A Ripple In Time [A Historical Novel of Survival] Read online

  “Should we drop down a little for a better look?” Mason asked.

  “Without radio waypoints and communications I think we’ll maintain altitude,” Anderson said. “For now.”

  “Columbia should be coming up soon,” Mason said.

  “Uh-huh, should be coming up directly below,” Anderson said.

  Worth was shaking his head. “I don’t see a damn thing down there.”

  Anderson stared below. “The rivers are there, clear as a bell.” He focused more intently. “But there’s no Lake Murray.” He glanced at Worth. “When did they build that dam?”

  “Nineteen thirties I think,” Mason said. “I’ve fished that lake.”

  “Well, it’s not there now,” Anderson said.

  “What in the hell is going on?” Worth asked, as he rubbed his eyes.

  “How much fuel do we have?” Mason asked.

  Worth raised his head, stretched his neck, and studied the instruments. “There’s enough for Charlotte plus another three hundred miles.”

  Anderson pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly shook his head. “We’re on course. We passed over Savannah which is no longer where it’s supposed to be and the same with Columbia.” He turned to Worth and then back to Mason. “What am I missing? How is that possible?”

  Mason shifted closer to the two pilots and knelt between their seats. “If there are no cities —“

  “There are no airports and runways,” Worth said.

  Anderson shook his head and leaned to look out his side window. “This is crazy.” He glanced at Worth. “Try the radio again, all the frequencies.”

  Worth twisted a knob and began asking for a radio response from anyone receiving the signal.

  Anderson glanced back at Mason. “Do you have a cell phone?”

  Mason nodded.

  “Try it,” Anderson said. “See if you can get hold of anyone.”

  Mason pulled his smart phone from his coat pocket, switched airplane mode off, and selected a name from his contacts. He put the phone to his ear and listened for the ring. A ring never came; there was no sound of any kind. He tried a different number and got the same response. He caught Anderson’s gaze as he glanced back. Mason shook his head. “I’m getting nothing, as though there’s nothing out there to get.” He slid the phone back into the coat pocket. “What about that storm we went through?”

  “What about it?” Anderson asked.

  “It was different. Did you see the blue haze?”

  Anderson nodded. “So what are you saying?”

  Mason shifted his weight to the other knee. “I don’t know; it was weird.”

  “Nothing on the radio,” Worth said. “Same as before.”

  Anderson glanced at the flight management display. “Charlotte should be coming up.”

  Worth shifted in his seat and turned his head to the window.

  Mason got to his feet for a better angle. He swiveled his head back and forth and finally leaned over Anderson’s left shoulder so he could see more directly down.

  Anderson peered out his window for several seconds. “Mountains to the north. I can see the Catawba River, but there’s no Charlotte.”

  “And no Lake Norman,” Mason said.

  “And no runway,” Worth added with a grim face.

  “Where do you put a 737 down when there are no runways?” Mason asked.

  “Exactly,” Anderson said.

  Mason caught a much better angle of the ground out of Anderson’s side window as he put the plane into a gentle turn to the left. All he saw were patches of mostly green.

  “We need to head back to the coast,” Anderson said. “We should have enough fuel to check Charleston and Wilmington. We may have to ditch.”

  Worth closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.

  Anderson reached over and patted Worth on the arm. “We might get a little wet but it’ll be fine.”

  Mason rubbed his beard. Son of a bitch.

  Suddenly the cockpit door opened and Karen stepped in next to Mason. “What’s going on?”

  Anderson and Worth stared at her for several seconds obviously lost for words. Finally Anderson nodded at Mason.

  “Not sure how to explain this,” Mason said to Karen. “Savannah, Columbia, and Charlotte are no longer there.”

  “How’d we get off course?” Karen asked.

  “We’re on course,” Anderson said without looking back.

  “All the landmarks for the three cities are there, but the cities are gone,” Mason said.

  Karen cocked her head and stared into Mason’s eyes. Finally a broad smile appeared on her face. “Funny. But no, really, why are we turning?”

