Chapter 5 - Fire in the Sky
“Engine two oil pressure dropping!” the pilot’s voice squawked over the galley intercom system. “We have an engine failure! Preparing to descend!”
The jet pitched forward, gravity pulling at everyone in the cabin. Gemma shrieked in the back lounge, clutching a doorway, while Victor scrambled to secure his seatbelt.
Silas grabbed the galley frame with one massive hand, his other arm instantly wrapping around Khloe’s waist to stabilize her as the plane shook violently. For a second, she was pressed firmly against his chest, feeling the solid, unshakeable strength of his body amid the chaos.
“Are you alright?” Silas barked over the roaring wind noise outside.
“I’m fine! Mateo!” Khloe cried out.
Through the amber emergency lights, she saw Mateo thrashing in his seat, hyperventilating, his eyes wide with absolute, unadulterated horror as the cabin tilted. Because he was deaf, he had no idea what was happening—only that his world was falling apart.
Khloe pulled away from Silas’s grip and moved down the leaning aisle, fighting the g-force of the descent. She dropped into the seat beside Mateo, pulled him tight into her arms, and wrapped her coat around him.
She cupped his small face in her hands, forcing him to look directly into her eyes.
With deliberate, calm, and exaggerated movements, she signed with her right hand while holding him secure with her left.
[Look at me. Look at my eyes. Do not look outside.]
Mateo sobbed, his small fingers clutching her flight uniform jacket so tightly his knuckles turned white.
[Are we falling?] he signed frantically, his fingers trembling wildly. [Are we dying?]
[No,] Khloe signed back, her face beaming with absolute confidence and warmth, masking her own racing heart. [The bird is just landing. The bird is tired. I am here. Your father is here. You are safe.]
Silas dropped into the seat directly across from them, strapping himself in as the aircraft bumped heavily through a thick cloud layer. He watched Khloe calm his son in the middle of a terrifying emergency.
He looked at Mateo’s eyes. For the first time, Mateo wasn't looking for his father in terror; he was clinging to Khloe’s hands as if she were an angel sent to keep the sky from crashing down.
Silas reached across the aisle. Slowly, deliberately, he formed his hand into a fist over his chest and rubbed it in a soft circle, his face breaking out of its icy shell into an expression of raw, helpless love.
[Sorry,] Silas signed to his son.
Mateo froze. Through his tears, he looked from Khloe’s face to his father’s massive hand moving over his heart.
The boy let out a soft, choked sound, reaching one small hand out to touch his father’s fist.
The pilot’s voice came over the speaker. “Cabin crew, brace for landing! We are clearing runway 22 at Gary-Chicago Airport!”
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The Bombardier slammed onto the wet tarmac with a screech of tires, thrust reversers roaring on the single working engine as the pilots fought to bring the heavy bird to a stop. Rain lashed against the windows as the jet finally taxied off the runway, coming to a halt near a secluded hangar illuminated by flashing emergency lights.
They were down. They were alive.
