Beyond the Reflection’s Edge (37 page)

Suddenly, the passengers jerked back into motion. The vent shot out cool air once again, and Kelly lurched toward the aisle. Catching her breath, she leaned toward Nathan and whispered. “What just happened?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Nathan sank down in his seat, a queasy feeling knotting his stomach. What should he do now? Patar seemed to think he should let all these people die. How could a force of good possibly want that? Still, if Patar had the power to make time freeze, and he was Mictar’s enemy shouldn’t he be trusted? And he seemed to know all about Quattro, but would a Mictar look-alike really be on the right side, or was he in this battle with his brother for how it might benefit him?

As he closed his eyes, the gaunt phantom’s face hovered in his mind. Who was he? The name was familiar, but why? He searched his thoughts. Soon, his father’s words drifted in.
“Patar would tell Nathan the right thing to do, but he’s likely to scare him away.”

His mother’s firm words echoed in reply.
“Our son will not be frightened. He will choose wisely. He has the same warrior spirit I saw in you when you were his age.”

Nathan blinked his eyes open. His heartbeat thumped like a jackhammer in his chest. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His chin quivered, and his tense lips had turned nearly white.

Kelly looked on. With her eyebrows bent low, she glanced from the mirror to Nathan and back to the mirror again. Her voice carried softly up to his ear, a slight tremble giving away her terror. “What are you going to do?”

“I … I don’t know. I just don’t know.” He watched himself lick his pale lips, hoping his eyes would glow and give him some sign that the mirror would do its magic, but his pupils stayed dark. Even without it, he could probably still save the
passengers, maybe scream that he saw someone tamper with the engine or act like a lunatic until they delayed the flight and checked the engine. That might work. They’d probably check it and find the problem, and then blame him and throw him in the slammer. But at least he’d save all their lives.

Maybe he could see if the mirror showed the engine falling off before it happened, but would he be able to warn anyone in time? Would they listen to him if others in the plane saw it, too? He could also play something on his violin that would bring an image to the mirror and transport them to a safe place. But would he and Kelly go alone? Would everyone on the air-plane go with them? Or would it not work at all, abandoning him and Kelly to suffer in the devastating carnage?

He clenched a fist. If only he knew what to do! If only his father were around, he would just ask and —

A ground crewman’s flashlight caught his eye as he waved it across the ground. The motion brought back a flood of memories, his father making the same gesture with his own flashlight as he stood on the driveway when Nathan made ready to jump from the roof. His words rang in his mind.
“I make you a solemn promise that your fall will be softened enough to prevent all injury. If you trust me, you will put aside your fears and take a step in the progress of your faith. If not, you are free to turn around and come down.”

Lifting the mirror toward the window, he adjusted the angle until he could see the wing. Everything seemed normal, just a copy of the long metal appendage and a gleam of sunlight near the tip. After a few seconds, the pavement in the reflection lurched, then moved forward. Nathan locked his arms in place. The jet in the mirror was backing up!

Kelly bent toward him and watched the image. “You look white as a ghost.”

All he could manage was a timid, “We’re going to take off.”

She looped her arm around his again and laid her head on
his shoulder. As her fingers kneaded his arm, she spoke with a quiet whimper. “Do you have a plan yet?”

Nathan tightened every muscle, trying to keep his body from shaking. Steadying his voice, he whispered, “I have to let it happen.”

Kelly paused for a moment. “But we can still escape, right?” She reached for her buckle. “We can just get up and demand that they let us leave.”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her belt. “Just trust me. It’s going to be all right.”

“But how can you be so sure? Do you know something I don’t know?”

“I think I do.” He angled his finger toward the seat in front of hers. “As soon as the flight attendants check everyone, get my violin out.”

She sat up straight, her arm stiff as she slid away. “Here she come.”

Nathan pushed the mirror behind him. As the brunette attendant strolled quickly down the aisle glancing at buckles, he settled back and smiled at her. When she reached their row, she slowed to a halt. Flashing a chilly stare, she took several seconds checking their seating area. Then, with a huff, she continued her march toward the back.

