Wenatchee Mountains with a band of rapidly moving showers or thunderstorms. Severe wind gusts and possible lightning were predicted.
“What do you think?” Leclair asked Banner.
“Let’s take things a bit north over Lake Chelan. We can climb over it. Advise the centers that we’re adjusting to steer clear of the mess.”
Leclair made the call, the rain came down harder. As the plane banked, the pilots looked through the cloud breaks over the North Cascades, reaching up majestically nearly ten thousand feet.
They saw a colossal range of broiling storm clouds pierced by lightning over Sawtooth Ridge. Leclair looked back starboard, not believing what he was seeing.
It was the same thing.
“What the hell’s happening? I’ve never seen anything move so fast.”
Leclair cursed under his breath as the plane began to bounce along pockets of rough air.
Banner scanned the port side realizing that massive walls of churning black clouds were closing in on them from all points.
They were being swallowed.
The rain intensified as if a wave had been unleashed.
The plane yawed.
“Let’s put her down,” Leclair said.
Banner agreed and switched on the cabin intercom to advise his passengers.
“We've got weather with an attitude so we’re going to land and sit things out. Be sure you’re buckled up back there. It could get bumpy.”
Banner switched off the intercom.
“Ken, check Lake Chelan for an unscheduled land --”
The plane heaved as if a gigantic fist gave it an uppercut throwing Leclair’s head against the console. Blood webbed down his temple.
“You okay, Ken?”
“I’m okay but I can’t believe this.”
Banner commenced requesting Seattle Air Center get them to the nearest strip as the plane swayed, bucked then jolted with a deafening bang.
The plane dropped.
“Fire in the starboard engine!” Leclair said.
The plane began yawing. The stricken engine flamed out. Cockpit alarms sounded. Instrument needles freewheeled as Banner fought to steady the aircraft.
“Something’s wrong with the ailerons,” Banner said. “Call in a mayday! We’ve got to put down now!”
The pilots struggled with the controls taking the plane into a rapid descent as the starboard wing ignited.
“We’re losing it!”
The plane was vibrating and increasing speed as it plummeted. The men in the cabin began shouting. One had reached for his cell phone and was attempting to call his family.
The man behind Yacine recited the Lord’s Prayer. The gum-snapper’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrests of his seat and choked back tears. Through the downpour, Yacine glimpsed alpine slopes and forests rushing toward them and embraced death.
Garrett’s heart filled with regret.
Was this the way he was going to die? Falling from the sky without making things right.
Garrett’s stomach lifted and his ears popped. Blinding wind-driven rain pounded the plane. It nosed downward, increasing in speed.
Cockpit alarms bleated.
Banner strained to pull the plane out of its dive as the surviving engine screamed. The nose was lifting, little by little.
Leclair released a cheer.
Relief was emerging on Banner’s face in the instant before they lost control and slammed into a mountainside.
The first 911 call went to the IceCom Dispatch Center in Jade Falls, Washington. It came on a sat phone from a local mountain guide, who was up lake with a group of tourists on horseback.
“It was a small passenger plane, maybe a jet!”
“Can you give me an approximate location?”
“Across the lake from us, near Ghost Ridge, but we can’t get to it!”
The dispatcher’s keyboard clicked as she burned through her agency alert list to activate the region’s search and rescue operation.
It was going to take some time to get everybody rolling.
Miles away, at
“What do you think?” Leclair asked Banner.
“Let’s take things a bit north over Lake Chelan. We can climb over it. Advise the centers that we’re adjusting to steer clear of the mess.”
Leclair made the call, the rain came down harder. As the plane banked, the pilots looked through the cloud breaks over the North Cascades, reaching up majestically nearly ten thousand feet.
They saw a colossal range of broiling storm clouds pierced by lightning over Sawtooth Ridge. Leclair looked back starboard, not believing what he was seeing.
It was the same thing.
“What the hell’s happening? I’ve never seen anything move so fast.”
Leclair cursed under his breath as the plane began to bounce along pockets of rough air.
Banner scanned the port side realizing that massive walls of churning black clouds were closing in on them from all points.
They were being swallowed.
The rain intensified as if a wave had been unleashed.
The plane yawed.
“Let’s put her down,” Leclair said.
Banner agreed and switched on the cabin intercom to advise his passengers.
“We've got weather with an attitude so we’re going to land and sit things out. Be sure you’re buckled up back there. It could get bumpy.”
Banner switched off the intercom.
“Ken, check Lake Chelan for an unscheduled land --”
The plane heaved as if a gigantic fist gave it an uppercut throwing Leclair’s head against the console. Blood webbed down his temple.
“You okay, Ken?”
“I’m okay but I can’t believe this.”
Banner commenced requesting Seattle Air Center get them to the nearest strip as the plane swayed, bucked then jolted with a deafening bang.
The plane dropped.
“Fire in the starboard engine!” Leclair said.
The plane began yawing. The stricken engine flamed out. Cockpit alarms sounded. Instrument needles freewheeled as Banner fought to steady the aircraft.
“Something’s wrong with the ailerons,” Banner said. “Call in a mayday! We’ve got to put down now!”
The pilots struggled with the controls taking the plane into a rapid descent as the starboard wing ignited.
“We’re losing it!”
The plane was vibrating and increasing speed as it plummeted. The men in the cabin began shouting. One had reached for his cell phone and was attempting to call his family.
The man behind Yacine recited the Lord’s Prayer. The gum-snapper’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrests of his seat and choked back tears. Through the downpour, Yacine glimpsed alpine slopes and forests rushing toward them and embraced death.
Garrett’s heart filled with regret.
Was this the way he was going to die? Falling from the sky without making things right.
Garrett’s stomach lifted and his ears popped. Blinding wind-driven rain pounded the plane. It nosed downward, increasing in speed.
Cockpit alarms bleated.
Banner strained to pull the plane out of its dive as the surviving engine screamed. The nose was lifting, little by little.
Leclair released a cheer.
Relief was emerging on Banner’s face in the instant before they lost control and slammed into a mountainside.
The first 911 call went to the IceCom Dispatch Center in Jade Falls, Washington. It came on a sat phone from a local mountain guide, who was up lake with a group of tourists on horseback.
“It was a small passenger plane, maybe a jet!”
“Can you give me an approximate location?”
“Across the lake from us, near Ghost Ridge, but we can’t get to it!”
The dispatcher’s keyboard clicked as she burned through her agency alert list to activate the region’s search and rescue operation.
It was going to take some time to get everybody rolling.
Miles away, at
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