He reclaimed his seat. “Out of my hands now.”
Owen leaned into him. “Maybe the pilot will call Uncle Gene.”
“Maybe,” Tom said.
Owen sighed. “Dad, what I saw, it looked like a massive geyser erupted, like a flaming steam.”
Gabe asked leaning over the aisle. “Is that what we’re avoiding?”
“All I know, is it has to be more than just Vegas,” Tom replied. “Or else he would have told us to land somewhere else.”
“But he said not to land?” Gabe asked. “Dad, we cannot stay up here indefinitely.”
“I know. How long do you think we can?” Tom asked Gabe. “I mean, you fly so what do you think?”
“No more than four hours,” Gabe replied.
With an, “Okay, alright,” Nasty woman undid her seat belt and stood.
“Ma’am,” the flight attendant called out. “Please sit down.”
“I will,” Nasty woman replied, stepped into Tom’s row and took the empty seat between Tom and Owen.
“Um, excuse me,” Gabe said. “You’re in their space.”
“I know. And I am so sorry for being mean, I am. I’m sorry about your foot,” she said. “I’m sorry but …” She looked to Tom then Owen. “Obviously, you guys know something. I heard you say it’s more than Vegas, whatever it is that is happening.”
“We think it is,” Tom replied.
“Dad,” Gabe snapped. “Don’t tell her anything.”
“Why?” Tom asked. “Why not? Heck, I’d stand up and tell the whole damn plane if I understood exactly what Uncle Gene was trying to say.”
“What was he saying?” Nasty woman asked.
“Ma’am,” the flight attended approached the row. “I realize this is a stressful time, but you need to return to your seat … now, please. Thank you.”
“I will.” She stood and looked at Tom. “Please, anything you hear, let me know. I’m worried about my family.”
Tom nodded.
She slipped from the row and returned to her seat. The flight attendant watched her, making sure she did as she requested. When the attendant turned, another flight attendant whispered in her ear, she turned back around and approached Tom.
“Sir,” she said. “The Captain would like to see you.”
Tom didn’t know there was even a curtain there, until the captain pulled it closed as he stood with Tom in that tiny area between the main cabin and the cockpit.
“First, I want to thank you,” the Captain said, handing him back his phone. “Thank you for sharing that information with me. What I had been given was very vague.”
“Glad I could help. What were you told?” Tom asked.
“Not much. Just there was an emergency on the ground and we were to pull up as fast as possible and get to thirty thousand feet. That something happened, but we lost all communication.”
“Gene, my friend, makes it sound bad.”
“By what he said, yeah,” the captain exhaled his last word. “Yeah, it is.”
“We’re still in a pickle, aren’t we?”
“We are in a big pickle. He says we can’t land until the toxic levels fall. The only positive to that is, he’s monitoring for us. Maybe he'll find us a place. Hopefully, he’ll find one soon. We don’t have more than three hours’ worth of fuel. Second, I have a hundred and fifty-three people out there wondering that the hell is going on. I don’t even know how to begin to explain this to them.”
“Maybe you don’t have to be the one to tell them. Maybe we can get someone else to do it.” Tom looked down at his phone and to the name ‘Gene’ that was on the top of the exposed message.
<><><><>
What to say, what not to say, it was as if the pilot was withholding things from the passengers, he just didn’t need chaos or any problems with them while flying.
Gene assured him he would only tell them what he knew.
Tom wondered if it even mattered at all.
They were at three hours and counting, the chances of them landing were still debatable.
Using one of those small but mighty Bluetooth speakers, they called Gene.
Only after the flight attendants and the captain informed the passengers that should they want to hear, they needed to be exceptionally quiet. Even then it was going to be hard to understand and hear Gene through what was some sort of oxygen mask. He had it attached to a small exterior speaker and put that speaker to the phone. The translation was still ‘tin can’ sounding.
Passengers seated in the noisier section of the plane huddled near the speakers.
Owen made a comment that it was like taking a red eye.
So quiet.
“My name is Dr. Gene Taylor with the United States Geographical studies,” Gene spoke slowly and enunciated. “Yesterday, morning, in Hardin, Montana, there was what we call a methane eruption. It released a deadly methane cloud that lingered over the town, killing everyone there in a matter of seven minutes. The levels remained dangerous for nearly four hours. We have narrowed it down to three hours and fifty minutes. Eruptions like this usually occur near the arctic regions when methane levels build up. This is earth’s way of relieving the pressure. Seeing how this freak occurrence was farther south was indicative of something worse. I could get into the history of it, but the bottom line is, something worse did occur.”
There was a brief mumbling of voices followed by many people calling out, “Shh.”
“I have been monitoring the situation since Hardin. We saw the levels rise. It was alarming. We had no idea this would occur, right now, so fast. Four hours ago, it began. Multitudes of eruptions or methane bombs have exploded globally, creating a deadly environment. Unless they are reported to me, I cannot pinpoint where they are, I can only monitor levels where we set
