Rick Mofina - Free Fall

Quinn then looked at the sky ahead.

God help us.

Garden City, Kansas

Captain Will Miller’s jaw muscles spasmed as he gripped the handles of the control wheel and battled his anger with engineering.

“We’ve run diagnostics three times now!” Miller said. “It’s been futile! You guys have to give us something that works. We’re running out of time!”

Seattle-bound NorthSun Airlines Flight 118 was high over Garden City, Kansas. Miller and First Officer Sam Zhang had worked in vain to recover control of the Startrail AV600. Engineers from the plane’s builder in São Paulo, Brazil, and US operations in Houston had provided a line of possible remedies over the radio. Each one had failed.

“NorthSun One Eighteen, this is Kansas City Center. We see no change in your course.”

“Kansas City Center, nothing’s working for us.”

“One Eighteen, we’re handing off to NORAD. You’ll find them on the emergency frequency. Good luck, One Eighteen.”

One minute later, an F-16 appeared on Zhang’s right side, while Miller saw one on his left side.

The two jet fighters were with the 140th Wing, Colorado Air National Guard out of Buckley Air Force in Aurora.

“One Twenty Tactical to NorthSun One Eighteen, this is Major Brennan. How do you read?”

“NorthSun One Eighteen, this is Captain Will Miller. Loud and clear, Major.”

Miller took a deep breath.

It was now twenty-three minutes to impact with the New York-bound flight.

White River National Forest, Colorado

Kate’s plane was somewhere over Colorado.

She had no internet access, of course, underscoring her apprehension that she was missing something. Once she got to New York, she’d track down Robert Cole. She’d already started outlining her story but Cole was the most critical aspect.

I wish this jet could go faster .

She looked from her notes to the window, still troubled by Varner’s cryptic response to her about Cole-that they were on the same track and things were unfolding.

What’s unfolding down there?

A chime sounded and the seat belt sign illuminated. The in-flight beverage-and-meals-for-purchase service was abruptly halted. Attendants returned service carts with a sense of urgency.

Another chime sounded, and the captain’s voice rang through the cabin. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Quinn.” A long silence passed before the captain cleared his throat. “We request everyone remain in their seats with their belts fastened and refrain from using the washrooms. We have a situation with national security implications…”

Murmurs rose throughout the cabin.

“…and as a precaution, you may see military aircraft beside us momentarily. I’m sorry, but we have no further details that we can pass to you at this point.”

An outcry of dismay, fear and anger erupted among the passengers.

“What the hell’s going on?” one man shouted as attendants, with worry etched in their faces, patrolled the aisles to confirm all seat belts were fastened. One woman seized an attendant by the arm. “We have a right to know what’s happening!”

“I’m sorry, but we only know what you know, ma’am.”

“There they are!” a boy shouted.

Necks craned as people turned to the windows to see F-16 fighters flying off the wings on either side of the plane. The sight of the military jets a few feet from the jetliner hammered home the gravity of the situation.

“Oh my God!” One woman made the sign of the cross.

Attendants pinballed between the emotional trouble spots, comforting passengers, and soon a heavy, silent dread settled over the cabin as families held hands. Some passengers wept softly and others prayed.

Kate felt all the saliva dry in her mouth as she dropped her head back on her headrest and blinked several times.

Oh dear God . She gripped her armrests. Is this tied to Zarathustra? Maybe they’ve taken control of the plane.

Her stomach twisted at the surreal truth of her situation and she acted on the one clear thought she had. She took out her notepad, uncapped her pen and began writing.

Dear Grace and Vanessa. Right now, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I want you to know you are both the lights of my life…

Weld County, Colorado

In the distance, the sun glinted off windshields and dust rose from the wake of approaching vehicles.

“They’re coming fast,” Seth said.

He was the first to spot the police convoys bearing down on them. They came in lines from the north, the south and the east, forming an armored horseshoe, for the west was a slope down to the river with no escape.

It didn’t matter.

Veyda and Seth had no need to run.

“I’m surprised,” Seth said. “They’re faster than we expected.”

“But not fast enough,” Veyda said.

The armored trucks stopped within forty yards of them and spewed SWAT teams. Each member took up a shielded position and aimed at them in a C-ring of firepower.

“FBI! Stand up slowly! Put your hands above your head with palms showing! Now!”

Curtains of prairie dust floated over Seth and Veyda as they stood slowly and raised their hands.

“You’re too late!” Seth called to them.

“What’s done cannot be undone!” Veyda said.

“Shut up and walk slowly toward us!”

Seth turned to Veyda.

“We did it, babe. Yours is the power and the glory at thirty-six thousand feet above us.”

Tears streamed down Veyda’s face as she nodded and whispered, “We did it. We’ll be immortal.”

“Start walking now!” an FBI agent shouted.

“Are you ready?” Seth moved his hand slightly to touch Veyda’s fingers.

“Yes, Seth. I’m ready.”

Seth moved his hand quickly to his back, gripped the gun tucked in his waistband then shot Veyda, who dropped instantly, before he pointed the gun at the laptops, intending to destroy them before killing himself. But the law moved faster.

Gunfire exploded in a rapid, deafening volley and Seth collapsed on the computers next to Veyda.

In the peaceful silence, SWAT team members edged quickly to the scene. The paramedics were summoned and SWAT team leaders examined the aftermath.

Varner joined them.

The laptops were bloodied and one was chipped. Another had missing keys. Their last hope of undoing the midair disaster was gone.

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…