Authors: Philip Donlay
“It won't work,” Lauren reported. “To talk on the phone, I have to pull my oxygen mask out from my face a little bit. It takes two hands and he's busy flying.”
“Are all the instruments working?”
“Michael says yes. But he wants you to know he thinks the controls are damaged.”
“They need to get ready to turn,” Steven interrupted. “It's going to be a fifteen degree turn to the right.”
“Lauren, get ready to turn.”
“Now!” Steven pointed at Donovan.
“Tell Michael, fifteen to the right. And hold on.” Donovan looked on as the small ghostly image on the screen began to turn toward a solid band of echoes.
“We're turning,” Lauren replied.
Donovan watched as the Gulfstream penetrated the line. He held his breath and prayed they'd make it through.
“It's getting rough!” Lauren transmitted. “Oh my God!”
Donovan grimaced. He knew firsthand what it was like to fly into a thunderstorm. It was one of the most terrifying things a pilot could experience. He pictured Michael at the controls and knew that if any pilot could get it done, it was Michael. Erin moved closer. Donovan glanced over and saw that her face had gone shock white.
“Thirty more seconds,” Steven reported.
“Lauren,” Donovan urged. “You're almost through.”
All ears were on the speaker, which remained silent. “Lauren. Can you hear me?” Donovan stared helplessly at the screen. He had no idea how accurate the satellite image was. If the Gulfstream broke apart, how long would it take to register on the monitor?
“I show they're through,” Steven said, calmly. “They'll have a bit of breathing room before the next line.”
“Donovan, are you still there?” Lauren's shaken voice came over the speaker.
“I'm here. Is everything okay?”
“That was pretty bad. Michael doesn't know how much more of that the airplane can take. How close are we to the eye?”
“They'll have one more area to get through.” Steven used the tip of his pen to show Donovan the intended path on the screen. “Right now we're going to work them around the storm this way and all that will be left are these thunderstorms. Then they'll be in the clear.”
Donovan looked at the last area Steve had referred toâ¦It was part of the eye wall. His heart sank at the sight. “Lauren, you only have one more section of the storm to get through. It's going to be rough. How high are you right now?”
“We've managed to level off at 27,000 feet.”
Donovan noddedâ27,000 feet was the maximum single engine service ceiling of the Gulfstream. He knew Michael would have the jet slowed to ride out the turbulence. It was Michael's
report of control damage that worried Donovan the most. A perfectly good Gulfstream would probably stay in one piece through the eye wall, but a damaged one might be nothing better than a crap-shoot. A wave of guilt came over Donovan. He was supposed to be flying the Gulfstream. It should be him up there with Michael and Lauren. If he lost them, they'd be added to the list of people in his life who died. Donovan shook himself free of the unthinkable. He turned to Steven.
“How long do you think it'll be before they make it into the eye?”
“Hard to say.” Steven rubbed his eyes. “The bands of weather keep shifting.”
“Donovan, it's Michael. I have a few seconds here to talk.”
“Go ahead.” Relief swept over Donovan at the sound of his friend's voice.
“This airplane is pretty screwed up. Is there anyway those techno-wizards down there can use their satellite to zoom in, tell me what I'm dealing with, such as how much damage there is to the plane?”
“I've got a better idea,” Donovan said, quickly. “I'll be there in the
da Vinci
as fast as I can. You've got a lot of fuel. Let's do this right. Do you have any idea what happened?”
“Yeah. Lauren came up to tell us there was a fight going on in the back. Randy went to help. I think I heard a gunshot right before the number two engine came apart.”
Donovan leveled a withering glare at Reynolds.
“And just for the record,” Michael continued. “This hurricane is starting to piss me off.”
Donovan was glad Michael could still make a joke. “I'm on my way. Listen for us on the Eco-Watch frequency. Donovan out.”
“Where's that helicopter?” Donovan spun towards Reynolds. “I need it five minutes ago. You and I will talk about this later.”
“Someone take him to the helicopter pad!” Reynolds raised his voice.
Donovan turned to Steven. “How can you and I stay in touch?”