  “He’s not joking,” Worth said. “The cities are gone. The airport and runways are gone.”

  “We’re headed back to the coast,” Anderson said. “We may have to ditch.”

  Karen stared into Mason’s eyes again.

  Mason nodded. “It’s no joke,” he said.

  “You’ll need to prepare the passengers,” Anderson said, “but wait until I make an announcement.”

  “You’re serious,” Karen said.

  “Dead serious.”

  Mason took in a deep breath and exhaled just as deeply. “There is no explanation. It just is. I’ll be back there shortly in case you need my help.”

  Karen took a final look at everyone’s face before she exited the cockpit.

  They cruised at altitude back to the coast in the general direction of Charleston. Soon the open ocean and the coast came into view through the haze.

  “I can see Sullivan’s Island and the spit of land between the Cooper and Ashley rivers,” Worth said.

  “Anything else?” Anderson asked.

  “No city, if that’s what you mean. There might be something down there. Hard to tell.”

  “Let’s check out Wilmington,” Anderson said, as he turned the plane to a northeast course along the coast.

  They cruised for just under twenty minutes when Anderson put the plane into a steep bank directly over the Cape Fear River.

  “Nothing,” Worth said.

  “What about looking farther north?” Mason asked.

  “We don’t have the fuel for Philly or New York,” Anderson said. “I’m putting this thing down off the coast of Myrtle Beach.” He raised his chin at Mason. “Better return to your seat. We have about fifteen minutes to get ready.”

  Mason nodded, stepped out of the cockpit, and closed the door behind him.

  Angie and Karen stood in the galley. Angie had tears in her eyes.

  “Is this for real?” Karen asked.

  Mason ushered them deeper into the galley. “We can’t explain it. The cities are just not there.”

  Angie tried to muffle a whimper. Tears flowed.

  Karen put her arm around Angie’s shoulder.

  “What are they going to do?”

  “Ditch off the coast of Myrtle Beach,” Mason said. “We have about ten minutes.”

  Karen turned to Angie and put both hands on her shoulders. “We need to get these people ready. I need you to be strong.”

  At that moment the PA system crackled with Anderson’s voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know how to explain this, but we will not be able to land at Charlotte. Columbia, Charleston, and Wilmington are also not an option. Given our fuel our only option is to ditch in the open ocean.”

  Mason heard a combined gasp from the passengers.

  Anderson continued. “We only have a few minutes to prepare. We’ve already started our descent. I know this is a scary time but you happen to be flying with the best flight crew in the business. Follow all directions to the letter, and you will get through this.” The PA clicked off.

  The rumble from the passengers grew louder. Several were out of their seats. Two men argued with a flight attendant about half way down the aisle.

  Karen picked up the intercom and keyed the switch. “Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats. Fasten your seatbelt
s securely. Flotation devices can be found under each seat.”

  Most people did as they were told while still continuing to grumble. The two men arguing with the attendant got louder. Mason heard one of them say that he demanded to speak with the captain.

  Karen headed in their direction.

  Mason followed close behind. As he passed his seat, Lisa locked her eyes on Mason’s. Fear was etched across her face and she was trembling. Mason stopped for a moment and grabbed her hand. “It will be okay. I need to help down the aisle, but I’ll be back.”

  Lisa wiped a tear and nodded.

  He made his way down the aisle until he caught up to Karen.

  “Please return to your seat,” Karen said, as she approached the two men. Both were in their forties.

  “I demand to see the captain,” one of the men said. He was the larger of the two and the loudest. He wore baggy shorts, flip flops, and a green, collared pull-over that read Beach Bum in yellow on the front. Both obviously had no intention of backing down or following Karen’s order.

  When Beach Bum tried to push past Karen, Mason put his left hand on the man’s chest. “The flight attendant told you to take your seat.”

  Karen slipped past Mason and stood behind him.

  “Who are you?” the man demanded in a loud voice.

