Nightwatch

Chapter 63

“Nightwatch six-seven-six, this is Shuttle Landing Facility tower.

We have you on visual. Emergency equipment standing by. Good luck. Over.”

From his copilot’s position inside the cockpit. Lucky acknowledged this transmission, while beside him. Coach addressed Jake over his chin mike.

“What’s the status of number two hydraulic system?”

“It continues dropping toward critical. Coach, with pressure just barely in the green.”

Coach looked to his right and briefly caught Lucky’s concerned stare before redirecting his line of sight back out the cockpit window. The Shuttle runway’s approach lights had just come into view. He could also make out the long line of halogen centerline lights, which were set into the entire length of the runway at two-hundred-foot intervals.

“Let’s do it, gentlemen,” said Coach, firmly grabbing the steering yoke.

“Lucky, take us down to nineteen hundred feet at one hundred forty-five knots. Jake, it’s time to tap the alternative electrical system and lower the flaps to twenty degrees.”

“One hundred forty-five knots. Nineteen hundred feet,” Lucky reported.

“Flaps coming down… and holding at twenty degrees!”

added Jake, his relief obvious.

In the distance, the bright lights belonging to the Shuttle launch pad could be seen. Coach couldn’t help but derive additional confidence knowing that the runway they were currently approaching was designed to service the most advanced flying machine on the planet.

“One hundred forty-three knots. Eighteen hundred ninety two feet,” informed Lucky.

“Let’s go ahead and lower flaps to thirty degrees,” said Coach, who knew that this was a critical adjustment. If the flaps didn’t properly deploy, they’d touch down at too high a speed, causing the already damaged wing landing gears to most likely collapse.

Thus when Jake reported that the flaps were holding firm at thirty degrees. Coach realized that a major hurdle had just been cleared.

“Lucky,” he said to his copilot with a bit more certainty, “take us down to two hundred feet at one hundred thirty-three knots. Jake, inform our passengers to prepare for landing.”

“Take up emergency landing positions. Brace! Brace!”

warned Jake over the plane’s public-address system.

The moment of truth was almost upon them, and Coach reached out with his right hand and opened up the reserve brakes. The plane began to vibrate, and he pulled back the yoke slightly, to reduce their rate of descent, while nudging up the throttle, to compensate for the sluggish control response.

“Here we go,” said Coach, who saw the runway suddenly loom right before them.

Nightwatch touched down heavily to the left of the first halogen light, and immediately bounced back into the air. As gravity pulled the massive airplane back to earth once again, it struck the runway near the second halogen marker, and this time it remained on the ground.

Coach yanked back on the reverse thruster lever, realizing that the landing gear had, remarkably, held. There was a loud growling roar, and the flight deck began to vibrate violently.

“Only number four engine has gone into reverse!” warned Jake.

So that he wouldn’t lose control because of asymmetric thrust. Coach pushed the reverse lever forward to negate the command. At the same time, he stomped down hard on the toe brake. Again the cockpit shook, and Jake informed them that the antiskid system had just failed.

Nightwatch began to veer sharply to the right of the halogen lit centerline after seven of the remaining eight tires blew out.

They were quickly running out of runway, and Coach fought to put them back in the center of the reinforced concrete strip by utilizing the plane’s rudder.

They were still moving well over sixty knots when the last halogen light passed beneath them. This signaled the end of the main runway, and the plane bounded over the final section of concrete and headed smack into the thousand-foot-long overrun.

There was a violent lurch as what was left of their landing gear bit into the soft-soil concrete paving material. Coach and Lucky were thrown forward, and it was as their restraint harnesses pulled them back into their seats that they realized the airplane had stopped. Against all the odds, Nightwatch was safely on the ground once again!

A round of spirited high fives were traded, with Major Lassiter leaving the navigation console to celebrate along with Brittany and Red. It was with great relief that Coach unbuckled his harness to join Lassiter in the upper-deck rest area. Yet as he stepped out of the cockpit, he found his backup approaching the sealed fire door.

