Falling(48)
“All right, ladies and gentlemen,” Jo said. “Let’s get to it.”
The ABPs came together with Jo at the head of the huddle. Arms crossed, focus aligned, they were preparing for battle and Jo was the commanding officer. No one interrupted her, not even Dave.
“Our tools are limited,” she said, “so we gotta work with what we’ve got. Our advantage is that we’ll be prepared and we’ll be coordinated. Okay?”
All six heads nodded up and down.
“Our number one objective is containment. We want as little of this poison in the air as possible.”
Jo felt a twinge of guilt as she spoke. She didn’t need to explain why containing the gas was important, but she was omitting the fact that the passengers’ oxygen supply would run out twelve minutes after being activated. So they really did need as few toxins as possible floating around, but a ticking clock they could do nothing about was an added stress they didn’t need.
She extended her arms. Sturdy gray trash bags hung from her hands.
“This is the best we got,” Jo said as she handed one to each of the ABPs, explaining how it was going to go.
All six of them would be seated with their oxygen masks on. Jo would be wearing a portable oxygen bottle. She would stand in front of them at the bulkhead, directly in front of the cockpit door, waiting for it to open. When the canister was thrown, she would go after it, because her portable oxygen would allow her to move. After she got ahold of the canister, she would throw it into whichever bag was closest to her at that point. That person would tie the bag shut as quickly as possible and then throw it into the bag closest to them. Then Jo would take the double bag, put it in the toilet, close the lid, and shut the door.
Heads nodded.
“Keep your mask on, understood? If you have to take it off for some reason, hold your breath. Then get it back on, quick. We work as a team. No one can be left exposed for long.”
The ABPs murmured their agreement and leaned forward, ready for the next part of the plan. They seemed eager and determined to help—but what if the backup was one of them? What if she had just shown her hand to the very person they were worried about? Jo looked at her team and realized: she had no plan for that dark possibility.
“Any questions?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THERE WAS A CRACKLING IN Theo’s earpiece.
“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” said a voice from the communications van. “We just got word that Captain Hoffman’s communicating with ATC. Secretly. Using Morse code.”
Bill had told them his family was in a parked vehicle. Something big enough for them to sit in the back of. He didn’t know the exact location, but he knew they were somewhere near LAX.
“He said they’re looking out the vehicle’s back window—watching the planes take off.”
* * *
After Jo finished briefing her volunteers, she collected the last of the first-class glasses that were still out before ducking into the galley with a look back at the main cabin. Kellie and Big Daddy were almost done with their first round of compliance. Jo had watched them out of the corner of her eye while she addressed her own team, and she’d been surprised at how little time it had taken them.
Most days, cabin compliance was a struggle. Passengers don’t like to be told what to do. But today it looked like Kellie and Big Daddy didn’t need to correct a single person. Decades into her career, Jo finally understood why passengers often resisted little requests like putting a bag away or raising their seatback, or why they ignored the safety demo. It was the same impulse that stopped them from saying the things they wanted to say, doing the things they wanted to do, being who they wanted to be. They’d do it tomorrow. Next time. Later. And now, too late, they realized that tomorrow had never been a guarantee. Now they willingly, even desperately, did everything they could to buy themselves a little more time.
Jo dropped the glassware into a divided carrier in the beverage cart. The masks were out, her ABPs were briefed, the cabin was compliant, and her galley was secure. They were nearing the end of their prep and she peeked out at the passengers, at these strangers turned kin, wondering if she’d missed anything, when out of nowhere Jo felt the urge to cry.
Perhaps it was because time was running out. Or perhaps it was because Jo had watched a man, unprompted, tell the elderly woman next to him that when the time came to evacuate, he wouldn’t leave her. Perhaps it was because she had seen a teenage boy—too old to be considered an unaccompanied minor, but nonetheless traveling by himself for the first time—being reassured and comforted by the family across the aisle. Jo could see his adolescent pride melt away as he allowed himself to feel safer in the confidence only a parent can provide. Perhaps it was because she saw strangers holding hands, praying together.
The souls on board had become a family—as perfect as imperfection is. The short life of this family was about to reach its end, and as a group, they faced their mortality together.
Jo wanted to take the plane in her hands like a toy, kiss it gently, and place it up high on a shelf. Safe. She was so proud to be with these people, so proud to have added her own voice to the chorus. She and the other two flight attendants might have played different roles than the rest, but they were all in this together.
A green light appeared overhead with a high-low chime. Jo grabbed the interphone.