Aftershock: A Donovan Nash Novel (A Donovan Nash Thriller) (30 page)

“Is there any chance I can safely set this thing back down on the water?”

“No way. The second the left float touches the surface you’ll cartwheel the thing. We just got a message from Malcolm and Lillian. They’re monitoring the eruption on the
Scimitar’
s synthetic aperture radar. They say they can see a lava dome beginning to build on the south side; it coincides with the earthquake swarms they’re seeing.”

“Michael, this airplane is barely climbing.”

Lauren could hear Donovan’s stress and fatigue; it matched
her own. She leaned over William to get a better look outside the
Galileo
. She could see Atitlán, and far to the south, through the ash and clouds and beyond the mountains, she could also see the blue Pacific Ocean.

“What’s your altitude now?” Michael asked.

“Five thousand four hundred.”

“Keep climbing, buddy, we’ll find you a way out of here,” Michael said.

“Michael,” Donovan said. “When I look south, I can see a sliver of clear air between the mountains. There’s actually blue sky to be seen. If I can clear the ridge, what’s on the other side?”

“There is a saddle between Atitlán and San Pedro that’s lower than anyplace around the lake,” Michael replied. “It also puts you at the foot of the erupting volcano. If you could get over the ridge, there’d be a sloping valley all the way to the ocean. The terrain goes from six thousand feet down to sea level in about thirty miles. It’s also where Janie is right now. She didn’t have any luck negotiating the terrain to the west.”

“What about poison gas?” Donovan asked. “If we have another encounter like before, I won’t be able to fly the plane.”

“Malcolm told us that most of gas is being released and sent far up into the atmosphere with the steam and ash.”

“South it is, then,” Donovan replied. “Use the
Scimitar
and find the absolute lowest altitude we can fly and still get over that ridge.”

“I’m hesitant to fly the
Scimitar
that close to the volcano,” John said as he glanced up at Michael. “We’re flying without the main coolant system. We could lose the entire ship.”

“So be it,” Michael shrugged. “If the conditions are that bad through there, I’d rather find out with the
Scimitar
than the Cessna.”

“Of course, you’re right.” John snapped his head back to the screen.

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael replied. “If we break it, we’ll buy another one.”

Lauren had listened to what Donovan was thinking about doing. She looked into Michael’s eyes as he processed the task at hand. William nudged her and gestured out the window. To the south, from out of the thick gray ash spewing from Atitlán, chunks of orange-and-red lava were being hurtled hundreds of feet in the air.

Donovan held the Cessna steady as they flew in wide circles over the water. The visibility through the valley on the southern horizon kept shifting and changing. Donovan worried that their window might close permanently and they’d be trapped over the lake until they ran out of fuel.

“I found the first-aid kit,” Stephanie called out from the backseat. She held up the plastic case.

Donovan turned toward Buck. “Hurry! Help her find the gauze. Everyone needs to cover their mouth and nose before we start. We also need to close all the vents and openings in the airplane.”

Buck nodded and turned in his seat to help Stephanie. Donovan searched the instrument panel and shut down all the outside air coming into the cabin. There was nothing he could do about the ash being sucked up into the engine through the air intake. Though a piston engine wasn’t quite as temperamental as a jet engine, the ash would eventually start clogging the valves.

The pinging of hot cinders bouncing off the metal skin of the plane sounded like rain. He tried to not think about that as he stretched against the tightness in his back, the dull pain shooting up and down his entire spine. His arms felt heavy on the controls. Donovan’s eyes shot to the outside temperature gauge mounted up where the right wing joined the fuselage. Almost a hundred degrees. Donovan knew the closer they flew toward the volcano, the higher it would climb.

“Here!” Buck had a large gauze pad in his hands. “Hold this over your mouth.”

Donovan did as instructed, and Buck quickly used a length of elastic bandage to hold it in place. Donovan adjusted the improvised surgical mask so that it rested just below his eyes. It would have to do. He took a quick glance at the others and found they all had a similar setup to ward off the ash.

“Donovan. It’s John. The
Scimitar
just made it through to the other side.”

“How was it through there?” Donovan replied, his voice muffled by the gauze.

“Not great.” John paused. “The lava being hurtled out of the cone is sporadic, unpredictable. The temperature spiked at nearly two hundred degrees, and there was at least thirty or forty seconds of heavy ash and turbulence. After that, you’ll break out into the clear. If you can reach five thousand, nine hundred, fifty feet, you won’t fly into a mountain. I promise.”

Donovan looked down at the altimeter. They were three hundred feet short.

“Your heading looks good,” John said smoothly. “I’m bringing the
Scimitar
back around to monitor your progress. Then you’re good to go whenever you’re ready.”

“We need to lighten the plane,” Donovan yelled over his shoulder. “Find everything that can be tossed out and hand it up to Buck.”

Donovan removed his bulletproof vest; the twists and gyrations were painful. Then he handed over his Sig. From the back, Donovan saw Stephanie’s camera bag, Eva’s vest, the first-aid kit, as well as a bag of tools being passed forward. Buck added his machine gun, ammo, knife, and a pistol. The former SEAL cracked the door and, careful not to hit any part of the plane, tossed each item into the lake. The Cessna slowly clawed upward until the altimeter finally showed that they’d reached the five thousand nine hundred fifty feet required.

“We made it,” Donovan transmitted. “But it won’t climb another foot higher. We have no margin for error.”

“Donovan, as you run up the valley toward the pass,” Lauren’s voice came over the speaker, “fly over the lava flow coming down from the cone. The heat from the lava will be rising, it’ll be just like what sailplanes use to gain lift. The thermal effect of the rising air should help lift you above the top of the ridgeline.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Be a glider pilot, circle inside the thermal until you have what you need, though I have no idea what the temperature increase does to your engine.”

Donovan thought back to a trip he and Lauren had taken to the Swiss Alps. They’d both been transfixed by the glider pilots as they wheeled silently in their long, slender-winged machines in the rarified air high above them. He doubted he had enough room to turn the Cessna but kept the thought to himself. He looked down at his engine instruments. At full power, the cylinder head and oil temperature gauges were already uncomfortably high. If it ingested superheated air, the engine would quickly start breaking down. The fleeting glimpse of blue sky in the distance was enticing, but the lava, ash and debris, intermittently splashing into the water, told him there was the equivalent of an aerial minefield between them and safety.

“Let’s do this,” Donovan transmitted and banked the Cessna to the south. “The ash is swirling in the pass. I might not always be able to see the ground. John, it’s your job to keep me over the lava flow and out of the rocks.”

“We going?” Buck asked.

Donovan nodded, and then looked back into the expectant faces of his passengers. “Strap in tight. This is going to get rough.”

Stephanie put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

Donovan tightened his seat belt, the lake below had turned dark and gray. He could feel the heat and a rivulet of sweat trickled down from his temple. He squinted through the ash that came rushing past the windshield like snow in a blizzard. A quick
glance told him the temperature had already climbed another forty degrees. He wondered if they would all slowly cook in the small aluminum oven that was the Cessna.

The first jolt of turbulence surprised him with its fury. The Cessna rose gently then shuddered as it slammed into the unseen air currents. Marie cried out in fear from behind him, but Donovan couldn’t look back to reassure her. He couldn’t even reassure himself as the Cessna bucked in his hands. He shot a furtive glance at the thermometer—the heat had increased dramatically as they hurtled into the curtain of ash. Donovan’s eyes burned as if he were standing too close to an open oven. The air in the cabin became dry and hot. It was painful breathing, and there were particles of ash floating freely around him.

The controls lurched in his hands as the Cessna rode the turbulence and climbed. Donovan kept his eyes glued to the altimeter. He couldn’t afford to lose any altitude or they would careen into the rocks below. Debris being thrown from the volcano started pounding the Cessna. Donovan tensed as dime-sized nicks were left in the plastic windscreen. A crack in the Plexiglas arced out from one impact site. The terrain rose up on both sides. Turning back was no longer an option. He pressed on, wiping the sweat that was now stinging his eyes. They rode out another wave of turbulence that slammed them up and down in the gray nothingness. A momentary break in the ash let Donovan see straight down into a river of fire. The airplane shuddered as the rising heat pushed the struggling Cessna upward.

“Turn left, ten degrees,” John’s voice came through the speaker.

Donovan knew that somewhere behind them, the
Scimitar
had a clear view inside the maelstrom. He corrected his heading just as a larger rock hit the metal above his head. The sharp reverberation made his ears ring. He urged the Cessna to hold together, his body drenched in sweat as he fought to hold his heading and altitude—the two things that would get them through safely. A glance at the engine instruments told Donovan time was running out. Each needle had climbed into the red.

A vivid flash of lightning lit up the darkness. Donovan winced as he tried to blink away the spots that danced before his eyes. He knew that the discharge had come
from
them, that they were generating tremendous amounts of static electricity as they flew through the ash. The tips of the propeller blades glowed brightly in the darkness that surrounded them. More debris pelted the thin aluminum skin, and Donovan had no idea if the Cessna would hold together.

“How much further?” Buck called out.

Donovan didn’t reply—the heat burned his throat as he inhaled, his eyes were tiny tear-filled slits. He could hardly see the instruments, his vision blurry in the heat. In an instant the engine missed a beat, then another. Quickly, and with fatal certainty, the engine began to tear itself apart, and the propeller ground to a halt.

Donovan felt the Cessna begin to settle. Forward visibility briefly improved to a quarter of a mile, and he could now see the top of the ridge. They weren’t going to clear the burning trees. The Cessna wallowed through the air, the stall warning horn blared, filling the cabin. The airspeed was bleeding off, and Donovan couldn’t stop the process. He lowered one notch of flaps in a desperate attempt to increase the lift, but nothing changed. There was no room to turn, no place to crash land. All their options were gone.

“Are we going to clear the trees?” Buck shouted and pointed out the front of the plane. “Donovan, talk to me! Are we going to make it?”

Donovan glanced at Buck and solemnly shook his head. “No. We’re going down.”

“Fly this thing out of here!” Buck yelled, then, in one swift motion released his seat belt, opened the door, and pushed himself free of the plane.

Donovan had no time to react, no time to reach out and stop his friend. Buck’s words echoed in his head as he felt the airplane respond. In shock, Donovan eased back on the controls.
Two hundred pounds lighter, the Cessna’s performance improved enough to give Donovan a fragment of hope.

Donovan put the Cessna over the center of the lava flow in hopes of gaining whatever lift he could. Straight ahead was the tree-lined ridge top, the vegetation engulfed in flames. He aimed the Cessna at the lowest spot, holding the controls tightly as branches beat the bottom of the floats. Every muscle in his body strained against the coming impact when the battered Cessna burst free into the clear air on the south side of the volcano.

The temperature dropped rapidly, and Donovan wiped the tears from his eyes. Spread out below them were sloping hills filled with the terraced fields of coffee growers. Donovan pegged the Cessna at its best glide speed and did everything he could to put as much distance between them and the volcano.

The empty seat next to him burned in his chest. Sorrow welled up inside and tears ran from his eyes. Donovan had to fight through his grief and begin the search for a place to land the Cessna. From his left side, the
Scimitar
raced past. Donovan understood, wiped the tears from his eyes, then banked the Cessna to follow.

Lauren had watched in horrifying real time as Donovan had flown up the lava flow, losing altitude. As the Cessna descended, she’d seen Michael begin to shake his head in denial, his fingers turning white as he gripped the back of John’s chair. In one terrible instant, an object had fallen away from the Cessna and landed in the lava. Moments later, the Cessna clipped the burning limbs at the top of the ridge and somehow kept going.

“What did we just see?” John said. “Hang on, I’m going to replay it.”

“Don’t! Don’t ever play that again—for anyone,” Lauren snapped. The tears came slowly, as if her subconscious wouldn’t allow the full impact of Buck’s death to reach her. The optics aboard the
Scimitar
had allowed her to recognize him before he’d dropped from the field of view. The image was burned into her psyche and, with each passing moment, the magnitude of the loss seeped deeper as a solitary tear trickled down her cheek. A wounded sob erupted from somewhere deep, and she began to shake from the intensity of her tears. She covered her face, leaned over, and cried. She wept for Buck, for his family, for all the people he’d touched, and all the lives he’d saved. Lauren couldn’t shut off the kaleidoscope of images that played in her mind.