Virgin Flyer

“Bird strike?” I asked. “That’s what it felt like, but aren’t we too high?”

We reacted quickly, assessing the situation and going through memory actions to extinguish the fire in the engine. Brenda called up to report a smoke smell in the cabin.

“Hang tight,” I told her. “Fire in port engine, but it’s out now. We’ll divert somewhere to take a look.” There was no way we’d risk crossing the ocean under these conditions.

Another several thumps and we were without our port side engine completely. Alarms for the starboard side engine flared as well, but they were only warnings so far. It all happened so fast. We went from effortlessly cruising north of Quebec City to deciding to divert to Goose Bay to suddenly wondering if we were even going to make it to an actual runway before having to bring the plane down in the middle of nowhere.

“Fuck,” Nate muttered, scrambling over the controls. We were both well trained for this, but a real-life crisis was very different than simulations.

Aviate, Navigate, Communicate. I kept reminding myself to prioritize according to everything I’d been taught.

As the plane tilted and bumped in our efforts to make it to the snowy Goose Bay airport, I couldn’t help but think about the sweet man I knew in the cabin of the jet and how he, Mr. Banks, and our flight attendant were counting on Nate and me to get us on the ground safely.

“Not going to be smooth,” Nate clipped over the headset. “Tell Brenda to prepare.”

I gave her the update, letting her know to prepare the passengers for a very bumpy landing. In addition to the difficulties in landing a plane on the one engine when the other was alarming too, we were also coming in much heavier than normal with so much fuel left in our tanks.

As the air traffic controller guided us in with a steady voice, we dropped through several air pockets which only served to ratchet up the tension and make controlling the plane that much more difficult. By the time we came screaming down the runway, we were both drenched in sweat and relying on everything we knew to keep the plane steady while we came to a stop.

While Nate worked to shut everything down as quickly as possible, I told Brenda to evacuate the passengers, taking care to grab any jackets and blankets on the way out. Then I radioed our request for medical and fire response just in case they were needed. The air traffic controller promised they were already working on it, and within moments, I saw a red pickup truck with a giant tank of what I could only assume was fire foam on the back racing across the tarmac toward us.

Nate and I grabbed the bare essentials and hustled out of the cockpit and into the frigid night air to meet up with the fire response unit. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I noticed Mr. Banks clutching his chest and struggling to breathe. Tee and Brenda were both helping him, but I could tell by the look on Tee’s face it could be more than a panic attack.

I raced over to the fire truck just as the driver was stepping out. “We need an ambulance quickly,” I shouted. “One of our passengers is having trouble breathing.”

He jumped back in the truck and reached for his radio, but I could already see the reflections of red lights blinking around the side of the building. Sure enough, an ambulance pulled directly onto the tarmac and headed toward us. After double-checking there wasn’t a fire danger from the plane, I waved the ambulance close.

The first responders helped assess the situation and quickly loaded Mr. Banks onto their gurney for transportation to the hospital. “It’s only a few minutes away,” one of the EMTs told me. “Simon can give you a ride when you’re ready.”

I didn’t know who Simon was, but it wasn’t important. For now, my job was to stay with the plane and try to protect Mr. Banks’s asset while he was hopefully in good hands at the hospital. I locked eyes with Tee.

“Are you going with him?” I asked hesitantly. It was strange to speak to him after so many hours of being together under a no-speaking rule.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m his nurse.” His eyes were wide and worried, and his face was pale. I strangely wanted to pull him into my arms and tell him everything would be okay.

“I’m so sorry,” I said instead.

“For what?”

I gestured to the plane. “I don’t know what happened, but…”

His hand reached out to gently grip my upper arm. “No, I think his symptoms started earlier, and I didn’t catch them in time. You got us on the ground in one piece. You got an ambulance here before I even realized we’d need one.”