“No, Major Lassiter!” screamed Red, who looked on with shocked horror as Lassiter hit the large red switch that triggered the door’s unlock mechanism.

The door slipped open with a loud hiss, and in stormed Major Hewlett and the Chairman. Both of them carried pistols, and Lassiter quickly resealed the door the moment they were safely inside.

“Nice job with that landing. Major Foard,” said the Chairman to Coach while waving the barrel of his .45 toward the pilot.

“Too bad the medal will have to be delivered posthumously.”

Coach ignored this veiled threat, and turned his anger on Owen Lassiter.

“I can’t believe you’re one of them. Major. You’re a disgrace to your uniform.”

“Coach,” replied Lassiter with a snicker, “you’re just upset ‘cause you picked the wrong side.”

“That you did,” agreed the Chairman before expanding his gaze to take in Brittany and Red as well.

“All of you are part of a failed, morally bankrupt system. And though by its very nature revolution is painful, it’s the only way to get our country back in the right direction.”

For the first time ever, Brittany didn’t fear directly meeting Warner’s penetrating glance, and she addressed him forcefully.

“The only trouble is, if we do it your way. Admiral, it will mean the end of everything!”

There was a loud rending sound when the overworked left landing gear suddenly broke down, and the deck below unexpectedly tilted in that direction. Everyone standing was thrown off balance, and Red was able to lunge forward in an attempt to knock the gun out of Hewlett’s grasp.

In the resulting struggle, the Marine’s gun went tumbling to the deck, and Coach alertly retrieved it, while the Chairman trained his pistol on Red and fired. The bullet hit her in the back between her shoulder blades, and she collapsed in a bloody heap.

Brittany saw Warner now turn his gun on Coach, but before he could fire, she grabbed the flare gun, aimed the blunt barrel at the Chairman, and pulled the trigger. The red-hot Magnesium/ phosphorous round hit him squarely in the center of the chest.

There was a sickening, sizzling hiss as the chemicals in the flare began eating into Warner’s skin, and he let loose an anguished wail before falling to the deck himself, the bitter scent of burning flesh heavy in the air.

“We’ve got a Priority One transmission coming in on the FEMA emergency network!” informed Jake from the cockpit.

“It’s being simulcast on our video system.”

Only after making certain that both Red and the Chairman were beyond their help did Coach lead the shocked occupants of the flight deck over to the auxiliary comm console. With Lucky guarding their two prisoners. Coach activated the video screen and patched in the same real-time, live video broadcast that was being transmitted to every television and radio station in America.

The crystal-clear video picture was captioned — LIVE PROM FORT LEONARD WOOD, MISSOURI: THE SWEARING-IN OF OUR NEW PRESIDENT.

The setting was an operations center, with a group of civilians and high-ranking military officers gathered around a flag-draped podium. Standing next to this lectern was Andrew Chapman, looking a bit out of character dressed in a pair of wrinkled khakis and a white Harvard polo shirt. Leonard Wood’s immaculately attired Judge Advocate stood alongside him, and he held out a thick Bible, on which Chapman placed his right hand and then repeated an oath that came right out of Article II, Section I of the Constitution.

“I, Andrew Chapman, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God.”

After holding on a close-up of the country’s new President, the camera slowly panned the faces of the various onlookers, which included the very somber-looking figure of Speaker of the House, Andrew Pierce.

“The Speaker sure doesn’t look very happy,” noted Jake.

“What else do you expect from a man who came within a life of being our next President?” Coach replied.

“A man for years denied his party’s nomination, and who will probably never get it.”

And as the camera momentarily remained on the determined faces of the two civilians standing beside the Speaker, Brittany let out an astonished gasp. On this tragic day that no American would soon forget, standing there at the new Chief Executive’s side were none other than her dear friends Thomas and Vince Kellogg.