Chapter 4 | Wade
Wade loved to travel. Really he did.
The flying part, though. That took a little more to get through. Once they were in the air, his entire body relaxed a little, and he could take a breath. Just one. And then one more.
The time between the engines revving to head down the runway and when they finally reached altitude—preferably above the clouds—gave Wade the worst of his anxiety. Climbing in their ascent, even the annoying pressure changes and having to adjust his sinuses weren't as anxiety-inducing as hearing the engines whine like they were being taxed to their limit.
In larger airplanes, it was a little easier to deal with. Only marginally, though.
Their current airplane was a two-prop job. Puddle jumper, he recalled one of his business associates calling it during a jaunt down to Mexico for business one winter. Propellers mounted on each wing.
Relaxing or not, the scenarios of everything that could go wrong occupied his mind, and once his brain got moving in that direction, stopping it was near impossible.
Ascent as terrifying and uneventful as expected. Bumpy and filled with dips and lifts as the air currents buffeted them above the storm clouds.
Please, he repeated in his mind over and over, please let us get to Miami in one piece.
Beneath them, a deep whir and a clunk caused him to jerk in his seat.
That’s right. Landing gear. They’re retracting the landing gear. Good. Good. That means we’re safely in the air, right?
The pilot wouldn’t have retracted them if there was a problem. Right?
Sitting next to the window may not have been one of his brighter ideas. The gray of the mist of the clouds swirled around the tiny plane. At least he couldn't see the ground far down below and getting further and further away. With the tilt of the aircraft, he guessed they were still climbing as they turned north.
Just get out of the clouds, please.
Wade let out a harsh breath and pried his fingers off the armrests. He shook his cramping hands, then switched seats to sit in the aisle seat. Once he got home, he’d get the name of Irene’s massage therapist and treat himself. Being this tense for the next three hours would ensure he would be transformed into a walking block of tense muscle.
He needed to relax.
Having someone to talk to would’ve been great to keep his mind off his growing unease on the flight. He regretted shutting down his aisle-mate.
The guy had been friendly enough, trying to engage Wade in conversation. Too focused on not losing his mind to the panic, he couldn’t even remember what the man had said.
Now that he got a good look at the man, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. Not feeling so alone could’ve been a really good thing for Wade right now.
The plane bumped again, a small lift up, then a drop as the air turbulence hit the plane.
“This is the captain of Flight 432, headed from Maona to Miami International Airport. I will leave the fasten seatbelt sign on for the duration of our flight. Looks like we have some turbulence ahead of us. I’ll be adjusting our flight altitude to get above the storms, but until then, I’d ask that you stay seated with your seatbelts fastened until we can get out of the turbulent weather.”
The man didn’t even open his eyes. How the hell could he sleep at a time like this?
Having been on dozens of flights where nothing terrible had happened, Wade should’ve learned how to relax. The pilot knew what he was doing. The storm wasn’t that bad.
Maybe the other man had the right idea. Wade closed his eyes.
That helped.
He focused on the sounds of the other people in the cabin. A couple behind him laughed. The two men in front conversed across the aisle with each other. The flight attendant clicked and banged as she got the snack service cart ready to roll down the aisle.
Just another normal flight.
The plane lost altitude with a sudden drop, and Wade felt like he left his stomach ten feet above him. His fingers closed down on the armrests again.
“Whoah,” someone said from behind. “The weather must be bad.”
The laughter turned into nervous titters.
Conversation faltered, becoming tight and quiet, as if the passengers were afraid of talking too loud and distracting the pilot.
His eyes opened to see the flight attendant fighting to stay on her feet as the plane pitched, rocked and jolted. She gave him a thin smile and lifted her eyebrows. “What would you like to drink?”
Wade chuckled dryly. “I’m not sure it would stay in the cup.”
“Cans only this flight.”
“Ginger ale,” the man across from Wade said. His eyes fluttered open to look at Wade, then at the flight attendant. “Ginger ale is good for an unsettled stomach, so I’ll take one.”
Wade nodded. He’d have one, too.
The flight attendant pushed the cart back to the front of the small aircraft and secured it. Getting their ginger ale and a packet of pretzels, she distributed to them and moved onto the people behind him.
Smart move. The plane pitched roughly and it was hard for her to stand without using one hand to brace herself.
“Flight attendant, cross-check and report.”
Straightening, she wobbled her way back up the aisle towards the front of the plane.
Off to starboard, lightning flashed, and the engine exploded in sparks, smoke and flame. The prop sputtered to a stop, and the plane pitched to the side.
The drag of gravity no longer held them. Wade felt lighter in the seat.
They were losing altitude.
“Oh God,” someone screamed behind him.
The oxygen masks dropped from above.
The flight attendant attempted to get her life jacket on and stumbled to the floor as the plane picked up speed. Wade couldn’t see through the window and the cloud cover, but he could tell they were heading down and fast.
Life jacket.
He needed to put on his life jacket.
He struggled to get it over his head. It took a few attempts to get the strap around his waist, but he managed it.
Then he fumbled with his oxygen mask, trying to pull it on. The elastic strap flapped around. With the shaking and the lurching of the plane, it was hard to focus.
Wade almost pitched out of his seat. He’d forgotten to put his seatbelt back on when he’d switched to the aisle.
Shit.
From beside him, his aisle-mate leaned over and smiled through his own oxygen mask.
Fucking smiled.
The space between them was small enough that he was able to help Wade buckle in before holding the mask and strap so Wade could get it around his face.
Wade hoped that the pilot would be able to pull out of the dive. The plane could fly with one engine, right? It seemed like he remembered reading that somewhere. Or maybe that was how it worked in the movies.
Shit, now he wished he’d paid attention to the safety lecture at the beginning of the flight.
The man across the aisle sat still. If he was panicked, he didn’t show it. He sat with his head pushed against the seat back, his backpack clutched tightly to his chest.
Hysterically, Wade wished he had something to clutch. Like a safety blanket, it might’ve made him feel safer.
“Just breathe and relax,” the muffled voice came from next to him. “If you’re too tense, you’ll sprain something.”
Wade choked out a laugh. Right. Relax when he felt like they were being tossed around inside a metal box as they hurled to the earth?
At least he’d be relaxed when they died?
A warm hand rested on his arm. “It’ll be fine.”
Even through the mask, the man sounded so certain. The voice was calming compared to the hysteria and screaming around them.
Funny. Wade remembered his name, now.
Adam.