“Something tells me,” Owen said softly. “He’s coming for us.”
“I think so, too,” Delaney said then cleared her throat.
Exhaling heavily, the pilot stopped at their row. “Can I bother you two please?’
“Sure,” Tom said. “What’s up?”
The pilot tossed his head back as a way to show Tom and Owen he needed them up front.
Tom handed Delaney the baggy of booze and was the first to stand.
“Good luck,” Delaney said softly to Owen as he scooted by her.
“Feel like I’m going to the principal’s office.”
It felt obvious to Owen everyone watched as he made his way to the front of the plane behind his father. Once up near the cockpit right by the open hatch in the floor, the captain closed the curtain.
“Already too many are anxious and scared,” he said. “My co-pilot, Lance, is down. Gabe radioed he fell from the cargo door. I need to get him up here and I’m sure Gabe will need help.”
“Say no more,” Tom waved out his hand. “We’ll go down there.”
“Your son has a radio. Stay in touch.” The Captain looked at his watch. “We have forty-one minutes.”
“Until?” Tom asked.
The Captain shook his head. “I don’t know. Another one of those eruptions maybe. Your friend Gene said be in the air. We will be in the air.”
“Then we better get moving,” Tom replied.
“Once you get down to the forward cargo, to the right you’ll see a shorter door, you’ll have to crouch or crawl, but that will lead you to the outer door.”
Owen nodded and climbed down first, waited for his father, then with the Captain’s directions made his way to the open cargo door.
He peeked out, saw Lance on the ground, trying to scoot to a sitting position, but giving up every inch he moved. One hook of the ladder was attached to the doorway, the other dangled. Owen grabbed it and reconnected it.
“Dad, you go first.”
“No, you.”
“No, I’ll hold this for you. If it gives again, we don’t need another old guy on the ground with a broken hip.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” Tom shook his head, turned his body and climbed down.
As Owen held tight to the hooks, he watched the white fueling truck, his brother behind the wheel, pull up.
After his father had made it down, Owen took his turn. He kept glancing up to the open doorway, watching the ladder, preparing himself in case it let loose.
It didn’t.
When he reached the ground, his father was tending to Lance and Gabe rushed as he connected hoses, cranked handles. Owen wasn’t sure what all it entailed for Gabe to fuel the plane, but he was glad his brother at least looked like he knew what he was doing.
“How the hell …” Owen looked to the door, speaking to his father. “Are we going to get him up there and then up the cargo ladder?”
Gabe answered as he pushed a rolling ladder to the wing. “We don’t.”
“You mean use that?” Owen asked.
“No,” Gabe spoke as he worked on the wing. “There is a container loader back there. We’ll use that. We’ll radio the captain to open the service door.”
“I’m sorry,” Owen said. “I have no idea what a container loader is.”
Gabe brought his arm around, pointing behind him as he focused on the wing of the plane. “See that big blue vehicle over there. Flat top? That top raises. We load him on there, raise it, go in.” Gabe climbed down the ladder, walked back over to the truck and gabbed the wide hose. “Dad, it drives like heavy equipment. Just pretend you’re on a construction site.”
“Will, do,” Tom replied, then laid his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I’ll be back, we’ll get you up there and find that first aid kit.” He quickly looked at Owen. “Is that funny?”
“First aid kit. Sorry. I don’t think that will work because I’m pretty sure this protruding bump by his hip, is a bone.”
Lance groaned out. “Just anything, I need off this ground.”
“You’re far better on the ground then in a little seat,” Owen said.
“Owen,” Tom snapped. “What the hell? Compassion. Your bedside manner sucks.”
“I sell phone and electronics, I don’t practice a bedside manner.”
Grumbling, Tom stood straight, walked a few feet only toward the blue vehicle and stopped. “What the hell?”
“What?” Owen asked.
“Is that a pickup truck speeding this way?” Tom shielded his eyes.
Slowly, Owen stood to look, when he did the horn on the truck started beeping.
TEN – THREE MINUTES
Flight 3430 Salt Lake City
Last lever was raised, all hoses grounded and connected, and Gabe started the flow of fuel. He looked at his watch.
A full tank would take forty minutes. He didn’t have that. They would be nearly full and that was good enough, hopefully. The event would pass and they’d be able to land anywhere.
When the oncoming truck driver started beeping his horn, Gabe swore it was his phone alarm, even though they sounded nothing alike. Some weird thing in his mind believed the sudden beeping had to be none other than an alarm. What else could it be?
Then he watched the truck.
Someone was alive.
If it weren’t for all the dead bodies on the apron, Gabe would have wondered if Salt Lake was fine and Gene was off.
Then he watched the truck pull to a sideways, stop and a man, wearing firefighter gear, stepped from the driver’s side with a look of utter shock.
“Holy shit. You survived,” he said, rushing over.
Tom walked to the firefighter. “You, too.”
“Barely. I thought everyone died,” he said, extending his hand “Gary.”
“Tom. That’s my son by the plane, Gabe, the other is my son Owen.”
“Just you four?” Gary asked.
Gabe would have moved, but
