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A morning meeting began in Paris. A large number of people were already gathered in the hall. Everyone was discussing and arguing loudly. Igor Komarov, the head of Roscosmos, was excitedly discussing news with a Nepalese military general. Jean-Jacques Dordain knocked on the microphone to get the attention of his colleagues, and showed his hand to Igor Komarov that he could start talking.
“Gentlemen,” Igor Komarov began, “this morning we lost contact with the helicopter which was sent to the source of the signal. There were two scientists and three military men in it.”
“Connection with the helicopter was lost at 12:14 local time,” said the representative of Nepal. “The interference in this quadrant is very strong now. We can’t contact the crew. In addition to that, a major cyclone has started to form in the area.”
“Do we have any more information?” the head of NASA asked.
“At 12:04 we had the last radio contact with them,” continued the Nepalese general. “They reported that some of the electronics on board are out of order, but the machine is under control. We gave permission for the operation to continue if there was no threat.”
“That’s it?”
“Communication was cut off, 10 minutes later they disappeared from radar a couple of kilometers from the point of alleged source.”
“What can we do under these circumstances?” the Russian general asked.
“We sent a rescue team on foot to the point,” the Indian general interjected. “There is a risk that the weather conditions will worsen and the detachment will not be able to get close to the point.”
“How much time do you need to get people there?” The Russian clarified.
“About eighteen hours.”
“Eighteen?” the Roscosmos chief became indignant. “Are you joking? It is very long.”
“We can’t send a helicopter there now,” said the Indian, “it’s dangerous.”
“How did we let this happen?” Jean-Jacques Dordain said in a half-whisper without a microphone.
The Russian general approached the Indian and called the Nepali. Together they began to discuss something.
“Well,” said the head of ESA looking at the discussion of the military, “let’s wait for the news from the rescue squad.”
Charles Bolden stood up from his seat and said loudly without a microphone:
“Guys, what’s going on here?”
Everyone in the audience froze and turned to him. He put his hands in the air.
“I’m the only one who doesn’t understand how the ’86 Voyager crash, the signal, and our people going missing today are related?”
“What do you suggest, Charley?” Jean-Jacques Dordain asked.
“I’m suggesting we think a minute about it. We have a situation and all we do is react, offer nothing.”
“Charles, we are waiting for offers from you too,” said Monsieur Dordain.
At that moment, everyone in the room had their phones buzzing at the same time. People began to turn around and look at each other.
Part 2 – Chapter 19
Jean-Pierre opened his eyes. His sleepy state was not completely gone, and he looked half-asleep at the rows of seats in front of him. He saw the "fasten your seat belts" signal blink. The thought blinked, “landing?”
The plane bounced. Jean-Pierre sat quietly in his seat, assuming it was a hard landing. But the people in the cabin shrieked. The Japanese man next to him perked up. Jean-Pierre looked out the window and realized the plane was in the air. “An air hole?”
“Dear ladies and gentlemen, we have hit turbulence. Please fasten your seat belts,” the pilot said quickly and coldly.
The plane jumped once more heavily, as if the clouds outside had hardened and hit the hull of the plane. The lights in the cabin flickered. A scream was heard from the tail section.
Jean-Pierre tried to look down the aisle, but immediately realized what had happened. There was no Debby in place. Jean-Pierre unbuckled his seatbelt and, holding tightly to the back of the seat, moved toward the tailgate. There was a steward standing by the lavatory, knocking on the door.
“Please open the door,” the steward said again.
“Just open that door,” Jean-Pierre said sharply in French. “I heard a scream, there’s an American girl, she’s obviously been hit.”
“Monsieur,” the steward replied nonchalantly, “take your seat.”
He looked reproachfully at Jean-Pierre and pointed to his seat. A girl appeared behind the steward.
“Etienne,” she tugged at the steward’s arm, “please open the door, in case it’s something serious.”
The steward reluctantly lifted the toilet sign and pulled the handle that was hidden underneath it. The lock on the door moved from ‘occupied’ to ‘vacant’. Jean-Pierre was the first who saw Debby lying in an unnatural position. She had clearly hit her head on something hard. The steward rushed to her, but Jean-Pierre pushed him away:
“Get the first aid kit, she has a head wound.”
The plane began to shake again: it jerked sharply and began to turn over. Jean-Pierre wanted to hold Debby in place, but he felt his body become noticeably lighter and rest against the wall of the lavatory. Jean-Pierre grabbed Debby in an armful with his right hand and rested his legs and left arm on the wall. The door slammed shut again. Jean-Pierre tensed with his whole body, but through the chattering he heard Debby come to her senses and moan something like, “Where am I? Help!”
“Hold on,” Jean-Pierre shouted in English, “as hard as you can.”
