The Lazarus Moment (14 page)

A bundle
of teenager burst out, grabbing onto Niner as if he were the only thing between
her and a precipitous fall. Dawson stepped past and found the President leaning
over his wife who appeared to be in some distress, holding the left side of her
ribs. One staffer and an Air Force major were down, dead, hit by a dislodged
table, their heads crushed.

Another
was fine, holding life preservers, urging the President to put one on, the man
ignoring his pleas.

“Mr.
President!”

President
Starling stared at Dawson, shocked at being yelled at. “My wife—”

“Is
alive, but only if we get her off this plane.” He grabbed one of the lifejackets.
“Now put this on and let’s get the hell out of here!”

The man
nodded and a Secret Service agent helped him as Dawson quickly checked over the
First Lady. Something had hit her hard on her upper left side, probably the
table that had killed the two agents. She was clearly in pain, but there was
nothing he could do about that now. He fitted the lifejacket over her head,
tied it off, then helped her to her feet.

“Let’s
go! Now!”

They
exited the room, the fuselage twisting to starboard then port as it slowly
scraped along the river bottom, and as they approached the nearest exit, the
lines of passengers gone, the roar of the river became almost overwhelming.

Atlas
and Spock were with the flight attendant, the rest of the cabin appearing empty
save the dead, there thankfully few from what he could see. He handed the First
Lady to Spock, one of their strongest swimmers. “Get her to shore!”

“Yes,
Sergeant Major.” He grabbed the woman from behind then leapt out into the
water, immediately being swept out of sight. Niner took the daughter and jumped
out after her mother. Dawson pushed the President toward Atlas.

“Take
him!”

“Yes,
Sergeant!”

Atlas
bear hugged the man, much to his surprise, then dove out.

“Is
everyone off?”

The
flight attendant nodded. “I think so!”

“Can you
swim?”

She
nodded.

“Then
let’s join them.”

She pushed
out the door then Dawson grabbed the frame, looking down the river as the
survivors bopped up and down, struggling for the shore.

And the
roar continued to get louder.

He
jumped.

Niner grabbed a low-lying branch, bringing them to a rapid halt, his
shoulder protesting. He pulled hard on the teenage girl, her panicked screams
settling for a moment.

“Make
for the shore!”

She
kicked hard, paddling with her one free hand, continually reaching out too soon
then floundering. Niner gave her a bit of a swing and her free hand reached the
shore, grabbing onto some vines.

“You
good?”

She
nodded and he let go of her hand, she immediately grabbing on with both to the
vine, her legs still in the water. Niner scrambled to the shore then reached in
and hauled her to her feet.

He took
a split second to confirm they were secure then stared out at the water as the
young girl grabbed him, hugging him hard, her head buried against his chest as
she sobbed. He patted her on the back as he surveyed the water.

He
spotted Spock struggling against the current with the First Lady. She appeared
to be a dead weight, not helping at all, apparently unconscious.

Shit!

He
extricated himself from the distraught teenager and dove back in, swimming hard
toward Spock, the current carrying him swiftly to them. He reached out and
grabbed the First Lady’s free arm then kicked hard toward the shore, the two
Delta Operators able to carry the dead weight between them. Spock reached the
shore first, grabbing onto a vine, halting them then swinging them toward the
shore. Niner grabbed onto a vine then together they pulled the injured woman
out of the water, dragging her away from the edge, laying her gently on the
ground.

Her
daughter was on them in seconds.

Spock
pulled her gently away as Niner began first aid. “Stand back, honey, give him
some room.”

Niner
checked for a pulse and found none. He immediately began CPR as the daughter
sobbed in Spock’s arms. Suddenly the woman coughed, water bursting from her
mouth. Niner rolled her to her side as she coughed several more times, clearing
the water out of her lungs, then rolled her onto her back.

Her
daughter pounced, hugging her mother and sobbing, the woman weakly embracing
the terrified girl.

Spock frowned
at Niner, nodding toward the pair. “What do you think?”

