Page 135 of The Moments You Were Mine
The instrument panel lit up, alarms screamed, and my heart slammed against my rib cage.
Parker shouted, “What the fuck?”
I gripped the yoke, trying to steady it, as sweat instantly beaded along my forehead and dripped down my back. My gaze darted from one gauge to the next until it settled with dread on the landing gear warnings.
Panic surged, clutching at my lungs.
The landing gear. Something had happened to the landing gear.
A whisper of air coasted near my ear, and I swore I heard Spencer’s soothing voice right next to me, swore I felt his hand on mine, guiding me through the counter roll to balance the wings. I focused on the horizon again, ignoring the smoke billowing outside the window and the dozens of ear-piercing alarms.
As I leveled us out, the runway approached chillingly fast. I had mere seconds to make a choice—land or take us back up?
Something was wrong with the wheels. If that were true, we’d crash no matter when we landed. And who knew what else had been damaged on the plane. Would we even make it into the air again if I pulled us up?
We were going to crash.
Goosebumps traveled over my skin.
“Get into the crash position,” I said and was surprised my voice didn’t shake.
Parker ignored me, demanding, “What can I do?”
Tears threatened as I remembered the sweet promise he’d made to Theo.I swear, nothing on this earth will prevent me from coming back to get you, bud.
And now, it would be my fault he broke it.
We were going to die.
My baby would die before she’d even had a chance to live.
Fear and despair tried to take hold.
Then determination kicked in. Pure obstinance.
No.
I could do this. I could fucking do this.
I could land without a wheel or two. It wouldn’t be pretty. But I could do it.
I opened the channel to the tower. “Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. Rivers Tower, this is Cessna N18255. We’ve had an explosion on board. Landing gear damaged. We’re at 909 feet and coming in on runway two. No time to dump the fuel. Emergency services required. Two adults on board.”
Another set of chills wound up my sweaty spine. My hands shook, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
I’d barely stabilized the plane before the runway was there, the ground rushing up. I did what I’d always done, touching what should have been the first wheel to the tarmac. The moment we hit, the plane tilted. No second wheel caught, and we teetered like a chair with a broken leg. I struggled against the natural reaction to yank the yoke in the opposite direction. Instead, I countered it gently, but it was already too late. The imbalance was too much.
The plane landed on its right wing with another horrible screech of metal. My body went with it, my harness yanking me back and holding me in place so I didn’t fall into Parker. His head slammed into the side window.
We careened down the runway on the plane’s passenger side until we hit the edge of the tarmac and toppled off into the grass and dirt on the other side. The coarse terrain slowed us down enough that when we slammed into the concrete divider between the airport and the forest, it wasn’t at full speed.
Stunned, I sat there for too long.
We were down. We were whole.
The airfield was too small for a full-time emergency crew. It would take them at least fifteen minutes to respond.
We had to get out of the plane, away from the fuel and the smoke.