  Every other passenger went quiet and turned their attention to the altercation in the aisle.

  Mason spoke in a low, authoritative voice as he stared into the man’s eyes. “I’m the man who is going to put you in your seat if you don’t go there voluntarily. Now.”

  “I demand to see the captain,” the man said.

  The other man, standing behind Beach Bum, put a finger in Mason’s face. “We want to know why we’re not landing in Charlotte.”

  “You’ll be informed when the time is right,” Mason said. “For now, return to your seats.”

  Beach Bum took hold of Mason’s wrist with his right hand.

  With lightening speed, Mason reached over with his right hand, grabbed hold of the man’s wrist, and twisted hard.

  The man winced as he was spun around finding himself with his arm behind his back.

  Mason walked him toward the rear until he saw an empty seat. He directed the man to the seat and sat him down as he released the man’s arm. Mason pointed to the seatbelt. “Buckle it!”

  The man did as he was told.

  Mason turned just as the second man eased past him and took the empty seat across the aisle from Beach Bum.

  Mason stood up straight and swiveled his body around for the benefit of all the passengers. “Buckle your seatbelts,” he yelled. “Ensure your neighbors’ belts are buckled. Lean forward at the waist and put your face as close to your knees as possible. Don’t move until the plane is down.” He walked forward checking that they were following his orders.

  Karen mouthed a thank you as he passed her.

  He nodded. As he approached his seat, he bent down to view out the windows. He saw that the plane’s altitude was much lower. The coast line was in view in the distance. Mason judged they were three or four miles off the coast flying parallel to the shore.

  At his seat he retrieved his rucksack from the overhead bin, plopped down, and buckled his seatbelt as Lisa grabbed hold of his arm. He turned to face her. “We can’t explain what is happening, but the cities are gone.”

  A puzzled expression appeared, replacing the fear.

  “Ditching is the only option for putting this thing down,” he said, as he reached over and tugged on Lisa’s seat belt to ensure it was snug. “Bend over and put your head on your knees and wrap your arms behind your neck. It’s going to be a rough landing.” He gently placed a hand on her back and eased her into position. He checked to make sure the other first-class passengers were in the same position. He reached inside his coat and retrieved his Glock 19 from its shoulder holster. He unzipped the rucksack, rummaged around, and withdrew a gallon-sized Ziploc bag along with four extra loaded magazines.

  Lisa turned her head a bit to the left at the sound. Her eyes grew large at the sight of the pistol in his hand.

  He smiled. “Security.”

  She turned her head back so her face rested between her knees.

  Mason placed the four magazines, the pistol, and two more magazines from his holster into the bag and zipped it closed. He put the items back into his rucksack, zipped it closed, and wedged the pack under the seat in front of him with his foot.

  Karen put a hand on his shoulder as she hurried by.

  Mason took a final look around and then bent forward at the waist. He waited for what seemed like an eternity until he finally heard the engines throttle back. The impact was worse than he expected.

  CHAPTER 3

  The plane’s tail struck first. It initially cut a trough through the water, but the drag pivoted the nose down until it collided in a geyser of ocean spray against the waves. Shock waves reverberated along the plane’s skin. The force of the impact carried the front two-thirds of the fuselage below the surface and slung the already weakened tail, including several rows of seats, into the air with such force that it separated from the rest of the plane. The vertical stabilizer slammed against the cockpit with a loud bang. A deafening screech followed as the tail slid over the side of the fuselage and sank in a gurgle of bubbles.

  The front section of the fuselage, minus half of each wing, bobbed back to the surface with the nose deeper in the water than the jagged opening at the rear. Steam bellowed but quickly dissipated. The fuselage settled into a mass of foam and oscillated in rhythm with the waves.

  ◆◆◆

  Amidst the sound of screams and crying, Mason raised his torso. Those who were moving appeared to be in shock and not sure of what they should do. He saw Karen, followed closely by Angie, go to the forward hatch and begin the process of opening the door.

