Authors: Denise Kahn
Jacques called Melina back. “Melina, I’m flying out immediately,” he said trying to sound strong and secure, but his legs felt like jelly. “Yes, I just saw, on the TV… I’ll meet you there… Do not worry…”
“Monique, there is an Air France flight to Miami in three hours. I’m sorry, my love, but you understand that I must go,” he said, sadly thinking how short their first happy hours had been, and how he would be without her again. He swore he would make it up to her. He knew that Monique would understand.
“Of course I understand,” she said interrupting his thoughts. “But I’m going with you. I’ll pack. You call for the private jet.”
“But…”
“No buts, please, my love.”
♫
CHAPTER 32
Alejandro’s plane screamed into the ocean. Upon impact, the wings of the flying machine ripped off, as if a giant hand had slapped them. Alejandro was thrown clear from his seat onto the door of the cockpit. His shoulder took the full impact of it. The pain took his breath away. He managed to open the cockpit door. The lights flickered. He saw sparks coming from naked cables. The captain was on the floor of the cockpit, his arms at his sides, dripping with blood. The co-pilot was mumbling incoherently. He had been cut severely.
“
Capitán! Capitán
!” Alejandro shouted, but there was no reply. The captain was dead. Alejandro turned to the co-pilot, finally remembering his name.
“Manuel, are you alright?”
“Life raft,” Manuel said. “Get… life raft…”
The plane was sinking. He had to work fast. The tail and fuselage were already under water. The aircraft had flipped. The nose was up high and he was sitting on the ceiling completely soaked. The plane would be submerged in a few minutes. Alejandro looked in the main cabin. He had to work backward. Everything was upside down. He finally located the compartment and tried the latch. It was stuck. He cursed and prayed at the same time to any saints and gods who were willing to listen. He pulled again, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, but still the latch wouldn’t give. The water was now up to his chest. He held his breath and tried to free the door under water. He came back up for air and dived under again, looking for something to pry it loose with. He saw a long piece of metal lying under one of the seats that had been ripped from their rails and had settled on the ceiling. It was a piece of the railing. He quickly moved the chair out of the way and reached for the tool, but just then a cable sparked and scared him just enough so that he hit his head on what he thought was another loose seat. Pain spread through his skull and eyes. It was just enough to make him gasp and swallow water. He opened his eyes and desperately searched for air. He swam toward the ceiling, not remembering that it was below and not above him. More precious seconds lost and more water swallowed before he realized his mistake. His lungs felt as if they were on fire and would soon explode. He mustered all the will and energy he had and tried once more for air. He came up coughing and spitting water, desperately gasping for the substance he needed to stay alive. The metal strip, he thought, what did I do with it? He remembered reaching for it. Had he grabbed it? He looked at his hand. His knuckles had turned white so tightly was he holding onto the strip.
Again he went underwater, this time being careful of the objects around him. He could barely see anymore. He worried that the remaining lights would go out any second. He located the compartment and tried the latch again. Still it wouldn’t budge. He inserted the metal into the ridge on the side of the door and began to pry it loose. He hoped the tool wouldn’t break. His arm was swollen under his shirt and he cringed every time he pushed a little harder. He had to act faster, he thought, as his lungs warned him that he only had a few seconds left of air. He could feel his heartbeat in his temple and neck, as if trying to burst through his skin. Come on, one more time, he pushed himself, its coming, just a little more. Finally the door broke away. Alejandro quickly removed the yellow package from its compartment and headed to the top of the water holding on to his precious load. The water level now reached his neck. There was very little time left. He inched towards the cockpit and called out to the co-pilot.
“Manuel, I have the raft. Hurry, we have to get out of here!” There was no sound from the cockpit. “Manuel!” he shouted again, but Manuel did not move. Alejandro made his way into the cockpit. Manuel still had a pulse. He lifted him, groaning at the pain in his arm and pulled him out of the cabin, being careful to keep his head above the water.
