Free Twister by Chris Ryan Page A

. .
     
 
     
The scene in the cabin was now one of utter devastation.
     
Oxygen masks hung from the ceiling; the overhead luggage compartments were open and their contents spilled all over the floor; several of the small oval windows were smashed in. As Ben stepped out of the cockpit, one of the cabin crew was just opening an emergency exit. The passengers crowded round, all jostling with each other to get out. Some of them were clearly injured: there were quite a few bloodied faces and a couple of the older people were limping. None of them, Ben noticed, paid him any attention, or offered any word of thanks for what he had just done. Not that he was expecting any – he was just glad to be on the ground.
     
Only one person approached him, and that was Angelo. His eyes were wild and he had a nasty bruise on the side of his face. Apart from that, he was remarkably unscathed.
     
'Where's the burning coming from?' Ben demanded immediately.
     
'Nobody knows,' Angelo replied.
     
'We need to get out quickly. If the fuel store ignites it won't matter if we're on the ground or not. This thing will go off like a firework.' Ben's voice was urgent, hurried. He looked around. 'They should open some more emergency exits, get everyone off the plane quicker.'
     
'They've tried,' Angelo told him. 'The opening levers were all damaged in the crash. That's the only exit that works.'
     
As he spoke, Ben saw an inflatable ramp being extended down to the ground. The cabin crew were doing their best to stay calm themselves, but any chance they had of keeping the other passengers composed was long gone. They were hurling themselves out of the plane, scrambling for the exit and shouting at each other. It wasn't a pretty sight. But it did appear that – against all odds – there had been no deaths or serious injuries. Everyone was getting out. The only casualties were those who had been shot: the two pilots and Brad.
     
Ben sniffed. The burning smell was definitely getting stronger. There were only about ten passengers plus the cabin crew left on the plane now, so he, Angelo and Danny moved down to the exit as smoke began to billow up into the passenger area. The cabin crew were on the inflatable ramp as they approached and they threw themselves down as the trio prepared to exit.
     
The wind outside was screaming now, and Ben felt the force of it against his body even inside the plane. He was just about to slide down the ramp when he remembered something. 'The hijacker!' he barked over the noise. 'Where is he?'
     
Danny pointed further down the plane. 'Back there,' he shouted. 'Tied to one of the cabin crew's seats.'
     
Ben looked at him in amazement. 'We can't just leave him there. We've got to get him off.'
     
'But—' Angelo stuttered. 'But, Ben, he was trying to kill us all.'
     
Ben stood up. 'I don't care.' He was having to yell above the noise of the wind and a sudden gust that came in through the exit nearly knocked him down. 'If we leave him to die in here,' he yelled, 'we're as bad as he is!'
     
With that, he ran down the aisle of the plane. 'Ben!' Angelo shouted after him, but he ignored his friend.
     
The hijacker was just where Danny had said he would be. His seat faced the back of the plane and someone had found a length of rope – enough to tie him very securely. The knots looked big and fiendish, and they kept him firmly in place. The result was that, unlike many of the passengers, he had come through the crash-landing with barely a mark to his body.
     
It was the first time Ben had had a proper look at the guy, and though he didn't exactly spend a lot of time gazing at his features, he felt as if the hijacker's face would be burned on his memory for the rest of his life. He was a small man, but well built with dark skin and short black hair. Along the left-hand side of his face was a pale scar. But what Ben noticed more than anything else was the look in his eyes. It was a strange mixture of hate and passion.