Using her foot, Kelly pulled the violin case along the carpet and slid it toward Nathan. He caught it with his own foot and waited for the attendant to pass by again on her way to the front. When all was clear, he pulled the case up to his lap.

Just as the mirror had predicted, the plane lurched and began a slow roll backwards. Kelly grabbed the arms of her seat, massaging them with tightened fingers.

Taking a deep breath, Nathan unlatched and opened the case as quietly as possible. After taking out the violin and bow, he laid the case on the floor and slid it back in place with his foot. Then, he retrieved the mirror and braced it on his knees.

Kelly released her stranglehold on her seat and reached for the mirror. “I’ll hold it.”

He adjusted the mirror to show the wing. “Keep it right there.”

The plane stopped its backward maneuver, and, with a high-pitched purr, the engines came to life and propelled it forward. As the jet rumbled toward the runway, Nathan closed his eyes and prayed. A crash was inevitable. Only Quattro could save them now. But whom would it save?

He opened his eyes again. Although in reality they rolled slowly toward the main runway the mirror showed the tarmac lines speeding past the window. Suddenly in the midst of a huge billow of smoke, the engine flew up from the front of the wing, tumbled over the top, and hurtled back toward the tail area.

Nathan jerked his head away It was really going to happen. The plane was doomed.

In real life, the jet turned onto the black-streaked pavement and accelerated. With each tiny jolt over the runway’s grooves, Kelly flinched, shaking the mirror.

Nathan set the bow on the strings. The timing had to be perfect. If he played too soon, a frightened passenger or an angry flight attendant might snatch his violin away. If he played too late, the dimensional window might not open in time … if it would at all.

With long, easy strokes, he began the first measure of “Amazing Grace.” Years ago his mother had taught him the song, one of his first when he was barely more than a toddler, holding an eighth-size violin in his chubby hands. And as he played, quite badly, most likely, she played along and sang, her voice matching the composer’s passion.

The plane jerked. Just as the nose tipped upward and the landing gear lifted off the ground, the engine flew up in front of the wing and zoomed past the window. A chorus of gasps
spread across the field of seats like a gust of wind. Screams erupted. Hands latched onto armrests. A rumbling roar from the good engine on the right pounded through the cabin. The jet rattled, a bone-jarring shake that chattered teeth and jiggled loose skin on every white-knuckled passenger.

Kelly cried out, “Nathaaaan! I don’t want to die! I’m not ready to die!”

He stopped playing and grabbed her hand. “Don’t give up yet! Hang on! It’s the only way we can survive!”

Strangling his fingers, she breathed rapid, heavy breaths. “Okay … Get a grip, Kelly … Get control of yourself.” Her breaths eased, long and quiet, but her hand stayed latched on to his.

Nathan pulled away and continued playing, now with more passion than ever as he watched her still-terrified eyes. What could he do to help her?

As they continued their upward lift, Kelly jumped, again shaking the mirror, but she bit her lip and hung on. The camera dangled in front of her, thumping her chest with every jolt. The plane rolled slowly to the left, much more steeply than it would for a turn. Screams again broke out all around as passengers tipped to the side, reaching, grabbing, clawing to stay upright.

Kelly squeezed her eyes closed. Her face quaked as she stretched out her long, plaintive cry. “Nathan! Help me!”

Leaning against the window, Nathan swept the bow through the end of a measure, grinding his teeth. What could he do to help? What could anyone do? The mirror displayed a sea of twisted, burning wreckage and dozens of bloody, charred, and dismembered bodies. Any second now, he and Kelly would join them.

As the jet shook even harder, more screams filled the cabin — calls to Jesus, cries for mercy and unintelligible wails. An overhead bin popped open, spilling a duffle bag and a canvas overnighter on top of two men across the aisle. The smell of burning fuel and rubber filled the cabin.

With new panicked shouts bouncing all around, Kelly braced one hand on the seat in front of her and sang the first phrase of Nathan’s tune, her voice feeble and quiet. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.” Every word rattled through her chattering teeth as she hung on to the mirror. During the second phrase, a woman joined in from behind as did a man somewhere to the side.

