The Storm

by

S. La Palme

Our guest author's Internet name is GreyWolf: I live in New Hampshire. I have a cat, Trouble. I enjoy writing, reading and I also spend a considerable amount of time on my computer.

**************

Gerald Eastman sat at a table in the far corner of the airport cafe. A cup of black coffee was clenched tightly between his hands, a copy of The New York Times was sitting on the table in front of him, but he'd hardly glanced at it. He kept staring at his watch, hoping to God that time would stop before the hands reached five o'clock.

He sipped at the steaming coffee, not really wanting it, but needing something to fill a wretched, empty void in the pit of his stomach. With a trembling hand he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his cigarettes and lighter. His hands were shaking so badly he could hardly get the cigarette in his mouth and light it.

He welcomed the blast of acrid smoke into his lungs, he slowly exhaled, watching as the tinted blue smoke rose and vanished into the ceiling. His hands stopped trembling so much and his mind felt clearer, he was relieved that his anxiety had passed for the time being.

As long as he could remember he'd always had a fear of flying, he avoided planes as much as possible. He was constantly seeing some tragedy or another involving airplanes on the news. Just seeing the twisted broken metal of the aircraft and paramedics wheeling mangled bodies and souls away on stretchers sent shudders through him. He would think, Christ, that could have been me.

Ever since his father had taken ill last year, flying became a part of his life. Once a month he flew from New York to Vegas, where his father had run one of the large casinos on the Strip.

Before today he thought a lot of his anxiety had left, it returned this afternoon with brutal force, worse then he had experienced even on his first flight. The anxiety had been triggered by the storm that had started shortly before he'd arrived at the airport. He'd flown in wind, rain and snow, but never in a storm as vicious as the one that was raging outside. In his conscious mind he was trying to be cool and relaxed, in his subconscious he had a despairing feeling something terrible was going to happen.

He glanced at his watch 4:15, God, he wished the damn hands either move quicker or just stop altogether. Gerald lit another cigarette and sipped at his coffee, now growing cold. He reached down and unzipped his black leather carry-on bag. He groped around inside the bag but his hand couldn't find the paperback he'd brought with him.

He was sure he'd brought one along to keep his mind off his fears. He picked up the bag and set it on his lap. He searched it completely, with no luck. He must have left it on the kitchen table at home. He zipped up the carry on bag, put a slightly crumpled five dollar bill on the table and walked across the bustling terminal to the small news shop across from the cafe.

It took him about five minutes to find a good book, he was about to turn around and head for the register when he heard a familiar voice behind him, "Is that my good buddy Gerald?" Knowing immediately who it was he turned around and grinned at the man who'd spoken to him, "Will, damn I haven't seen you for a long time." Both men shook hands, Gerald noticed his old friend Will was wearing a pilot's uniform.

"You're a pilot now?" Gerald asked.

Will smiled. "That's why you haven't seen me been off at flight school. I'm taking the five nine o' clock to Vegas."

"That makes me feel a little bit better, I'm on that flight. "Will smiled and said with humor in his voice, "Maybe I can pull some strings and you can sit up in the cockpit with me."

"No, that's OK. I'm nervous enough as it is. "At this Will let out a small laugh.

"You afraid? I don't believe it. When we were growing up you never seemed afraid of anything."

"Well, we never flew anywhere."

"Get your book and come over to the coffee shop. I'll tell you a story might set your mind at ease. "Without waiting for a reply Will turned and headed for the coffee shop.

He found Will seated at the exact same table he'd just occupied minutes before. He sat down across from Will setting his carry on bag down on the floor next to him. A waitress brought two steaming cups of coffee over to the table. Will fixed his coffee with cream and sugar. Gerald sat quietly and waited for him to tell his story. After taking a sip of his coffee Will looked up at him.

"Well, buddy, I want to tell you something that happened to me not too long ago, it was during a storm much like this one." He nodded his head toward the large windows in the cafe that looked out over the air field.

"Hopefully it'll make you realize that not every flight ends in disaster. "After taking another sip of coffee Will started his story.

I remember I was flying for New York to Minnesota the rain was coming down in torrents, lightening, thunder. I was more scared then I ever had been before. We were about half way there when there was a huge crash of thunder and several bolts of lightening. One of those bolts struck part of the tail fin. The plane's altitude dropped for a moment and the red warning light flashed on.

My heart was damn near pounding out of my chest. Hal, my copilot wasn't doing much better. I thought for sure we were going to die. I fought the thought, I had two hundred sixty people on that plane and I was determined to get them all on the ground safely in Minnesota. Will paused to drink some more coffee.

I landed that bird without a hitch in Minnesota. The tail fin was a real mess but I got all those people there safely and I was glad.

