too fast to read. They were being driven toward the ground by an inexorable pressure.
Together the two men eased the yoke forward putting the plane into a dive. After a few minutes they pulled back on the yoke hoping to use their momentum to pull them out of the down-draft. Both men were watching the altimeter when a dark mass became visible through the windshield. The altimeter had slowed enough so that each man saw it pass nine thousand feet.
They broke through the bottom of the clouds five hundred feet from a rising wall of trees. There was no time to pull away.
"We're going in, Neil! Hang on, sorry...I should have list..."
Chapter 2
FLT 402 to Seattle almost escaped with nothing more than the loss of its wings and engines, but the forest was dense and their luck ran out against the base of a massive Douglas fir. The trees which ripped the wings from the plane saved the lives of the passengers but could not save the lives of Captain Peter Duckhorn and First officer Neilsen.
The flight cabin was crushed halfway back to the door into the passenger area. In the air a plane will bend and flex, withstand enormous stress, but on the ground, at speed, they are flimsier than the average Detroit automobile. They will not withstand impact with trees.
Had the trees which ripped the wings off failed to slow the plane, none of the passengers would have survived.
The last sound of a piece of baggage falling from the overhead competed only with the sound of the wind and the rain. The passengers were for the moment beyond screams or groans or verbal protest.
Alvin opened his eyes and looked around, surprised and very much alive. His seat had broken loose and he was hanging a foot from the floor held by the seat belt. He was unharmed, not a scratch. The seat holding his back pack had held. It was the first thing he looked for.
He unbuckled the belt and tumbled to the deck of the plane on his knees. He pushed the seat aside and stood in the aisle looking toward the rear of the plane. It was a jumbled mess. Seats were askew, all the luggage compartments had been emptied, and panels hung every which way. Many of the port hole-like windows had popped out from the twisting of the airframe. The rain was loud against the fuselage.
Tony Genoa sat bent over in his seat his head resting against the back of the seat in front of his. He took deep, desperate breaths. Were they to be his last? He didn't know.
"Mr. Genoa...Tony, are you all right?" Alvin shook his shoulder gently, then rougher.
Tony looked up at Alvin. "Are we alive, boy?"
"Yes, sir, we are. You don't look good sir, are you injured?"
"No...no, I don't think so. I have a heart condition. Where's my jacket...my pills." He tried to get up.
"You just sit tight, Mr. Genoa, I'll look."
Alvin found his jacket under the seats and felt around for Tony's medicine.
"Here it is, sir. How many should you take?"
"Just one."
"Do you need water?" Alvin asked.
"No." He took the pill from Alvin and swallowed it. "I'll be all right, son. Just give me a few minutes."
"Okay, but look, you better get ready to leave as soon as you can. I smell gas. I'm going back and see what happened to Miss Willis and the other guy." Alvin wouldn't call him Mr. America.
He had to climb over seats and push broken pieces of the interior aside. He found McChesney sitting in the aisle, looking at his hands in disbelief. He didn't notice Alvin.
"I'm alive! I made it." He thought he was still in his seat and turned to tell Sherry. She was gone and her seat with her. He frowned, unable to understand.
"Where's Miss Willis?" Alvin had to shout to get McChesney's attention. He finally answered.
"I don't know, she was right here. I don't get it. She was holding my hand, I remember."
Shock, Alvin thought. He heard a groan further aft. Sherry Willis, still strapped to her chair had been thrown to the rear of the plane near the food service area. The seat was over on its side and Miss Willis was semi-conscious, blood coming from a bruise on her forehead.
Alvin pushed seats and trash out of the way, unhooked her from the seat and stretched her out with a blanket under her head. Always at the back of his mind was the danger of fire.
He snapped his fingers nervously as he recalled what to do about head injury.
Her eyes fluttered open then closed. She groaned then winced. Alvin checked her pulse concentrating on the count. It was a little fast, but strong.
What am I going to do? he thought. I've got to get everybody out of here.
He made his way back to the front of the plane. McChesney was still where Alvin left him, sitting in the aisle looking down at his body.
He found Tony at the front of the plane with an arm full of blankets trying to open the forward passenger door. He was cursing because the door wouldn't open.
"What am I doing wrong, Alvin? I don't have my glasses, I can't read the damn instructions."
"Right, let me have a look." He pulled a flash light from one of the many pockets in his jacket, shone it on the door and in two seconds had the door open. When he did, the emergency exit chute opened automatically, shot out, hit the ground and bounced into a tree then folded back covering the door.
"Great. Something tells me this thing wasn't designed to be opened in the middle of a forest," Tony laughed cheerfully.
"Can you climb down, Tony? Wait a minute, do you have a rain coat?"
"Yeah, in the overhead."
"Okay, stay here, I'll be right back."
Old people catch cold easy, Alvin remembered. I have to make sure he stays warm and dry.
Alvin made his way back to Tony's seat, climbed up and began opening luggage bins, those that hadn't already torn free and dumped their contents into the cabin. He found the old man's raincoat, and a muffler. He remembered Tony had a hat and looked around for it. He found Tony's Borsalino on the floor and his glasses case in a seat pocket. He took the coat, hat and glasses back to the front of the cabin and helped him put them on.
"I'm going to help you get out, okay?"
He smiled. "I'm okay, Alvin, don't worry. Let's do it."
They pushed the slide out of the way Tony eased himself down it, on his seat. It was only four feet and he was on the ground.
"Find a place nearby where you're out of the rain, somewhere under a tree, okay?"
"Sure, I'll be all right. You go get the others out. I'll be nearby."
Alvin nodded and went back into the wreckage. When he got to the back of the plane, McChesney was still sitting on the floor, only now he was carefully feeling his arms, legs, the rest of his body. Alvin knelt in front of him.
"Mister,