The jet rolled to ninety degrees and flew sideways. The cabin lights flickered off, leaving only shafts of sunlight pouring through the windows. More bins flew open up and down the aisle, spilling suitcases and garment bags. Smoke billowed into the front of the cabin and spread toward them.

The mirror blazed with fire, falling ash, and death. Still playing, Nathan glanced out the window. The tip of the wing sank, a mere thirty feet from a fatal brush with the ground.

As Kelly and the others sang on, Nathan stopped playing and reached the end of his bow toward the reading light in the overhead console. Would it work? Or was the plane too crippled to deliver power to the lights? He caught a glimpse of
the camera, swinging back and forth from Kelly’s strap. There was no way he could reach the shutter, and the flash probably wasn’t turned on. He strained to push the console button, fighting the horrible quaking of the wounded jet. Giving the bow a desperate shove, he hit the switch. In the dimness of the cabin, the light flashed on.

The mirror reflected the weak beam, splitting it into multiple shafts. Two beams pierced Nathan and Kelly, while others zipped past them. Nathan grimaced. This time, the light seemed like a flaming sword, a hot laser that sizzled through his skin and burned deep in his chest.

The mirror view, still a landscape of carnage, swelled. Wincing in pain, Kelly released it, but it stayed upright on Nathan’s lap, expanding in every direction, even in depth as it seemed to absorb his legs and reach out toward Kelly’s. In seconds, Nathan felt his entire body sliding into the mirror’s grip. He looked back, still able to see through the window. The wingtip struck the ground, sending the jet into a wild tumble. Kelly’s body flung forward, throwing her into Nathan and forcing both of them into the mirror’s grasp.

Holding out his violin to keep it safe, Nathan rolled to a stop in an open field. The jet cartwheeled only a few feet above his head, and the nose section knifed into the ground about fifty yards away digging a rut before breaking away from the fuselage. The rest of the body slammed down and smashed a hangar in a thunderous explosion of horrible thuds, cracks, and squeals as its momentum swept an avalanche of destruction across the field.

Metal tore from metal. Fire gushed into the sky in an enormous billowing cloud of orange. Heat rushed past Nathan in a rolling wave, singeing his skin and whipping his hair upright. The mirror, still in his lap, radiated warmth through his pant legs.

Kelly grabbed his arm and buried her face in his sleeve, screaming, “Nathan! They’re dead! They’re all dead!”

Someone jumped past them and dashed toward the wreck-age, then another limped by supported by a cane. Nathan looked around, counting. Two, three, four … at least four other people sat or stood around in horror while two hurried into the crash zone. Grabbing the mirror and still clutching the violin, Nathan rose and staggered toward the burning wreckage. Kelly stumbled along beside him, each leg wobbly and weak.

In the midst of crackling fires and sizzling metal, sirens wailed their approach. The two men who charged ahead had stopped and now just stood and surveyed the field of hopelessness. Burning body parts lay strewn in a swath of superheated fires. No one could save them now.

One of the men dropped to his knees. Clutching his thinning gray hair with both hands, he shouted into the rising vapors. “I knew this would happen! Why didn’t I stop it?”

Nathan sidestepped toward him. When he drew close, he recognized the tear-streaked face of the author they had met in the terminal building. His cane lay at his side.

“I saw the crash in my dreams!” the author continued. “I should have done something!”

The first man joined them, a short, stocky man with a full beard and weary gray eyes. “I dreamed about it, too,” he whispered to Nathan. “Did you?”

Nathan glanced at the mirror, now tucked under his arm, but he couldn’t feel it. All sensation had drained away. His limbs, his body, even his face and hands felt completely numb. Staring at the devastation, he could barely find strength to speak. “Yeah. I saw it. I think …”

The man scanned the other survivors. “I think we all did.”

Nathan looked back at them — a young woman in seventies-style green pants standing petrified as she watched the fires churn, a middle-aged woman in a navy blue business suit weeping as she
talked to Kelly, and a young couple sitting together in a sobbing huddle. “I think I know what you mean.”

The man extended his hand. “Name’s John, but my friends call me Jack.”

Nathan shook his hand, hot and sweaty, but carrying a pleasant grip. “I’m Nathan.”