"So you see man, just cause you hear about that kinda thing on the radio and stuff, it doesn't happen so often. So loosen up, I'll get you to Vegas safe and sound.

Gerald felt a little bit better. He was about to reach into his pockets for a cigarette when the first boarding call for his flight came across the speakers. Will got up, "See you in Vegas man." He smiled.

Suddenly the terrible feeling Gerald had earlier that something was going to happen returned regardless of what Will had said. Gerald turned to say something to Will, but he was already gone. He reluctantly brushed the thought off, he picked up his bag and headed for the boarding gate.

When he stepped outside the pelting rain was pouring down out the menacing dark skies. It matted his hair to his head. Thunder roared, blue lightening flickered and flashed. He was thoroughly soaked when he got on the plane.

He found his seat in first class. he took his book and glasses from his carry on and placed it in the overhead compartment. A steward was handing out towels to the passengers. He sat down and fastened his seat belt. A few moments later he was handed a white towel. He wiped his face and hair and set the towel in his lap. Will's voice came over the speakers,

"Ladies and Gentlemen we are now taxiing toward the runway. Please fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the flight." The speaker clicked off and the red fasten seatbelts light flashed on with a small ping noise above the cabin.

Ten minutes later the plane was rushing down the runway. Gerald, felt the plane lift up into the sky then straighten out. Will's voice came over the speakers, "Ladies and Gentlemen we are cruising at an altitude of 30,000 feet. You may now unfasten your seat belts."

Gerald unbuckled his seat belt. He put his glasses on and began to read his book. His hands were again beginning to tremble. Damn, he wished they still allowed smoking on airplanes. A stewardess came by his seat and asked if he would like a beverage. He ordered coffee and went back to his novel. Minutes later a cup of coffee was placed in front of him. An hour went by, the storm still raged outside.

Gerald's premonition that something terrible was going to happen came true quite abruptly. There was a loud crash of thunder and several brilliant successions of lightening. There was crash then a sizzling from inside the plane. The plane began to rapidly descend. Oh Christ, Gerald thought. Suddenly he couldn't breathe, he clenched the arms of the chair so tightly he thought they were going to rip off in his grip. He waited for something to come over the speaker. Nothing. He heard men and women crying out, children. The plane continued to descend. Silence from the cockpit. Oxygen masks fell automatically from the compartments above the seats. Silence

Gerald could see the ground from outside the window. Sweat streamed down his face. His hands kept their iron grip on the chair arms.

There was a crackle and some garbled jabber from the speaker.

Silence again.

The nose of the plane smashed into the ground with terrible force. Gerald was forced forward, the seatbelt straining against his weight. His head hit the seat in front of him. There was a terrible ripping sound as one of the wings was torn off. The plane slid across the ground.

Gerald snapped awake. He heard moans and cries for help. The crew members that were still able to were trying to help the injured. He wanted to laugh, cry, scream. God help him, he was OK. OK. He unbuckled his seat belt. He was about to go see if he could help the crew with the passengers, when the cockpit door swung open. Will stood in the doorway.

Half of Will's face was pretty much gone. One eye dangled from a string on the left side of Will's terribly marred face. Most of the skin on the left side of his face had been burned away leaving only a charred bloody mess. Tears streamed out of the still good right eye. The eye found Gerald and Will hobbled over to him and sat down in the empty seat next to him.

Blood had thoroughly soaked through his shirt. He put a bloody hand on Gerald's shoulder. He tried to speak through the part of his mouth that was still there. Gerald could only make out parts of what he said, " Whole God damn cockpit blew up in my face. Lightening struck the nose. I tried to save you all. In one last effort Will squeezed his shoulder as if to say I'm sorry. There was a tortured gurgle from his lungs as they tried to keep going. Then there was nothing. Will died. Later after being checked over by paramedics he was driven to Vegas where he had death to face yet again.

He held his father's hand while he took his last tortured breaths. With the last of his strength his father held tightly to Gerald's hand. He spoke his last words, "Gerald, I'm sorry . . . I wasn't more of a father to you . . . You've been a much better son to me . . . Than I deserved . . . I love you son." Tears welled up in Gerald's eyes. He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat.

"I love you Dad. I love you." He said. He saw a small smile appear on his father's face. The grip on his hand tightened then loosened. The smile remained.

After the funeral Gerald felt confused and angry. He was angry at himself for so many things. For being such a wimp about the airplanes, for letting his father slip away from him so suddenly. He didn't want to feel sorry for himself, but he did.

He rented a car and he drove back to New York. On his way he became angrier and angrier and less afraid. Without realizing it at first he pressed harder and harder on the accelerator taking turns at almost one hundred miles an hour blowing through stop signs and lights regardless of the color they were. Daring God to try something with him again.

He would not fear.

He was not afraid.

S. La Palme
March 31, 1999