Majestic 43

by Brad Keena

Copyright 2011 Brad Keena

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

James & Heather Keena on Smashwords

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Preface

“Majestic 43” is the centerpiece of a larger project I began in 2009 that, in time, became an important chapter in the eventual work. By 2010, I provided the yet-incomplete book with a working title—The Majestic Life—named after this chapter.

Completed in May, 2011, the finished book debuted with its new name, The Volcano Dancer, whose lead male character is Rick Morrow. “Majestic 43,” a flashback in Rick’s journal to an evening 14 months earlier, is the book’s Chapter Nine. In it, Rick is haunted by the death of his wife and daughter from a tragedy the government has kept Top Secret for nearly 14 months. He has yet to come to terms with his own sorrow, choosing, instead, to keep his emotions locked deep inside.

The book begins two-and-a-half years after the tragic evening he lost his family. In Chapter 1, we join Rick, unemployed and penniless, as he takes to the road to persuade reclusive, former Justice Department insider Liam Channing to help him uncover the truth about that night. On the way, Rick meets the lead female character, Nikolette Allen. Nikki, as he later calls her, is a young woman uncertain about a career in Washington serving a government she no longer trusts. Together, they find Liam, who agrees to help them by sending them on a quest across the country for clues to the mystery. Rick and Nikki develop an immediate chemistry as they travel by day, and she reads his journal by night. From his past, she learns how the ashes of sorrow and regret pushed Rick to the brink of self destruction, and how his nightmare ended, freeing him to live again.

A story of hope and persistence, The Volcano Dancer is the journey of two unlikely companions, each reluctant to admit romantic attraction, as they make an arduous climb from tragedy to ultimate justice.

Easily the book’s largest chapter, “Majestic 43” seemed ideally suited as both a stand-alone short story and a sampling of the larger work from which it was derived, The Volcano Dancer.

Sunday, April 15, 2018

ON AN AISLE SEAT IN THE BACK of a large jetliner cruising over the Pacific, Rick was asleep. The flight was dark, save for the glow of screens in front of passengers enjoying the brand new jetliner’s entertainment system.

In a few hours, he would be checking into the Hilton Hawaiian Village on Waikiki. His plan was to change, head down to the main pool, and dive in. He might even forget – if only for a moment – the searing memory of his last conversation with his wife and daughter.

“Passenger Morrow, please press your call button,” said a voice over the loudspeaker system. “Passenger Rick Morrow.”

Waking up, he tried to focus, fumbling with light switches before locating the call button at his seat.

“Do I really want to press this?” he wondered. He wanted to hide instead of drawing attention to himself, but he pressed the button anyway.

“Guess I better find out what they want.”

“Passenger Morrow?” said a voice from behind. It was a woman. She was one of the flight attendants.

“Yes. I’m Rick Morrow,” he said.

“Ah, I’ve … we’ve, ah,” said the flight attendant, hesitating as though she was trying to remember lines in a play. “We’ve located your paperwork, and it turns out we have the upgrade you requested. Go ahead and collect your carry-on items and I’ll escort you to your new seat assignment in first.”

“I don’t remember reques …”

“No, they did that,” she interrupted. “If you’ll come with me …”

“Who did that?” he asked as he collected his backpack, got up, and followed the flight attendant. She didn’t answer. Instead, she moved briskly up the right aisle, expecting him to follow.

Walking up the darkened cabin, he wondered who had made the requested upgrade. The flight attendant kept walking until she was at the front of the plane. She turned and waited for him to catch up.

“Why don’t you put your things here,” she said, pointing to a large overhead bin in the spacious first class section. Relieved of his things, he followed the motioning flight attendant back to the forward galley between the first and business class sections.

When they entered she drew the curtain behind them. “Mr. Morrow, I’m Elaine Toffler. I’m lead tonight.”

Elaine was an attractive divorcee in her late-thirties. She was visibly nervous, running her hand through medium-brown hair as she spoke.

Suddenly, the curtain opened, and a large African-American man stepped into the galley. Dressed in kakis and a pullover, the man towered over Rick and the flight attendant. Again she drew the curtain behind them. Rick looked puzzled but kept silent.

“Mr. Morrow?” The man said in a deep voice.

“Yes,” answered Rick. “Everything okay?”

“Not exactly,” said the flight attendant.

“Mr. Morrow,” the big man continued, pulling out identification, “My name is Jamaal Conyers. I’m an FBI SSA. I need to ask you some things, and then I need you to listen very carefully. We don’t have much time.”

“Okay,” said Rick, folding his arms, as he looked at the badge Conyers had in his hand.

“First, you are a pilot, is that correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Commercial?”

“Yeah. How do you know all that?”

“Mr. Morrow I, we’re going to need your help tonight,” Conyers continued, ignoring the question. “The second officer of this airplane is unconscious. We think someone deliberately slipped some kind of drug in his coffee back in San Francisco. The Captain, well, let’s just say he’s holding out, but he’s fading fast – probably from the same drug.”

“That’s terrible. You need me to help?” he asked, now incredulous.

“We don’t need you to help,” interrupted the flight attendant, “we need you to fly this plane!”

“You said you fly commercial? Another airline?” asked Conyers.

“Uh, yes. No. I’m certified commercial with a second-in-command rating … I fly … I mean I did fly a 318 for a large corporation … an Airbus. What I mean is I’m an Airbus 318 copilot. But I’m not Airline Transport certified. I’ve never flown a Boeing 787.”

Conyers and the flight attendant continued to stare at Rick, waiting for him to add something positive to his last statement.

“On my computer at home, I flight-simulated this type of aircraft. Just for fun. But you have to understand. I’m not a 787 pilot. It’s a little different. Airbus has fly-by-wire …”

“Never mind that,” Conyers interrupted. “Do you think you can safely land this airplane?”

“Are you talking about flying alone? There’s a reason why the FAA requires two pilots for air transport …”

“Can you land this plane?” Conyers interrupted a second time.

“Well, yes. But it would help if I could talk to the pilot … you know, familiarize myself with the instruments, the flight plan …”

“We need to get him in there,” Conyers asserted, looking at the flight attendant who was now on the phone to the flight deck.

“Bob, I’ve got your pilot,” said the flight attendant looking at Rick. “Okay … They’ll be right in.” She hung up the phone, studying Rick with hopeful eyes. “You and agent Conyers now have captain’s permission to enter the flight deck.”

“Good,” said Conyers. “We’ll go in one at a time. Wait a couple of seconds, and then casually follow me up front.”

Conyers opened the curtain and walked into the first class section. The cabin was still dark. Rick waited until the large man disappeared behind the forward-most bulkhead and then followed. Staying on the left side, he walked around the bulkhead. On the other side, Conyers was standing next to a locked door leading to the fight deck. He knocked four times, and the door opened. Inside, Rick could see the pilot, clearly drowsy, seated up front on the left side. The seat next to him was unoccupied. Behind the pilot knelt a small Asian man in a coat and tie. A physician, the man was attending to the pilot with some difficulty thanks to the cramped flight deck. In a pull down seat next to him, a uniformed man slumped, unconscious. Conyers motioned Rick to sit in the empty copilot’s seat.