Free Ash by James Herbert

clutched him for dear life, her body trembling, her breath coming in short sharp gasps. He could feel her tears on his neck and he brought up a hand to press her head into him. The Gulfstream 450 dropped even further into the darkness of rain-filled clouds, and Ash, now sure they were all going to die, held on to the psychologist for his own sake as much as hers. Pressure built up in the cabin, sending terrible mind-numbing pain through his head. He wanted to release the quaking woman from his embrace and clamp his hands over his ears for relief, but he fought the urge and held her even more tightly in his arms. All noise seemed far away until his ears unexpectedly popped and Petra’s screams came back full-throttle.
    Then the darkness gave way to daylight again, the row of windows quickly growing brighter, so that he was able to see around the cabin as before. But the jet continued to plummet and the screams from Petra hadn’t ceased.
    Then the lights in the cabin suddenly returned and Ash heard the jet’s engines roar back into life. It took several terrifying seconds for the pilot to regain control of his aircraft, but soon the plane began to level out and resume its course. Captain Roberts’s steady voice came over the intercom.
    ‘Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve no idea why that little problem occurred, but I can assure you that everything’s shipshape again.’
    Ash could imagine the pilot crossing his fingers as he spoke.
    ‘Everything’s running smoothly now and you can see for yourselves we’re below the clouds. We’ll maintain this height until our final descent to Prestwick in a few minutes. Please keep your seatbelts fastened until we land. Our landing will be fine, believe me. As far as we can tell, we have no faults, significant or otherwise, so please try to relax until we’re on the ground. When we do land, I recommend a fine Scotch or brandy, then another. I’m only sorry I won’t be able to join you – I’ve two more flights later today. “Chuckles” here has a grin on his face you wouldn’t believe, although I’m not sure he hasn’t wet himself.’
    His voice was crisper when he addressed the air stewardess. ‘Ginny, will you make sure everyone’s comfortable back there, then report to the cockpit.’ His voice became less formal again. ‘First Officer Collins will join you to explain our unpleasant but mercifully brief interlude once we’ve run through a few more minor checks.’
    The intercom went silent.
    Ash felt Dr Wyatt slump in his arms, not in a faint, he was sure, but with relief. His hold on her became more tender, comforting, but still she trembled. He could hear sobs from Petra, who now lay in the aisle by his side.
    ‘Dr Wyatt,’ Ash said softly, ‘everything’s fine. We’re out of danger now. The pilot has control of the plane; there’s no need to be afraid any longer.’
Unless the same thing happens again as we approach Prestwick
, he thought sombrely.
    Rivulets of rain were driven diagonally across the row of small windows by the aircraft’s speed, but at least the grey daylight worked with the cabin lights to make everything visible again.
    The woman in his arms gently pulled away from him so that she could look into his face. He relaxed his grip but didn’t entirely let go. Her deep brown eyes were softened by tears, but as they stared into his, he detected a trace of uncertainty in them. Somehow, the shared near-death experience and the intimacy it created between them had confused her even more.
    ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her face so close, her lips so near, her very scent so enticing, that he was reluctant to give her up.
    ‘It was my pleasure,’ he said glibly, stupidly. ‘I—’
    Too late. She’d regained some of her composure.
    She pushed against his chest to steady herself as she rose to her feet. ‘I have to see to Petra,’ she said, and he became aware of the girl’s cries of fear once more.
    Dr Wyatt moved away from