Andrew Klavan - The Final Hour

Then the plane turned and dipped. There was a sickening crunch. The landing gear seemed to collapse under us and the wing thumped against the earth. There was a loud crash as something smacked into the rear of the fuselage. The plane went slantwise.

Then we stopped. It was over. We were down.

Everything was quiet. I sat there, dazed.

Then Mike started shouting. “Get out, Charlie! Get out! Get out fast-now-before it blows!”

His voice brought me back to myself. Quickly, I ripped off my harness. I found the door latch in the dark and shoved the door open. I tumbled out into the cold December air.

Confusion. The plane on fire. The Cessna’s crumpled silhouette flickering into relief as the flames rose. The police choppers hovered above me, sending white spotlights down on top of me. I couldn’t hear their engines. I couldn’t hear anything but my own heart pounding in my ears.

Then I ripped my headset off and I heard the pound of the choppers and I heard Mike shouting.

“Come on, come on!”

I saw him inside the plane. He was struggling to get out of the backseat before the Cessna exploded. There were no doors in back. He and Rose had to push the seat forward and climb over it before they could exit.

“Mike!” I shouted.

I rushed toward the burning Cessna. Avoiding the rising flames, I stuck my head in through the open passenger door. Mike was in the back, struggling with Rose.

“I can’t…,” I heard Rose say. “My leg. Go on, Mike, get out.”

I saw Mike trying to shove him into the front seat.

I pulled the front seat forward to make way for him. I felt heat as the fire rose beneath me. The police spotlights swept over me, then were gone, and in the sudden dark I saw the flickering red light of the flames.

“Clear out, Charlie!” Mike shouted. “She’s gonna go! Clear out!”

I ignored him. There was no way, no way I was going to leave them there. I reached deeper into the smothering smoke and heat and grabbed hold of Rose. I tried to drag him forward into the front seat. He let out a shout of pain.

“My leg!”

“Lift him toward me, Mike!” I shouted.

“Get out, I said!” he shouted back.

“Lift him to me or we all die!”

Mike let out a curse at my stubbornness but did what I said and hoisted Rose up until I could grab him under the arms. Rose let out a scream of pain as I dragged him into the front seat. He went on screaming and I went on pulling him until we were both outside, both clear of the fire.

I lost my balance and tumbled backward onto the grass. Rose fell on top of me. He screamed one more time and rolled off me. I sat up as the police spotlight swept across us. Then it was gone and there was just the red firelight, bright and steady now. The flames rose up from under the fuselage, up over the cockpit, blocking the exit.

“Mike!” I screamed.

I scrambled to my feet.

“No!” Rose shouted at me. “Stay back!”

I rushed toward the plane. I felt the heat of the fire tighten the skin on my face. I fought my way toward it, trying to beat the smoke and flames away with my hands.

“Mike! Mike!” I kept screaming.

And Rose was screaming behind me, “West, get back! Get back!”

The noise of the low-flying choppers filled the air. Their spotlights swept the darkness. The shadows of tree branches moved crazily everywhere like skeletons in a dance. There was the noise of sirens, too, growing louder. Cop cars approaching in the night.

Through all the confusion, another sound reached me. A sort of hollow bump. Was that it? Was the plane about to explode? The flames rose up higher around me.

The next second, something hit me hard in the chest. I went flying backward away from the plane, backward out of the firelight, out of the spotlights, into the night.

I went down on my back hard-and Mike came down hard on top of me. He had thrown himself out of the plane, through the flames. He’d thrown himself right into me, tackled me, driving me to the earth.

Just in time. The Cessna exploded.

There was no big blast, just a dull, hollow, echoless thud. The flames expanded upward and outward in a spreading ball. The three police helicopters, flying low, shot up and away into the air to escape the fire. Their spotlights yawed and crisscrossed.

Chunks of hot metal and drifting fire started to come down all around me. I tried to dodge them, but Mike held me where I was, covering my body with his.

When he rose up, I saw him clearly in the firelight, his face streaked with dirt, the dancing flames reflected in his eyes.

“You all right?” he asked.

I rolled over and sat up, feeling the heat from the fire wash over me.

“Patel,” I said. “He’s still in there.”

“No, he’s not,” said Mike. “It’s just his body, Charlie. Patel is gone.”

I didn’t like to think of Patel’s body stuck in that burning plane, but Mike was right, and there was nothing I could do about it now.

“What about you?” Mike asked again. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I said. “Not much. I’m all right.”

“Rose?” asked Mike.

I turned and saw Rose sitting up halfway, clutching at his leg with one hand. His face was contorted with pain.

“I’ll be okay,” he said through gritted teeth. “But my leg’s busted.”

“All right,” said Mike. “We’ll get you help.”

“No,” said Rose. He had to shout now over the roar of the flames and the growing howl of the sirens and the beat of the choppers, too, which hung higher in the air to stay clear of the fire, but were still directly above us. “You’ve got to get out of here-before the cops arrive. If the police stop you, you’ll never get there in time.”

Lit by the flames from the plane, Mike scanned the area. I could see him thinking it through.

“Go,” said Rose. “I’ll be all right. I’ll get them to help, send reinforcements. They have to believe me now. All those lives at stake

… They have to. Go, Mike. Go on.”

After another second, Mike nodded once. He turned to me.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

He didn’t have to say it twice. I leapt to my feet.

Without another word, Mike took off, sprinting away from the spotlights into the deeper shadows beneath the trees.

I paused. I nodded once at Rose-one nod of goodbye and thanks. Rose nodded back.

Then I followed Mike into the darkness.

I had no idea where we were or where we were going. I just followed Mike. He seemed to know the way, dodging and weaving through the park with absolute certainty. I remembered Milton One had told me he’d been studying maps all night.

At first, the choppers didn’t come after us. I think they’d lost sight of us, trying to get away from the exploding plane. But as Mike and I raced through the darkness, I heard the pulsing throb of their rotors growing louder behind us. I looked over my shoulder and saw their powerful spotlights sweeping the night. One of them seemed to have stayed behind with Rose. The other two were looking for us.

“Keep close,” Mike shouted back to me.

I did. He ran along a line of trees, his path tracing the shapes of their shadows. The shifting patches of dark thrown by the tree trunks and the bare branches gave us some cover and Mike made the most of it. All around us, the chopper spotlights swept back and forth over the grass, searching and searching.

But they’d lost us. By the time we reached the edge of the park, the throb of the rotors was growing dimmer as the choppers headed off over the trees in the wrong direction.

Following Mike, I stepped off the soft grass onto hard pavement. And I stopped. Mike was there, standing at the edge of the sidewalk. I followed his gaze, looked up and saw tall buildings standing black against the night. Their windows were broken and lightless. They seemed abandoned.