Page 5 of Dark Rover's Luck

Another chime sounded. "Folks, we're working through checklists now. Air Traffic Control is clearing us for an emergency landing at JFK, but the runway might not be ideal if we can't get that nose gear down. We're exploring the possibility of putting her down on the water if needed. Please remain calm and listen to the flight crew's instructions."

The woman next to Din let out a trembling breath. "Oh God, oh God...we are going to die!"

Din placed his hand over hers. "It's all right," he said. "You're not going to die. We'll get through it."

Her eyes flickered with tears. "I can't die like this. My kids expect me home tonight."

"We won't die," he said firmly, pouring a little thrall into his words, just enough to calm her down. "Trust the pilots. They train for these kinds of emergency scenarios."

She nodded, closing her eyes and letting out a breath.

Din wished someone could do him the same favor and thrall him so he could stop running through various versions of all the things that could go wrong.

Amid the hiss of the air conditioning, the cabin seemed unnaturally quiet as if everyone were holding their breath, and then the flight attendants began a demonstration of bracing positions, offering life vests and instructing passengers to remove their shoes before entering the slides.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the captain's voice returned, "we're going to make an approach over the East River. We have partial success—one gear is locked, but the nose gear remains stuck. We plan an emergency landing on water if the nose fails to come down. The coast guard and rescue teams are on alert."

A wave of gasps swept through the cabin. The woman beside him buried her face in her hands, shoulders trembling despite the thrall of confidence he'd sent into her mind. Din moved an arm around her in a comforting gesture, though he doubted that any comfort could banish her terror right now.

The flight crew hurried down the aisle, checking seat belts and clearing away loose items. A flight attendant asked them to remove bulky clothing and to stow glasses and laptops.

Din clenched his jaw.

He'd lived for a long time and survived plenty of calamities, but some dangers still triggered a primal fear. Glancing out the window, he could see the city's skyline in the distance, so tantalizingly close, yet no assurance they'd reach it safely.

"Brace for impact!" The sudden command from the cockpit came as they began their descent.

People screamed. Din bowed forward, arms over his head, breathing methodically. The woman beside him did the same, trembling and crying. The plane lurched. The engines roared, reverberating through metal and bone.

A screeching wail cut through the hull, rattling overhead bins. Din squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on counting each second as they dropped altitude. The smell of burnt fuel tainted the air.

With a jarring impact, the aircraft skimmed across the water, the shriek of metal nearly deafening. The force knocked him forward, the shoulder harness biting into his flesh. He clamped his arm over the woman, shielding her as best he could. Everything tilted. Water splashed against the windows in tumultuous sprays.

Then they were skidding, the fuselage grinding with ear-splitting noise. A groan of stressed metal made him fear it might tear open. But by some miracle, the plane slowed. No roll, no shatter. Dimly, he registered that the overhead bins had popped open, baggage tumbling out. Another jolt knocked the breath from him.

And then…stillness.

For a heartbeat, the only sounds were ragged breathing and the faint hiss of steam rising from the engines.

The flight attendants sprang into action, unlatching emergency doors. Inflatable slides hissed open, some hitting the water, forming makeshift rafts. A wave of relieved sobbing rippled through the cabin. Outside, rescue vessels approached, bright lights strobing across the gloom.

Din let out a breath as he unbuckled, then helped the trembling woman next to him. "We've made it," he said.

She nodded in tearful disbelief.

They shuffled into the aisle, shoulders brushing other frantic passengers. Everyone was in that startled, half-panicked trance that follows a near-disaster. Din guided the woman to an exit, offering words of reassurance to others who were on the verge of hysterics.

Once out onto the rafts, they were met by rescue personnel.

An inflatable boat pulled alongside. Din helped the woman climb aboard, then followed. They made their way to the nearest barge, where paramedics were waiting.

Standing on the deck, Din took in the chaotic scene—passengers shivering in emergency blankets, rescue crews coordinating, the plane partly submerged but miraculously intact.

"Thank you," the woman whispered, hugging him briefly. "I don't even know your name."

"Din," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You should call your kids as soon as you can because this will be all over the news in minutes, and they will worry."

"I will." She pulled the foil blanket the paramedics had given her tighter around her shoulders. "In a moment. I need to catch my breath. You should call your loved ones, too."

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