Rick Mofina - Free Fall

While in the hospital, she’d called Maly Kriz-Janda, told them about the flight and canceled her interview.

I’m okay with it. Really, she’d told him.

But she wasn’t okay. She’d cried in the aftermath. Then the designer called her back and very kindly offered to interview Kayla over the phone, if she was willing.

Kayla had gone ahead with a short, shaky interview in which she’d made it clear that she’d never again get on a plane. The designer had been upbeat, thanked her, called her brave and said they’d get back to her. But Kayla had given up on the job and wanted to get home to Buffalo.

And now here they were, awaiting a nine-hour bus trip across the state.

Logan’s back and shoulders were sore from the items that had crashed into him, and he had to reposition himself on the bench, disturbing Kayla.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she said. “I saw you looking at the video again.”

“I know this is hard, and you’ve been through a lot, but we should release it. We can’t be selfish about this, Kay. People have to know what happened on that plane.”

“I know,” she said.

“You know?”

She nodded.

“So you’re okay to make it public?”

Tears came to her eyes as she nodded.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through this, and I know we’re so lucky to be alive.”

Tenderly, he pressed her head to his face and kissed her.

“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

They sat there for a moment. Then Logan scrolled through the newswire story. It was written by Kate Page. He searched for her email on the bottom then sent her a message.

After checking the time, he looked up Newslead’s telephone number and called it.

Manhattan, New York

By the time Kate had returned to the newsroom most of the day side staff had left, except Reeka, who approached her before she’d made it back to her desk.

“You’re not on the schedule. What’re you filing for us today?”

“Nothing.”

“We need a follow.”

“You know that I was with the FBI-” Kate glanced around to ensure nobody overheard “-discussing their response to the Zarathustra email. It’s in the note I sent to Lincoln, you, Chuck and the other editors.”

“Then give us a story saying the FBI is now investigating the flight.”

“But they’re not ‘investigating.’ Not yet.”

“Your note said they’ve accepted our information, so write an exclusive saying Newslead has learned the FBI is investigating a claim that someone interfered with the near-fatal flight.”

“What? No. That’s disingenuous and runs counter to what Lincoln directed us to do at the meeting. You were there. Besides, the FBI hasn’t even assessed the claim yet. Did you read my note?”

Kate searched the newsroom in vain for Chuck when Tyler Sharpe, a news assistant, trotted to them.

“Excuse me, Kate, but I’ve got a call for you that sounds important.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Got a guy on hold. Says he’s got information on your story about the EastCloud flight.”

“Put him through to me,” Kate said, turning to Reeka. “I’ll take this.”

Striding to her desk Kate struggled to shake off the exchange. That Reeka was still working here was a constant source of trepidation, compounded by the fact Sloane remained an employee. Kate scanned the newsroom for him, happy she didn’t see him.

Where’s Chuck when I need him?

Kate seized her phone.

“Kate Page, Newslead.”

“You’re the reporter who wrote the story on the EastCloud flight?”

“That’s me. How can I help you?”

“My girlfriend and I were passengers and I have some footage I took on my phone when it happened that no one has seen.”

“Really? How can I be sure?”

“I’ll send you a few seconds and our boarding passes, to show that this is the real deal.”

“Okay, use this email.”

Kate dictated the address and stayed on the line with the caller. A moment later the email came in. She caught her breath as she viewed the frightening images.

“Can you send me the whole thing?”

“Not until we meet face-to-face. That’s how I want to do it.”

“Have you called other newsrooms?”

“No, just you. Your story was the best.”

He just echoed Zarathustra. Kate tightened her hold on her phone. “Excuse me?”

“Your story had the most information, the interview with the captain. That’s why I called.”

“Are you seeking money? Because all we pay for images is spot news and freelance rates-a few hundred dollars-and that’s it.”

“I don’t care about the money.”

“Okay, can you come to our newsroom today? We’ll make an appointment.”

“No, we have to do this in one hour.”

“Why?”

“That’s when our bus leaves. We’re at the Port Authority Bus Terminal.”

Kate did a quick calculation of the distance and time, then traded descriptions with her caller before hanging up and collecting her bag.

“Tell Reeka I’m going to check out this caller,” she told Tyler, before hurrying to the elevator.

The Port Authority Bus Terminal was in Times Square, an eight-or ten-block walk, depending on which direction Kate went. She headed north on Eighth Avenue, estimating that she could cover the distance within fifteen minutes.

Her breathing quickened at the prospect of securing unseen footage. She was glad that she’d told no one details about the call, sticking fast to her rule on tips: never tell an editor what you’ve got until you’ve nailed it. It was a rule that had kept her sane with every editor she’d ever dealt with, especially with Reeka, who overreacted to everything. Kate neared the terminal and the air grew heavy with the smell of diesel and the rush of air brakes.

She whispered a prayer for the caller to be there.

The Port Authority Bus Terminal was one of the busiest in the world. In keeping with her caller’s directions, Kate went to the information booth and searched the nearest benches for a white man and woman in their twenties. They had two suitcases: a small red canvas one, and a large fluorescent green one. The man had short dark hair, and the woman’s blond hair touched her shoulders. When Kate spotted a couple matching the description, she went to them.

“Logan?” she asked.

“Yes,” the man answered, “and this is Kayla.”

“Kate Page with Newslead.” She held up her Newslead ID.

Their bandages reinforced the gravity of the matter. Logan pulled out his phone and pressed Play on the video. As Kate watched the events unfold, her hand flew to her mouth, for it was far more chilling than she could’ve imagined. Kate sat with the couple and interviewed them; they agreed to be photographed and identified for the story.

“We’re thankful to be alive,” Kayla said.

“We don’t want anyone to ever have to go through what we went through on that flight,” Logan said.

After they’d boarded their bus to Buffalo, Kate alerted Chuck, Reeka and the night desk to what she had and sent the video to Newslead’s web team so they could post it on Newslead’s website.

Adrenaline pumping, she sat down on a bench, blocked out the terminal’s hubbub and focused her full concentration into crafting a story about Logan and Kayla’s terrifying video.

Good work, Kate, Chuck wrote back after reading her story and viewing the footage.

Once the story went live, Kate sent individual messages about it to the NTSB, EastCloud, the FBI, Captain Matson and her friend with the pilots’ union. For dinner, she bought an egg-salad sandwich, then headed to the nearest subway station for an uptown train to take her home. The day’s events replayed in her mind as the train sped north.