Debby obeyed the request and clung to him as tightly as she could. Jean-Pierre knew by the sound that it was total chaos outside the lavatory. The sound of alarms and the noise of objects flying around the cabin filled the plane with a terrifying cacophony. The screams of women and men mingled with the roar of the engines.
“What is it? What is it?” Debby repeated.
Jean-Pierre tried to figure out what was going on. It seemed as if the plane was spinning around its axis and coming down sharply. Suddenly the plane stopped falling and Jean-Pierre and Debby were hit by inertia on the floor.
Jean-Pierre banged his hip and ribs hard, but held on with tenacity. He stood up again and took up a position with his legs and arms.
“Hold on,” Jean-Pierre commanded again.
Debby’s body went soft and her arms dangled.
The impact of incredible force threw them up to the ceiling and then threw them to the floor. Jean-Pierre hit his head and lost consciousness. He did not hear the iron screeching of the plane’s hull being torn apart. Everything around them went into total darkness and silence. Their bodies were tossed from side to side, and the door slammed shut and something propped it up on the other side. Debby and Jean-Pierre flew like wet clothes in a washing machine in the small space of a toilet cubicle at several thousand feet.
The plane stopped responding to the pilots as soon as Jean-Pierre felt the first air holes. The airliner was being pulled into the storm zone. All electronics abruptly shut down, and the plane went into a spin. The pilots tried to do something, but it was impossible to control the falling airplane. The first pilot commanded to restart the system, but when he saw the huge mountains in front of him, he realized that the plane was far away from its intended course, and the devices had been fooling them for a long time. In a final attempt to stop the plane from falling, he lifted the nose of the craft up, but caught the rock with his wing. The plane jumped up like a little boy on a sled. The impact was so powerful that the fuselage began to crack, and the wing fragments hit the tail section and cut through it like a sharp knife through paper. The tail, together with Jean-Pierre and Debby, fell off the plane and began to fall straight into the mountain range. The plane itself was without one wing and with a gaping hole behind it, descending between the peaks of the mountains.
The smoke left a dark, long cloud in the sky. Looking up from the ground, it felt like a huge meteorite falling to pieces. After a few seconds, the howl of the falling plane stopped abruptly, and it disappeared right in the middle of the sky. Only the tail section was slowly falling down, as if it weighed nothing. It whirled around like a light feather.
Part 2 – Chapter 20
“Debby,” Sango said. “Debby!”
Debby sat up out of bed and looked around. She recognized Sango’s apartment in Tokyo. Everything was exactly as it had been on her last visit. A bright room with a large window and a bed that transformed into a dresser. A beautiful tree in the corner. Sango sat on the edge of the bed, looking frightened, as if she hadn’t been able to wake Debby up for a long time.
“God, Carol!” Debby threw herself into Sango’s arms. “I had a terrible dream. I was on an airplane and it started falling. Then a young man tried to save me, but…” she recoiled from Sango, “how can you possibly save somebody in a plane crash? And then we were falling. I felt weightless. And then the terrible impact and everything was spinning around. I felt like it was better to just die.”
“Debby,” Sango looked at her with compassion.
“М?” Debby mumbled through her tears. “God, I was so scared.”
“Debby,” Sango repeated, “open your eyes.”
The room began to darken and fill with cold. Debby felt her body grow heavy and aching with terrible pain. Sango was moving away from her. She pulled her arms toward her friend to hold her again, but her hands didn’t obey. Everything in front of her eyes blurred. Debby opened her eyes.
Jean-Pierre was in front of her. His face and hands were bruised, but he was looking at Debby frightened. He exhaled with relief when he found Debby awake.
“Debby,” Jean-Pierre said with relief, “how do you feel? Can you move your arms and legs? You didn’t breathe for a couple of minutes.”
Debby tried to say that she felt fine, but realized that it wouldn’t be true. She couldn’t utter a word.
“Aaah!” she let out a semblance of a scream instead of words.
“Debby, you have a broken hip and a lot of bruises. Don’t be afraid. We need to see if I can move you. Try to lift your head.”
Debby lifted her head and felt a wild pain. She moaned again.
“I know it hurts, but we need to check the whole body. The neck is fine. Move your arms,” Jean-Pierre commanded as if he were a doctor.
A few more orders from Jean-Pierre brought a huge dose of pain to Debby, and she couldn’t move with exhaustion. The fingers on her hands were moving, though her hands themselves were bruised and bruised. Her right leg did not move; Jean-Pierre asked Debby not to look down for the moment. This startled her, but he immediately turned her attention to the pain in her left leg. It was normal, though it hurt as much as anything else. Debby’s consciousness wandered around the small room, and she had no clue how she fit, lying on the floor, in an airplane lavatory.
“Okay,” Jean-Pierre concluded, “I’m going out to get someone to help us.”
