The Sole Survivors' Club

Chapter 2

“Officials working for the FAA were unable to offer an explanation for the crash of Southwest flight 1407 at Dallas’ Love Field last night, in which all but one of the 97 passengers was killed.”

Monica gulped back a mouthful of coffee. It was still too hot, and she grimaced as her gaze moved to the TV.

The news anchorman continued, “The Boeing 737 had just begun take off and was roughly forty feet over the runway when the captain reported a catastrophic failure of the left wing flap, which opened and caused the plane to drop into a rolling dive before it crashed upside down at the end of the runway.

“Southwest Airlines has already provided the FAA with service records for the craft, and the most recent inspection was less than six weeks old. No damage had been reported on the wings, though minor maintenance had been performed on the left engine. Officials have said they do not believe the accident was caused by a failure in maintenance, but—”

Monica shut off the TV and leaned on the counter.

The word catastrophic echoed though her thoughts. She’d heard Fred use the term the night before, and his comments added with the news report of the plane’s catastrophic failure reminded her of another reporter who had many years prior written about a twenty-four car pileup.

Then it had been the failure of an emergency brake that led to the ensuing chaos. The brake engaged, sending the car into a swerve before it flipped.

Her eyes flicked back and forth, but she saw nothing on the counter. Her senses turned inward as she forced herself to recall every detail of the reports she’d read about her first accident.

The cable shouldn’t have engaged without the driver pulling the brake handle. But the police determined the handle was disengaged. The accident had no obvious cause.

Monica guessed no obvious cause could ever be found for the elevators that failed around Carl Andrews. Her gaze drifted away from Carl’s photo and back to the TV while she thought, They won’t find a cause for the flap failing either.

It was a huge leap of faith to believe the sole survivor of flight 1407 was also cursed to become a magnet for plane crashes. At least they would have an easy life. It would be far easier to avoid an airport than a car or an elevator.

It will be easier if they can avoid the disasters, Monica thought. She wanted to believe she hadn’t sought out accidents on the highway, but her inability to look away certainly felt like something she was being forced to do.

The thought was ridiculous, and she could only entertain the notion by admitting first that she was speculating wildly. But once she’d allowed for an internal study of the three seemingly unrelated cases, she began to wonder if there were others like her, people who survived a disaster only to find themselves drawn again and again to accidents of a similar nature.

Perhaps...but then the idea became too ridiculous. She was grasping at straws, and it wasn’t possible for every disaster to be connected to any one source.

Monica glanced over at the wireless phone cradled on the charger. Carl’s photo lay beside it, and though it seemed impossible, his dark eyes appeared to be watching her. She stared at the picture, about to shake her head when the phone rang.

Monica yelped when hot coffee splashed her nightshirt over her left breast. Setting down the mug, she reached for the phone and used her free hand to pull the fabric away from her skin. She snatched the phone up and hit the SEND key, raising it to bark an irritated “Hello?”

Oblivious to her anger, Fred asked, “Did you call him yet?”

Monica’s face tensed up as fast as her fist did, and she had to work hard not to punch the cabinet. “No Fred, I haven’t called him. I don’t plan to either.”