The Seat Beside Me (9 page)

“I’m sure He will. When He’s ready. God is never late and never early.”

“I bet you have that gem cross-stitched and hanging above the john, right?”

“It’s the truth.”

George had enough. “The truth is, God’s confused you by making you dwell on this mysterious way. He’s got you so messed up you’re like a bead of water on a frying pan, jumping around, trying to get off the plane and not knowing why.”

“I stayed, didn’t I?”

“Only because the stewardess strapped you in. Not ’cause of anything God did to comfort you.”

Henry stared into space. Then he turned to George. “Maybe He sent you to comfort me.”

George laughed. “Me? Surely you jest.”

Henry took in two controlled breaths. “I
am
calm now. I do feel more at ease about things.”

“I can assure you it isn’t because of me. Must be something in that water you drank.”

Henry laughed, and the worry in his face seemed to disappear completely. “You’re right; it must be the water.”

Henry was relieved when the widow diverted George by asking a question about the further delay—it had been over a half hour since they’d left the gate. The snow was so thick he couldn’t see the terminal. With the snow isolating them from the world, Henry felt as though they were
too
alone. Too vulnerable.

Don’t get yourself worked up again. Not when you’ve just calmed down
.

He closed his eyes and willed peace to envelop him. He did feel better after talking with George. He needed to concentrate on that. Funny how a suicidal man could help him. And in a way—though Henry had no proof—he believed George would not take his own life.

Thanks for George, Lord. And forgive my panic. The uncertainty got to me, but I’m okay now. And I’m ready for whatever You want me to do. Just give me the strength to do—

The voice of the pilot interrupted his prayer. “It’s finally time, folks. Flight attendants, please make ready for takeoff.”

Henry sighed. Finally. It was time.

Four

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me
.
P
SALM
23:4,
KJV

2:57
P.M.

S
onja Grafton looked out the window—as best she could. A fine snow blew past the plane at a near-horizontal angle. It was the kind of blizzard that would make a person bow low against the wind. “It doesn’t look good,” she told Roscoe.

He leaned toward the window to look for himself. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Certainly a little wind and snow can’t stop a plane this big.”

“You wouldn’t think so.”

They spent a moment watching the snow whip around the wings. “I wanted to tell you, Sonja, I had a feeling something important would happen today. And it did.”

“How so?”

His smile was both sincere and mischievous. “I met you, didn’t I?”

She rolled her eyes.

His face turned serious. “I mean it. Rarely do I have such insightful conversations with my seatmates. Most people can’t get past the latest ball scores. You’re different … you’ve got substance.”

Sonja felt a surge of pride. She barely knew this man, and yet
his words filled her up like those of a close friend. “Thanks, Roscoe. I’ve enjoyed meeting you too. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Can’t ask for more than that.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

She hedged. “This isn’t good-bye; we’re not in Arizona yet.”

He pulled his hand back, as if catching his faux pas, and chuckled. “I guess we’ve been stuck here so long I forgot our journey was only beginning.”

Sonja smiled with him, but something about his words struck her wrong. Her stomach clenched, and she looked out the window at the weather raging around them.

2:58:15
P.M.

Merry Cavanaugh wanted to throw up. Between the nerve-wracking delay, the horrible weather, and the confusion of her personal life. She fingered the contents of the seat pocket in front of her. Yes, there it was, the barf bag.

“You feeling okay?”

“Not really.”

Lou reached across Justin, took Merry’s hand, and pulled her to a kiss above the head of their son. “I love you.”

Merry hesitated only a second. “I—”

She didn’t have time to say more. The engines surged and the plane began its trip down the runway.

2:58:30
P.M.

“Here we go!”

Tina McKutcheon noticed Mallory grip the armrests and tense her body as if she could physically aid in the takeoff.

Tina purposely crossed her legs and acted nonchalant, hoping it would reassure the girl. Any second now they would be airborne, and her vacation could really begin. She was tired of talking, of thinking, of doubting.

A few seconds later, Mallory looked to Tina, her eyes intense. “Isn’t this taking a long time? Shouldn’t we be in the air by now?”

Tina felt a twinge of fear. It
was
taking a long—

The plane lifted a few feet but seemed hesitant, like a hand on the ground was holding on. It lifted a little more but felt heavy.

“What’s happening?” Mallory grabbed Tina’s arm.

Tina grabbed back.

2:58:50
P.M.

Anthony Thorgood braced his feet on the floor as the plane struggled to gain altitude. The nose was up sharply as if straining to touch the sky. “This isn’t good.”

He looked to Belinda, who had her eyes clamped shut. She started shaking her head, repeating a mantra that mimicked the truth that had shot into Anthony’s heart: “We’re going down, we’re going down, we’re going …”

Anthony looked out the window and saw buildings much too close.
Oh, dear God. No! It can’t be!

But it was.

2:59:01
P.M.

So much for suicide
.

The nose of the plane strained toward the sky. The engine battled. The plane shuddered. An overhead bin popped open, spilling its contents.
We’re not going to make it. We’re going down
.

People started to scream. George Davanos looked to his right.
The widow had her eyes closed, her lips moving in prayer. He looked to the left. Henry was doing the same.

Oh well, if you can’t beat ’em …

He reached for his seatmates’ hands. Their eyes opened for an instant, then closed in recognition of their bond. They gripped each other, holding on to life, their hands intertwined.

Just like their prayers.

2:59:04
P.M.

Henry Smith felt the plane stall. And he knew …

He sucked in a breath.

Lord, be with us. Help us!

The tail of the plane slammed hard, propelling his legs into his chest.

Crunching. Scraping. Wrenching apart. Screams melded together in a unified explosion of fear. A baby wailed. Henry’s mouth was open, but he couldn’t hear his own scream above the scream of the plane trying to survive.

