Chapter 7 - The Unlikely Savior
The deafening, sharp crack of the gunshot made the entire cabin scream simultaneously in pure terror.
The crushing, suffocating pressure around Laura's bruised throat vanished instantly.
General Vance collapsed heavily and limply onto the floor right beside her.
A dark, spreading pool of crimson blood began to flow rapidly across the back of his expensive suit.
Laura gasped violently for necessary air, clutching her bruised throat as she looked slowly upward.
Standing at the very end of the aisle was the elderly, quiet passenger from seat 12C.
He was currently holding the general's discarded pistol with two remarkably, incredibly steady hands.
The old man slowly lowered the weapon, his wrinkled face completely pale but fiercely resolute.
I served two bloody tours in Vietnam, he said quietly, his voice trembling only slightly.
I know a dangerous, treacherous traitor when I see one.
Laura quickly checked her crying son, deeply relieved to find him physically unharmed by the violence.
Stay right here with this incredibly brave gentleman, Leo, she instructed her tearful boy.
She quickly found the general's discarded detonator and safely locked it inside the secure galley safe.
She limped quickly back down the incredibly long aisle toward the front cockpit.
The terrified passengers cheered and clapped loudly as she passed, but Laura knew the nightmare was definitely not over.
She punched the emergency security code into the keypad and shoved the heavy door completely open.
The First Officer was frantically flipping overhead switches, sheer panic highly evident on his heavily sweating face.
We have a massive, catastrophic new problem, Captain, he yelled desperately over the roaring wind.
What is it now? Laura asked, falling exhaustedly back into the captain's leather chair.
That zero-gravity evasive maneuver you ordered saved your life, but it completely starved the main fuel pumps, he explained.
Both of our massive main engines just flamed out due to sudden fuel starvation.
Laura stared blankly at the digital engine gauges, which were rapidly and dangerously spinning down to zero.
The massive commercial airliner was no longer actively flying; it was simply a giant, incredibly heavy glider.
They were thousands of miles away from any solid land, completely surrounded only by the freezing ocean.
We absolutely need to perform an emergency mid-air engine restart, Laura commanded with authority.
The First Officer shook his head in absolute, crushing despair.
We simply do not have enough airspeed or altitude to force enough air through the turbines, he argued.
We are dropping far too fast, and the auxiliary power unit is completely failing to engage.
Laura aggressively grabbed the yoke, her eyes scanning the dark horizon for any possible miraculous solution.
If we do not get the engines running in exactly three minutes, we will violently hit the water, she stated calmly.
The First Officer buried his face in his hands, completely and utterly giving up all hope.
Then, the backup analog radio crackled loudly with a highly aggressive, authoritative voice.
Unidentified civilian aircraft, this is a United States Air Force Interceptor visually confirming your exact position.
You are ordered to alter your current course immediately, or you will be shot down without further warning.
May you like
Laura looked out the side window and saw the sleek gray fighter jet flying dangerously close just a few yards off their wing.
And the interceptor's lethal missile bays were completely and totally wide open.
