Jacqueline Druga: What Tomorrow Brings

“Brace!”

The single first command didn’t bring chaotic screams to the plane, the loud mumbles of concern came minutes earlier when the pilot announced the red eye flight was making a forced landing.

“Brace.”

He assured the passengers that it would be a rough landing, apologized for the inconvenience, and promised it would be no more than a few bumps and bruises.

“Head down. Stay down.”

The female flight attendant had enormous command over her voice. Not giving into emotions, not conveying fear or concern, just direction.

“Grab your ankles. Brace. Brace.”

Engines whirled louder as the plane made a quick descent, feeling more so like a rushed landing. There was a sense that everything was going to be fine, a little rough, but fine nonetheless. Until the second illumination and the interior of the plane was as bright as day.

The engines just stopped.

Silence.

“Heads down. Stay down. Brace.”

A split second of quiet and then an eruption of screams ensued the moment everyone realized the plane was on a free fall glide to the ground.

Suddenly, the calm flight attendant picked up urgency in her commands, repeated them like a broken record.

“Head down. Stay down. Grab your ankles.”

Kit Rolland wasn’t scared. She expected that she would be. All those preflight jitters, constant prayers before boarding, the fear of dying in a plane crash… gone.

Instead of crying, screaming and panicking, Kit felt an abundance of calm.

There was no flashing of her life before her eyes. If this was indeed it, the final moments of her life, she was not going to spend it feeling desperate, she was going to savor every last second.

“Brace. Brace.”

Kit knew that no amount of bracing, head down was going to stop the inevitable. The plane was without power and even if somehow she survived the crash, that was only round one.

Others may or may not have seen, but Kit did.

The quick progression of events made sense to her.

They didn’t at the time, but now she had clarity.

“Head down. Stay down.”

Kit didn’t follow those commands, instead she turned her body to search.

She needed that. She needed those one last looks.

My son, my brothers, she thought. Were they okay? How are they handling it? After all, they were on the flight. The last minute travel arrangements had them all scattered about.

She scanned across the aisle one row back, 10B to her seventeen year old son. Zeke was in the brace position. His legs together, leaning as far down as he could, forehead to his knees with his fingers locked on top of his head. The man next to him had his head against the seat before him, clutching the top.

Was Zeke scared? More than anything Kit wanted to call to him. Tell him she loved him, but she feared him moving, changing his position. He needed to be that way, just in case that worked.

In her mind she told him how she felt. In her mind, she held his hand.

Her oldest brother Regis was two rows behind her in a middle seat. His eyes were closed, he wasn’t putting his head down. Somehow, as if he sensed Kit was looking at him, he opened his eyes, gave her that reassuring big brother look before finally lowering his head down.

“Grab your ankles. Brace.”

Mark.

Her youngest brother.

Where was he?

He was nearer to the back.

Kit had to see, she had to look, she had to know.

She rose slightly to a near standing position and searched. She didn’t see him. However, she did see the woman in the red sweater. Mark was seated next to her. He, too had to be in position.

Knowing somehow everyone was all right, Kit sat down.

It was at that second, her heart raced.

This was it.

“Brace. Brace.”

The one pure sad thought Kit had was, “My poor mother.” Her mother was a strong woman. Alone she raised her kids. Her children were her life, her driving force. How was her mother going to deal with not only the loss of three of her four children, but her grandson as well?

Jillie.

Kit’s oldest daughter. Barely over the legal drinking age, Jillie stayed behind. She had just gotten married and was expecting her first child.

At least her mother had Jillie.

Kit sat back down then buckled her belt. She closed her eyes, pressed her head back against the seat and inhaled, feeling the plane going at a smooth angle downward.

“Get down!” the man yelled.

Kit opened her eyes and looked over the empty seat between them to the man next to her.

He leaned partially forward and looked at her. “Get down.”

Kit just stared.

He extended his arm, cupped the back of her head and shoved her down and forward. It was abrasive and her forehead skinned against the plastic of the folded upright tray table.

Before she could react, jump back…

Impact.

The first hit sent a jolt up her backside to her hips. The top of Kit’s head hit hard into the seat in front of her and her own seat slammed down and folded on her back.

She felt folded in half, barely able to move. Her arms dangled down and she wanted to bring them up but couldn’t. A loud ringing commenced in her ears and they filled with the pressure of the fast moving and out of control plane against the ground.

Another bang and jolt lifted her up some, but her belt and the back of her own seat restrained her. She turned her head, looking to her left as the plane swerved viciously left to right. Some passengers were no longer in a crash position. Their bodies bounced out of control with each joggle of the aircraft. Luggage flew about the cabin. A blue laptop case sailed end over end at a high speed, slamming into the man in 9C.

Blood splattered and he rolled from his seat into the aisle, then as if he were a rubber ball, bounced upward to the ceiling.

Debris flew everywhere.

Screams lessened and were more sporadic.

There were no more jolts, no more bangs, just a fast sailing fuselage, sliding against the ground with no means to stop.

With each foot the plane moved Kit felt the pressure pushing her, but more so the compression, as if her body would eventually smash like a bug.

The plane came to an abrupt stop. The seat against her back, the one keeping her down lifted and Kit flew to her right, cracking her head against the window.

It wasn’t enough to render her unconscious. She wished it was.

Although the adrenaline aided in her not feeling any pain, it didn’t stop the fact that she couldn’t breathe when a thick dust or smoke poured into the plane.

Kit choked and coughed and then, for a brief moment… Kit died.

Four hours earlier

Her stomach twisted with a warning hunger pain that told Kit she had better get something to eat before they boarded the flight. Peanuts and pretzels weren’t going to cut it since the only thing she had to eat all day was a cup of ramen noodles.

She wanted to eat and intended to do so, but she was rushing around for a trip she had only two days notice about.

Her options for food were limited. It was already after ten pm and not much was open at the airport. She was already at the gate, a little earlier than expected. She had overestimated how long it would take at TSA.

Kit teetered between looking at her phone and people watching. There was strange energy at the gate. People seemed tense, moved around quite a bit and the airline kept announcing that they were looking for people to give up their seats. They were offering such exuberant priced vouchers, Kit even debated on giving up hers. She couldn’t. It wasn’t a vacation, it was a trip she didn’t want to take, but it was one that she had to take.