Page 126 of Damaged

I’m standing behind Manny in the cockpit—we’ve gotten on a nickname basis in the last twenty minutes. “I think the most likely scenario is that we’re re-routed to Montreal. We can get a hotel overnight, or you can drive to Quebec City.”

“That’s a five-hour drive in this weather. Is there a private airport around here where we can get permission to land?”

“Private airports are closed completely tonight.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.Fuck.

The symphony is about to start. I’m picturing Sophia taking her seat alone. Glancing at the empty seat next to her.

I love you.I replay her words. The wet glisten in her brown eyes as she said them.Why’d that have to be today? Why did today have to become so special?

“I have a question,” I say and lean closer to Manny’s ear. “Where’s the microphone that puts us on the black box?”

“The CVR?”

“Sure.”

He points to the ceiling instrument panel. I see the microphone holes and press my palm firmly against them so we can’t be recorded.

“What’s the consequence for landing right now?”

Manny grins. “Hefty. We’d need an emergency.”

“And what’s the reason for not letting us land? Visibility?”

“That, sure. But primarily it’s because the runway is as slick as ice. They’re spreading deicer, but it’s not doing much.”

“And what would you need to land?” I raise an eyebrow conspiratorially.

“I don’t know…”

“A hundred grand. Land this plane, and it’s yours.”

“You got it.” Manny smiles. I think he believes he just took me for a bargain. Little does he know I would’ve offered a fucking million.

“I’ll claim I’m afraid of an ice buildup on the horizontal stabilizers, which is true, by the way. This bird’s gotta come down in a half hour, or we’re in trouble.”

“Perfect.”

There are two pilot seats, but my plane is not a model that mandates the necessity of two pilots. “If we slide, where’s the most dangerous place to be?” I ask.

“Here in the cockpit. This takes the impact of whatever we run into.”

I sit in the seat next to him and fasten the seat belt.

“What’re you doing?”

“We’re in this one together, Manny.”

He smiles. “Alrighty.”

He starts descending and radios in for an emergency landing, citing an icing hazard. The air traffic controller tries to get us to make it to Montreal. But Manny is earning his money. He insists the plane’s controls are losing responsiveness.

We get cleared, but there’s no fist bump or celebration. The snow is flying towards the cockpit windows at what looks like warp speed. I gulp down my anxiety and brace a hand against a free spot in the instrument panel.

I look at the altitude. One hundred feet. But the ground is still nowhere in sight. Just blinding snow.

“Have you landed this blind before?”

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