Turbulence-2-14
2063 Words
“We’ve landed!”
“Out of my way!”
“Watch it!”
Shouting from the front of the plane. Cries of triumph.
Kennedy held onto Willow. In a few minutes, this would all be over.
“Hang on,” she pleaded.
“Step aside!”
“Let the paramedics on board.”
Kennedy wrapped her arms around Willow and cradled her head in her lap. “Just hang on.” It was silly of her, really. Willow couldn’t hear a thing, could she?
God, you promised me a second chance. What if this was it? What if Willow was slipping into a coma, a coma she would never wake from? Hadn’t Kennedy promised God to share the gospel with her roommate if he gave her one more opportunity?
“Over here!” someone yelled.
“Help!”
“Don’t block the exits.”
Flames now leapt and roared from the back of the aircraft. The heat stung her back like a scalding acid. She wouldn’t leave Willow. Some might say she was being heroic, but in truth she didn’t think she possessed the energy to move. She was too tired to feel scared. The firefighters would save the two of them, or they wouldn’t. Either way, time was running out.
“If there’s anything you need to know right now,” she whispered into her friend’s ear, “it’s how much God loves you.”
“We’ve got the exits clear.”
“I see someone there toward the back.”
Kennedy wasn’t ready to leave. There was more she was supposed to say. About sin and repentance, about Jesus’ death and resurrection. Why was her brain so fuzzy?
“We’re here. You’re going to be ok.”
Strong hands pried her to her feet.
“No!” She tried to kick but her legs collapsed beneath her. “No!” She thought she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear herself.
“We’ll send someone back to get your friend. But you’ve got to come with me now.”
No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She stretched her neck to look behind her, screaming at the flames that danced and flickered just a few feet away from Willow’s body. No, this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
“Save her, not me.” Kennedy was sobbing, but she didn’t have the breath to make herself heard. Didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. The faceless form of her anonymous rescuer held her in a steady, iron grasp as strong as the chains that clung to Ebenezer Scrooge’s macabre partner.
“I have to go back,” she whispered softly before her vision deserted her and everything fell to black, infinite darkness.
CHAPTER 20Kennedy blinked her eyes open. Why did they hurt so bad? What was wrong with her contacts?
“Ow.”
She tried to sit up.
Ow.
A man set his hand on her shoulder. “Easy there. Don’t move too fast.”
“Where am I?” Had she swallowed boiling water? Why did it feel like her lungs were burning?
Burning.
She threw his hand aside and sat up. The entire room spiraled in front of her. “Where is she?”
“Shhh.” He put his finger to his lips like an over-doting nursery nanny. “You’re at the hospital. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
“Where is she?” Kennedy asked again.
“The girl who was kidnapped? She’s fine. She’s in another room waiting for her dad to fly in and pick her up. Everything’s fine.”
“No, it’s not,” Kennedy insisted. “Where’s Willow?”
A nurse in Snoopy scrubs walked over. Whispered something to him. What were they saying? What was wrong with her roommate?
The nurse gave her a smile. As if she wanted to be on friendly terms. Kennedy wouldn’t believe a word she said.
“You must have had an angel watching over you on that plane. You’re a very lucky woman.”
Kennedy didn’t care about luck. Didn’t care about who saved her or how or why.
The nurse lowered Kennedy onto her back. Why was she so weak? Why couldn’t she stay seated on her own? She tried to swing her legs off the gurney. “I need to go.”
“Not yet. You took in a lot of smoke back there.”
She didn’t care. She felt fine. If that’s what you could call having your lungs covered in tiny pieces of ashy glass that cut you with every inhale.
“I need to find her.”
The woman looked just as clinical when she was frowning as she had when she smiled. “I need you to stay still.”
Kennedy pictured herself fighting her way out of bed. Exhaustion clung to each individual muscle fiber. Where was Willow? She turned her head. Why were the lights so bright? Patients were lined up on gurneys, and nurses scurried back and forth in front of a busy station. She didn’t need to be here, wherever here was. She was fine. She didn’t need all these gadgets and monitors. She turned the other way and looked out a small window but didn’t recognize the parking lot outside.
Where was Willow?
Time passed with stubborn sluggishness. Nurses came in, went out. Hooked up an IV, smothered her face with an oxygen mask that made her feel like she’d suffocate from claustrophobia. She drifted to sleep. Woke up. Still no sign of Willow. Some of the other patients nearby were talking to official-looking businessmen with clipboards and recording devices. It would be Kennedy’s turn any minute. If the other passengers were fine, so was she. If they were ready to give statements, so was she. Anything to get out of here.
Anything so she could find Willow.
“Excuse me, Miss. We found you with a backpack and an ID belonging to Kennedy Stern. Is that your name?”
Kennedy nodded at the professionally dressed woman with glossy black hair.
“I’m Michelle Boone with the Federal Air Marshall Service. Do you feel up to answering some questions about what happened on the flight? I’ve heard multiple reports now about a ...”
“Is everyone ok?” Kennedy interrupted.
The woman frowned.
“On the plane,” Kennedy pressed. “Did everyone get off safely?”
Agent Boone flipped a few pages on her clipboard. “Did you have a relative on the flight?”
“My roommate. We were traveling together.”
An even deeper frown. “What is your roommate’s name?”
“Willow Winters.”
Something passed through the woman’s eyes. Recognition. Compassion. Pity. She tapped her pen several times against the pages on her clipboard. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss anyone’s medical condition unless it’s with immediate family. You don’t ...” She paused. Studied Kennedy. “You don’t have a way to contact your roommate’s next of kin, do you?”
Kennedy ripped the oxygen mask off her face and yanked the blood pressure cuff from her arm. She sat up, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to send her careening back into darkness.
