The Silken Web

He squeezed them inside it and tried to close the door. “Damn this door,” he muttered as he tried unsuccessfully to unjam it. “What the hell. Let them look.” His arms went around her in a possessive clench. His mouth opened hers, his tongue dipping into that sweet recess between her soft lips and promising greater fulfillment when time and circumstance allowed.

Shakily, he pushed her away from him. “We’d better get out of here before we’re arrested.” He tried to laugh, but the imminent departure was too close, and neither wanted to be separated from the other.

His flight had been announced over the public-address system, but they were granted a few more precious minutes to cling to each other while the aircraft was refueled.

“We’re being silly,” he whispered into h

er hair as he embraced her one last time. “I’ll see you in just a few hours.” He kissed her hard on the mouth. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll be here,” she said, smiling.

He went through the security check, nervously watchful of the attendants who examined his camera. He blew Kathleen a kiss before he ran through the door toward the portable steps that led up to the fuselage of the waiting airplane. Just before he climbed aboard, he took the camera off his shoulder and cradled it in one arm. With the other, he waved to Kathleen, who stood behind the glass where nonpassengers were consigned, and then he disappeared from her sight.

A lump swelled in her throat and she swallowed it impatiently. What was wrong with her? She would see him tonight. Silly! she admonished herself.

The airplane door was closed. The portable steps were wheeled away. Slowly, the airplane taxied to the end of the field and turned to its takeoff position. It waited for a private plane, which had just landed, to cross the runway on its way to the terminal.

Kathleen, from her position behind the glass, heard the roar of the engines as the pilot revved them, preparing for takeoff. The pilot accelerated and the aircraft barreled down the runway. Kathleen was just about to walk away when her eyes were drawn to the single-engine plane that had entered the intersecting lane off the runway. It began to spin crazily on the wet pavement, and with horror she saw it swerve back onto the runway and in the direct path of the oncoming larger airplane.

She didn’t know then that the dampness she felt in her palms was blood from the death grip with which she clenched her fists, driving her nails into the soft flesh. All she was aware of was the inevitable crash of the two airplanes in front of her.

“No!” she screamed at the moment of impact. The smaller plane careened into the nose of the larger one and immediately burst into flames, disintegrating before her eyes.

“No!” she screamed again, held in suspension for an expectant eternity. Then there was a rumble that shook the earth and shattered her world as the full fuel tanks on Erik’s jet exploded in a blinding light.

Chapter Eight

Kathleen hurled herself toward the glass door, and when it wouldn’t open, she frantically pounded the glass with her fists, unconscious of the bruising she was giving them. She screamed without ceasing, frantic, her fingernails torn away in futile efforts to open the mechanized door.

Pandemonium had broken out in the terminal. Sirens sounded, people were rushing toward the doors and windows to witness the carnage spread out before them. Ticket counters were deserted. Kathleen fought her way through the onlookers, unaware of the wild, desperate gleam in her eyes. She raced out the front door and around the west side of the building, sliding on the muddy ground. The periphery of the airfield was surrounded by a high cyclone fence that seemingly offered no gates for entrance.

Without any thought to safety, Kathleen began to climb the fence. Her hands were ripped by jagged metal, and her clothes torn by pricking barbs, but still she continued to climb until she gained the top and was able to drop to the ground on the other side. Her palms and knees were scraped by the rough concrete as she landed.

She ran toward the blazing wreckage and its suffocating black column of smoke. It looked like a funeral pyre.

“No. He must be alive,” she insisted, even as she ran.

By now, emergency vehicles were surrounding the aircrafts. The smaller plane was barely recognizable as such. There was no doubt as to the fate of its pilot and passengers. Only the front section of the larger aircraft was burning, and firefighters were valiantly trying to put out the life-taking flames.

“Hey, lady, are you crazy?” Kathleen was tackled from behind and flung to the ground. “How’d you get out here, anyway? Stay the hell out of our way.”

The fireman’s face was smoke-smudged and haggard. He was wearing the yellow slicker and hat associated with his job. What he said was true. She shouldn’t be hindering them if they were trying to save Erik’s life. She refused to believe that he had no life left to save.

Kathleen pushed herself to her feet and moved away, watching while fireman worked to put out the blaze as other survival teams were unloading passengers from the rear emergency exit of the craft.

She watched with growing panic as passengers were gingerly lifted out. Some were able to crawl out under their own strength, others needed support. Most were bleeding, some were unconscious, some were dead. It was from these that Kathleen averted her eyes. Erik wasn’t dead. She knew he wasn’t dead.

Her attention riveted on a passenger being unloaded now. Apparently, he was heavy, for two brawny men were having a hard time hauling him down out of the jet. Kathleen’s heartbeat escalated, though she hadn’t thought that was possible. Then she saw the shining blond hair, blood-streaked but no less brilliant in the gray light.

“Erik!” The name was pushed out of her lungs and she ran toward the men who had strapped him on a stretcher and were whisking him toward a waiting ambulance.

“Wait!” she shouted as they were collapsing the legs of the stretcher to shove it into the vehicle.

She ran up to them, gasping for breath. “He’s… Is he…? I’m…”

“He’s not dead,” the paramedic said gently. “As a matter of fact, all I could see was a bad bump on the head. Now, please, let us get him to the hospital.”

“But the… the…” She pointed toward the portable oxygen mask covering Erik’s nose.