“You can use satellite phone, HF, or VHF. Take your pick.” Steven scribbled the numbers on a pad of paper and handed it over.
“Your helicopter is waiting.” A young woman put down a phone and moved to escort Donovan out of the room.
“I'm going with you,” Erin said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You promised me an exclusive.”
“Come on.” Donovan let it look like this was her victory, but he had no intention of letting her out of his sight. “But you're my assistant first, reporter second. Nothing leaks about this until it's over. You got that?”
Erin nodded as they blew out of the room and hurried to the waiting helicopter. As they ran, Donovan pulled out cell phone and hit the speed-dial for Eco-Watch.
“Operations, this is Peggy.”
“Peggy, it's Donovan.” He was relieved it was her; Peggy had been with Eco-Watch longer than any of the other dispatchers. She was intelligent and deadly efficient.
“Oh thank God! We've been trying to find you. Michael's in trouble.”
“I know. I just spoke with him. Have Frank get the
da Vinci
ready to fly, and find someone to go with me. I'll be there in ten minutes.”
“Frank already has the airplane on the ramp, he's just finished fueling. Nicolas should be here any minute. I know he's new, but he's the closest. We'll be ready to roll when you get here. I've already filed the flight plan and air traffic control knows to give you priority handling.”
“Good work, Peggy.” Donovan followed Erin through a door that led outside. In the distance he could see the same helicopter that Lauren had gotten on the other morning. Its rotors were turning.
“Are Michael and Randy okay?” Peggy asked.
“Michael isâ¦I don't know about Randy. See you in a few minutes.”
“Please hurry,” was all Peggy said before she hung up.
H
e's on his way.” Michael handed the phone back to Lauren and again put both hands on the controls. “Once we get safely into the eye, I'm going to need you to get to the back and find out what the hell happened!”
“Donovan's coming?” Lauren took the phone from him.
“Yeah. He's going to use the other plane and fly out here. He'll be able to check out the damage to our plane. If I'm thinking what he's thinkingâonce we know what we're dealing with, he can lead us out of here.”
Lauren nodded. It sounded feasible. The Gulfstream rocked in the light turbulence as sheets of precipitation were slung at the windshield. Outside, the opaque gray nothingness of the storm began to close in on her. She turned around and looked back. She could barely see the right wingtip. The levels of darkness came and went. She knew they were playing a deadly game of cat and mouse inside the worst hurricane ever recorded. Helena had tried to kill her once already; Lauren couldn't help but wonder if she'd succeed this time. Lauren almost pictured Helena as a living, breathing entity. She wondered if, in some supernatural
way, Helena knew that Lauren was out to kill her, destroy her before she could make landfall. As if to answer Lauren's question, another series of violent jolts battered the airplane.
“Jesus!” Michael battled to keep the airplane steady. “Ask them what in the hell is going on.”
“Steven, it's getting rougher. Can you get us out of this?”
“I'm trying. The storm is shifting. Three minutes ago you had a clear path. Now it's closing in.” Lauren was thrust against her harness. She felt the sting of the straps as they dug into her hips and shoulders. The world outside turned darker; torrents of water lashed at them. She was having trouble holding the phone to her ear.
“This is turning into a mess,” Steven said anxiously. “You need to make a ninety degree turn to the right. Everything's closing in. You have to turn. There's no other way. It's the shortest distance to the eye.”
“Turn ninety degrees to the right!” Lauren quickly relayed to Michael. “We're closed off. We have to make a run for the eye, NOW!” Lauren had to shout against the noise of the rain. She could see the determination in Michael's eyes as he fought against vicious up and down drafts to turn the plane. The tail slewed back and forth as Helena's sheering winds tore at them from both sides. Lauren looked at the onboard radar. It was useless. A barrier of water kept the signals from spreading outward. Nothing beyond their nose was registering.
Lauren cringed as the turbulence worsened. Despite the seat belt pulled hard across her lap, she came up off the seat, only to be pressed down hard moments later. She could hardly focus on the instrument panel. She had no idea how Michael could fly the plane.
“How much further?” Lauren screamed into the phone, but her plea was met with silence.