“What happened to her?” She reached a hand back to steady herself and stifled a cough that made a valiant effort to crush each one of her ribs.
Two medics scurried over, trying to coax Kennedy back onto her back.
“Where’s Willow?” she demanded. “Why won’t you tell me what happened?”
The government agent held a hushed conversation with one of the medical professionals and finally turned back to Kennedy. “You need to lie down again, and then we can talk about your friend.”
“Just tell me,” Kennedy pleaded, but she allowed the nurses to lay her down. Tears leaked from her stinging eyes. Hot tears. Scorching tears. “Just tell me,” she repeated and noticed that one of the women was holding her hand. What did she think that would accomplish?
Boone cleared her throat. “Your roommate was unconscious when we found her. She wasn’t ...”
Kennedy felt her throat muscles seizing shut. She wasn’t hearing right. Something was wrong with her ears.
The agent swallowed once before continuing. “She wasn’t breathing.”
What was she saying? This was a government official. Why couldn’t she answer one simple question?
“Where is she now?” Kennedy’s voice was quiet. Uncertain. Was she ready to hear the truth? Could she accept whatever news she received?
The Snoopy nurse was rubbing her back as if Kennedy were five years old and scared of the dark.
Boone’s expression didn’t change. “I haven’t gotten an update yet, but I think it’s probably wise if you ...”
The door to the makeshift triage unit swung open, and two paramedics pushed in a young woman sitting in a wheelchair. She was covered with several layers of blankets and twirled her blue hair around her finger. “All I’m saying is that if I’m gonna need a blood transfusion or anything, you need to guarantee it’s coming from another vegan or I’m not accepting it.”
Kennedy’s body responded before her conscious mind figured out what was happening. She lunged out of bed, coughing in between peals of laughter, immediately tangling herself in the myriad wires that connected her to so many monitors and machines. “You’re here!”
Willow fashioned a half-crooked grin. “Yeah, I’m all right.”
Kennedy laughed until she choked on her own cough. “Where have you been?”
“Hypobaric chamber,” Willow answered. “It was wicked awesome. You should try it.”
“All right.” A blond paramedic put his hand on Willow’s shoulder. “I think that’s enough excitement for now.” He turned to Kennedy. “As soon as her oxygen levels improved she insisted on finding you.”
Willow gave him a playful nudge. “You weren’t supposed to say anything.”
The federal agent tapped her clipboard. “Miss Stern, now that you’ve seen your friend’s safe and sound, I really do need you to answer some questions for me. I have you listed as sitting in the back row by the lavatory. What can you tell me about a male passenger wearing Carhartts pants?”
CHAPTER 21By the time the sun set through Kennedy’s hospital room window, she had already spent two hours on her cell, first with her mom, trying to convince her she was alive and at least physically unharmed. Next she cried with Sandy while her pastor’s wife convinced her that the emotional trauma of the day could lead to wholeness and healing with time and help from the Holy Spirit.
Kennedy had also walked the entire triage unit three times looking for Grandma Lucy, but none of the emergency responders recognized her description. She was exhausted after all her interviews with various federal officials. She was ready to leave Detroit behind, but the airlines as well as the hospital staff wanted her and Willow both to spend the night for observation. At least half of the passengers on Flight 219 had sustained injuries, some from smoke inhalation and some from the chaos that ensued when everyone tried to stampede off the plane at once.
By evening, though, the busyness and chaos at the hospital died down, and Kennedy and Willow were wheeled on their gurneys into a room of their own. Kennedy’s stomach flipped slightly when the nurses left and she was alone with Willow for the first time since their rescue. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say? She’d made a promise with God, hadn’t she? She couldn’t just forget about it.
But how do you start a conversation like that?
“Wanna catch a flick?” Willow pointed the remote at the TV. “There’s gotta be something interesting.”
Kennedy didn’t know what to say. Now more than ever she understood how quickly life can change. How quickly life can end. But she still couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth and start a conversation she didn’t think Willow was ready to have.
“Sure,” she answered. “Just nothing too scary.” She meant it, too. She was done with drama and terror. She’d even take one of her mom’s cheesy farm romances if she had to. As Willow flipped through the channels, Kennedy shut her eyes, thankful when her body slipped off to sleep so her mind could finally enjoy some peace.
Her dad woke her up at six the next morning, ready to fire instructions over the phone in case any lawyers asked to talk to her. He was sure a suit against the airlines was inevitable and didn’t want her to get taken advantage of by greedy attorneys. He also made her promise to call him before the airlines forced her to sign forms or waivers. Kennedy didn’t care about any of that. She just wanted to forget the entire nightmare had ever happened. According to the most recent news reports, the only other passenger who died on the flight besides the murdered hostages was General himself. He was bound to a cabinet near the back lavatory and hadn’t been able to free himself during the fire. His fat lieutenant in the Hawaiian shirt somehow escaped. At least they didn’t recover any of his charred remains. Nobody knew what became of the passenger in Carhartts either, a man identified as an electrician with three kids who all attended Brown Elementary.
A nurse gave Kennedy discharge instructions right after her breakfast of stale English muffin and some sort of egg substitute, but she couldn’t leave the hospital before passing another round of interviews with Michelle Boone and about half a dozen other Feds and airline workers. “They’ll be here any time,” the nurse told her cheerfully. By the time an orderly dropped off cold grilled-cheese sandwiches for lunch, the only person who had stopped in was the cleaning lady.
Kennedy and Willow passed the day playing Scrabble or watching corny sitcom reruns from their hospital beds. Every time Kennedy thought she could muster up the courage to steer the conversation in a spiritual direction, she remembered how frightened she’d been on the plane and wanted to run away as fast as the little boy unfortunate enough to sing carols in front of Mr. Scrooge’s office. She wanted to nap, but her body couldn’t relax.
- Writer