Alejandro pulled the cord on the raft to inflate it. Then the lights went out. He cursed. He felt his way to the large opening he had spotted previously. There was just enough room to fit the raft through. He let go of Manuel momentarily to push it out but held on to one of the attached ropes. He dragged Manuel out with him. He thought his arm would explode but he tried erasing the pain from his mind and shoved the co-pilot into the raft. He was starting to climb in when a strong undercurrent pulled him down. He realized that the plane was almost entirely submerged and the water from the displacement was pulling him under. He held on to the rope as tightly as he could, hoping the raft would hold steady. Pain tore through his arm and now his fingers. The current pulled him down farther. He fought to stay up, but he couldn’t fight the current. His hold on the rope was starting to slip. Alejandro had no more oxygen left and he was swallowing water. His lungs were on fire and his heart wanted to pound right out of his chest. He was about to black out and the rope was almost through his fingers. But as abruptly as he had been pulled under, suddenly he was being pushed up. His nose and mouth filled with more of the salty water and then his head was above water. His hand was aching. His other arm came out of the water. He felt the rubber side of the raft.
♫
CHAPTER 33
Johnny Thornton learned that his sister Gina had been taken to the hospital. He had not seen the pieces of wood from the stage penetrate her body. He arrived at the medical center breathless. He looked ragged and depressed, but his appearance didn’t seem to faze anyone. The hospital was full of such visitors, those who had been in the Orange Bowl audience and relatives of those people anxious for the news of their friends and loved ones.
Gina was in an ICU of the trauma room. Zeferino was there. His face was ashen, his hair disheveled. His tuxedo was torn and his white shirt was spattered with dried blood. He had been cut on one arm at the shoulder. A bandage covered his arm.
Johnny saw Zeferino first. “Zeferino, are you alright?”
“Yes, just a few hundred stitches, I think, but they said no real damage. And you?”
“Bad headache. Simon knocked me out.
“Simon? He hit you? But why?”
“He wanted to kill Jean, his ex-wife, and Davina Walters. That’s what the cops say. For revenge.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Davina helped Jean escape from him once and he wanted to pay them back, to kill them. He’s the one who caused the explosion.”
Zeferino’s eyes darkened and his jaw line became very tight and drawn.
“I was the one who got him the job at the stadium. If it hadn’t been for me…”
“Stop it, Johnny. Don’t torment yourself.”
“How is Gina?”
“Not good. She was hit bad. I was right next to her. Why couldn’t it have been me?”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s inside,” he said. “Go on. And Johnny…”
“Yes?”
“Be strong for her, my friend.”
Gina was almost completely bandaged. The parts of her face that were not covered were bruised and discolored. Several bottles hung from posts around her, draining their liquids into the needles piercing her body. Johnny gently touched his sister’s ravaged hand. She slowly opened her eyes.
“It’s me.”
“Come closer,” she said almost inaudibly. Johnny lowered his ear close to her mouth to hear her.
“Promise me…Promise me you’ll take care of yourself and get your degree.”
“I promise…”
“Johnny?”
“I’m right here, Sis.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I want to speak to Zeferino now.”
“Okay, I’ll get him. I’ll be back later.”
Johnny relayed the message to Zeferino and sat down outside the room to wait. He watched a pretty woman walk down the corridor. She was wearing a long evening gown that had been torn, another victim of the concert. Her face looked oddly familiar. She was also bruised and cut. Her eyes were dark and puffy and her makeup had run, but even the ugly dark spots could not mask her beauty. Johnny knew her but he couldn’t place her. She looked at him and stopped.
“My God,” he said, jumping out of his chair. “Jean!”
She recognized him.
Just then Zeferino came out of the intensive care unit. Zeferino stared straight ahead and then, as if in slow motion, he sank to his knees and covered his face with his hands, sobbing.
“No, no,” Johnny said. “She can’t be!”
Johnny went back into the room. Gina’s body was now covered entirely with a sheet. Johnny’s eyes turned an icy gray. His eyes were dry when he left the room. This time, Johnny thought, Simon is going to pay. He left the hospital directly without saying another word to anyone.
Zeferino did not try to stop him. “She was my fiancé and his sister,” he said to Jean.
