Peretti, Frank - Mayday at Two Thousand Five Hundred by Peretti Frank

Author:Peretti, Frank [Peretti, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson Inc.
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

SIX

Everybody keep your distance!” Ben Parker commanded through his headset. “Back off!”

The news choppers kept their distance but kept their cameras on the action. The Coast Guard chopper kept climbing to try and stabilize above the struggling Skylane.

“Give it time,” said Brock, trying to reassure Dr. Cooper. “If that autopilot is still working and the control surfaces aren’t bent, it might recover.”

Even as they watched, Eight Yankee Tango dove downward until it gained enough speed to develop the lift necessary to pull it out of the dive, then nosed up into a climb. Then it climbed until it ran out of speed to maintain lift, nosed over into a dive again, then gained speed and lift and pulled up into a climb again, then slowed down and nosed down again, and so it went, like a roller coaster. Brock and Dr. Cooper got queasy just watching it.

Each successive dive was shallower and each climb less steep. Eventually, it seemed the airplane might stabilize.

“About fifty minutes of fuel left,” Dr. Cooper figured.

Brock called the tower, “Boeing Tower, this is Niner Zulu Mike. What’s the word on that Coast Guard chopper? Are they going to try again?”

Ben Parker and Bob Konishi had just had a conference with Coast Guard Two Zero Bravo. Parker spoke into his headset. “Uh, negative, Niner Zulu Mike. The man who went out on the cable says it’s just too risky. We would have lost the aircraft if he hadn’t aborted.”

Dr. Cooper could see The Yank still making shallow climbs and descents. He realized what the tower chief was saying was true. They’d come terribly close to losing both the plane and the Coast Guard’s rescuers.

“So what’s the plan now?” asked Dr. Cooper, fearful of the answer.

“The chopper’s going to double back to pick up their man, and then they’ll follow Yankee Tango until . . . whatever happens, happens,” Parker replied.

Dr. Cooper looked at Brock, who muttered regretfully, “A ditch in the ocean, most likely.”

“Dad . . . ?” came a faint voice over the other radio.

Dr. Cooper’s heart skipped a beat. He was afraid to hope for too much as he switched radios and pressed his talk button. “Jay? Did you call?”

Jay was aware of his surroundings again, aware of the noisy cockpit and the stench of his own vomit and the sickening motions of the airplane. His head still hurt and he still couldn’t see, but strangely enough, he felt stronger and more aware. “Dad? Hello?”

His father’s voice was obviously excited. “Right here, Jay! How are you?”

Jay felt his forehead. The blood was drying. Apparently the bleeding had stopped. “Oh, not bad, considering.”

“You’ve been out for a while.”

“I feel like it. But I feel better. Maybe the nap did me some good.”

Dr. Cooper felt Brock’s joyous slap on his back as he replied, “That’s great. Jay, you’re out over the Olympic Peninsula heading for the ocean. How about a left turn on that autopilot to get you headed back toward Seattle?”

“I think I can handle that.

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