Chapter 13
Arctic
Crash Site
Moving through the wreckage, Kasey quickly found two people alive.
The first was the seventy-something woman she had persuaded to buckle her lap belt.
She also turned out to be the source of the moaning.
Still belted in and clearly in shock, the woman didn’t have any obvious injuries that Kasey could see.
She was helping to make her comfortable when she caught a glimpse of a man outside wandering aimlessly.
He looked disoriented and was wearing the remains of a short-sleeve shirt in subzero temperatures.
A vicious wind whipped through the open fuselage, and in her first application of survival skills, Kasey looked around for protection from the elements.
She saw multiple blankets strewn about on the floor.
She looked up at the ruptured overhead bins and saw what looked like a brightly colored pashmina and the sleeve of a leather jacket.
She pulled out the jacket, which turned out to be a men’s medium, and gratefully shrugged it on.
It was a terrible fit but it cut the cold so she could function. And that was all that mattered.
Having unbelted the elderly woman, Kasey drew a blanket around her shoulders and told her to sit tight. She next hurried to the forward galley and knelt by the flight attendant who was buried beneath the service carts. One of her arms was visible, and a check for her pulse confirmed she was dead.
The floor was a shipwreck of broken wineglasses and shattered china.
Kasey spotted two more bodies on the far side of the galley, both flight attendants, a male and a female.
The young man was the one who had offered her more champagne hours earlier.
Both had been crushed in their jump seats when the bulkhead behind them collapsed.
Kasey had seen her share of trauma in war zones, but never anything on this scale.
A thudding noise drew her attention. She looked up and saw the heavy cockpit door rattling as if it was being kicked from the inside. The door was already damaged, two of its hinges broken.
“What can I do to help?” she shouted.
“Stand back,” a muted male voice replied.
She complied, and two more kicks did the job.
The door fell away, crashing to the floor.
An out-of-breath pilot stood in its frame.
His white uniform shirt was shot with blood and grime.
Judging by his relative youth, Kasey guessed he was the copilot.
He took one step into the galley but was then stilled by the scene before him.
The bodies of the flight attendants, the gallery of devastation beyond.
He absorbed it all silently, a look of agony spreading across his face like shattering glass.
These were people he had known and worked with. People he’d likely called friends.
Kasey peered into the flight deck. The left side was crushed, and she discerned at least one body.
He noticed her looking, and said, “The captain and relief pilot are dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Have you seen any other flight attendants?”
She gestured down. “Only the ones here. But I just started looking. There has to be another section of wreckage somewhere.”
He looked back at the divide where the fuselage had fractured, and something in his expression faltered.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I’m fine.” He looked her up and down. “How about you?”
“A little banged up, but good to go.”
“How many…?” He struggled to finish the words.
“There are others who made it. Some of them are injured.”
She could almost see his brain switch back on.
“Okay, I need a count of how many survivors we’ve got.
You take the main cabin. We’d normally evacuate, but since there’s no fire, and given the conditions outside, let’s shelter in place for now.
Tell anyone who can move to gather at the front of the cabin.
I also need to know what kind of injuries we’re dealing with. I’m going to go search outside.”
“Not like that you won’t.” She pointed to his short-sleeve uniform shirt.
Kasey scoured the overhead bins again. It was early spring, so most of the passengers had come aboard wearing simple outerwear.
The only thing she saw within reach was the jacket of a business suit.
She retrieved it, noted an Armani label, and handed it over.
“I’m sure we can find something better, but this should help for the time being. ”
“Thanks.” He shrugged the jacket over his wide shoulders. It was a tight fit, but close enough. He spotted a knit watch cap on the floor and added that to his ensemble. He set off down the main aisle.
Kasey followed more slowly. She carefully searched each row of seats, clearing away dislodged fixtures and debris.
She found three more survivors. Two of them, an Asian man and woman who didn’t speak English but appeared to be a couple, had ended up on the floor on the far side of the cabin.
They were dazed and bewildered, but seemed to have minimal injuries.
Using hand gestures, and the few Mandarin words she knew, Kasey ushered them to the front.
The third person was in far worse shape.
A sixty-something Caucasian man in business attire and with a gray crew cut was pinned beneath wreckage.
His legs had been crushed. He was barely conscious and obviously in great pain.
Not wanting to move him without help, Kasey pulled away some debris and covered him with a blanket.
She reassured him she would return soon.
Many of the overhead bins were open, their lids flapping like the wings of big plastic birds.
This was the source of the creaking sound she’d heard.
What had been inside them—expensive carry-on luggage, laptops, purses—lay flung in every direction.
A broken bottle of perfume drenched the air in Chanel Number 5.
Two rows farther on, as she neared the final row before the breach, Kasey saw a sight that sent her spirits soaring—the dark blue shirt Chen had been wearing.
She scrambled across a twisted seat, pulled away a large wall panel, and found him wedged face-down against the sidewall. Her elation ebbed when she realized he wasn’t moving.
“Dr. Chen! Are you all right?”
There was no response.