“I’m sorry,” Jean said. “I lost my fiancé too.”
“Sorry,” Zeferino intoned.
“I need to get out of here. I hate hospitals.”
“Do you know how Davina Walters is?”
“She’s here but they’re not letting in visitors. She’s in critical condition.”
“Is anyone with her?”
“Probably half the Miami police force and the FBI.”
“Her family?”
“I don’t know. Nobody seems to know where her fiancé is. He’s my fiancé’s brother. Was. I need to get out of here.”
“Me too. I think I could use a strong drink. Would you please join me? I’d rather not drink alone.”
“Yes,” Jean said, not wanting to be alone either and feeling oddly close to this stranger who had just suffered the same fate as she. They walked out of the medical center, two lonely people. They sat in the back of a taxi in silence.
“Where you going?” the cab driver asked.
“I don’t know,” Zeferino said. “Just start driving.”
“Sure. Any particular direction?”
“Miami Beach,” Zeferino said for lack of a better idea. “I was living with the Thorntons, but I cannot go back there, not now.”
“I have the same problem. I was staying with Davina.”
“May I make a suggestion, and I beg you, please do not take it the wrong way. I just don’t want to be alone. Let me get us a hotel room and if we feel like sleeping or lying down we will at least have a bed.”
Jean could see that he was sincere, and he was a gentleman with a lot of pain in his heart.
“Okay.”
“Driver, the Fontainbleau please.”
It was too late to go to a bar; they were all closed. Zeferino called room service and ordered vodka for Jean and scotch for him, a bottle each. They took the bottles outside onto the beach with two glasses and a bucket of ice. The beach was empty and quiet. Zeferino filled their glasses.
“To the ones we loved,” he said, holding up his glass. “May they be in peace. And to life. May it still be good to us, for I fear the pain will never die.” He downed his entire glass. Jean quickly drank all of hers as well.
“That was nice, Zeferino, thank you.”
“I truly hope that they are happy, wherever they are. It is I who must thank you. I do not think I can survive alone tonight.”
They walked along the beach, feeling the caressing breezes and the cool sand under their bare feet. The moon was very big and bright. They walked mostly in silence, both of them crying.
“I was so happy a few hours ago,” Jean sobbed. She sank down to the sand.
“I understand,” Zeferino said, putting an arm around her.
“No,” she shook her head. “You don’t…you can’t.”
“Tell me then…please.”
“There’s too much to tell. I’m pregnant. I was going to tell Rodrigo tonight after the concert.”
She planned to tell everyone, to make an announcement tonight. She played with the thought of suicide but only briefly. She was carrying Rodrigo’s baby. She would not harm the baby. It was all she had left of him.
Zeferino was a good listener. He listened long into the night and the morning as Jean opened her heart, telling him her story. When finally she was too spent to say more, the Miami sun started to form where ocean and sand met, and the two of them went back to their hotel room. They fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Jean woke to the sounds of laughter from children playing in the hotel pool. It took her a few moments to get her bearings. Zeferino was still asleep beside her. She had a terrible headache. She splashed some water on her face and looked at the mirror in horror. She was bruised and pale, as if she had been in a fight. She hadn’t looked like this since the last time Simon Grady beat her up. You son-of-a-bitch, she said to the mirror, you’ve done it again, Simon, but this time you’ve gone too far. I’m going to find you, you bastard, if it’s the last thing I do.
She dressed quickly and left. She walked three miles before stopping, and now she debated her next move. She saw a restaurant, Los Pollos, and went inside. That night she started working as a waitress. If she was careful, she could survive until the baby came. One thing was certain—she would not see, could not see Davina Walters.
Zeferino thought his head would break. He had a monumental hangover and his eyes were puffy and heavy. He thought he would never have any tears again. He must have cried all night. He remembered how nice Jean had been and how understanding. But now she was gone, the only part of her left was the note she wrote to him.
Zeferino, thank you. I could not have made it without you last night. Thank you for being a friend and a gentleman.
Your friend, Jean Conrad
♫