An instant of relief.

He took a breath. His eyes shot open.
I’m alive! That wasn’t so—

The scraping sound had stopped. The screams fragmented as hope made one last, valiant—

Piercing wind stung his face. He saw sky.
No! No! We’re breaking ap—

The front of the plane fell away and left them behind. Snow needled Henry’s face.

Is that water?

The tail section hit. The impact tore through him. The plane slid.

Grinding metal. Ripping skin. Rushing water.

Searing cold.

Pain.

And horrible silence as death laughed.

Five

“Rise up; this matter is in your hands
.
We will support you, so take courage and do it.”
E
ZRA
10:4

2:59:10
P.M.

T
ina’s boyfriend interrupted his work on the computer long enough to glance at the clock. 2:59. She had probably landed in Arizona by now. It was odd that so much of David’s future was riding on a trip
he
wasn’t even taking. If only she had reacted favorably to his proposal this morning. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she accept the fact that he loved her and adored her. It was hard being soul mates with someone when she didn’t even know it.

Suddenly, a horrible feeling of dread gripped his insides like a hand grasping out of a grave for air. He buckled over, his hands making fists at his midsection.

One word formed in his brain, a word as big as a billboard: Tina!

Was something wrong? Had something happened to her?

David closed his eyes, seeking clarification. But there were no handy visions or images to explain away his dread. Just a feeling.

He found himself holding his breath and letting it out, nearly gasping for fresh air.

He shivered and said a prayer.
Keep her safe, Lord
.

He forced his hands back to the keyboard. They were shaking.

2:59:22
P.M.

“Flight 1382? How do you read?”

Silence. Again.

The air traffic controller had called for the plane three times with no answer. He looked to the screen. The blip that represented the plane was gone, and there was no answer. That only meant one thing.

“Oh my.” He flipped a switch that connected him with the emergency broadcasting system. “Attention! We have a disaster involving an aircraft …”

Air!

The freezing water sent Henry’s body into instant panic. He flailed his arms, seeking the surface, but as the tail section dropped, he dropped with it.

I’m gone
.

Then suddenly, the tail twisted and Henry was propelled to the top of the water. He gasped for air, bracing himself for yet another wrenching. But the contorted plane stopped moving with a final yank that ripped through him.

He opened his eyes and fought to get his bearings. His upper body was above the water. He tried to move his legs, but they didn’t cooperate. They were heavy with his wet shoes, and numbed by the biting, icy cold. Cables and jagged metal bound him like evil hands keeping him captive.

With another jolt, the tail section adjusted itself. Henry dropped a few inches deeper in the water. He snatched the torn edge of the plane and wrapped his arms around the serrated metal at eye level. He tasted blood and risked letting go with one hand to check his head. His hand came back bright red.

Lord, help!

The snow stung his face. He squinted and saw a mangled tennis racket floating by. A child’s shoe. Such chilling symbols of what
was alive a few moments before;
who
was alive.

Hold on. Just hold on. You’re alive. Just hold on
.

He had to get oriented. He looked around. The rest of the plane was gone with bubbles marking its place in the river. Chunks of debris spotted the water, mixing with the ice: insulation, luggage, a maga—

Screams!

He tried to see through the snow. The screams weren’t coming from the water. There were dark images through the blizzard. Dots of color. Movement? Cars and people?

He remembered the first impact. Had the plane hit a building? His mind shivered, just as his body lost its ability to do so.

“Hold on!” the voices called.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Sonja opened her eyes and realized she was under water. So dark. So cold.

Her lungs threatened to burst. She was still buckled in her seat, which had become a cushioned anchor holding her down. She managed to push the release button and set herself free. She had to choose a direction. She swam toward the light, her shoes like weights yearning to find the floor of the river. She forced her legs to move, to propel her away from the dark.

There was no more air. Her lungs constricted, hunting for every last atom of fuel. Suddenly, she burst through the top of the water. She tried to see, but her eyes were blurry and stung with jet fuel. She rubbed them. Her forearm rejected the pressure. Was it broken? “Help? Help!” The words came out in pitiful bursts of breathiness.

“Here!”

She looked over her right shoulder. A bearded man held onto the wreckage of the tail section. She swam toward him as best she could. He extended an arm. She got a hold, and he awkwardly
pulled her close, making the water surge onto his chest and face.

She lunged for the plane. Her hand stuck to its frozen metal and she pulled back.

“Grab it!” he told her.

She had no choice. She took hold of the plane, feeling her skin meld to its iciness. The chattering of her teeth echoed in her ears like an inner jackhammer.

“Sirens …”

Sonja turned toward a woman’s voice. A few feet away, an older woman wearing a bright magenta sweater held on to the plane, her head barely out of the water. Her eyes turned toward the sound.

Sirens wailed in the distance, and Sonja saw people running down the slope of the river toward its edge. Their voices carried over the water. The silhouette of a parking garage could be seen, the top level punctuated by flames. A sign advertised a car rental company: Rapid Rentals.
Did we hit that?

“Hold on!”

“Help’s coming!”

With a jolt, Sonja let hope enter. But as she looked at the shivering people nearby, she knew it wasn’t over.

If they didn’t get out of the water soon, they’d be dead.

Anthony came to under water. His mind flit past the denial of
this isn’t happening
and zoned in on the facts.

Crash. Water. Breathe
.

But he couldn’t breathe. He propelled his arms downward, keening toward the light above. He saw legs dangling in the water. Life.

He swam toward it.

Even as she swam—even as Merry reminded herself that she didn’t know how to swim—an irrelevant thought came front and center.
When I get home, I really should take some swimming lessons with Jus—