thick glasses and looked at the deck, realizing the truth of the matter. It
was just one more awkward snub in a lifetime of such, trivial compared to what
was going on at that moment, but still painful. Friendless, basically
penniless, and mentally slow, Mary was the polar opposite of her pampered
companions. But now they were all in the same boat, literally.
“We’re
pulling up, I need some help getting tied off,” Jackie shouted and the group
sprang into action. Soon enough the yacht was secured in place alongside the
pumping station and the women climbed onto the concrete structure, unsure of
what to expect. If the growing craziness had already reached this far out, then
no place was safe.
The station
consisted of a large concrete loading dock with various cranes and equipment,
as well as an ornately built, circular stone building. Water was collected
inside and transported by tunnel to a filtration plant, hundreds of feet
beneath Lake Michigan. A small bridge led to a smaller, now defunct pumping
station. But the women weren’t interested in the functions and purpose of the place.
For now, they were more concerned with discovering if it was safe.
They were
about to find out. The door to the building shot open and a man and a woman
wearing hardhats came towards them.
“You can’t
dock here! This is a restricted area. Did you not see the damned signs?” the
man asked. “You can get jail time just for being here. Homeland Security will
have your—”
“Nobody’s
going to jail, Frank,” a woman named Carol said in a much less combative tone.
“You do need to leave, though. This center is off limits.”
Jackie shook
her head. “We’re not going anywhere. Don’t you know what’s going on in the
city? It’s like a warzone right now. People are acting nuts, it’s out of
control.”
“See, this
girl’s on drugs,” Frank said and threw his hands up. “Just because you have a
fancy boat doesn’t mean the rules don’t apply to you. I suppose you’re related
to somebody important too?”
“Actually, my
dad is Jessie Collins. He used to be the congre—”
“I know who
he is and I don’t care. Now I’m not gonna listen to your tall tales anymore.
We’re supposed to be running the station, not talking to drunken socialites on
a joy ride.”
“Guys,” Mary
said quietly. She was ignored in the scrum, as she had been countless times in
her everyday life.
Frank’s
co-worker stepped in again. “Let’s just take things down a notch and get this
sorted out. I can make some phone calls.”
“Guys!” Mary
screamed at the top of her lungs and pointed. Everyone on the platform turned
to see a low-flying airliner heading in their direction, rapidly losing altitude.
The noise was deafening as it banked sharply and crashed into the water
directly in front of the station.
The plane
violently broke into pieces as debris and water splashed upwards and then came
down like hail. One of the still roaring engines broke free and skipped across
the water before bouncing up and over the group of terrified onlookers. That
is, mostly over. Carol and Frank were gone, and all that remained were their
shoes. And their feet.
“Holy shit,”
Jen said as Mary gagged before puking forcefully.
That’s when
they noticed the survivors of the crash. Several had floated to the surface,
severely injured and screaming.
“We should
try to save them!” Padma said, her doctor’s instincts kicking in. She started
taking her clothes off in order to dive into the churning mess, but one by one
the screaming victims ceased their struggling and disappeared under the water.
About a
minute later several began to reemerge, and then a few more. Soon dozens of
passengers calmly bobbed up and down in the surf and debris as the smell of
jet-fuel became overpowering. Padma walked to the edge of the dock and prepared
to jump in.
Jackie
grabbed her shoulder. “Wait, something’s not right. They’re quiet now.”
“Fine.”
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland