The Seat Beside Me (10 page)

Justin! Lou!

Suddenly, she sensed more than saw a form beside her. She reached out and felt flesh. She grabbed on, finding an arm. It was a small arm. A child’s arm. With a surge of purpose, she burst through the top of the water, dragging the child with her. Her mind screamed the prayer,
Please let it be Justin, please—

She sucked in frigid air and pulled the child’s head above water. Justin’s eyes opened for a moment. “Mommy … help.” His eyes closed. She struggled to hold his head above water, as well as her own. She couldn’t do this long. She needed to hold on to some—

The tail of the plane loomed before her, its happy orange logo an indecent splash of normal like a birthday cake at a funeral.

“Grab on!” The voice came from a woman with very short hair plastered to her head like a sticky red-and-black helmet.
Blood and jet fuel?
She yelled from the jagged fuselage and held out a hand.

Merry took it and let herself and Justin be pulled toward the plane. The woman took Justin’s other side while Merry grabbed hold of the plane, the cold biting into her fingers. A life vest floated by. She yelled to the other woman, “Hold him a minute!” Merry grabbed the life vest and, with the woman’s help, got it on her boy. Her hands barely worked, her fingers thick and useless. She fumbled, yet managed to open the inflation valve. The vest came to life and Merry held on to the plane with one hand while she kept the floating Justin close with the other. She told herself to relax.

But the water wouldn’t let her. Her body wanted to pull in on itself and make a ball to get warm, like Justin making himself cozy in a blanket cocoon or snuggling between her and Lou—She gasped.

She scanned the water, squinting against the snow and the sting of jet fuel. “Lou!” She needed to swim. Find him.
God, I’ll do anything. Just help me find him!
She let go.

The woman pulled her back. “Don’t let go! Hold on to the plane. Hold on to the boy.”

“But my husband—”

“Hold on!”

Merry looked around the tail section but only saw the short-haired woman, a woman in a bright pink sweater, a handsome man, and a man with black hair and a beard.
Where are the others?

Suddenly, another woman popped through the surface of the water, gasping for air.

The cold air both relieved and seared Tina’s lungs. She coughed the water away.

“Over here!”

She turned in the water and saw six people clinging to the tail section. But where was—?

“Mallory! Where’s Mallory?”

The people ignored her question, leaning out into the water toward her. “Come on. Grab hold!”

The handsome man got her arm and pulled her close, grimacing as if the action caused him pain. A woman in a pink sweater helped until Tina hooked a hand over the ragged edge of the plane. Icicles hung from the survivors’ hair. Their skin had a bluish cast like the Lladro figurines she coveted but could never afford. The little boy in a life vest appeared to sleep, his head lolling against the vest.

This was all?

But Mallory was in the seat beside me
. Tina whipped her head, once again looking for the girl. “Mallory!”

“Save your strength, lady. Help’s coming.”

She looked to the shore where people scurried around, tying things together, trying to create a makeshift lifeline. They were pitiful extensions across the expanse that separated them from safety. And then Tina knew.

“We’re going to die.”

What scared her the most was that no one argued with her.

He woke to darkness and cold and wet.

I’m under water!

The cold constricted every part of George’s body, an icy vise that pushed inward so he couldn’t move. He found himself still in his seat.

That’s it. Just sit here. You wanted to die, didn’t you?

He looked toward the light above him. His bursting lungs forced the issue.
Not now. Not yet
.

He pushed the button of the seat belt with a leaden finger. It released him to the light. But it wouldn’t be that easy. His left leg hung like a useless rudder. The muscles of his arms burned at the effort.
Almost there … almost—

His hands broke the surface, but his head met opposition. Something was in his way. He scraped at it and jabbed, desperate for air. The block of ice relinquished the space and floated aside. He burst through the surface and gasped. The snow bit his face, feeling like salt in the wound of his frigid skin.

He frantically grappled for something to hold on to. A suitcase came close, but when he tried to grab it, it sank. He saw the tail section of the plane twenty feet away. He treaded water and made a decision to reach it. But twenty feet … it could have been twenty miles due to the sluggish way his body moved and the dead weight of his injured leg. He had to stay where he was. A piece of the fuselage floated close, and he clung to it.

Odd how a piece of the very plane that had betrayed him might save him now. A man who had wanted to die, but whom God had chosen to live?

3:07
P.M.

Upon getting to work at River Rescue, Floyd Calbert popped the back of his coworker’s head as he passed his chair. “Seems we’re going to be grounded today, eh, Hugh?”

“Unless you want to play Santa Claus. Hey, maybe we’ll be lucky and have a quiet shift.”

“Sounds good to—”

The red phone rang. Hugh reached it first. Floyd watched his face turn ashen. Hugh hung up and stood in the same motion. His face stared out the window at the snow. “A plane’s down. In the river.”

“Down?” Floyd joined his stare out the window, knowing what they were being asked to do. “But we can’t go—”

“We’ve got to. They said it’s hard for rescue vehicles to get through. The plane hit a parking garage. The highway next to the river has traffic backed up. They’re trying their best, but we’ve got to do the same. There are survivors in the middle of the river. Even if the rescuers had boats, the ice floes would get in the way. And the current … No one can get to them.”

Floyd shivered. “Except us.”

Hugh looked at him, his face pulled with concern—and fear. “Except us.”

Reporter Dora Roberts knocked and entered the office of the news editor in one motion.

Her boss looked up. “Hey, I thought you were going to Phoenix.”

“There’s been a plane crash. It hit a building. It’s in the river.”

“Go!”

She went.

3:27
P.M.

How long had they been in the water? Henry pried open a frozen eyelid and looked at his watch. Nearly a half hour. How much longer could they last?

Not long.

The other male survivor nodded to the shore where dozens of people were scrambling about, getting nowhere. “At least we’re going to die with an audience.”

Henry wanted to laugh but couldn’t find the energy or the charity.
Why hadn’t someone come to help?

The survivors around him slipped in and out of consciousness, and it took extreme effort for him to remain awake. Yet maybe they had the right idea … just fall asleep and let death take—

Stay awake
.

He didn’t question the inner urging. Henry suffered a deep breath and willed himself to live.

At least for now.

3:28
P.M.

George heard the sound of a helicopter. He looked up and saw it come closer, a lifeline dangling from its body.

Thank you, God!

With all his energy he waved at it, sinking in the water every time he sacrificed a hand from the job of staying afloat. But it moved past him to the tail section.

They’re not going to see me!

It would serve him right.

Floyd could tell that Hugh was having trouble keeping control of the helicopter in the blizzard. Their jobs at the River Rescue usually dealt
with rescuing summer boaters. They’d never been out in a blizzard before.

Floyd yelled at Hugh from the open door, his body craning to see through the snow. “I see a kid. Go after the kid!”

“Roger.”

Hugh brought the helicopter over the tail section, angling the open door toward the child. It fell next to a man with a beard. He looked up at them expectantly, but instead of wrapping it around himself, he passed it to a woman with blond hair, the one holding on to the child. At his nudging, she took it. He helped her wrap it around her torso, looping it under her arms. Then she pulled the boy to her chest. He seemed to come to and weakly lifted his arms around her neck. The man said a few words to the woman, she nodded, then he looked up to the chopper and waved.

“Go! Go!” Floyd said.

Hugh pulled up and they watched as the man guided the woman and boy away from the twisted fuselage into the air. The two appeared to be glued together. Floyd prayed they stayed that way. The helicopter raced to shore. “Hold on, you two … we’re almost there.”

The wind and snow stung Floyd’s face, and he couldn’t imagine how cold the survivors must be.
And they won’t be survivors much longer if you don’t hurry and get them out
.

As they neared the shore, Floyd was relieved to see so many people ready to take hold of the woman and the boy. Everyone wanted to help. But their actions were agonizingly slow in the slippery snow and cold, and the coordination of so many was awkward.

Floyd cupped his hands. “Come on. There’s more out there. Give me back the line.”

Someone looked up and dedicated himself to getting the line free.

“Clear!”

George heard the helicopter come close again. Was he getting a second chance?

He waved furiously.
Come on, see me, see me! I’m all alone out here
.

The helicopter hesitated from its flight toward the tail section and turned toward him. His heart raced with appreciation.

George grabbed the line, the roughness of the rope cutting his brittle skin. He held on to it, but the man standing in the open chopper shook his head and waved his arms. “No! Around. Put it around yourself.”

A glimmer of logic entered his brain, and George realized he had to move into the hoop of the lifeline. Once he did so, he nodded he was ready.

“We gotcha.”

George felt himself being lifted, and the river sucked at him, trying to get him back.
Help me, God
.

The blizzard swirled around him, the wind caused by their movement freezing his skin on contact. The pain intensified as his arms and shoulders rejected being asked to use frozen muscles.

Hurry, hurry, hurry. I can’t hold—

He heard shouts all around him, reminding him of his football days. Voices of support, urging him on.

“You’re almost there!”

“Hang on!”

“Come on, come on, you can do it.”

He tried to see the source of encouragement, but his eyelids had frozen shut. Then the words of comfort became action, and he felt arms encircle his legs, then his body. And his weight was lifted up and held strong and fast.

“Let go. You can let go now.”

He told his hands to let go of the rope’s loop, but they would
not respond. Someone pulled the lifeline away and he was free of it. Free of the bitter wind, the greedy water, the traitorous plane.

His saviors hurried him to an ambulance, the jostling of their running sending jolts of pain through his body. But he didn’t care. He could take the pain now.

Voices yelled directions. George let himself slip away to a quieter place. He didn’t need to listen.

Not anymore.

Three down
. As they made their way back to the tail, Floyd had an idea. “I’m adding another line.”

Hugh glanced back. “But the weight. We’re only meant for five under normal conditions and the weight of the wet—”

“I know, I know … but time’s running out. We’ve got to try.”

Hugh shrugged and nodded at the same time. Floyd knew the brunt of it would be on his shoulders. To maneuver in these conditions with two dragging weights was dangerous. The odds of them crashing into the river themselves.

Floyd shook such considerations away. The people had been in the water nearly an hour. That they were even alive was a miracle. He hoped God had a few more miracles in His pocket.

Anthony Thorgood had had enough. This rescue was ridiculous. From what he could see, there were only eight of them. Surely the helicopter could move a little faster to get them out. He looked around the tail section at the remaining survivors—such as they were. A man and three women, including that Belinda person. They were all drawing into themselves, their shoulders at their ears. They wouldn’t last long, and who knew? Even if they got out of the water, they probably wouldn’t survive.

But he would. He was not going to die.

Take your chance!

He mentally nodded at the order and planned to do exactly that.

The helicopter positioned itself overhead and dropped the line to the other man.
Why do they keep giving it to him?
But as the man caught the rope, he handed it to the woman with bloody short hair.