Niner
shook his head, lowering his voice. “She’s definitely got cracked ribs and
she’s wheezing. Might be a collapsed lung. She needs treatment, fast.”

“Melanie!
Nancy!”

They
both turned to see the President rushing toward his family, Atlas behind him
looking none the worse for wear. Niner stepped aside as the man’s daughter
jumped up and grabbed her father, sobbing in relief.

Niner glanced
at Atlas then leaned over for a look behind the man’s massive frame.

“Where’s
BD?”

“He’s
not with you?”

Niner
shook his head.

Then
bolted for the river.

Dawson was almost to the shore when he heard her scream. The flight
attendant was floundering, being carried far too swiftly by the current, and
far too quickly toward the roar that had to be a waterfall.

And
certain death.

He
turned, swimming hard toward her, quickly closing the gap. A glance behind him
showed the fuselage, both wings ripped away, continuing toward them, the river
even faster here. Rocks were beginning to pop up making the swim more dangerous
than it already was, and he watched in horror as she smacked into one,
momentarily silencing her.

She slid
off the rock face and screamed again.

Thank
God!

He
kicked hard to avoid the rock then swept around it to find her caught in an
eddy that spit her out the other side. He headed for a rock then pushed off it,
avoiding the eddy and catching up to her. Grabbing the back of her lifejacket,
she yelped then looked back, relief written over her face for a moment.

But they
weren’t safe yet.

A wall
of mist seemed to be rising in the not too far distance, the roar overwhelming.

“Kick!”
he shouted as he began to drag her to the shore, their bodies continuing to be
swept along. He saw a large rock ahead and pushed hard for it, the concave
surface possibly providing them a place to rest for a moment. “Make for the
rock!”

She
nodded, determination suddenly on her face as they both kicked with renewed
effort, the rock rapidly nearing as the water flowed relentlessly toward the
falls ahead.

“Feet
out front!” he shouted, repositioning himself and trying to pull her along with
him.

They hit
hard, his combat boots that may have looked ridiculous on the fashion runway,
providing the cushion and grip for that split second, long enough for him to reach
forward with his one free hand and break their momentum as he twisted, his back
slamming against the smooth rock. He wrapped his arms around the flight
attendant and took a breath as he realized it had worked.

They
were now stranded about twenty feet from shore, and about a hundred feet short
of the falls.

With half
a million pounds of fuselage slowly, inexorably, sliding toward them.

“BD!”

Dawson
looked to see Niner, Atlas and Spock onshore, waving at him.

“Hang
on!” shouted Niner. “We’ll get you!”

Spock
and Atlas were tearing at some vines, quickly fashioning a rope as Dawson held
on to the flight attendant.

“What’s
your name?”

He
looked at her. “Huh?”

“Your
name? I’d like to know the name of the man who saved my life.”

“Everyone
calls me BD.”

“BD?
What kind of name is that? What did your mom call you after the doctor smacked
your little butt.”

Dawson
chuckled. “Burt.”

“Now I
see why you go by BD.”

“Ouch.”

She
laughed, laying her head on his chest. “Thanks, Burt. I’m Jane.”

“Nice to
meet you. Come here often?”

She
laughed, Dawson happy to try to distract them both from the reality of their
situation as his team worked frantically on the rope.

And the
plane inched ever closer, the screeches and scrapes as it tore along the riverbed
getting louder and louder.

Hurry
up guys!

“BD!”

Dawson
looked toward his team and saw Atlas swinging one end of the rope, a fairly
heavy branch tied to it, about twenty feet upstream.

“Go
ahead!” he shouted, Atlas immediately hurling it out as far as he could. The
branch hit the water, sinking for a moment, then bobbing to the surface as the
current quickly carried it toward them, Niner running with the other end along
the shore.

“I’ve
got it!” shouted Jane as she reached out, Dawson holding her by the belt.

She’s
going to miss it!

He
pushed off from the rock with one hand, the other extending, giving her another
few feet of reach.

