Page 46 of The Best Bad Decision

Cam

My phone is ringingoff the hook. I’ve never been so in demand.

I’m currently engaged in a conference call with six other captains, two line trainers, and our chief pilot, as well as a representative from flight operations and one from the operations scheduling department. They’re rehashing the events of this afternoon, over and over, without adding any new information. Not that there is any. I’ve had one eye on the live broadcast coverage on the TV and the other on the news updates on my laptop, and nothing new has been reported for the last couple of hours.

I heard the impact from my hotel room. I saw the smoke rise from the window. A heavy pit of dread settled deep in my stomach, and it’s yet to dissolve.

I adjust the earbud in my ear, idly rolling my earlobe between my thumb and forefinger as I watch my phone buzz across the desk. My thoughts follow their usual track to my girls, and I wonder what Maisy is up to. A glance at my watch tells me it’s ten in the evening in London, so with any luck, she’ll be fast asleep and none the wiser. Maisy is with Katy while Amie is flying, and before the crash—before my flight home was cancelled—I called her to say goodnight. I performed a quickbedtime story as I shuffled around the room, dressing and preparing for the flight. Maisy was delighted to see me in my uniform, giggling and holding up Daddy Bear to the screen to compare our uniforms.

And then, before I could even leave my hotel room, everything went pear-shaped. Now I’m back in a henley and comfortably worn jeans, and my arms ache to hold my baby girl, to breathe in the soothing scent of strawberry shampoo and cupcake bath bubbles andMaisy.

I’m sad. I’m sad and I’m angry and I’m frustrated.

I’m scared.

I’ve never been afraid to fly. Flying has always been the antidote to any anxieties. It’s where I’ve felt the most comfortable, the happiest, the calmest. With my hands on the yoke, above the clouds, I’m free. My first flight gave me a sense of peace I’d never known, and I’ve chased that freedom my whole career. I’ve always been untouchable in the sky.

Except, I’m not. None of us are.

The crew on that plane were my colleagues. I knew all of them—the guys in the cockpit and the team in the cabin. They were my friends.

And they’re all gone.

It’s not supposed to happen. We don’t know the full story, and we probably won’t for some time. But early indications suggest an engine failure and fire on takeoff. We train for that. Our simulator training is designed to teach us how to manage those exact situations. Something went wrong, really wrong, and it had catastrophic consequences. Consequences that will reach far beyond that flight, far beyond our airline. The lasting effects of today will touch every airline in the world. That crew’s legacy will be the recommendations that prevent this from happening again.

But those recommendations couldn’t save today’s crew. They can’t bring my friends back.

The knot in my stomach tightens painfully, and for a split second, I think I might blow chunks all over my laptop. All I want right now is to be with my girls. I want to hide away from the world, just for a moment. I want to bury my face in the space between Amie’s neck and shoulder, inhale the scent of her apple shampoo and sea salt perfume. I want to hold Maisy in my arms, press kisses to her soft curls, match my breathing to the rhythm of her soft snores as she sleeps.

I’m tired, and I’m angry, and I’m sad.

“I can’t do this right now,” I say suddenly. “Email me if anything important comes up.”

I click off the call and finally see the state of my inboxes. I have thirty unread emails from flight operations alone. There are missed calls and messages from other pilots and flight attendants, from the purser and first officer on the flight we should’ve flown today. From Gray, both of my parents, several cousins and some acquaintances… andAmie. There are a lot of missed calls and messages from Amie.

Her first message is from well over an hour ago.

Fuck.

She must be out of her mind. My stomach clenches and I swallow hard against the bile rising in my throat. After all we’ve been through, after everything… I made her a promise that I’d be here. For Maisyandfor her. I made a promise that I wasn’t going anywhere. I promised. And now—

Well, now she probably thinks I’m dead.

I make it to the bathroom just in time to squat and empty my stomach.

My chest heaves as my stomach muscles contract, trying in vain to expel the absolute nothingness left inside me. My eyes water, my nose stings, and my mouth tastes like ass. When the retching finally subsides, I wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand and sit back against the wall, tipping my head back against the cool tile.

This has been a day I’m sure I’ll remember. It’s also been one I’d sooner forget.

I don’t know how long I sit on the floor in the bathroom before I eventually reach up to flush the toilet and pull myself to my feet. I think I doze off for a few minutes. I’m drained, physically and emotionally; I’m bone-tired, limbs limp and heavy. Every breath feels like an uphill battle against the hollowness of my chest.

By the time I brush my teeth, wash my face and pad back into the bedroom to my phone, there are three more messages from my parents, five more from other crew members, and another five—and three more calls—from Amie.

Amie.

The only one I’d want to see. The last face I’d see in my mind if it were my plane going down. The one my world orbits around. The one my sun rises and sets for. The one.The one.

I fall face first onto the bed, clutching my phone and jabbing at her name on the screen.Amie.

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