  Mason turned to Lisa who was still bent completely over at the waist. He placed a hand on her back and immediately felt the rise and fall of her breathing. She was alive but unconscious. He took hold of her shoulder, lifted her torso to a sitting position, and began examining her body. All appeared okay except for the large knot on the right side of her forehead.

  He unbuckled his belt and stood up. That’s when he realized the entire tail section was gone leaving only a large, jagged opening. He saw Karen and Angie swing the hatch open and begin working to deploy the emergency slide. As the slide deployed with a sustained hiss of air, he hurried forward to the overhead bin directly behind the now open hatch. He dragged a large yellow bundle from the bin and dropped it next to the hatch opening. “We’ll need this too,” he said to Karen. He hurried back down the aisle. “And we’ll need as much water and food as you can load into the raft,” he yelled over his shoulder.

  Making his way down the aisle, he yelled for the conscious passengers to check on their neighbor, get everyone able into the aisle, and man the life rafts. At the seats adjacent to the port wing emergency exit he saw an able bodied man with thinning white hair struggling with the unconscious woman next to him. The woman’s neck was obviously broken. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “This plane is going down fast; you need to get that exit open.”

  The man gazed at Mason for several seconds and finally nodded.

  Mason turned to the opposite seats, intending to get that emergency exit open as well, but decided the two exits would be enough. He made his way back to the large opening at the rear and scanned the open ocean. Debris littered the water in all directions along with a few floating bodies. There was no sign of the tail section.

  He made his way forward getting people moving as he went. He stopped at his seat, retrieved his rucksack, and slipped his arms through the straps. He unbuckled Lisa’s seat belt, took hold under both arms, and dragged her forward to the fully deployed emergency slide.

  Angie was tossing liter bottles of whatever beverages she could grab into the raft tethered next to the slide.

  Karen was working the combin
ation on the cockpit door.

  Mason carried Lisa out onto the emergency slide, placed her gently at the end, and was back at the cockpit just as Karen opened the door.

  He turned back to the line of passengers behind him, now pressing forward toward the exit. “Calm down,” he yelled. “One at a time.” He pointed to a Hispanic man wearing khaki shorts and sandals. He seemed to have his wits about him. “Help the others into the rafts.”

  The man nodded, turned to those behind him, and began directing them through the exit.

  “I’ll take care of the pilots,” Mason said, as he stepped past Karen. “There are people unconscious back there.”

  Karen hurried off without saying anything, squeezing past the people in the crowded aisle.

  Mason continued into the cockpit and found it half full of water from the blown-out windows and a jagged hole in the metal skin. Neither of the pilots appeared conscious. He checked the first officer and found his chest covered in blood and a large piece of glass protruding from his neck.

  Mason turned to Anderson and placed two fingers against his neck. There was a pulse. Mason quickly detached his seat harness and lifted him from the seat. Mason struggled with the odd angle and the man’s weight, but was finally able to drag him out the exit and onto the emergency slide.

  Mason noticed that several people were maneuvering the yellow, eight-sided raft toward the partial wing where a number of other people stood waiting for rescue.

  Mason made his way back down the aisle sloshing through knee deep water. He paused at each row of seats and checked for a pulse of those who were left behind. Toward the end of the now shortened plane he found a man in a suit and tie who had apparently just regained consciousness. When he tried to move from his seat, he winced, and sat back down.

  “What is it?” Mason asked.

  “My leg.”

  Just below the man’s knee, Mason felt protruding bone. “Broken,” he said. He grabbed hold under the man’s shoulders and dragged him into the water-filled aisle. The opening to the rear was much closer than either of the exits, so Mason dragged him through the now waist high water and into the open ocean. Mason held the man with one arm as he used the other to put distance between themselves and the fuselage which was rapidly submerging in a cascade of bubbles. A few moments later the plane was gone, and Mason found himself surrounded by various items of debris. Seabirds circled and squawked overhead. The yellow raft and the emergency slide, both full of people, sat in the water fifty yards away.