And she
snagged it.

He
yanked her back in, his back slapping against the rock as he grabbed the branch
then the makeshift rope. He started to loop it around her waist when she topped
him. “We both go.”

He shook
his head. “Together we’re too heavy. You go first, then I’ll go. I’m perfectly
safe here.”

She
frowned but acquiesced, Dawson quickly tying the rope around her waist, hooking
it under her armpits.

“Ready?”

She
nodded.

“Remember,
we don’t know how strong this is, so you need to pull toward the shore too.
Minimize the time on the vine.”

She gave
him a look. “Were you saving that?”

He
laughed. “For years.” The smile wiped from his face. “Ready?”

She too
became all business. “Yes.”

He waved
to the shore. “Pull!”

The rope
quickly became taught and Jane pushed off from the rock, immediately being
swept downriver though swinging swiftly toward the shore. He could see her
struggling to pull on the rope, but she kept dropping below the surface. Atlas
and Niner were pulling hard as Spock, already positioned farther downriver,
positioned himself to pull her ashore.

It
didn’t take long for her to be swept to the edge, Spock grabbing her and
hauling her to safety. He quickly untied her then threw the rope back in the
river as Atlas and Niner reeled it in.

Atlas
hurled the branch back out, barely ahead of the fuselage, but it got snagged on
a rock and he had to pull it back in and try again.

Dawson
prepped himself for the jump, the fuselage moving quickly now, the sounds of
protesting metal as loud as the falls behind him. The rock he was taking refuge
on would be his downfall if the plane were to hit, it about the only obstacle
it had to catch on.

He tore
his eyes away from the massive hunk of metal as the force of the current and
the buoyancy of the airframe worked together to seal his fate, instead focusing
on the branch once again making its way toward him.

It was
going to go by him.

Now
or never!

He pushed
off from the rock, diving toward the branch, both arms outstretched. His hand
hit the wood but he couldn’t grip it and for a moment he floundered as he
kicked with both legs hard, holding his breath as both arms reached out for the
vines.

Something
touched his wrist and he immediately spun his hand, wrapping the rope around
his fingers then reaching up with his free hand for a more secure hold. He
could feel the tugs on the other end as his men tried to save him but there was
little he could do to help besides kick, the fibers tearing into his hands as
he tried to maintain a grip.

Suddenly
something grabbed his lifejacket and he gasped as his face cleared the water,
gulping in lungsful of air as he flopped onto the shore, Spock hauling him farther
inland.

Atlas
and Niner rushed up to them when a godawful sound overwhelmed Mother Nature.
Dawson pushed himself up on his elbows to see the fuselage catch on the very
rock he had been leaning on only moments before, the unforgiving stone tearing
through the weakened metal as the entire mass twisted toward them.

“Get
back!” shouted Niner, he and Spock hauling Dawson to his feet then scrambling
deeper into the jungle, the tail section slamming into the shore, bringing a
halt to its forward momentum.

Niner
looked at the others then shouted at the plane.

“Isn’t
trying to kill us once today enough!”

Entering Mozambican Airspace

“What’s the word, sir?”

“Still
no communications. SAR teams from the USS George H. W. Bush are inbound but we
still have no reason to believe there are any survivors. The Russians went on
full alert so the Vice President was sworn in as a precaution.”

Red
shook his head, cursing to himself. They had been wheels up in Nairobi before
Air Force One had actually hit the ground, a dead stick landing with a 15:1
ratio from that altitude taking almost half an hour. According to the pilot,
they’d be over the crash site in about an hour but there was nowhere for them
to land. At the moment they might have to land at a small airstrip in the area
then hoof it in which might take a couple of days.

Not
acceptable.

Which
meant, of course, he had an alternative.

“Do we
really think the Russians are behind it?”

“Nothing
would surprise me with that asshole, but no, I can’t see it. If they are, it’s
a rogue element. We’re not going to war over this as long as cooler heads
prevail.”

“If they
are behind it, we can’t let them get away with it.”