Page 14 of Final Approach

Finally, I nodded and moved to the open cockpit door to pull myself up and put my small bag under my seat. Settling into the newly cleaned leather, I scrutinized the familiar mechanical setup of buttons, switches, and pulleys.

When we returned, I would reassess my place in this company. But today, we had to get to Mexico City. My fingers gripped the rose gold necklace nestled between my collar bones – the pendant of a compass warm from the heat of my skin. My north star, my good luck charm.

“It’s going to be a great day, Marley.” I repeated under my breath. I released the charm and flicked the switch to turn on the in-cabin air-conditioning. “It’s going to be a great day.”

Why didn’t I believe it?

Present day …

“Wake up, Marley.”

The soothing whispers of my sister’s voice tickled my earlobe, rousing me from the dark void.

The first thing I smelled was death.

Death smelled like burning plastic, electrified rubber, and copper dipped in gasoline, pungent and metallic. I tasted its bitterness on my tongue, and my stomach revolted before I could even attempt to stop it.

Hot bile ejected beneath my feet in heavy retches, and its stench faded into the toxic backdrop of acrid smoke.

My head pounded with the force of my belly’s exorcism and the pressure behind my eyes.

My eyes. I needed to open my eyes.

Fluttering my eyelids slowly, I gradually pushed against the grit coating my eyeballs and stared at the small patch of space in front of me: a gray wall scorched with marbled black veins, next to a gaping hole where a window should be, and a rocky riverbed encased in a thick tree line to my right. The imagery felt like a mirage — a hazy vision of fresh water in a desert that couldn’t possibly be real.

“It’s real, Marl.” Charlie’s tone was mournful, hovering just above my head, but I still couldn’t see her. Her apparition only came to me in my greatest need — my sole companion when the darkness threatened to bury me alive.

I ignored her presence as I grappled with this version of reality.

Drawing a shallow breath, the poisonous flavor still heavy on my tongue, I shifted in my seat, every muscle protesting with a dull ache.

Startled, I looked down to see my torso strapped into seat 1A, the inscription engraved in calligraphy letters on the metal crest on the armrest.

Why the fuck was I in a passenger seat?

The drumbeats in my head wouldn’t subside, but I sifted through their revelry in a vain attempt to make sense of my situation. Jamie and I had been preparing for our flight, and then …

And then nothing. Nothing but the moment the scent of death drew me to life like bad-smelling salts.

Jamie. Panic swept through my tender spine in hot waves. Where was Jamie?

“You’ve got to get up, Marl.” Charlie floated in front of me now, a half-body vision made of smoke and synapses misfiring. “People are counting on you.”

A piercing wail broke through my disjointed thoughts, reminding me I wasn’t alone. Adrenaline, icy and invigorating, flooded through my veins, kicking my training into gear.

My memories didn’t matter. At the moment, I needed to help others. We were on a plane, a plane that had crashed. It was enough to know for now.

Wriggling my limbs, I was relieved to find all of them intact — no broken bones I could immediately feel, even though the surface of my skin felt like a meat mallet had pulverized it. I quickly unfastened my seat belt and stood, only to sway sideways into the back of the seat with an abrupt wave of dizziness.

Okay, not infallible then. Nothing like a humbling reminder.

I forced myself upright, this time with caution, and scanned the sea of heads behind me. I was seated at the front, with only five rows of passengers behind me. Why was I flying the Cessna instead of the Dornier?

If it wasn’t for my uniform, I wouldn’t have known I’d been the one flying at all.

Sparks, erratic and infrequent, flew from compartments in the ceiling that had cracked open on impact, exposing several raw wires and pipes. Gray smoke lingered through the cabin in a light blanket, but I was relieved to see much of it escaping into the open air from the gaping hole. We weren’t on fire—yet. I wasn’t willing to stick around to see how long it would take.

The wailing woman was three rows back on the opposite end of the aisle, cradling the elderly woman beside her in her arms, rocking back and forth with wracking sobs. The slack jaw and ashen face of the older woman told me she was dead. Hopefully, on impact.