Disastrophe

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 Thick black smoke was beginning to pour into the cabin since she had opened that door.

 Thomas, the steward, wasted no time with the telephone. He barged right through that cockpit door, alarming the pilots slightly, and explained the drama that was going on in the cabin.

“It’s filling with a sea of black smoke. Any second now the smoke alarms are go-” And just as he was saying that, the plane’s fire safety system kicked in. Smoke alarms blared and oxygen masks popped down from the ceiling. The alarms were a model DG-724, meaning that, if they weren’t stopped soon, they would spray water into the cabin. I knew this because of what the fire fighters had told us the day when they visited my school. “We need fire brigades to deal with this; it’s too large a fire for us to put out.”

“We’ll initiate an emergency landing. We’re only half an hour away from Los Angeles. If we can make it then that’s great, but I’m not going to take that risk.” He decided, commanding the first officer to get in touch with air traffic control and for Thomas to do his best to mask the flames, without getting himself injured. Thomas retreated from the cockpit holding a fire extinguisher, closing the door behind him to prevent the cockpit filling with smoke too.

 By now it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, so I decided it was time for me to put on my oxygen mask. They only had an hour of oxygen left, but I’d overheard the captain saying we had half an hour till arrival at LA, so we should be fine when it comes to oxygen.

 It was growing more and more difficult to see through the black clouds, but I could still feel Robbie’s hand gripping mine tightly.

“Don’t let go!” He told me.

“I won’t, I’ll never let go!” I responded, having to take my oxygen mask of to speak clearly. I inhaled some smoke accidently, making me choke. Tears streamed down my face, and not just because of the choking. Re-adjusting my mask, I wiped them away and prayed, just in case we didn’t make it.

 The alarms were still blaring, and, within a few more minutes, we would all be drenched in water too. In most fires, water is the key to putting out flames, but in our situation it would only turn the aircraft into a scorching hot, smoke-filled swimming pool. I squinted through the smoke to see how Thomas was getting on near the back of the plane. He emerged from the back, coughing and spluttering, covered in soot. Latching onto the stewardess’ arm for support he said, “I can’t put it out; we’re going to need to find a way to override the system.”

 Battling his way up the middle to the cockpit, he shouted to passengers “Please remain seated. It’s too dangerous to stand up, sit down!” and continued his journey. Bursting into the cockpit, he asked, “Where’s the control panel?”

The first officer responded, “It’s back there, by the jump-seat.”

“Which one is the fire alarm switch?”

“Bottom right, third one up.”

 I assumed he’d flicked the correct switch as the alarms instantly stopped. Now the only noise was panicking passengers. Thomas still hadn’t left the cockpit, but I guessed that he was trying to catch his breath. All of a sudden the first officer, who had never stuttered in his life, stammered his way through this sentence.

“W-we’re going d-down.”

“Keep it together. It’ll be fine. Get back on with air traffic control. It’s only fifteen more minutes, max, until we can land at LAX. We’ll make it.” The captain assured him.

 Shortly after he said that, there was an unmistakeable bang and we started to bank right all over again, this time at a much more rapid pace.

The first officer took a moment to catch his breath, and then said wearily, “We’ve lost our right engine again.”