Page 11 of Airborne
CHAPTER SIX
THE TURBULENCE ENDEDand Heather left her seat to assist with the sick again. What difference did it make if she was tossed ontothe floor or inhaled the virus? At least she’d be tending to someone who needed care. Her head throbbed, but she blamed lack of sleep and stress. No other symptoms, and she’d rarely been plagued by morning sickness.
She hurried to Frankie in the rear. He held his grandmother’s blue-veined hand, small fingers wrapped around life as he’d known it. The poor child didn’t realize his grandmother had passed, and now wasn’t the time to tell him. His grandmother had been the second victim to receive an unresponsive diagnosis. Fever ravaged Frankie’s body, but no vomiting or nosebleed. His breathing appeared regular, and he responded to her tender whispers. She prayed he would celebrate his seventh birthday with his dad.
Heather longed to press Delete on life’s computer and return them all to the boarding gate.
She walked to the galley in business class, where Nathan storedbottles of water. The faces of those she passed told of their intense fear. Some mingled with anger. None resembled the granitelike features of a killer.
Hours had passed since they’d left Houston. Authorities on the ground had made critical decisions, but they were slow in implementing them. She didn’t want to fault the federal agencies involved, but still frustration mounted at the number of ill who suffered without medical attention. The doctor on board had his hands full.
A man who’d boarded the plane in front of her spoke to Nathan. He’d also volunteered with the sick from the beginning and needed supplies. Blood mixed with vomit stained the front of his tan silk sports coat. “Do you have any updates to share? We can’t go on like this to Germany.”
“Sir, the pilot will announce a decision soon,” Nathan said. “Until then, we remain in a holding pattern.”
The man glanced around them. “I understand, and it’s not my desire to be part of the problem. I see the sick throwing up and crying out for help, and I must take action.”
“You’ve helped tremendously by tending to the sick.”
“Has to be more I can do.” He drew in a deep breath and reached for a pair of plastic gloves and a roll of toilet paper. “I’m sure this will end soon.”
“Arrangements are being made. You can best serve everyone by encouraging them to stay strong.”
“It’s difficult to watch an epidemic with no solution.” The man moved to the nearest need.
Heather gathered more cleaning supplies. In her line of work, she longed to right the wrong, fix problems. She believed her emotional and professional skills could outmaneuver any of life’s roadblocks. Violent crimes were met head-on. Storms required an umbrella. Grieving people needed comfort. Stomachaches called for an antacid. Face it. Cuff it. Right it. But the tragedy on boardthis flight threatened her ability to survive emotional and physical paralysis.
“Look around at those on their devices,” Nathan said. “Trust me, the media know the misery here. If the person responsible is on board, he or she deserves to suffer more than the rest.”
She refused to reply, but his version of retribution resonated. Not godly, but honest.
He bent closer to her. “Tell me, will the plane be destroyed?”
“No, sir. There are no plans to eliminate us. The process on the ground takes time.”
Nathan had said nothing she hadn’t already processed. But she didn’t have authority to give him the information learned on the conference call. The woman FBI agent’s persistent demand to shoot down the plane fired across her mind. The federal agencies running with this ball didn’t care about the cost of landing the plane. They were concerned with the best way to treat the number of people who were critically ill.
Before Heather could assist another ill passenger, the pilot requested their attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, thanks so much for your patience. ATC has directed us to prepare for a landing at John F. Kennedy airport in New York. Please return to your seats and remain there with your seat belts fastened for the remainder of the flight. Once we reach the gate, please stay in your seats and keep the aisles clear so health care workers can evacuate the sick. The current situation is frightening for every person on board. Please stay calm. Houston and Chicago airports are closed to outbound flights as a precaution.
“While questions are flooding your mind about what to share with friends, family, and employers, a solution will be provided once the FBI, CDC, and New York health departments examine and question us. Thank you for your cooperation—and especially those who have risked their lives to volunteer with the sick. We’re on our way to medical aid.”
The cabin filled with sounds of those murmuring relief. Hope. Treatment. No matter what they faced on the ground, it held more promise than what they’d experienced.
“Listen up!” The sandy-haired man who’d shouted obscenities earlier stood sideways in the opposite aisle separating business class from economy. He held the throat of a dark-haired young woman in a viselike grip. No weapon, but he could snap her neck. The terrified look on her face reminded Heather of other critical incidents where she’d intervened. “This plane will not land in New York.”
“Sir, what’s the problem?” Heather inched toward the attacker.
Bolts of anger shot from his eyes. “Are you a PR rep from the airlines? Flight security? The spokeswoman for the doctor who’s insisting we land?”
“Sir, I’m a passenger, too.”
“Are you ignorant of passenger schedules?”
“Of course not. Like you, I have plans that don’t include landing this plane prematurely.” She had to persuade him to release the young woman.
He cursed, his voice resounding in the cabin. “I paid for a trip to Germany, and I intend to get there. If the plane lands at JFK, I’ll kill her. Tell that to the pilot.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