Jean-Pierre disappeared from sight. A coldness entered the room. A second later, Jean-Pierre returned with a strange – either surprised or frightened – expression on his face.
“Debby,” he paused for a long moment before he continued speaking. “Debby, we survived the plane crash. We’re in the mountains,” Jean-Pierre swallowed his saliva to continue. “You need help. I’ll have to go away for a while, look for people. A village or perhaps climbers. I know…”
Jean-Pierre couldn’t finish his difficult reasoning. Debby took his hand and cried. Jean-Pierre lowered his head and imagined for a moment what his wounded companion was feeling right now. What pain she was feeling, knowing that they might not be able to survive. Jean-Pierre made a mental effort and decided inside, “I’ll do everything I can to save this American woman. Even if it means sacrificing my life.”
“I’m sorry,” Debby said through her tears.
Jean-Pierre looked up at her and asked stunned:
“What? What are you talking about?”
“You’re here because of me, God, it’s all my fault,” she began to squeeze his hand in despair. “Where are we? I don’t understand why I’m always hurting everyone.”
“Look at me,” Jean-Pierre said, trying to get in Debby’s field of vision. “It’s going to be okay. Do you know why?”
Debby looked at him with surprise, the tears stopped.
“We’re still alive, so we can do something.”
Jean-Pierre pulled out all the paper towels from the box above the sink and put them under Debby’s head. He ran his fingernail across the bottom of her right leg, but Debby felt nothing.
“We must hurry,” Jean-Pierre said to himself as he walked out of the small room.
Only a few pieces remained of the plane’s tail. The door of the toilet dangled. The second toilet in front had been swept away completely. From the outside, the keel and lateral stabilizers could be seen to have been pinched off the rocks, leaving holes. By some miracle, the small piece of iron around the toilet room was still intact and frozen between two low rocks.
Jean-Pierre stepped away from the tail of the plane and looked around. Pieces of hull plaster were hanging from the scratched body in bits. Wires, insulation, iron, and plastic had all turned to junk. Jean-Pierre looked around. To his right was a small hill that obscured the horizon. To his left, mountains covered the entire surface of the earth up to the sky with a crumpled cloth. He gazed into the distance and decided to go uphill. “Maybe behind this ridge I can see something.” He began to climb up, looking back.
Debby’s breathing short, she looked around, trying to figure out how to get up. She lifted her torso slightly and leaned against the wall. Seeing her feet, she felt dizzy with fear. Nausea rose to her throat.
Her hip bone was clearly broken. Even through the jeans, you could see it sticking unnaturally out of her hip. There was no blood; it was a closed fracture. Debby tried to move her leg again, but nothing worked. She grabbed her jeans and moved the right leg slightly. A sharp stabbing pain stopped her. Debby closed her eyes and her lips quivered. She wanted to burst into tears, but she didn’t even have the strength to do that. The plane crash, Carol, the leg, the cold – it was all mixed up in her head, and Debby covered her face with hands.
Suddenly she heard Jean-Pierre screaming somewhere in the distance. It was a scream, and there was joy in the sound of it.
“He’s found people!” Debby exhaled and fell to the floor.
Part 2 – Chapter 21
Bernard Bajolet was frantically scrolling letters on his phone, and his mind was jumping from the titles of those letters to the words in the hall. “Maybe write ‘flight’” thought Monsieur Bajolet. “No, it doesn’t come out. When was it? In the basket, perhaps?” Bernard made a few more attempts and found one. He saw a letter from the HR department about Jean-Pierre Biro’s business trip. He opened the letter and jumped at the flight number with his eyes. “Oh my God, it’s his flight,” Monsieur Bajolet put the phone aside.
He put his left hand to his lips and looked around the hall. He glanced once more at the young specialist from Charles de Gaulle airport. The man continued to speak. Bernard Bajolet switched on his microphone.
“Excuse me,” he interrupted the young man’s five-minute report.
The tense gazes of the seated generals and officials began to search the hall for the one who was asking the question.
“I understand correctly that we have no specifics. We understand that the plane disappeared from radar in the same place where we lost the Nepalese helicopter a few hours ago. Anything else?”
The Indian general turned on the microphone:
“Absolutely correct. No information on the helicopter or the plane. The weather’s getting worse.”
“We have no communication with the crew. We tried to contact the airliner for almost an hour, and then it went off the radar. It started veering off course, and my colleagues tried to relay a message.”
“Is it a fact or an assumption that it crashed?” Bernard Bajolet couldn’t stand it.
“Almost a fact,” the young man reported.
The screen showed a map of Asia and two routes, one marked in gray for the planned course, the other in red for the actual course. A cross marked the point of the proposed crash.
Suggestions came from the audience:
“Drones?”
“Strong electromagnetic radiation. We already lost two,” the Chinese general said.
“Satellites?”
“Working on it!”
