Terri O’Neil wandered toward the cockpit door. Berry stepped up to her. He took her shoulder and turned her around. Terri pushed his hand away roughly and spoke to him as though she were berating him for touching her, but the words were gibberish. Berry was reminded of his daughter at fourteen months old. He waited until the flight attendant ambled off, away from the cockpit door, then began walking to the far side of the lounge toward Stein, who was leaning against the rail of the staircase. Stein seemed unaware of Berry’s presence and continued to stare down the open stairway. “How is it going?” Berry asked.
Stein pointed down the stairs.
Berry leaned over. A group of men and women were staring up at him, mouths drooling and faces covered with the now familiar, repugnant pattern of blood and vomit. A few of the people pointed up to him. Someone called out; a woman laughed. Berry could hear what he thought were children crying. One man pushed his way to the base of the stairs and spoke directly to Berry, trying hard to be understood. The man became frustrated, and shouted. The woman laughed again.
Berry stepped back from the stairwell, turned, and looked at Linda Farley. She slid off the piano bench and took a few steps toward him. Berry said, “Stay there, Linda.”
Stein said to Berry, “I told her to stay away from the stairs. Although this,” he motioned around the big lounge, “this is not much better.”
Berry asked the girl, “What is it, Linda?”
She hesitated. “I’m hungry, Mr. Berry. Can I get something to eat soon?”
Berry smiled at her. “Well… how about a Coke?”
“I looked.” She motioned toward the bar. “There’s nothing left.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s any food up here. Can you wait awhile?”
She looked disappointed. “I guess.”
“How are the two pilots?”
“The same.”
“Take good care of them.”
Linda Farley was getting all of life’s adversities in one big dose. Hunger, thirst, fatigue, fear, death. “Just a little while longer, sweetheart. We’ll be home soon.” He turned. It occurred to him that he was hungry and thirsty, too. And if he and Linda Farley were hungry and thirsty, then so were many of the people below. He wondered if that would stimulate them to acts of aggression.
“Down!” Stein yelled. “Go down!” Berry moved quickly to the stairs. A man was halfway up.
Stein took a coin from his pocket and threw it, striking the man in the face. “Down! Go down!”
The man retreated a step.
Stein turned to Berry. “Do you have anything I can throw?”
Berry reached into his pocket and handed Stein some change. “I don’t like the looks of this, Harold.”
Stein nodded. “Neither do I.”
Berry looked around the lounge. “How are these people behaving?”
“Erratic. They make me nervous. Too close.”
Berry watched Terri O’Neil walking awkwardly toward the cockpit again. He wished he could close and lock the damaged door. The flight attendant stood a few feet from the door and stared into the cockpit, her eyes fixed on Sharon Crandall, who didn’t seem aware of the other flight attendant’s presence. Berry glanced back at Stein. “I think, as a precaution, we might want to help these people get downstairs.”
Stein nodded. “Yes. But I’d like to bring my family up.”
Berry turned and faced him. “That’s not possible, Harold. I don’t think it’s really fair.” Berry wished that Stein would just accept things as they were, but he doubted that Stein would.
“Fair? Who the hell cares about fair? That’s my family I’m talking about. Who put you in charge here?”
“Mr. Stein, it’s entirely too risky to bring your family up here.”
“Why?”
“Well… anything could happen. It might start a procession up the stairs. We really can’t have people in the lounge any longer. They may go into the cockpit. Bump against something… they’d be disturbing-”
“I’ll watch my family,” Stein interrupted. His voice was firm. “My wife and two little girls… Debbie and Susan… they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way…” He lowered his head and covered his face with his hands.
Berry waited, then put his hand on Stein’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. But there’s nothing you can do for them now.”
Stein looked up. “Or ever?”
Berry avoided his eyes. “I’m not a doctor. I don’t know anything about this condition.”
“Don’t you?” Stein suddenly took a step down the staircase. “There is something I can do for them now. I can get them away from the others. Away from…” He looked down the spiral stairs. “I don’t want them down there. Can’t you see what’s happening down there? Can’t you? ”
Berry gripped Stein’s arm firmly. He nodded reluctantly. “All right, Harold. All right. After Barbara gets back, we can help these people down into the cabin. Then you can bring your family up. Okay?”
Stein let Berry draw him back up the step. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait.”
Linda Farley called out. “Mr. Berry!”
Berry walked quickly toward the piano where the girl was kneeling beside Stuart and McVary. “What is it?”
“This man opened his eyes.” She pointed to Stuart.
Berry kneeled down and looked into the Captain’s wide, staring eyes. After several seconds, Berry reached out and closed Stuart’s eyelids, then pulled the blanket over the Captain’s face.
“Is he dead?”
Berry looked at the girl. “Yes. He is.”
She nodded. “Is everyone going to die?”
“No.”
“Will my mother die, too?”
“No. She’s going to be all right.”
“Can she come up here like Mr. Stein’s family?”
Berry was fairly certain that Linda Farley’s mother was lying dead in the rubble or had been sucked out of the aircraft. But even if she were alive… Berry’s mind whirled with the possible answers-lies, really-but none of them was even close to being adequate. “No. She can’t come up here.”
“Why not?”
He stood quickly and turned away from the dead pilot. He said to Linda, “Trust me. Okay? Just trust me and do what I say.”
Linda Farley sat back against the leg of the piano and pulled her knees up to her chin. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. “I want my mother.”
Berry leaned over her and stroked her hair. “Yes, I know. I know.” He straightened up. He was not very good at this. He remembered other occasions of bereavement in his own family. He’d never had the right words, was never able to bring comfort. He turned and walked back toward the cockpit. He took Terri O’Neil firmly by the shoulders and pushed her away from the door.
The glow of his technical triumphs was dying quickly against the cold realities of the personal tragedies around him.
Berry entered the cockpit.
Sharon Crandall was on the interphone. “Hold on, Barbara. John’s back in the cockpit.” She looked up at Berry. “Barbara’s all right. How’s everything back there?”
Berry sat heavily in his seat. “Okay.” He paused. “Not really. The passengers are getting a little… troublesome.” He cleared his throat and said, “The Captain is dead.”
Sharon Crandall closed her eyes and lowered her head. She said softly, “Oh, damn it.” She felt a deep sadness, a sense of loss over Captain Stuart’s death. The signs were becoming ominous again.
“Sharon?”
She looked up. “I’m all right. Here. Barbara wants to talk to you about some wires.”
Berry took the phone. “Barbara? What’s up? Where are you?”
“In the midsection.” Her voice sounded distant, and the whistling of the rushing air and the jet engines was
