Since staying home due to the coronavirus, I’ve done a lot of reading, and I’ve done some writing too. I’m working on a book that I started some time ago. I decided to share a scene with you. Here’s the scenario. A passenger jet has just gone through some strange and unusual turbulence. They think they’ve been thrown off course because they can’t find the city of Miami or the airport. Fuel is running low so they have to make an emergency landing on the beach. This is the end of that scene. You’ll meet some of the major characters, but our heroine and her rival aren’t in the picture yet. It’s a work in progress so if you see something I need to work on, do say something. I don’t know anything about airplanes so I might have something wrong.
He turned off the intercom, and they began the emergency landing procedure. Brent had never had to do this before, and he prayed he’d prove equal to the task. The ground rushed up to meet them. Even a skilled pilot could come to grief making such a landing. The plane flew ever lower and glided gently onto the beach. And all hell broke loose.
The plane charged across the soft sand, its nose streaking toward the ocean. They hit a small hump on the beach, and the tail whipped around, metal screaming in protest.
Miraculously the plane stayed upright, but it changed directions and slid sideways toward the trees. It came to rest scant inches from the forest.
Brent let out breath he hadn’t been aware of holding and shakily rubbed his hands across his watery eyes. The way his heart still raced and thumped in his chest he’d be lucky to stand up without falling down. A great many lives had depended on setting down safely.
Beside him Healy fumbled with his seat belt. “Brent? You alright?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Brent unfastened his own seat belt and leaned toward Anders who remained slumped in his seat. He pressed a finger against Mike’s neck and felt a pulse. “He’s alive.”
“He must have had a heart attack or stroke.”
“Probably. I hope he can hang on for a few more hours. By now we’re overdue, and they’ll be searching for us.”
“Thank God for the locator beacon.” Healy jerked at his tie and shrugged off his coat. “I hope they get here soon.”
“Why don’t we see about our passengers? One of them might be a doctor.”
Frank brightened. “Yeah, good idea, and we can find Mike a more comfortable place to rest.”
They opened the cockpit door, but they didn’t see anyone in first class. “Did everyone already deplane?” Brent asked. “Those stewardesses are good.”
“Brent, look! The doors are still closed!”
They walked from one end of the silent, empty plane to the other, but nobody answered their calls, and nobody hailed them from the beach. They were alone.