Page 122 of Just Come Over
What kind of bedroom furniture would Isaiah like? How about if you painted one wall with the solar system, and another with a map of the world? Could be challenging, but you could probably get some sort of stick-on thing. Or hire an art student, maybe, and the kids could help...
Something had changed. His body realized it before his mind did, as usual. The plane wasn’t descending anymore. They were going up, and turning to the right at the same time, heading south.
It wasn’tthatwindy, not enough to close the airport, he thought at the exact moment a male voice came over the intercom. “This is your captain speaking. We’ve got a problem with the landing gear, and we’re circling to troubleshoot it. We’ll update you in a few minutes, once we’ve got it sorted.”
Fair enough. He shot Zora a quick text, even though the players behind him would be doing the same, and word would spread quickly amongst the families and partners awaiting their arrival. Fifteen minutes, probably. No worries.
“Flight attendants,” the captain said, “take your seats.” It was as bumpy as ever, and the two Business Premier flight attendants held onto the backs of seats as they made their way forward and buckled themselves in a few meters from Rhys’s Row 1.
Some more grinding and bumping underneath him. That was the gear down, then, because the plane was turning again, heading back west, toward the airport.
Except that they weren’t descending. Rhys couldn’t see anybody from his pod except Finn. The other man looked at him and raised his eyebrows. Rhys considered texting him, because even he couldn’t shout loud enough to be heard over the engines, and discarded the idea. Nothing to say, other than placing a bet on how long it took them to get down, which could very well be happening in the seats behind him. He wondered how long the Wi-Fi would hold up to the load being placed on it.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and they were still circling. Rhys would have placed his bet on twenty minutes. Too late to get into the action now. The two flight attendants appeared in the aisle again, and the captain said in a voice so calm, it was practically hypnotic, “OK, looks like we can’t fix that landing gear issue in the air, so we’re going to have to make an emergency landing on one side of our gear. We’ll be in the air for about twenty minutes to burn our fuel down to the lowest landing weight possible. It’s going to be a difficult landing and there’s a good chance of sliding off the runway, so please listen to the flight attendants. They’ll explain what to do. Please follow their instructions.”
Rhys glanced at Finn again. The other man’s eyebrows were higher this time. Well, this was a new one, and it wasn’t good. They were dumping fuel in preparation for landing because they thought the engines were likely to catch fire. You didn’t need to be an expert to realize that. He could imagine the looks being exchanged, the tears starting for some, the shakes. He wasn’t doing any shaking. He was motioning to the flight attendant nearest to him, and she was heading over. Constance McGill, a fiftyish redhead he’d flown with a hundred times. Competent and calm, and, he thought, probably the lead flight attendant on this one.
He said, shouting to be heard over the roar of the engines and the commotion behind him, three hundred souls trying not to panic, “Reseat some of us in the back, Connie. Put us at the exits. You’ll need the first people down the slides to catch the rest of them, surely, especially if the plane’s tilted, and if the engines catch fire, you’ll need help getting everybody well away and keeping them together. Kids. Old people. Whatever you’ve got. Put us next to whoever needs help, and we’ll get them out.”
She said, “Can do.”
He said, “Forwards at the exits. Go back and tell them—‘Forwards, come with me.’ Move them first, and then we’ll do the backs. Put the backs with the passengers who need help.” Easiest way to separate them, to make sure every man knew his role. He thought of something else. “We’ll send the doctor down first, also. Are the engines likely to catch fire?”
“Yes,” Connie said.
“Keep people from opening those overwing exits, then?” He was pretty sure the crew could land the plane, on its belly or not. Fire was the big danger. The flight crew would have only a couple minutes to evacuate three hundred people before the fuselage filled with smoke, and despite the dump and burn, the fuel could explode at any time. “Are we likely to end up in the Harbour?”
“Yes,” Connie said. “Keep them off the overwing exits, and we could end up in the water.”
“Finn and me over the wings, then. Our captain and vice-captain as well.” If the engines caught fire, everybody would have to exit through the front and rear, and if the jet landed in the water, you’d have to keep them all out of it. A hundred fifty passengers in each direction, and those over the wings could be last in line. Frantic, maybe. “I need to talk to a few of them. Forty seconds out of my seat.”
She said, “Right. Go. I’m moving the forwards.”
He was up on the words, grabbing the seat back as a jolt tried to send him off his feet, crouching by Finn’s ear, telling him the plan.
Finn said, “Got it,” and Rhys stopped at the trainer’s seat, then headed all the way to the back of the Business Premier compartment, where the senior players were sitting. The bus drove from the back, they said. At least they were all together. He stopped at a row and bellowed, “Hugh. Nico. Nines. Tens. Listen up. Forwards are going to the exits now, and they’ll be first out. They’ll catch the passengers as they come down the slides, help get them away from the plane. Also, if we’re in the water, get everybody onto the slides if you can. Keep them out of the water. Once they’re all out, if we’re on land, everybody follows the nine and ten. Backs are with the passengers, anybody who needs help. Nines and tens, get everybody to a clear spot, well away from the plane, away from the engines especially. You’ll go down the slides first, and take the trainer with you.”
Nods, and he was in the other aisle, repeating the message, back in his seat, fastening his seatbelt, ready for Connie to move him. Passport and phone in his pocket. Ready to go.
You always assumed you’d win, all the way to the end. That was how you came out fighting, and how you kept fighting. You prepared, you kept your head, you did your role, and you trusted your mate to do his.
No difference.
When the murmur started, Zora barely noticed. She was standing with Jenna and her kids, trying to think of something to say, and only being able to thinkfive more minutes.
“Delay,” Jenna said at adingfrom her phone, joggling Ethan on her hip. “Finn says twenty minutes or so. Good thing the kids are playing.”
There was a whole group of kids, in fact, sitting on the floor. Zora checked out hers. Isaiah was reading on his tablet, and Casey was playing with Moana along with Jenna’s little girl, Lily. Making up a story.
It wasn’t twenty minutes, though, when the murmur got louder. Some gasps from around them, and then a new hubbub, the sound of dozens of cellphone speakers, and some activity over at the side. An airport employee, by the uniform, beckoning, shouting out the flight number. “Air New Zealand Flight 732 from Brisbane. Those meeting Flight 732, come with me.” The words crackling over the PA system, and Zora was grabbing Isaiah and Casey, her heart knocking against her chest like a bass drum.Boom. Boom. Boom.
“Where are we going?” Casey asked. Isaiah didn’t say anything. As usual when things got tense, he went inside himself and watched.
“I’m not sure,” Zora said. “Hang on.” The crowd streamed along behind the woman with her radio, through a white door markedAuthorized Personnel Only,along a blank corridor, then into a big, bare room markedInternational Hold.
The explanation, then. The plane’s gear hadn’t descended on one side, and they’d be landing on one wheel. Not a crash, they said again and again. A hard landing, the plane off the runway, and an evacuation. A scenario the pilots had practiced and prepared for. The airline would keep them informed of developments, including when the plane was coming in on final approach. Ten minutes, probably. That was all the information there was to give. Please stand by for more.
The anxiety had risen in pitch now. The rugby families coalesced into a corner of the room by unspoken agreement, and most of the women had their phones out, their kids gathered close. Looking at news coverage, Zora guessed. She could see a graphic over Kate James’s shoulder. A series of sketches of a plane coming down, rolling to the right, catching a wing tip, and somersaulting off the runway, breaking apart, before orange triangles of flame obliterated the pieces.
