"There are two escape doors on either side of the plane.
That's where we'll exit. Life rafts are in slots up there." He pointed to an area above the wings.
CC hoped that he wasn't explaining those things to her because he planned on being dead. Just then the master sergeant burst from the crew door at the front of the plane.
"We're goin' down!" he yelled as he strapped himself into a seat to the right of CC and the colonel. "Be ready to get your feet wet!"
CC couldn't believe it, but he almost sounded gleeful.
The nose of the plane sank again, and the colonel squeezed her shoulder.
"Ready?" he yelled.
Over the past seven years CC had researched and prepared herself for an airplane emergency. She had watched PBS specials on airline safety. She always dressed sensibly when she flew—jeans and sneakers, never heels and bare legs. She counted the seatbacks to her nearest exit, and she paid attention to the flight attendants when they gave their safety spiels.
But she knew she wasn't ready. She was numb with terror. CC nodded at the colonel and tried to give him a brave smile. Through the ragged tears in the C-130's skin CC could see the bright blue of a clear morning. She closed her eyes and tried to pray, but her mind was a whirlwind of fear. All she could think of was how much she didn't want to die.
Then from between her breasts she felt a sudden warmth. Her first thought was that something must have struck her, and she was bleeding. She opened her eyes and frantically felt down the front of her uniform top. No, no rips and definitely no blood. Just a hard lump.
Oh! She realized the lump she was feeling was made by the amber teardrop that dangled from around her neck, just below her dog tags. On an impulse she had decided to keep wearing it, even after she had changed into her uniform, but of course wearing dangly jewelry wasn't within military regulations, and she had had to keep it hidden under her top. Now it felt warm, and that warmth was spreading throughout her chest.
If ever there was a perfect time for magic, she thought, it was now.
"Brace yourself!" the colonel yelled.
CC just had time to wrap her hands into the netting and brace her feet firmly against the floor when the world exploded. The plane slammed into the ocean with an obscene metallic scream, as if it knew its life were coming to an end. The white froth of ocean spray could be seen through the holes in the sides of the plane. But the C-130 didn't stay down. CC could feel it lift, a temporary respite, before they met the ocean again with an even worse grating jar. They skipped several times over the surface of the water, like a broken, bloated stone. Each time the plane met the ocean, passengers and cargo were flung forward. CC saw a major get hurled against the front bulkhead when his seat belt snapped loose. She watched as one of the huge cargo pallets pulled free at the same time and came crashing against him, pinning him to the metal wall.
CC glanced over at Sean and then looked quickly away. Rag doll-like, his body was still strapped against the seats. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his limbs flailed in limp response to the jarring of the plane.
Something sharp hit her left shoulder. She didn't feel any pain, but when she looked down she saw that her flesh gapped open and a line of blood had started to spill down her arm. Then there was a final wrenching, and the plane settled and did not rise again. CC could see the bright blue of ocean water through the holes in the plane.
The colonel was the first to react, but CC could see that all of the pilots except Sean and the major were struggling to their feet.
"Out! Out! Let's go!" he barked, making his way quickly to the area over the wings. Then he started shouting orders.
"Ace, T-Man, Kaz, get those rear doors open!" The two captains and one lieutenant scrambled around the loose cargo, hurrying to the rear of the plane.
"Sarg!" the colonel yelled at her. "Out—now!"
With shaking hands, CC unbuckled her own seat belt, amazed that she was able to stand. She noticed that already the plane was tilting down at the head.
'The major is dead!" the master sergeant yelled from the front of the bay. He was kneeling by the bloody body of the major, still trapped against the bulkhead.
"Leave him," the colonel said as he lifted a slot and pulled out a neatly folded bright orange thing that CC guessed must be a life raft.
"The door to the cockpit is blocked!" The master sergeant had moved from the major's body to the area that should open to the front-most area of the plane. But another cargo pallet was wedged within the opening, effectively blocking the door.
"There's an exit they can use in the cockpit," said the colonel. He motioned for the master sergeant to get to the back of the plane, then he caught sight of CC still standing there. "Move, Sergeant!" He turned and headed to the rear of the plane, expecting CC to follow him.
CC meant to go to the rear of the plane and toward safety, but instead she found herself climbing over equipment and cargo until she was standing next to Sean's body. CC swallowed, trying hard not to be sick. There was blood everywhere. The two seat belts had kept his body from being hurled forward by the impact, and the pillowcase, now totally soaked with blood, was still wrapped securely around his head. His face was turned away from her, and all she could see was the strong line of his chin and neck. His skin was no longer golden brown. It had turned the chalky color of ash. CC forced herself to place two fingers against the spot where his jugular vein was. No pulse. His skin was already cool beneath her fingertips.
The plane heaved even farther down at the head. Now CC could see that the ocean was lapping around the gaps in the side of the plane.
"Sergeant!" the colonel's voice bellowed from the rear of the plane. "Where the hell are you?"
"Here, colonel!" she answered, crawling on top of a mound of cargo so she could be seen. The rear of the plane appeared to be raised up, and CC could see that the officers had one of the doors open. While she watched, one of the captains attached a tether to the deflated life raft, pulled a cord on it and threw it out of the door. With a whooshing noise the raft inflated.
"Get over here, now! This thing is sinking fast."
She looked back at Sean's body. It should have been her. Because of his kindness, he had taken her place and now he was going to be entombed in a lonely, watery grave. The thought was unbearable.
"We have to take Sean with us," she called back to the men.
"No time. The boy's dead. There's nothing to be done for him," said the colonel. At a signal from him, the master sergeant jumped out of the plane.
"I'm not going without him," CC said, surprised at the calm sound of her voice. Her heart was pounding, and she felt her hands trembling, but knew with a certainty that defied logic that she had made the right decision.
"Get up here, Sergeant. That's an order."
"No, sir. I'm not leaving him here."
Suddenly there was the sound of metal ripping, and CC felt sun on her face. She looked up to see a clean tear slicing a gap in the ceiling almost directly above her. The nose dipped farther forward, and CC had to struggle to stay on her feet.
"Goddamnit! Damnit all to hell!" CC could hear the colonel approaching before she saw him. He was cussing like crazy and yelling orders. "Unbelt the boy and get ready to get the fuck out of here!"
CC rushed to get Sean's seat belts undone and had just finished when the colonel climbed around the last of the debris. Without looking at her, he grabbed Sean's body and hauled it across one shoulder in the traditional fireman's carry.
"Keep up with me!" he yelled at her. CC was only too happy to comply with that particular order.