutes. One thousand one hundred twenty-five lives would be lost over Colorado.

“However, if one aircraft is engaged-”

“Engaged? Call it what it is,” the president said.

“If one of the aircraft is shot down approximately half of the total would be spared, giving us time to seek other options,” the secretary said.

The president swallowed hard.

“The combat air patrols out of Buckley are in position,” the secretary said. “We must fire upon the airliner no later than five minutes before impact to allow the debris field to clear.”

The president’s eyes closed at the thought of humanity and wreckage swirling in the sky… Moms, dads, children, babies…

“We need an order now,” the secretary said.

The president knew the numbers. Six hundred sixteen souls were aboard the Seattle-bound jet, while five hundred and nine were on the flight headed to New York.

“Take out the New York-bound flight. More lives will be saved.”

“Affirmative. We’ll issue the order immediately.”

The president ended the call, instructed the chief of staff to cancel the afternoon’s political event in Virginia, then turned and gazed, hollow-eyed, out the French windows at the Rose Garden.