The pilot continued to reduce the plane’s altitude until he leveled off at two thousand feet. Tom could now see individual people milling around and some large crowds fighting with police in front of buildings at a mall. “Granny B, people are looting that grocery store, and it’s only the first day.”
Granny B nudged Tom from the window and gazed at the events on the ground. “Those are the usual yahoos who think the power is out and just want to raise a ruckus and get some free stuff. Wait until the idiots figure out the shit has hit the fan.”
Tom was deep in thought about what their next steps would be when something dawned on him. As usual, he spoke before he gave the subject enough thought. “We won’t find a place to land. Planes were stacked up waiting to land, and all crashed when their controls went haywire. The pilot will have to land in a cornfield or patch of desert. Then we’ll walk home.”
Everyone heard what Tom said, and a hush fell over the group around him. Bill’s head snapped around, and he grabbed Tom’s shoulder. “Tom, you just scared the crap out of everyone.”
Tom sat there for a few seconds. “Sorry, but as blunt as it sounded, that’s what’s going to happen. We need to prepare for a crash landing and walking wherever we want to go. I guess I should have sugar-coated my words, but all of you have seen the crashed planes, looting, and massive wrecks on the interstates. The shit hit the fan, and we have to suck it up and get our asses in gear if we want to live. We have forty-eight hours to land and get the Hell away from all of the big cities.”
Samantha’s eyes leaked tears down her cheek. “How do you know this will happen? People aren’t that mean or cruel.”
Granny B had patiently listened after poking Tom in the ribs. “Time out! Tom is right. I’m sure all of you remember the riots in Portland and Seattle last summer. The government executed that anarchist group's leaders after they were found guilty of bombing the federal courthouse. The animals went berserk. Think about what happened in LA back in ’34 when the power was out for six days. The looters and thugs burned half the city down. Ya’ think they’ll react any better now?”
“Won’t a rescue team show up to take any injured to the hospital and put any fires out?” asked Betty.
Bill shrugged. “Their equipment won’t run. They can’t walk to a crash and do any good. About this time tomorrow, the first responders will have figured out that they’re more needed at home to help and protect their loved ones than any good they can do for strangers.”
Samantha sneered at Bill. “Why would you say that? They’re professionals.”
“I’m a cop, and that’s what I’d do. My folks are more important to me than any ungrateful civilian is. I …”
Several loud bangs and screams interrupted Bill. A man slumped down in his seat with blood spreading across his white business shirt. Blood had splattered on several people. The woman next to him kept screaming until the flight attendant shook her. The plane lurched to the right, and the engines thundered as the pilot sought to gain altitude and get out of range of the thugs taking potshots at the jet. Tom reacted without thinking. He unfastened his lap belt and ran to the man’s side. Tom placed his hand on the wound to stop the bleeding and then checked the man’s pulse and shook his head. The attendant put a blanket over the man, thanked Tom, and sent him back to his seat
The main attendant picked up the microphone. “Is anyone else injured? If you are, please raise your hand.” No one raised their hand. “Please stay calm. No one is trying to shoot the plane down. That was only a stray bullet. We’re safe now since the pilot increased our altitude.”
Everyone was still in shock. The passengers were dumbfounded, and there was a hush in the air. Suddenly an unknown voice blurted out, “But we have to land. They can shoot us when we land.”
Tom motioned to the others. “Do you now understand the situation is serious?”
After a short pause, the speakers sounded again. “This is your friendly pilot. We’re almost over the Sacramento airport, and I’ll gently let us down to the airstrip in about ten minutes. … Oh, Crap. … Huh.”
The speakers went silent when the pilot knew he’d screwed up. Below them was the Sacramento airfield, and it looked like a tornado had plowed through the parked planes. Smoke from crashed aircraft and the inferno blazing in the main terminal dashed their hopes of landing. The pilot turned the plane southeast and quickly found Mather Air Force Base to be in the same shape. The extra fuel the pilot had bragged on was now expended, searching for a place to safely land. The pilot looked at his co-pilot. “Where’s a good straight piece of highway?”
“This is your pilot. We’ve been forced to attempt to land on a highway due to our low fuel level. Do not worry. The highways are wide, and we will set this big bird down and have some free drinks while we wait on busses to arrive to take you to … Well, anyway, we’ll wait on the busses.”
“What the Hell do we do now?”
The co-pilot finally replied. “Turn around and head west while I quickly look … Darn, watch for Highway 80 or the 505. Turn a bit south, now, and then head north. That’s Vacaville. There’s the 505. Start reducing speed and altitude. We need to hit the pavement just past that overpass. Watch for utility poles. I can’t remember which side they’re on.”
