Pam caught his meaning. “OK, sure.” She grabbed the ends of the seatbelt and connected them. Just as she started folding the blanket, the plane started clattering like it was coming apart. The noise unnerved Carson and roused the few passengers that remained asleep.
“Whoa!” Pam said. Carson leaned fully across her seat to see flaming chunks of something in its exhaust. The noise, the bouncing of the plane, and the increasing roll to the right sparked alarm in most of the passengers. A murmur of concern flowed through the cabin like a wave.
The address system crackled to life. “Uhhh, folks, this is your captain speaking. We’re having some issues with the aircraft and, uhhh, while we’re not in any danger, it’s prudent for us to land as soon as possible and check it out. So, we’re going to initiate an immediate approach and landing at Ford airport in Grand Rapids. I’ve, uhhh, illuminated the seat belt light, so please buckle in immediately. I’m sorry for any inconvenience, but safety is always our first priority. Please follow all instructions of the cabin crew. Flight attendants, prepare for landing. Thank you.”
The nose of the plane dropped, more than it would have in a normal descent into an airport, but not dangerously. At the same time, the engine noises quieted somewhat, prompting Carson to take another look. A thin stream of black smoke trailed from the engine, but there was no hint of fire or debris. The pilot had clearly reduced power to the engine, which made perfect sense because of their descent and also because it was coming apart at the seams. The ride smoothed out, but Carson remained vigilant. An engine failure was one thing, and probably nothing to worry about, but an engine spitting flaming debris just under the thousands of gallons of fuel sitting in the wing tanks was another matter entirely. He leaned back, smiling at Pam, who watched him for cues. “I think they’re on top of it,” he said, projecting confidence into his words. “We might be late getting into Portland, but we’ll just deal with that once we’re on the ground.”
Pam looked relieved, and he noticed a couple of other passengers had heard his statement and looked to him, questions in their eyes. One woman appeared particularly near panic, and her eyes beseeched him for reassurance. “We’re all good,” he told her in his most soothing voice. “It looks like the engine is being difficult, but this plane can fly and land on one engine with no problem. And pilots practice a single-engine landing all the time.” She smiled nervously but nodded and took a deep breath. Hoping he had helped her a little, he took another look out at the problem area.
His eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the reverse-thrust director start moving into place. Used only during landing to slow the plane once it was on the runway, it had absolutely no business deploying while the plane was at 34,000 feet, where it would be like the wheels on one side of a car going from 60 miles per hour forward to 60 miles per hour in reverse in an instant. He felt like he had to alert the cabin crew, but knew it wouldn’t do a bit of good. The director would deploy far faster than an explanation of the problem would take. Still, instinct prompted him to shout a simple warning. “Hang on!”
The plane whipped into an incredibly tight turn as the drag on the right wing multiplied by a factor of 10. Everyone and everything in the plane flew to the left, and a numbing hammer-blow blasted Carson’s side and hip as his momentum bent him harshly over the arm of the chair. He heard Pam grunt as the air was driven from her lungs but couldn’t even look over to check on her, as the g-forces kept his head wrenched away. What he could see was disconcerting enough. The flight attendants, who had been walking through the aisle, were slammed to the far side of the cabin, crashing into the bulkhead and other passengers with terrific force. He heard screams of agony and shock.
The loss of lift in the right wing caused the plane to drop off to that side, and it started spinning while the nose dropped precipitously. Although very disorienting, the sideways pressure eased, and he was able to pull himself upright in his seat. His first thought was for Pam’s safety. He looked at her seat, relieved to find her still conscious and more or less OK. She gripped the arm rests so tightly her fingers were white with the pressure, and her legs were ramrod straight against the metal footrest of the seat in front of her. “Carson, what’s happening!?”
“I’m not sure, honey, I’m not sure!” he responded, yelling to be heard above the screams of the other passengers. While one part of his mind begged for permission to give in to the panic that boiled in the pit of his stomach, the other part raced to understand what was going on with the airplane. The plane spun because of the imbalance between the wings. If the pilot slowed the left engine, the imbalance might be solved and the plane should come out of the spin.
OK, OK, we’ve got a chance! Carson waited for what seemed like an hour, his mind willing the pilot to do the right thing. Light and dark flashed through the cabin as the plane rotated several times. C’mon, man, figure it out…. figure it out!
Finally the rate of rotation slowed, and as the wings stabilized, the nose came up. He looked out the window. The reverse-thrust director had retracted or been ripped off by the aerodynamic forces. The back edge of the wing,