“Steven! How much further?” She had a bad feeling that the
severity of the storm had broken up the digital satellite signal. If she ever talked to Steven again it would be because they'd survived and made it to the eye.
“Lauren!” Michael managed to transmit. “I need your help. Put your hand on the left throttle. I need both hands to fly!”
Lauren did as she was told. The throttle felt foreign in her hand.
“Pull it back three inches!” Michael ordered as the airspeed built rapidly in the maelstrom.
Lauren pulled it back. The dials on the instrument panel moved counterclockwise.
“Get ready to push it all the way forward to the stops.”
The airplane vibrated and groaned as they flew into even heavier rain.
“Push it now. Fast!”
Michael's calm, yet firm voice sounded in Lauren's headset. Without hesitation, she jammed the lever forward. The Gulfstream lurched forward and flew out of the grip of the massive down-draft.
“Perfect. Now ease it back one inch.”
Lauren's arm trembled as she tried to measure the exact position Michael wanted. “Like that?”
“Yes. But be ready. We're not finished yet.”
Lauren nodded. Even though the air in the cockpit was icy cold, a sticky heat spread over her body. The warm flush of fear swept through her.
“Ease it back just a little. Half an inch.”
Lauren battled her fear and moved the throttle as instructed.
“OH! SHIT!” Michael yelled. “All the way forward!”
Lauren couldn't move. The bottom felt like it had dropped out from under them. Her hand had been flung from the throttle. Against the negative G-forces, Lauren forced her hand downward to grip the cold, black throttle. She slammed it all the way to the
stops and held it there. She whispered a small prayer for Michael, then herself.
“Get ready to pull it back!” Michael yelled.
Lauren knew they were caught in the massive up and down drafts near the eye wall. Back at her lab, she'd marveled at its sheer force, but now she and Michael were inside, fighting for their lives. The darkness deepened as they plummeted downward toward the ocean. As quickly as it began, Lauren was forced down in her seat. Her outstretched arm felt as if 100 pound weights had suddenly been attached. She held on to the throttle for dear life.
“Pull it back halfway!”
Lauren fought the G-forces. The skin on her face was being pulled down, and her head grew heavy. She eased the throttle back, but felt like she'd gone too far. Trying to concentrate, she adjusted it forward. She glanced at Michael. He nodded as his eyes swept the panel. A quick look at the altimeter showed them being swept upward through 30,000 feet.
Like a six-mile high roller-coaster ride, Lauren's stomach lurched as they reached the apex. She could sense the change in gravity. Her insides fluttered as Michael banked the airplane hard to the right.
“One more time. Push it all the way forward.” Michael's authoritative voice sounded through the intercom. Just as Lauren was about to ease the throttle forward, a bright light caught her in the eyes. It forced her to turn her head. She blinked against the harsh brightness and looked up. Above them, she found a small circle of blue sky.
“We made it!” Michael reached across and gave her hand a squeeze, then took the throttle and pulled it all the way back. “Hang on. I'm going to dive this thing down so we can breathe without our masks.”
A wave of relief washed over her battered body. Despite the harness, she'd been thrown around the cockpit like a rag doll. With a mixture of terror and wonder, she scanned their surroundings. Far above them, the sun hung perfectly in a clear sky. Majestic streaks of light raced to the ocean below. Stretched out on either side of them was the eye wall, a violent churning mass of greenish-black clouds. Somehow, they'd managed to come from hell itself and make it into Helena's inner sanctum.
Lauren looked down. She was still gripping the satellite phone in her right hand. As if suspended in some slow motion loop of time, she raised it to her ear.
“Hello. Is anyone there?”
“Dr. McKenna! You made it!” Steven's voice was filled with relief.
“We're in the eye. Michael has us descending to a lower altitude.” Lauren was exhausted; her legs began to tremble.
“Perfect,” Steven replied. “Be advised,
Jonah
is at your twelve o'clock position and five miles. The last information we had was it was hovering at 3,000 feet.”
Lauren turned to Michael. “
Jonah's
in front of us, they think it's floating at 3,000 feet. Let's don't run over it.”